#so some shuffling around and rearranging happened

[charmfamily]

(SEMI) CHARMED KIND OF LIFE: EPISODE 3, PART XIX. “GENESIS IN BLACK”

[vainvenus]

mind games. | ln4 | pt.5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You finally tell Max what's been going on and despite your current state and despite being a bit skeptical he believes you.

Includings: Dark!Lando Norris, gaslighting, breaking and entering, paranoia, controlling + obsessive behavior, belittling, petnames, this is so short i'm sorry 💔

An: I've got a Dark!Charles x Tennis Player!reader in the crockpot rn...

@eclipsedcherry @slutforvoldy

The Uber was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing something neither of you were even remotely paying attention to. Max tapped his fingers against his thighs, glancing outside the window before he looked back over to you like he was trying to put a puzzle together with a few missing pieces.

"Okay." He said, exhaling sharply. "What was that back there?"

You inhaled, clenching the fabric around the hem of your dress as you stared down at your shoes. You almost didn't know how to explain all of it, the small things he had been doing to mess with you, how it was so obviously him who had been in and out of your house, shuffling things around so that only you'd notice. You shook your head. "I don't know how to explain it. It'll...I'll sound crazy."

He crossed his arms over his chest, raising his brows as a silent sign for you to carry on. "Try me."

You sighed. "He's...messing with me. Like in my apartment things have been moved, not enough to be a problem but enough so I know. Putting my shoes in a different order, rearranging my perfumes, putting my keys on the hold instead of the counter. Small things." You had explained and he nodded along, his brows furrowing a bit.

"Then stuff started going missing. Like my perfume and ring. And he...he was wearing it, Max. He was wearing it tonight, my ring just for me to see it so he could fuck with my mind like he's been doing all week. Like the press conference when he made me seem like I was crazy for saying he didn't defend in that face."

Max had just stared at you for a while as you finished explaining all of what Lando had been doing. The silence was almost more suffocating than when you first caught a whiff of your perfume when Lando was close enough. It made you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Say something, Max."

"I honestly don't know what to say. Do you really think Lando is capable of doing that?"

Your brows furrowed. "Do you not believe me?"

He quickly shook his head, putting his hands up and waving them in attempts to calm your own nerves when he saw how your mood had shifted. "It's not that I don't believe you, Y/n. It's just..."

"It's just what?" You spat.

"It's just weird, okay? How is he even getting into your house without a trace? No signs of breaking in or anything?" He questioned and your brows furrowed. You never really thought about that until now. Never a broken lock or glass, it seemed like he just effortlessly went in and out as if he lived there.

"I... don't know." You mumbled and Max seemed like he was trying to figure it out, bouncing his knee a bit.

"Does he have a key?"

The question through you off a bit, your brows furrowed. He shouldn't have a key, the only people you had given a key to your apartment would be Max, your best friend and that was about it.

"Weird."

"I know. Just...please. I need you to believe me so I don't feel like I'm crazy and it's all in my head."

The Uber had come to a stop and you almost forgot it wasn't just the two of you in the car. You have Max a pleading expression, your eyes searching for any bit of closure. One person. You just needed one person who believed you, one person who didn't make you feel like you were losing it.

"I believe you."

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling like some weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You unbuckled your seatbelt and got out, leaning against the car door. "Can you at least stay?"

"Y/n. Nothing is going to happen to you, he can't get in without a key, right?"

"No, but-"

"Look, I can't stay. If he comes to the door, call me then the police." He stated. It was practical and logical and maybe you would have found comfort in his words if it were under other circumstances but right now you couldn't.

"Just...Just check the apartment with me,” You said, your voice quieter now. “Please.”

Max sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He was tired, confused and still trying to wrap his head around everything and he was just ready to get back to his apartment. But the way you were looking at him—like you just needed this one thing—made it impossible to say no.

“Alright,” He muttered. “Let’s check.”

You let out a breath of relief and unlocked the door. Max followed you inside, flipping on the lights. The place was silent, undisturbed. Still, he went through the motions.

Checked the kitchen. Empty.

Checked the bathroom. Nothing.

Checked the bedroom, even looking in the closet because he could tell you were too nervous to do it yourself. Still nothing.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around yourself. “See? He’s not here,” Max said, trying to keep his voice even.

You nodded slowly. “I just had to be sure.”

Max exhaled, giving you a small nod. “I get it. But you’re fine. Lock the door behind me, alright?”

You hesitated. “You’re sure I’ll be fine?”

“He’s not gonna break in,” Max assured you. “If he shows up, call me. I’ll come right back.”

You didn’t love that answer, but you knew pushing wouldn’t do anything. So you just nodded again. “Okay.”

Max lingered for a second before turning for the door. “Goodnight,” He said over his shoulder.

You locked the door the second it shut behind him, standing there for a moment, listening.

Silence.

Forcing yourself to relax, you went through your usual routine. Makeup remover, cleanser, moisturizer—the same steps you always took, letting the repetition ground you. By the time you stepped into the shower, the tension in her shoulders had started to ease.

The hot water helped. So did the silence.

By the time you were done, wrapped in a towel, you felt like you had washed most of your worry away.

But the second she stepped into her bedroom, you froze.

Lando was there.

Sitting on the edge of your bed like he belonged there, fingers idly picking through the things on your nightstand. He turned a small bottle of perfume in his hand, rolling it between his fingers like he was trying to commit the shape of it to memory.

His head tilted slightly when he heard you.

"You started using this one when the other went missing." He murmured, holding it up for you to see. "I like this one a little bit better, less gourmand."

Your grip on the towel tightened. "Lando—"

"You took your time, love." He set the perfume back down, finally looking at you. He smiled, slow and unbothered. "Did it help clear your mind? Use that new body scrub you got the other day?"

Like this was normal. Like he belonged here.

You kept a tight grip on your towel and your gaze on him to keep track of any and all of his movements. "You need to leave. Right now."

"Or what? You'll call the police? Only for them to tell you it's nothing?" He questioned before continuing.

"Or maybe you'll call Max? He's known from the start." He scoffed, placing the perfume bottle back on the little shelf for all of your scents and upon hearing that you could practically feel your heartbeat in your head.

"He's..what?"

"He's known from the start. He was so good at playing along I definitely thought he would blow it at some point. Playing dumb and going along with everything especially the press conference this morning."

"No."

"Yes." Lando mimicked how dramatically you had said it, shaking his head a bit as he kept his gaze on you.

"I honestly thought you would be smart enough to put the pieces together. He showed up so conveniently tonight, he's the only one with access to your bag where your perfume mysteriously popped back up."

"So why did you let me leave with him tonight?"

"Why not? It gave you a false sense of security. You don't even know who to trust now, do you?"

He was right. Max was one of your closest friends, even beyond the team. You and him just had this undeniable connection that made everything feel effortless. The bond between you two was something you cherished, and if anyone were working with Lando, Max would be the last person you'd even consider accusing.

"You just can't seem to catch a break, baby." Lando questioned, his tone fueled with fake sympathy as he pouted at you and you could nothing but glare at him, one hand bunched around your towel and the other at your side.

Lando tossed the something at you and you didn't even bother catching it. You heard the metal clatter onto the floor before you looked down at what it was and it was a copy of the key to your home. You looked back up at him, watching as he crossed one leg over the other, watching your reaction with a kind of intensity that made your stomach sick.

"You can give that back to him. I've got a copy now." He said as if this were the most normal thing he had done and he tilted his head at you as he watched how all of this was starting to settle in your mind.

"You should just make this easy for the both of us. There's nobody you can call that'll believe you." He stood up from his spot on the bed and grabbed his keys from his pockets. You glanced over at them, seeing one that looked exactly like your house key.

"Get dressed. We're gonna go for a little ride."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Lando."

He chuckled, releasing a small sigh as his smile lingered. "Do you really want to test me right now? Every odds stacked against you, and yet, you’re still making dumb choices?"

His tone and gaze reduced you, making you feel like a child failing to understand something simple. He spoke with quiet authority, his eyes fixed on you—both possessive and assured, as if you were his to claim, his to control, without resistance or complication.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your grip on the towel tightening—of course, he noticed. The slight tremor in your hands, the way you chewed the inside of your cheek as if he was feeding off your fear.

"Get dressed."

Me bc I actually hate this chapter

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Restless Mornings 😴

Ingrid Engen x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

On one of Ingrid's rare days off, you decided to run around the house to tidy up instead of staying in bed with her. Ingrid clearly shows you that it is not yet time to wake up.

You had no idea why you woke up so early, especially on a day like today. It was one of Ingrid’s rare days off, and you had planned to sleep in with her, but lying still wasn’t an option; your mind was buzzing with all the little things you could do. Maybe make a special breakfast? Or clean up the place so she didn’t have to think about anything at all today? The ideas came one after another, and without thinking, you found yourself tiptoeing out of bed to get started.

First, you made your way into the kitchen, quietly shuffling through the fridge, looking for ingredients. But halfway through deciding on pancakes or eggs, you got sidetracked. You began rearranging the counters, then remembered you’d left a couple of dishes in the sink from last night’s dinner. As you washed them, your thoughts raced—maybe you should start some laundry too?

Before you knew it, you were dashing from one room to another, tidying up little things here and there, your mind jumping from task to task like a hyperactive ping-pong ball. You weren’t making much noise—at least, you thought you weren’t.

In truth, your intention was sweet: you wanted everything to be perfect so that when Ingrid woke up, she wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. She could just relax, spend the day with you, and unwind. But somewhere along the way, your energy had spiraled out of control.

You were halfway through folding a blanket in the living room when you heard a soft creak behind you.

Before you could react, you felt strong but gentle arms wrap around your waist. You squeaked in surprise as Ingrid lifted you effortlessly, her body warm and sleepy against yours.

“Ingrid! What are you—”

She didn’t say anything, just hummed in response, clearly too tired for words. You were whisked back to the bed, where she placed you down with care. Her head found its usual place on your chest, and she draped an arm over your waist, pulling you close.

“Sleep,” she muttered, her voice muffled against you, her breath warm against your skin. Her body relaxed almost immediately, falling back into the peaceful slumber she had been in just moments ago.

You blinked, still processing what had just happened. One second you were buzzing with energy, and the next, you were wrapped up in Ingrid’s embrace, pinned down by the weight of her love and exhaustion. The rhythm of her breathing was steady, calm, and it had a surprisingly calming effect on you as well.

Sighing softly, you gave in to her warmth and the steady thrum of her heartbeat. Maybe a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt after all.

As you closed your eyes, you muttered under your breath, “You could’ve just asked me to come back to bed, you know.”

Ingrid stirred slightly, her arm tightening around you as if in response.

“Shh,” she mumbled in her sleep.

You smiled again, closing your eyes and letting yourself be comforted by her presence. There was no place you'd rather be.

[rodolfoparras]

think about price who constantly refers to his lover as 'the wife' with lovesick eyes to 141

now imagine 141 loosing their SHIT on the inside when they first meet 'the wife' and she isn't some petite pretty little housewife like they imagined but instead a large ass man built like a fucking TANK and easily towers over Simon who is the tallest of the group. price still refers to him as 'the wife' with the dorkiest grin ever and 141 doesnt let him live it down, threatening him with telling 'the wife' whenever he doesnt let them do something stupid

(feral anon)

(i want to be 'the wife' so bad but sadly i am a short transmasc that doesn't look like a man at all)

(your posts cure my gender disphoria)

A/N: I loved this idea and I’ve been wanting to write a fluff piece for my old man so here u go, something very light hearted ! Excuse any mistakes I wrote it within an hour or so!

It’s no secret that Price likes to keep his private life and work life separated, not many people know he’s married and he likes to keep it that way.

However he has no qualms about 141 finding out about the person he loves so much, matter of fact Laswell was the first to know, all unplanned of course.

It all happened when the two of them snuck away from the rowdy group of men to smoke. Sitting inside would’ve been a better option. It was warm inside, they had decent lighting and were within hand’s distant to their drinks but that would also mean they were at risk of losing their hearing or getting elbowed in the stomach or face by the drunken men, so outside it is.

Price offers her his cigar, which she takes gracefully muttering something along the lines of “my wife doesn’t like it when I smoke” while taking a drag from the tobacco leaf.

“Neither does mine” he says with crows feet appearing around his eyes and lips curling up into a smile.

“You’re married?” Laswell says, only with a hint of surprise on her face as she hands the cigar back to him.

“Happily” he says smile still present as ever on his face before he takes a drag from the cigar as well “been that way for four years now”

She just nods in response before she takes the cigar back, and that’s pretty much how Laswell finds out about Price’s spouse.

The next person to find out about it is Gaz.

141 had been out on a mission that day, and Gaz had taken the impulsive decision to head straight into the fire in hopes of getting important intel. He’s managed to get it but not without getting scolded for his reckless behavior by Price. Hours later and the guilt is still eating at him so he decides to make his way over to Price’s office in an attempt to make amends with the older man.

Gaz takes a deep breath before he knocks on Price’s office door.

“Come on in” he hears the older man’s voice.

Gaz walks in only to be met with the sight of Price seated in his office chair, paper work scattered about on his desk and a cigar resting between his index and middle finger.

“Sir” Gaz says, awkwardly shuffling in place. “I’d like to apologize for earlier today”

“Already forgotten”

The surprise must’ve been clear on his face because the older man can’t help but chuckle.

“Sit down” Price says pointing at the chair opposite to him before taking another drag from the tobacco leaf.

Gaz swiftly takes a seat, hands resting on his knees, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

There’s a moment of silence as Price rearranges the paper in a neat pile on his desk, pen carefully placed next to it before he speaks again.

“You got someone special waiting for you back home?”

Once again Gaz is surprised but this time the older man just looks at him and smiles.

“I do, sir”

“So do I” Price says smile getting bigger as he folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. “Oh don’t look at me like that I’m not that old am I?”

“No - no sir” Gaz says, hands awkwardly flailing about and feeling his ears burn as he blurts out the words.

Price’s smile grows even bigger before he begins to explain “point is I’m sure that special someone wants you back home alive, if anything were to happen to me I’m sure the wife would find a way to haunt me in the after life”

Price’s gaze falls to his hands, fingers fidgeting with his wedding band.

Oh.

The wife.

The ring.

The captain is married.

“Sometimes we have to do things we rather not do to make sure we come back home to them, keep that in mind Garrick”

“Yes sir” Gaz says, mind still processing this new found information.

“Good, now if you excuse me I have someone to call,”

Gaz without thinking says “the wife?”

Price only chuckles but nods his head in confirmation “the wife”

Soap is the third person to find out and it happens while 141 are relaxing on base, playing cards and drinking beer.

Price walks in with black slacks and a white button, rolled all the way up to his elbows. On top of that there’s an invisible trail of cologne that seems to follow his form.

“Captain! Come join us” soap says not even looking up at the man but instead keeping laser focus on the cards in his hand.

“No can do boys I’m heading out with the wife”

Soap almost drops the cards in his hand, head turning so fast Price is surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “You’re married?”

“I am” Price says trying to suppress his chuckle when he sees Gaz peaking at Soap’s cards. “You weren’t planning on proposing were you soldier?” Price jokes which sends the rest of the group into a fit of laughter.

Soap physically recoils at that, head turning back to his cards and muttering a “to you captain? No thanks”

“Alright then, I’m heading out” Price says, choosing to ignore soaps comments, as he pulls on his jacket“don’t wait up!”

As Price makes his way over to the front door, he hears the group continuing to tease soap, can even hear the Scotsman accuse Gaz of looking at his cards, but he quickly forgets about everything as he sees you parked outside and waiting for him.

Ghost was very well aware of Price’s spouse, had even been the first person to know that Price was planning to propose.

The two of them had been in an entirely different squad, and less familiar with each other when they got sent out on a mission. A lot of things went wrong that day so much so Ghost and Price weren’t sure if the both of them would get back home alive. So Price had taken the opportunity to tell him about this special someone, how he was planning to propose to this person when they were scheduled to go back home, had even forced a wedding band in the palm of Ghost’s hand and told him to give it to the person if Price doesn’t make it out alive.

Luckily the both of them had managed to get out alive and Ghost had gotten the opportunity to watch Price put the ring on this person’s hand.

With that being said Ghost should be able to recognize this person if they were to appear in front of him but it’s been years so when he hears someone asking where Price is he doesn’t think twice about telling them, chalking it up to some poor lost recruit looking for the captain, while keeping his eyes on the weapon he’s cleaning.

However he doesn’t get to do much more before he hears another voice.

“Who’s the guy?” says soap, confusion clear in his tone.

Ghost turns to the other man and the annoyance must’ve been clear in his eyes because Soap raises his hands in an apologetic manner. “Oh sorry did i interrupt something important “ he says with a smile on his face.

“Anyway a tall really tall dude maybe taller than the ghost?” He pauses as if contemplating before he continues to explain “was looking for Price, really buff too…” he trails off while glancing down at his arms “hey you think I should work out more?”

Ghost just sighs before he returns to cleaning his weapon but he’s once again interrupted when Gaz walks in.

“Captain wants to see us in his office”

And that’s when he fully gives up on the task as he follows the two other men over to Price’s office, grumbling over why the captain was calling them over while putting up with the chatter from the Scotsman telling Gaz all about the giant that just passed him.

It doesn’t take much before they find themselves in front of Price’s office.

Through the door they can hear Price’s voice along with a much deeper voice, holding a conversation.

Soap is the first to knock on the door, while sharing confused glances with the two other men.

“Come in”

The three men enter the room only to be met with the sight of Price standing behind his office chair where a man is sitting in it, both of them sporting equally bright smiles on their faces.

“Boys” Price says, face ever so proud as he looks down at the man “meet the wife”

The man stands up, tall just like Soap had described him and when he reaches a hand out they see a wedding band that matches the one on Price’s hand.

“I’m the wife” you say with a big smile on your face.

[dovveri]

the candy man

synopsis: your girlfriend has convinced you to stay in and watch scary movies for halloween

warnings: its fluff but its also halloween so mentions of scary movies, murder, poisoning etc.

w/c: 2.7k

a/n: i despise halloween AND horror movies never seen one in my life aside from coraline and that took me like 6 tries to get thru the whole thing and i didnt do it until like… this year but id watch a horror movie for sana i GUESS 🙄

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

"have you heard of the candy man?"

"...no."

"in 1974 ronald clark o'bryan took his son out trick or treating and managed to slip in some sherbet into his son's candy bag. then when they got home and his son asked him if he could have some candy before bed he said sure and picked out the sherbet stick and gave it to his son. instead of sherbet though, it was cyanide and his son died not long after."

sana gives you a look from the tv to where you're bundled up under the blanket fort you've built in your shared living room.

"what?"

"do you think i'm going to poison you?" she giggles, coming to join you and shuffling around so you're sharing the blanket. she pokes your side in fun.

"no... but..."

"but?"

"sanaaaaa do we have to watch this? you know i hate scary movies!"

sana laughs, squeezing in even tighter against you, "it's halloween! show a little holiday spirit!"

"i hate halloween!"

"because of the candy man?"

you pout, "yes..."

"why would he go after you? actually why did he kill his own son?"

"he was in debt and wanted to claim life insurance on his son."

sana hums, pretending to think, "you have life insurance right babe?"

"sana!"

she laughs again, kissing your cheek even as you try and dodge it, huffing. she pokes at your cheek with a grin, "i'll protect you from all the candy men out there don't worry."

"you're a stick you won't be able to protect me from anything-"

"hey!"

"-like if ghostface came after us right now you'd probably trip and fall onto their knife yourself before you could even try to protect me."

"that's it." you feel her hands dive for your sides, tickling immediately, crawling on top of you when you scramble back to try and get away laughing, hands coming down to try and find hers to stop her, but she's persistent, yanking them away and continuing her assault on your sides.

"sana- stop- haha- stop- i can't- sana!-"

"you still think i'm helpless? can you get away from me now?"

"no that's- what are you going to- haha- tickle them to death-?"

"oh you're really pushing it aren't you-"

her hands start sliding down your sides, grabbing your legs and feet and then resuming her assault on the bottoms of your feet. you squirm, kicking trying to move away, still laughing uncontrollably, the blanket fort coming undone.

"stop- stop- yield! i give up- you can protect me- i give up!"

sana finally lets go of your feet, laughing and coming back up to kiss you. you wrinkle your nose and push her away by the shoulders, "go wash your hands you just touched my feet."

"you planning on sucking my fingers or something?"

"what?! sana!" you blush bright red while she runs away, still laughing brightly, the sound filling the little apartment you shared. you roll your eyes at her antiques, cheeks still flushed while you rearrange the fort and snacks, waiting for her to come back.

she grins, jumping on top of you as soon as she's finished, cuddling into you immediately and grabbing the remote.

"ready?" she looks up at you, eyes sparkling.

"no." you grumble, pulling the blanket up to your nose, ready to duck behind it at any moment.

she giggles, kissing your cheek and pressing play.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

you come to realise that your girlfriend is a terrible person to watch a horror movie with.

it's bad enough that you're scared shitless at every scene, jumpscare or not, but sana was a screamer. for fun.

“is it over?”

“babe nothing’s happening!”

you refuse to peek up from behind the blanket after your latest scare. sana had jumped up from her seat from out of nowhere, nothing had been happening on screen, she had only wanted to scare you. and it worked. you had screamed and clung to her, shutting your eyes and feeling yourself nearly go into cardiac arrest.

she had laughed, letting you down gently and had even taken a picture of your teary-eyed face in glee, saving the photo and cuddling back into you as if nothing had happened.

“i don’t believe you.”

“i’m sorry you’re just too cute not to mess with. i promise i won’t do it again though. pleeeease? come out?”

you grunt, weak to her, slipping the blanket just a little lower so half an eye is squinting at her grinning face.

“yay!” she kisses your forehead, hugging your neck and squishing your cheeks together even through the blanket.

you roll your eyes, “no screaming.”

sana gapes at you, “i can’t control that!”

“control it.”

“i can’t!”

you sulk down, muttering to yourself incomprehensibly, telling yourself there was only an hour left of this, you could do this, you could avoid getting a heart attack.

“i don’t even know what’s going on right now. this movie makes no sense!”

“shh! they’re about to go into the cabin!”

“but why! why would they do that! that’s so stupid oh my god they’re all going to die-“

“shh!”

you sit back after being shushed again, staring blankly at the screen while the college students shove each other trying to get each other to go into the haunted cabin first.

creak.

your heart stops, a cold sweat building up.

“s-sana- sana-“ you poke your girlfriend, eyes flicking around the room in terror.

she shushes you again, completely focused on the tv screen.

“sana- did you hear that?” you’re whispering, tugging on her sleeve, trying to get her attention.

“hear what?” her eyes are still locked on the screen, only giving you half her attention.

okay if your girlfriend didn't hear it than maybe it wasn't anything to worry about. you were just being paranoid. this was exactly one of the reasons why you didn't want to watch horror movies on the night of halloween.

the tv crackles and then goes out.

sana blinks, looking at you in confusion before standing up to go check the tv.

the fairy lights you have strung up around the room go out as well.

you can't help the whimper you let out, cuddling further into the blanket fort.

sana checks the powerpoints as well, humming in confusion, still not completely fearful for your lives like you were.

"it's probably just a power outage in the building babe don't worry." she comes back to the couch and tries to peel the blanket away from you.

"what if it's not?" you squeak out, still speaking in whispers.

sana turns on her phone flashlight and shines it towards you, you squint up at her.

she thinks you're too cute, coming in and pinching your cheeks, "are you scaaaaaaaared?"

"yes sana! because you decided you wanted to watch a horror movie on halloween!"

sana laughs, plopping down next to you, "i can protect you."

"we already established you can't."

"uh i'm pretty sure you conceded actually."

"whatever can you just call the neighbours? see if they're having the same problem?" you curl into her side as she laughs at you, turning off her flashlight to conserve battery and opening her call logs.

you keep your attention on your surroundings while she dials the neighbours' numbers.

"-alright thanks again! yeah you too haha happy halloween! okay babe it looks like it might just be our apartment but don't worry, i'll get the electrician to come in tomorrow and we should be fine. it can even be kinda romantic if we light some candles and all!"

"romantic or ritualistic?"

"well what kinda ritual are we wanting to perform?" she wriggles her eyebrows obscenely and you can't help but giggle, poking her forehead.

"as long as you don't summon a demon."

"not even a succubus?"

"sana!"

she laughs, standing back up to go and get the candles, "do you wanna come with? or can i leave my little baby for 2 seconds and come back with the candles?"

you honestly would've preferred to go with her but after that comment you pout, slinking back into your fort, "i'll be fine." you say curtly, not bothering to look at her and making it known you weren't happy with her teasing.

she only laughs and kisses your forehead again, which you try and dodge, before walking out of the living room to grab the matches and lights.

you shiver a little when you feel a wind breeze through as soon as she leaves, drawing the blanket closer towards you.

there's another creaking sound and you freeze.

"sana?" you call out, praying it was just sana walking around the apartment.

then there's a loud crash and you're up on your feet, heart pounding, "sana!" you call out again, maybe she just fell over something. yeah it was dark, she couldn't see, she was naturally clumsy, that made sense, she probably just fell over something. but why wasn't she responding?

you're deciding between following her into the kitchen or staying put when you feel a brush of... something on the back of your calf.

you yelp, jumping up onto the couch. this was fine, it was probably just a bit of the blanket blowing in the wind.

wait. the wind? why was the window open?

you gulp, nervously looking towards the window at the end of the hallway towards your bedroom, seeing that it was in fact wide open and the night's breeze was flowing in.

"sana if this is you it's not funny!" you huff, jumping back off the couch and stomping towards the open window, slamming it shut. if there were any ghosts or whatever, not that you believed in ghosts, surely the sound would scare them off.

you march back towards the living room, still draped in the couch blanket, determined not to let anything else scare you. it was all the cheap horror film aftereffects anyway, if this had happened any other night you would've been fine. absolutely fine. except tonight was halloween... and halloween was the one night of the year that it was okay to dress up as serial killers and creepy supernatural things and no one would bat an eye if someone was drenched in real blood running from a real murder or whatever. but it was fine! you were in your apartment, with your girlfriend, and you were totally safe. it was fine. everything was fine. why was sana taking so long?!

"sana?! are you okay?"

there’s no response again so you have no choice but to check on her. the apartment wasn’t big enough that you could shout and she wouldn’t be able to hear you.

you pull yourself up, treading towards the kitchen, mindful of any noises and squinting in the dark, trying to see if you can make out your girlfriend.

“sana?” you try call out again, frowning. maybe she just went over to the neighbours to ask for candles, she certainly wasn’t in the apartment if she wasn’t responding. you decide to go back to your phone and try call her, when you hear a creaking sound again.

you freeze, adrenaline spiking, body moving before you can think, stepping towards the sound in the hallway towards the entrance to your apartment.

you can hear your own breaths, heavy, feel the sweat on the back of your neck.

“BOO!”

you scream, flinging yourself towards the door in an attempt to run away when arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back. you continue screaming and kicking against them, tunnel vision locking onto your front door and nothing else, your fight or flight mechanism going haywire.

“-n y/n it’s okay it’s me it’s me!”

your girlfriend’s voice confuses you, but gets you to come to your senses quickly, ears taking in more sound, eyes taking in more light.

“s-sana?” your voice is shaky, on the verge of tears.

“i’m here baby i’m here.”

“w-what- w-where are you speaking from?”

“um… look up.”

you pause, tilting your head up towards the ceiling, where your girlfriend is strung up like spiderman in the dark. you’re so confused. you can make out her sheepish smile when the arms around you loosen.

“um… why are you- what are you doing?”

“um… this is- uh- this was all momo’s idea!”

the person behind you gasps, “no it wasn’t!”

you spin, taking in sana’s best friend who was dressed like a burglar, the person who had jumpscared you.

“okay it was mine but i didn’t think you would get that scared!”

you gape, mouth opening and closing, dumbfounded.

“a-are you okay? i didn’t break you did i? are you mad? i’m sorry baby i’ll make it up to you!”

“no i- just- what are you doing on the ceiling?”

“uhhh… i was going to spiderman rescue you and spiderman upside down kiss you… it was meant to be romantic!”

“how did you get on the ceiling?”

“momo helped.”

you look at the other girl who shrugs, smiling awkardly.

“do you- can you get down from there?”

“yeah! watch!”

she loosens something around her hips and comes swinging down from the ceiling, almost smacking right into you before she’s pulled back.

she turns on the light with a grin, looking absurd in a harness (not the sexy kind) and elastics she must have stolen from that free trial rock climbing session she suspiciously went to on her own and refused your company for.

“can i go now?”

sana laughs, undoing herself from the contraption she’s set up in your front entrance hallway, “yeah momoring thanks for the help. pick the restaurant and it’ll be my treat next week like i promised.

momo brightens immediately, popping a candy into her mouth and waving goodbye before skipping out the apartment to steal more trick or treat candies laid out in the apartment block.

you’re still stuck on the spot, staring at your impossible girlfriend as she struggles collecting the metres of elastic on the floor.

“sana…”

she looks up at you brightly with a smile, “yes?”

“sana i’m going to kill you.”

she frowns, standing up fully, “why?”

“sana!”

“what?!”

“you know i hate halloween!”

“i wanted to make it a better holiday for you!”

“and you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

you feel the adrenaline leaving your body as you slouch, tears coming forward from all the stress and anxiety.

sana’s eyes widen, dropping the elastics in her hand and rushing forward, cupping your cheeks, “oh no baby i’m sorry i didn’t mean to please- it’s okay i’m here now nothing’s gonna get you-“

you pout, rubbing at your eyes furiously, not wanting to cry at something that was meant to be fun, “i was worried about you.”

sana wipes your cheeks with her thumbs, “i know baby i’m sorry i won’t do this again i promise, next halloween we’re gonna stay in with all the lights on and watch my little pony okay?”

you nod, feeling very much like you deserved the baby treatment right now, “promise?”

“i promise i promise.”

you bury your head in her shoulder, squeezing her against you and breathing in her comforting scent.

after a little bit of calming down, you slap her shoulder, “i still hate you. you’re gonna have to make up for trying to pull this prank. it was so not funny!”

“ow! okay okay i will! and please don’t say that. can i get an i love you now? you can’t hate me baby…”

you pout into her neck, hitting her again lightly, “only if you don’t tease me anymore for being scared.”

“i won’t!”

“and get us ice cream from that store across town.”

“…like… right now?”

“they do delivery.”

she sighs dramatically, “fine, fine, can i hear it now?”

you pull back, smiling, “i love you even if you’re a terrible girlfriend who tried to fake rescue me from my worst nightmare.”

she beams brightly at your face again, devoid of tears, kissing you sweetly and knocking her forehead gently against yours, “i love you too my big scaredy cat.”

“sana!”

“i’m sorry no more now i promise!”

[flowerfan2]

Steve falls hard, is the thing.  At least, he does this time.  He knows it’s crazy, that Eddie has only been out of the hospital for a few weeks, that Steve has only really known him for a few days more than that. But he knows more than most people that life is full of cliffs and dangers and if there’s happiness to be had, he’s ready to take it.

It happens so quickly that he speeds right past any potential sexuality crisis, doesn’t pass go, just realizes one evening while he’s tucking a blanket around Eddie’s feet when he dozes off on the couch that he’s in love.   He knows it’s real, because Eddie’s feet are frankly stinky since it’s still hard for him to get around, and yet Steve’s content to curl up with Eddie’s feet in his lap and make sure they stay toasty warm.

He tells Robin that night, and once she’s finished swatting him with a nearby magazine and then hugging him until his ribs squeak, she asks him what he’s going to do about it.  “Tell him,” Steve answers, and Robin stares at him as if he’s grown two heads (he hasn’t, he checked).  “Just like that?” she asks, eyes wide.

“Know any good reason to wait?” Steve asks, and when Robin shakes her head no, he smiles.

The next day Steve puts on a clean pair of khakis and his favorite striped polo.  He ever so briefly considers wearing something not so preppy, but he doesn’t think Eddie would appreciate anything less than the truth.  The real Steve, polo shirts and all.  Begin as you mean to continue, and all that.

When he arrives at the trailer the next day (yes, that same goddamned trailer, flimsy and broken but in somewhat better shape than it was a few weeks ago), Steve takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, then remembers he’s supposed to use his key so that Eddie doesn’t have to get up off the couch too often.  He juggles the grocery bag in his arms and finds the key, glad to see when he gets the door open that Eddie hasn’t been disturbed.  In fact, it looks like he’s fast asleep.

Steve puts the groceries away and settles at the end of the couch like he always does, pulling Eddie’s feet onto his lap, and paging through a comic book.  A little while later Eddie stirs, blinking his eyes open and smiling at Steve.

They decide to watch a movie, but after a few minutes Eddie complains that his neck hurts from lying in the same position all day.  Steve helps him switch around so that his head is at the other end of the couch, and Eddie continues to gripe, but he’s smiling the whole time.  Steve can tell he likes the attention, likes when Steve slides an arm around his back and gently rearranges his limbs.  Steve likes it too.

Steve fetches some snacks from the kitchen and returns to find Eddie shuffling himself around again, claiming that the new position isn’t working either.  Soon they’re sitting next to each other, legs stretched out on a pillow on the coffee table, the television directly in front of them.  Steve is getting a suspicious feeling about the whole thing, and it only intensifies when Eddie gives a little sigh and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder.  “Thanks,” Eddie says softly.  “This is perfect.”

Steve’s not sure how much time goes by – time is weird when you’re practically holding your breath – but when he tilts his head to look at Eddie, Eddie’s looking right at him.  

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m falling for you, you know.”

Eddie bites his lip and smiles, his nose crinkling adorably.  “Yeah, I figured.”  He turns back to the television and snuggles in closer against Steve’s side.  “It’s good, ‘cause, you know.  Me too.”

______

You can read all of my Steddie ficlets in one place on A03 here.

[slytherin-pen]

The Nesting Fox

After five years of being mated, you and Lucien are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first litter. As you enter the seventh month of your pregnancy, Lucien returns home from his Emissary duties to find you meticulously rearranging the baby's room, consumed by the need to prepare the space for your growing family. Sensing your stress, Lucien takes it upon himself to ease your worries by drawing a warm bath for you and offering comforting words to soothe your nerves.

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 3.7k

all ACOTAR related credit goes to SJM

warnings: none/ fluff vibes only 🤍

A/N: i had writer’s block for a bit so i missed Elucien week but i started this with the theme in mind last week 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy fluffy future-dad Lucien

As the warm afternoon sun painted the cottage in a golden hue and gently streamed through the windows, you hustled about, checking off tasks from your never-ending to-do list. Your little kit wasn't due for another two months, but time seems to go too fast and too slow while pregnant. You know you have all the necessities and have their room prepared, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that there’s still more to do, leaving you restless.

Your best friend Mor has been taking you shopping for baby items and garments to replace your weekly pre-pregnancy coffee dates, and despite your complaints about the extra laundry, you do love spending time with her, however it may be. With your family living in the Night Court and you being heavily pregnant in the Spring Court, it’s easy to feel lonely, but Mor winnows in and catches up with you as if you never left. Aside from her visits, you keep busy preparing for the baby’s arrival by repeatedly cleaning and shuffling things around until it's just right.

Today's list of tasks includes organizing the new clothes in the baby’s dresser, dusting—a task that seems pointless in the Spring Court—and baking snickerdoodle muffins because the baby wants snickerdoodle muffins.

Lucien has had to remind you numerous times to take it easy. He frequently comes home to find you doing something you are not supposed to and swiftly ushers you to a chair. Pregnancy has not been the kindest to you, but you haven’t let it slow you down yet. You wouldn’t be his relentlessly energetic mate if you just sat around doing something mundane like knitting.

Before discovering you were pregnant, you and Lucien spent your days outdoors or traveling across Prythian and the Continent. You were far from being a passive couple. Besides, the basket storing away the yarn and needles became riddled with dust ages ago. It was a lovely gift from a Lord in the Day Court after your wedding ceremony inside the palace, but the longest you’ve sat still was when your previous High Lord, Rhysand, let you hold his son Nyx during a casual meeting in the River House. Babysitting Nyx occasionally has helped ease some of your worries about becoming a mother. Still, your mind was in a constant war between being confident in your abilities and thinking the absolute worst would happen and you would fail at being a mother.

Lucien has been your unwavering support during the most challenging days, helping you combat negative thoughts. He reminds you to breathe and trust that both of you will be loving, nurturing parents. You don’t know if it’s just everyday prenatal stress or the hormones making you an anxious, compulsive mess, but Lucien has remained his kind, witty, and ever-attentive self. He always knows what you need, whether you are cleaning the house inside-out until your feet swell or crying and raging about being out of sugar, and now ‘the baby will be sad.’ He bites down his retort about the baby's inability to conceptualize anything about the situation every time. Instead, he holds you, massages your feet, and goes to the shops as soon as they open.

When you first found out you were pregnant, it was after a trip to the Summer Court with Lucien as his plus-one on an emissary trip. The two of you had dined on shrimp and pasta among Tarquin and his courtiers. After dinner, Lucien attended a private meeting with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian while you returned to your shared suite. As you bathed and got ready for bed, you noticed you felt nauseous but thought you must have overindulged during dinner. You had just opened your nightly read when the urge to vomit was too strong to swallow down. You ran to the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left. Afterward, you brushed your teeth and requested a servant bring you a cup of ginger tea. You didn’t initially tell Lucien for fear he would fuss over you instead of focusing on why you were in the Summer Court. You had hoped an ingredient just didn’t settle well with your stomach and you would feel better shortly.

The trip lasted for three days, and as per Summer Court, every dish contained seafood. After each meal, you found yourself in the nearest bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten. Lucien became concerned, noticing that you would run off, but you assured him you were fine and that the spices were giving you an upset stomach. He gave you a skeptical look, not believing your excuse due to your frequent travels and exposure to various cuisines. Still, he accepted you were keeping your bathroom habits private, as any gentleman would.

When you touched down in the Spring Court, and Lucien ran off to meet with Tamlin, you found the nearest healer. Something was wrong. You loved seafood. Not every Summer Court dish is delicious, particularly the scallop omelet, but shrimp was one of your favorites, and you threw it up every time. The meals made you sick after you ate, and the smells began to nauseate you as soon as they appeared on the table.

You were shocked when the healer informed you nothing was wrong but that you were pregnant. Your mind became a torrent of different emotions: fear, excitement, hope, and more fear. You and Lucien had stopped taking contraceptive tonics years ago with the knowledge you could become pregnant, but something about it happening made you question everything. Were you ready for a baby? What if Lucien changed his mind and didn’t want children with you? Would you be a good mother? The internal turmoil had paralyzed you, rooting you to the ottoman before the fireplace. That’s how Lucien found you after he met with Tamlin, and he knelt by your side, asking you what was wrong. You hesitated initially, but Lucien whispered encouragement in your ear, and you eventually told him you were pregnant. His gold and russet eyes lit up joyfully and immediately soothed your worries. He assured you he still wanted children with you— lots of them, even–that you would be the best mother, and between his salary and both of your families, obtaining everything the baby would need would be no problem.

A few months into your pregnancy, you and Lucien went on ‘Tour De Baby,’ as he called it, celebrating the news with family and friends. The two of you attended a formal dinner with Tamlin, and Helion and Lady Autumn hosted a baby shower. Eris insisted on visiting him and the hounds so they could ‘learn the kit’s scent,’ and your family in the Inner Circle guided you and Lucien on a rare, non-alcoholic night out through Velaris. Seeing your families so excited to meet your little one made your heart swell with adoration and gratitude. Even if your family was spread across three courts, your baby has a formidable village of warriors and High Lords who loved them endlessly, and that was more than you could ever ask for.

The tantalizing scent of snickerdoodle muffins baking in the oven filled the cozy cottage as you set out to rearrange the baby's room. As you surveyed the room, you realized the crib was too close to the window. What if the moon's light wakes up the little one? You quickly decided to move it. Then, you noticed a framed picture precariously hanging above the changing table. You couldn't risk it falling and hurting the baby, so you made a mental note to relocate it as well. As you stepped back, you noticed that the dresser seemed slightly off-center, prompting you to adjust its position.

Lucien heard a distinct dragging sound across the wooden floor as he walked through the front door. Curious, he followed the noise and poked his head into the room. "Release the dresser immediately," he demanded, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly are you up to, my sly little fox?" A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed your blush.

“I was just tidying a few things up,” you replied sheepishly, putting the dresser back on the ground.

With a playful smirk, he hoisted the dresser and carefully set it in its new spot, perfectly aligned against the wall. Sauntering over to where you stood, he took hold of your hands and teased, "Is destroying our poor floors your idea of tidying up?”

You inhale sharply, glancing around the room and blinking back tears. “I just want everything to be perfect,” you whispered.

Lucien’s face softened with understanding as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm around your waist and cradling your head with the other. “I know, my love, but do you know what I want?”

“For your mother to send me her apple pie recipe?”

He chuckled before shaking his head. “I’m not opposed, but no. I want you to be healthy. I want our baby to be healthy. And then I want all of us to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The dam of tears you held back burst as you listened to your partner's sincere words. “I feel like there’s so much left to do. I know we have gotten so much done, but I can’t help but stress about what else we can do,” you whined.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps you subconsciously feel the more work you find, the more ready you will feel, but that is not how it works, unfortunately. We still have two months left, but I promise you we will be ready. You are ready. I have complete faith that you will be a natural once our kit is born. As for being physically ready, you’ve handled it all, my love. All that shopping with Mor and planning lists with Feyra paid off. I told you to leave some work for me,” he winked.

You snorted, smacking his chest lightly. “You’ve hardly let me do anything. You made me sit in that chair,” you pointed to the rocking chair in the corner, “while you built the crib, installed the bookshelf, and made me stay at Tamlin’s manor for two days while you painted the room.”

“Technically, it only took one day to paint and one more for the fumes to air out,” he quipped.

Before you could roll your eyes, the smell of burning cinnamon hit your nose. “Muffins!” You turned away from Lucien and waddled quickly towards the kitchen.

Lucien laughed as he followed after you. “I was wondering what sort of concoction you had brewing in there.”

“The baby asked for snickerdoodle muffins, and what kind of mother would I be to deny my child before they’ve even left the womb?”

“Ah yes, this telepathic connection between the two of you. Pray tell, what else does our little kit ask for,” he asked, leaning on his hands, watching you from across the island that separated you as you pulled the muffin pan out of the oven.

Placing the pan on the counter, you hummed before looking up at Lucien. “Well, since you’re asking,” you smiled deviously, “a nice warm bath complete with a massage. And chocolates.”

He licked his lips as he moved closer to you. “I can’t deny my child before they’ve left the womb, now can I? I shall run you a bath this instant.”

You giggled as he kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your belly before leaving the room. Staring at the muffins on the counter, you couldn’t resist eating one while they were fresh and steaming right in front of you. The crumbs of cinnamon and sugar crunched between your teeth as the bready muffin melted on your tongue, and an involuntary moan escaped you. Your baby may not be born yet, but they certainly have good taste in pastries.

“My love,” Lucien called. “I have a warm, lavender-scented bath ready for you.”

“Coming,” you mumbled, swallowing the last of the muffin before rounding the corner and trailing after Lucien.

As you walked through your bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom, you practically groaned in pleasure at the sight. Steam rose from the clawfoot tub, courtesy of Lucien’s heating powers, and bubbles covered the water's surface. You slipped off your clothes, and Lucien held your hand as you entered the tub. He quickly followed, chucking his clothes onto the floor next to yours.

You leaned back onto his chest as he sat behind you, thick, muscular thighs caging you in between them. “This is nice,” you sighed. The bubbles came up to your breastbone as your body slumped against his, but your bump protruded slightly out of the water's comforting warmth.

He hummed in agreement, grabbing a folded washcloth and submerging it in the water before gingerly running it across your arms. “It is the least you deserve,” he murmured. “I cannot thank you enough for carrying our child.”

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, Luc. I love you, and I love our baby. I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know you do,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I also know being pregnant is no easy feat. First, there was constant nausea and vomiting; now, it’s insomnia, swelling, and back pain. Not to mention the mental toll it takes on you, worrying day and night about what our baby will need, and as much as I hate that you’re so worried, your concern is how I’m sure you'll be a wonderful mother.”

“You can't know that,” you grumbled. “Preparing for it and living it is not the same thing.”

Lucien lathered shampoo in his hands and began to scrub your scalp. “Perhaps, but after believing Beron was my father for most of my life, maybe I’m just content in knowing we can love our child without that monster looming over us. Knowing I will never be like him and you, being an angel sent from the heavens, I think we’re quite set. All I ever wanted was for my future children to be safe, especially in their own home, and they will be.”

You sighed as he rinsed the soap out of your hair, one hand shielding your eyes from the suds. “That is a perspective I haven't considered. I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I only mentioned it because I want you to feel as content as I do. I don't want you spending your first pregnancy fretting over the little things when what's most important is that both of you are okay. We don't know what the future holds, and things could change in the blink of an eye, but in the meantime, I want us to love each other and enjoy ourselves while our kit gets ready for their debut.”

You intertwined your hands with his as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. You always know what to say to bring me back to Earth. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas. Starting with rearranging this house until labor forced you to stop, you stubborn female.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned further into Lucien’s chest. “The day can not come soon enough. My back might break if my stomach gets any bigger.”

Lucien chuckled as he caressed your bump with his large palm. Despite how huge you felt, his hand could still cover the top of your stomach, reminding you that you were, in fact, not actually the size of a mammoth. “I hate to tell you that our little fox is not done growing and will get bigger, but-” he leaned over your shoulder to kiss the bump, “I can assure you that you are unbreakable, my brave and resilient mate. Pregnancy is nothing compared to the battles you’ve overcome, but after this battle, we will be blessed with a precious baby in return, and they will be ours to cherish alone.”

You craned your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re going to have to share them every now and then, you know that right,” you teased.

A soft growl rumbled through his chest before he nipped at your nose, eliciting your squeal. “We don’t have to do anything. We could hide in the woods and live like cave dwellers. No one could make us leave.”

“Well, technically, Tamlin could, being High Lord and all.” You trailed off as he began to leave kisses along your neck.

Lucien hummed, the placement of his lips on your throat sending vibrations coursing straight through you. “I’d like to see him try. I do believe he owes me, coming back to help him repair his court and all,” he teases.

“Would he be grateful enough not to mind his Emissary and wife living in his woods like animals? We might scare the villagers.”

“Darling, if the villagers can’t handle two Fae harmlessly prancing about the woods, they are in the wrong court. Their High Lord turns into a beast, for cauldron's sake.”

You laughed, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing your thighs together lest you pee yourself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. My stupid pregnancy brain has me forgetting everything, including changing out my slippers for shoes before leaving the house. I was halfway to town before I realized.”

"Was that the day you asked me to go to the shops for more strawberry jam after you had said you were going to fetch it yourself," he chuckled.

“Yep,” you grimaced. “I had to turn around. That was a whole trip in itself. No way I was walking back to the shops.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I told you to take it easy, not run around town like a headless chicken.” You smacked his arm for referring to you as a chicken, and he kissed your cheek in apology. “I will handle the shopping from now on. You needn’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

“Oh, so now I have a head?”

“You’re a wicked thing when you want to be.” He rose from the tub, reaching for the towels before stepping onto the rug. “Come on out, love. The water is getting cold, and I still owe you a massage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” your eyes brightened as you took his hand and let him wrap you in a soft, fluffy towel.

You held hands as the two of you walked into your bedroom, cast in the warm glow of flickering candles. Lucien changed into sleep pants while you slipped on a silk nightgown. You sat down at your vanity, and before you could reach for your hairbrush, Lucien grabbed it. “Let me,” he murmured.

Smiling at him appreciatively over your shoulder, you nodded and closed your eyes as he gently brushed through your hair. He was careful to start at the ends with light strokes and work his way up to your roots, mindful of how fragile hair can be while wet. Starting at your hairline, he separated your hair into three sections and began to tie your hair into a french braid. It became your favorite way to style your hair for bed due to all the night sweats you’ve had during pregnancy. Sleeping while pregnant was still uncomfortable, but getting all your hair off your neck helped tremendously with not overheating at night.

“So beautiful,” Lucien whispered, trailing his fingertips down your arms. You made eye contact with him through the mirror and couldn’t stop the blush that crept upon your cheeks. “Let’s get you in bed now, my love.”

You let him lead you to the bed in the middle of the room and watched him pull back the covers. He sat down first, to your surprise, and patted the spot between his legs. You giggled but situated yourself between his thighs and pulled the covers up to your waist.

“First, the chocolate I promised.” He handed you a bowl of small rectangles of dark chocolate. You moaned and popped a piece into your mouth as you grabbed the bowl and placed it in your lap. “Now for that massage,” he leaned over to the side table and picked up the bottle of oil, shaking a few drops on the palm of his hand and rubbing them together. You pulled your braid over your shoulder and let the straps of your nightgown slip down enough for Lucien to access your back. “Where does it feel the most sore?”

“Along my spine and lower back,” you replied, chewing another piece of chocolate.

He hummed in acknowledgment and began to massage your back. Starting at the top of your spine, he ran his knuckles down your back, releasing the tension with his motions. He moved on to massaging circles into your lower back with his thumbs, and the pressure was heaven-sent in such a sore spot.

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling every ounce of love and care he put into relieving your pain. Your eyes remained shut, and you’d never admit that you may have dozed off a couple of times, only once or twice, with a piece of chocolate in your mouth.

After the massage, you leaned back onto his chest, placing the chocolates and oil back on the table, and he wrapped his arms around your bump to lift it. He dipped his chin down to your shoulder and kissed your neck softly. “Does that feel any better, darling?”

Exhaustion consuming you, you could only hum and nod. Lucien chuckled, turned off the flames with a snap, and shifted your bodies so that your head rested on his chest as he pulled you into his side. “Goodnight, my love,” he kissed your temple. “And goodnight, my little fox,” he splayed his hand on top of your bump and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles as you fell asleep.

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Listen In M.M x FEM!Reader

Overture- You're trying to move your dining room table when you slip and fall. Your downstairs neighbor Matt overhears and decides to stop eavesdropping from afar.

CWs- Alcohol heavily mentioned but not actually consumed, Matt is a nosey son of a bitch, and reader is very upset because of a million small things as well as her inability to move furniture

A/N- Hopefully adequate (Divider from @lambouillet)

Matt could hear you— constantly. It wasn’t a bad thing, not at all— but he could feel it making him nosier and nosier by the day. He started consciously listening whenever he was home. He could hear you talking to yourself while you cooked, heard the movies you watched and laughed as though he were alongside you. 

Today though, when he came home he could hear the sound of furniture being moved around, the wood of your table sliding against the floor— accompanying them were frustrated sighs and some groans of discontent. He wrote it off as you trying unsuccessfully to rearrange and wished he could come up and help you. But what would he say? ‘Sorry, I was eavesdropping from downstairs and you sound like you need help. Let the blind man help you decorate— hold my cane would you?’ It would make him seem insane, and like he thought you were incapable. 

He was paralyzed by the decision until he heard a small thud, followed by a crash, and the worst part— soft sobbing coming from you. He listened closely, you had no broken bones, not even a sprained ankle. You weren’t bleeding, physically you must’ve been just fine. But he couldn’t stay on his couch anymore. 

He practically ran upstairs, forgetting to even try and come up with a tangible excuse until he got to the door. He could need a bottle opener— he doesn’t, but he could. He could have just happened to have needed to borrow something. He could just not need his cane when he’s in the apartment building, since he forgot it anyway— and he could have merely stumbled upon you when you were upset.

He knocked, and you picked yourself up off the floor, dusted yourself off, wiped the tears from your face, and opened the door. Figures that your incredibly cute neighbor was the one on the other side of the door— bearing witness to one of the most frustrating days of your life. Your coffee tasted burnt, you knocked things over left and right as you were trying to clean, ran into the corner of your desk twice, and —worst of all— you were trying to move your dining room table when you slipped, falling into the table, and then onto the floor. Not badly enough to seriously hurt yourself, but that brought all of the upset mounting from the day crashing down onto you, crushing you into a puddle on the floor. But nevertheless you answered the door, clearing your throat in a failed attempt to hide your upset.

“Hey Matt, what’s up?” You were grateful that he couldn’t see how puffy your eyes had gotten from crying, and the visible frustration on your face. Unbeknownst to you he could however hear the blood rushing to the spots you’d soon have bruises– and he had to strain himself from fussing over you in a way that would only bring both of you more concern. 

“I came to see if I could borrow a bottle opener, if you have one.” He cleared his throat twice trying to keep his tone even– trying to keep from pulling you close and using every sense he could to check on your physical health, and then keeping you close to him so you could tell him every little thing that made you so upset. 

“Sure, come on in, I think I have one in the kitchen.” You held the door open behind you, wiping your eyes one more time as you turned your back to him. He closed the door again as he stepped in, almost following you all the way to your kitchen, but choosing to stand next to the table. 

“Are you alright?” He made an attempt to be nonchalant, but his concern seeped out of every facet of his being. 

“Oh, yeah it’s just not my day.” You were shuffling through the drawers of your kitchen to try and hide how upset you were, looking for the bottle opener that would get him to leave so you could go back to crying on the floor. You could see him and make a much better impression another time. But he just tilted his head and continued staring in your direction. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing really, it was just frustrating, and then I couldn’t move some things around my apartment and I slipped.” 

“What did you need to move?”

“My table, but it’s fine I’ll— I’ll figure something out later.” 

“Where do you want it?”

“Matt, it’s fine. I can’t ask you to do that, I’ll do it later.”

“I like to be helpful— give me a direction and just say when.” He wasn't taking no for an answer, and you were in no position to turn down help anyway. 

“Umm ok, just like to the left, and then a bit forward from where you’re standing.” He rolled his shoulders back and while he made it seem effortless, you could see every muscle in his arms and back working as he moved. And just as you could make yourself stop staring, he had pushed the needlessly heavy table exactly where you needed it. 

“That’s perfect. Thank you Matt; seriously.” 

“I should— probably find that bottle opener for you. Where the hell is it?” You went back to shuffling through the door, still unable to find the one thing you needed. 

“That’s ok, I can definitely do without.”

“I know it’s around here somewhere if I could just find it.” You were starting to get upset again, but now it was his fault and he most definitely could not let that happen. 

“You know there’s a fantastic bar just down the block, I think I’d rather have your company than be by myself. Drinking alone doesn’t lend itself to the best days.” He could hear the way your heart sped up, almost able to taste the copper of your blood rushing in your cheeks at his suggestion. 

“Oh. That– That sounds nice. Let me go grab my wallet really quick.” You walked past him but he stopped you, linking your arm with his and starting to make his way to the front door.

“Nope– you don’t need it, drinks are on me.”

“Matt you don’t have to do that– really.” 

“I really want to though. It’s a thank you for lending me your company for a while, saving a blind man from walking the streets alone. I just need you to let me know if there are any open man-holes in the street.– Or if I’m about to run into someone which may be more likely.”

“I promise.” In his excitement he was much more leading you down the stairs and along the streets than you were him– but you most definitely did not mind. 

[petersasteria]

eternal sunshine - Daesung/D-Lite

Pairing: daesung x reader Summary: you're a liar. collab with @emmiesoverthemoon <3 Part 1

"I don't care what people say. We both know I couldn't change you. I guess you could say the same, can't rearrange truth. I've never seen someone lie like you do, so much even you start to think it's true. Get me out of this loop."

Daesung felt free. He'd already grieved your relationship and he was happier than ever. The guys saw it too and they were happy for him. He smiled a lot more, he laughed more, he made funnier jokes, and he hung out with his beloved friends more. He even got himself a goldfish to take care of and named it 'Happy'.

He was just enjoying his peaceful day, feeding Happy, and cleaning around his place until he got a call from Jiyong.

"Dae, have you seen Y/N's interview?" Jiyong asked in a hurry. He heard Jiyong shuffling around, as if he was moving around his apartment.

"No, do I have to? Also, what're you doing?" Daesung asked.

"I'm just cleaning around while watching random shit on YouTube. I bought a new tv and wanted to try it out. Anyway, as I was cleaning, Y/N's latest interview played on tv. She started talking shit about you! I swear! I was so, so mad! I was planning on driving there and give her a piece of my mind, but I figured you'd want to watch it first before I throw hands." Jiyong explained.

Daesung nodded, "Alright. I mean, I don't really care anymore because it's done and over with, but-"

"Dae, you don't understand." Jiyong sighed, taking a seat on his couch. "I saw the comments and everyone was saying shit about your relationship with her and how you were as a boyfriend. Now that Y/N has released a clearly false narrative, they're saying shit about you. You're a brother to me, and I don't like that."

Daesung stayed silent for a moment. Should he watch the interview or should he just let it be?

"Hello? Dae? You still there?"

"Um, yeah. I'll- I'll give it a watch." Daesung said, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes! Go ahead. Call me when you're done... and when you'll do some damage because I feel like doing damage." Jiyong said excitedly.

Daesung laughed, "Okay, okay."

He hung up and turned on his tv to go to YouTube. He searched for your latest interview and began watching. He sat on his couch and leaned back as he listened to what you have to say.

And what you said bewildered him to his core. He could only focus on your words.

"I was blindsided when we broke up. I mean, it happened privately, but I wasn't expecting him to leave at all."

"I just think he didn't love me anymore."

"He would brush me off every time I cried."

"He just never cared about me."

"I'm not saying I don't recommend him to be anyone's boyfriend, but he wasn't the right boyfriend for me."

"He changed for the worst."

Daesung was fuming. He immediately called Jiyong and his hyung answered on the first ring. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jiyong beat him to it.

"Are you as mad as I am?" Jiyong immediately asked, getting his car keys. "Because I watched it again just to get me riled up and all. You know what? Don't talk. I'm coming to pick you up and we'll fight this girl."

Just like that, he hung up. Daesung stared at his phone and shrugged. A few minutes later, Jiyong texts him that he's already outside, waiting for him. Daesung grabbed his coat and keys and left.

Jiyong quickly drove to your apartment and parked. They both got out of the car and went straight to your unit.

Jiyong asked Daesung a bunch of questions.

"What'll you say to her?"

"What will you do when you see her?"

"Is this going to be like a Gabriela Montez and Sharpay Evans moment from High School Musical 2?"

By the time they reached your door, Jiyong was patting Daesung on the back. "You can do this. I'll be right here if you need back up." Jiyong assured him as he watched Daesung ring your doorbell.

Your friend answered the door, "Daesung? You've got some nerve showing up here and you brought a friend too! How dare-"

"What're you doing here?" You asked, as you stood behind your friend, taking a good look at an angry Daesung.

"You know damn well what I'm doing here." Daesung said calmly, but you can sense his deep anger. "May we come in?"

"I'm kind of hosting girls' night. Can we do this some other time?" You said, crossing your arms. "You're intruding."

"Wow." He chuckled humorlessly. "I'm kind of living my own life, but you chose to do an interview to talk shit and tell lies about me and I would like to address it now."

"Can we at least do this in private?" You asked.

Daesung looked at Jiyong who shook his head. They both turned to face you and Daesung argued, "You told lies about me in public. The least you can do is allow me to defend myself in front of you, my hyung, and your friends."

"Fine." You gritted your teeth. "Come in."

Both Daesung and Jiyong walked in your apartment and your friend closed the door behind them. Jiyong made a beeline towards your kitchen island where the champagne was and he got himself a glass. Daesung followed you to the living room where the rest of your friends were and they all stared at both of you. Jiyong was watching from afar, taking small sips of your expensive champagne and he felt the tension thicken.

"Tell me what you've told the interviewer about me. If you've got something to say, at least say it to my face, right?" Daesung said bitterly.

"I-" You sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why I lied. It just came out and it kept going and-"

"Or maybe, you're just a pathological liar because it seems like you've started to think everything you lied about was true. It's not fair for you to say all those things about me when you and I both know that you left me alone to fight for our relationship." Daesung seethed.

"Y/N, you resented me for everything I did and said. You told me to grow up when I was crying over you; over us. I wasn't mentally stable and you didn't have an ounce of empathy." He continued as he looked at you dead in the eyes.

"But no one's perfect. I didn't lie completely. You were, at one point, not the boyfriend I wanted you to be." You shrugged.

"Yeah? Well, you weren't the girlfriend I needed you to be, but you don't see me going to an interview to talk shit about you. I would've thought we'd be graceful about it, considering the time we spent together. It really was a time I cherished." He retorted.

"Oh, please. I was basically the perfect girlfriend." You rolled your eyes.

Daesung stared at you; really stared at you. He stared at your nonchalant expression and your wandering eyes. He stared at your face; the face he once loved and complimented everyday. Now, just resents it. Did he regret it? No. Loving you was something he could never regret. Choosing you was his best decision and if he were still with you, he'd choose you everyday, but it's over now. Leaving you was the best decision he ever made and he didn't regret it either.

"I showed you every side of me and I just wanted you to choose me like how I chose you." He said softly as he looked at the ground and gave a small chuckle. He looked back at you and sighed, "You know what? I'm sorry. I'll be the first one to apologize for my shortcomings, but don't stand there and think you have nothing to apologize for. Don't stand there and think you never thought of me as a burden or as someone less than. You want me to grow up? Well, here I am." He gestured to himself.

The whole apartment was silent. Your friends looked at both of you back and forth. Jiyong had a proud smile on his face while raising a glass to Daesung, even though Daesung wasn't looking.

"Have a good life, Y/N. Truly. I hope the next time you give an interview, please leave me out of it because I respect you enough to leave you alone. At least give me the same respect back." Daesung said before turning to leave.

He gave a quick nod to your friends and he motioned for Jiyong to leave too. Jiyong nodded and down the champagne left in his glass and left with Daesung.

"Are you okay? How did you feel? I was so proud of you back there!" Jiyong said all at once, making Daesung chuckle.

"I'm okay now; I'm more than okay, actually. I needed to let that shit out." Daesung smiled.

-

a/n: apologies for the delay!

permanent taglist: @redhoodedtoad @billiesiousji @hayd3n8 @sherrayyyyy @nbjch05 @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @emmiesoverthemoon @breakmeoff @sayugarper @gdinthehouseee

daesung taglist: @tabibabib

eternal sunshine taglist: @sylviavf @amyyforshort @patheticgirl127 @multifanxtvshows @whotfiscamellia @sherxoo @sevendaysummer @steponupbabe @galgal-egg

[the-undeadwriter]

Have you ever heard of ARGs (Alternate reality games)

An ARG is a type of interactive storytelling where players come together to solve puzzles and tasks in order to progress through the story arc. These games are typically set in virtual or real-world environments and involve a variety of media such as videos, audio, text and images.

I think it would be fun to see Ranpo Edogawa x reader who likes args and wants to play them with him. Maybe she asks him to Bata test the puzzles so she can adjust the difficulty for her audience

Hi!! I really had fun with this prompt, even if I’m not too confident with how I write Ranpo… ^^

Warnings; possibly ooc? This one is short and fluffy, Reader is gn!

Wordcount; 454 !!

Enjoy!

After years of following along with other people’s stories and passion project, you had finally started to upload yours.

And it was a major hit! People loved the concept right away, and the amount of videos attempting to explain what was happening within the story was incredible.

There was just one issue.

You stare down at the puzzle arrangement in your sitting room, arms crossed. You think the puzzle is pretty simple— rearrange the numbers and run them through a cipher. However, you are a biased opinion.

Humming, you turn your head and call over your shoulder. “Hey, Ranpo, come help me solve this!”

You heard some shuffling and groaning, but quick footsteps begin heading in your direction.

was it a little unfair, getting your genius boyfriend to test the difficulty of your puzzles? probably. But it was fun for both of you— while you had yet to stump Ranpo, the constant stimulation of testing the puzzles was enjoyable for both of you.

And, you’d like to think it brings you both together just a little bit more.

Footsteps round the corner and a weight settles against your back. Ranpo rests his head on your shoulder, staring down at the puzzle with a grumpy expression. “That’s what you wanted me to solve?”

When you nod your head, he sighs. Early on in your relationship, you had made a single condition when he helped you with your puzzles.

He can’t use his ability.

It’s silent for a few moments as he runs through possible solutions, but then he grins and hums. “Ah, I got it!”

Walking around you, he points at different numbers and, with your permission, moves them around. Your breath catches in his throat as he rearranges them in the correct order. He reads them out and continues to solve it. “This is a simple code, you know? I don’t even need to look at the cipher!”

He grins, reading out the deciphered message with a grin. “It says “bad Doctor, doesn’t it?”

You stand in silence for a moment before chuckling, smiling at his proud expression. You walk over to him and press a quick kiss to his cheek as a pseudo reward. “Yes, it was.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you properly. It’s short and sweet, like him. He tastes like sugar and cocoa.

You pulls back, glancing at the completed puzzle. You’re still not entirely sure if it’s too difficult, but you have faith someone will be able to figure it out.

Trial and error, right?

Ranpo leans against your shoulder, humming in thought. “That took me a few seconds, good job.”

You smile and press another kiss, to his forehead this time. “Thanks, Ranpo.”

[fanficsbysteve]

Author’s Note: So, I really wanted a cute BuckTommy Christmas story. And this is what happened. Hopefully, everyone likes it. I enjoy reading your comments and tags so please keep them coming. I also appreciate any likes I can get. When I figure out a title for this, I’ll post it on AO3 as well cause the Kudos and Comments there also give me inspiration to keep going.

Rating: G

W/C: 2944

***

Thanksgiving wasn't Tommy’s favourite holiday of year. That holiday privilege had always gone to Christmas. Growing up it had been the one day of the year where everyone in his family got along, there was no fighting, just happiness. So, the moment that Thanksgiving was over, Tommy started his decorating. He had boxes and boxes of decorations in his garage. And this year was the first year in many that he had someone to celebrate and decorate with.

Evan was still in bed when Tommy was rummaging around in the garage, slowly boxes of trees and ornaments and everything else you could imagine started to make its way from the garage into the living room. It was time to get the decorating started and nobody could tell him otherwise.

First task was organizing everything. He had decided on a theme years ago that he liked so he stuck with it. He connected his phone up to his speaker system and started to play some Christmas music to get him in the mood. Not too loud. He didn’t want to wake up Evan. Ok, so we have the tree, the mantle village, the ornaments, garland, a never-ending supply of neatly organize lights, he wasn’t going to be spending hours untangling these. He had things to do.

As he pulled different things out of their boxes, he also spent some time in the kitchen. Today was not the ‘spend too long making breakfast’ day. This was a coffee and a bagel day. The coffee machine was brewing. He was busy so he didn’t do the bagel. He did hear some shuffling around upstairs. He poured two cups of coffee, making his how he wanted, and leaving the cream and sugar out for Evan to make his. Taking his mug to the living room, he set it on the mantle and started to rearrange the furniture in the living room. He had been waiting to do this as it was noisy.

Evan shuffled into the living room holding his cup of coffee, a zombie of a human being. This must be one of the mornings where he isn’t a ball of sunshine right off the bat. Tommy was amused by this, “Morning,” he called out to Evan as he moved a chair from one corner of the room to another, stood for a second, and then nodded. This would work.

“Bah,” Evan wasn’t in a sunshine mood this morning, “You sleep well?”

Tommy answered while still organizing everything, “I slept ok. Too much food at Bobby and Athena’s house last night. The food coma helped some.”

“Good to hear,” Evan put his mug down on the coffee table, and came up behind Tommy, pulling him into a hug, “My mind just kept going so I stayed up a bit later than I had originally planned to.”

“I think I briefly woke up and saw you on your phone,” Tommy leaned back into the hug. It felt nice. It was nice to be treated once in awhile. As the older man in this relationship, he tended to be the initiator of most things, “What hole did you fall into last night?”

“Besides yours?” Evan chuckled at his horrible joke. Tommy pulled out of the hug slightly and looked over his should with a ‘You’ve got to be joking’ look, “Why Turkey is the protein of choice in North America during holidays, while in Europe they tend to have Goose,” Evan said, “Turns out its all marketing and money.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it while you help me decorate,” Tommy pulled a box with an artificial tree in it. He’d always had an artificial tree and something about the consistency that it brought felt right. Of course, a real tree was always nice, but it left a mess all over the place, took way too much effort to keep alive the length of time that Tommy liked to have it up, and disposal was a nightmare. He just liked to stick to an artificial one and add pine scented candles around the room to give the effect of a real tree.

Evan groaned as he fell onto the couch, “You decorate this early? Its the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Christmas was the one time of year when my family stopped fighting,” Tommy said offhand, “So its really the one holiday that I truly enjoy and I might go a little overboard with the decorations, and start earlier than most people do, though I think they put things up in September in some places, but its something that brings me joy.”

Evan took a swig of his coffee, stood up, cracked his knuckles, and said, “Alright then Auntie Mame,” another half attempt at a joke, “What do you need me to do? If it makes my man happy then I’m ecstatic to help,” the determination on his face didn’t mask the exhaustion that was also there. Thankfully, they both had today off.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Tommy smiled, “Since you were up half the night researching turkeys and geese.”

“Thank you,” Evan truly sounded exhausted.

“I need you to sort out the stocking holders and stockings for above the mantle,” Tommy said, “And start setting up the village. There is a picture in the main box,” Tommy pointed to the box labeled village, “On where everything should go. However, if you feel like something might look better a certain way, let me know and we can make some changes. This is your Christmas as well.”

Tommy watched as Evan went about sorting out and placing the various stocking holders and village on the mantle. It was easy enough work for the time being. It would get more difficult later when they started putting lights up on the house.

“Who’s Paul?” Evan asked out after a bit of time had passed. Tommy got all the furniture moved around and had set up the tree. He was about to start the lights when Evan asked his question.

Tommy frozen in mid-motion. Paul. He had almost forgotten about Paul.

Tommy paused for a second, “I forgot I had that one in there,” He came over and took the stocking out of Evan’s hands, “Paul was one of my military buddies.”

“Just a buddy?” Evan raised an eyebrow, “I know in my family we only made stockings for important people to us.”

“Well, it was Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell time,” Tommy explained, “And I was still trying to delude myself into thinking I was heterosexual at that time. But Paul was more than a buddy to me, I guess. We would stay up well past curfew talking about our lives, what we wanted to do in the future. That kind of stuff,” Tommy held the stocking close, “I may have had a crush on him but he was always talking about all his conquests before he went into the military,” Tommy put the stocking down, “We were sent to Iraq, whatever name they gave to justify the invasion had been earlier that year so we didn’t expect to see any combat. One night we were just chatting. It was around Christmas time, I think. Hard to tell in the desert unless you were paying attention to a calendar.”

“Hard to tell around here as well,” Evan piped in, looking out the window at all the green trees and grass everywhere. Tommy knew that Evan did miss the snow in Pennsylvania when Christmas came. It never snowed in LA.

“Well, I told Paul about all my Christmas traditions,” Tommy continued his story, “Family stockings, little villages, the whole thing. He made me promise that I would put a stocking up for him. I think he knew how I felt about him. He just didn’t want to lead me on at the same time. We didn’t talk about it like that. Anyways I said that I would of course put one up for him when we got back home. He was killed in action a month later.”

Evan got up and hugged Tommy again, “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Evan just squeezed Tommy hard while they stood there.

“I put this up as a memory of him,” Tommy continued. He grabbed a stocking holder and walked to the mantle. He took the stocking and put it up, “I originally didn’t want to keep putting it up, it brought back too many hard memories. But I eventually made one and started putting it up. A memorial of sorts.”

“That’s a super sweet story,” Evan said looking at the stocking. Tommy smiled looking at it.

                Coughing, Tommy started to rummage in a box, “OK onto the next stuff,” He pulled out the base of the tree and started puttering around to get that organized. He had spent the extra money for the pre-lit one. He liked the way it looked. The lights were more hi evenly spaced. He plugged the first part in and used that to make sure that he got the next pieces in correctly, “I do love how this looks.”

                “We always had a real tree in Pennsylvania,” Evan commented, “But then again it was also easier to just go out into the woods somewhere, ask a farmer and cut your own down out there than it is here. Unless you want to decorate a palm tree.”

                “I’ve tried doing that,” Tommy admitted, “Its not as fun as it looks. Just a bunch of lights going up the trunk. Doesn’t look as nice as the fullness of the evergreen.”

                “I agree,” Evan said. He got up and brought some baubles over and started to help putting them up.

                Tommy let Evan do what he wanted with the baubles. They weren’t needed in a specific place. But he had a few that needed to be placed a certain way. One for his mother. One for his sister. They were both no longer with him, so he needed to remember. The only family he had was his drunk of a father and he pretended that man didn’t exist. He was somewhere on the east coast last he heard. Good riddance, Tommy thought.

He walked over to the box of decorations while Evan did the baubles and started to set up his little Christmas village. His mom had loved the villages she saw in stores, she liked to fantasize about the perfect home in the perfect town where everyone was always happy, and nothing ever went wrong.

The village had its own little space on the mantle. Carefully Tommy placed each house where it should go. Little corner store near the back, dream family home on the left, a church on the opposite of the house ‘Every town needs a church even if you don’t believe because sometimes, they can be good people. Being religious doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. Being a bad person makes you a bad person.’ That’s what his mom had always said anyways. He didn’t believe it due to how horrible religious people had constantly been to him in his 40 years of life, but he kept the church just for her.

“That’s a cute village,” Evan said, “Didn’t know you were religious.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Tommy replied, “Far from it. My Mom believed in the good in all people even the religious whack jobs out there. I keep the church for her.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Evan asked meekly, “You’ve never really talked much about your family. Just your father who you very obviously don’t get along with.”

Tommy sighed, he didn’t like talking about this, but communication was key in a relationship, “Mom died when I was six. Car accident. My sister Amy was with her. They had been going out to look at all the decorated houses around my hometown. I had stayed home because I wasn’t feeling well. My father was also feeling unwell. Drink driver hit them, and they both died on the scene. This was the 80’s/90’s,” Tommy placed a little motorized skating rink in the middle of his village. He plugged everything in, hiding the power bar so that it wasn’t easily visible but was safe. No cotton snow to hide it, “That’s when Father became a raging drunk who constantly beat me.”

Evan gasped at the story, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m not,” Tommy replied, “this made me the man I am today. And the military but that less so. The military was a means of getting away when I was old enough.

“Still,” Evan pulled Tommy into a hug and gave him a kiss, “That had to have been hard at 6 years old.”

“You didn’t have the greatest of childhoods either,” Tommy countered, “We all have our trauma’s, how we handle them is how we are represented. I spent a few years going to therapy regarding mine. I don’t know what kind of stupid things I could have or would have done if I hadn’t done that.”

“I don’t want to think about that,” Evan replied. They continued along with their decorating. Slowly the living room started to turn into a Christmas wonderland, “Have you ever wanted to just leave your decorations up and just become a Christmas house?”

“Every single year when it comes time to put everything away,” Tommy laughed as he replied, “But every year I remind myself, the magic of it is that you only put it out for this short time of each year. If you were to leave everything up, then what’s to get you excited next year?”

“That’s a good point,” Evan placed what he hoped was the final bauble on the tree, “We only had real trees as mentioned so there’s always a temporariness to it since you always had to get rid of it somehow. Unless you wanted dry pine needles all over your living room.”

Tommy smiled at Evan. It was nice to just do something together with just them. Usually someone from Harbor or the 118 was around so it was difficult to just get some alone time with just them, “And the final touch,” Tommy took out some wax melters and placed them on different tables around the living room. There were only 2 and he didn’t intend to have them on at the same time. One was enough to get the smell around the room, and then you turn the other on while you clean the one that just ran out of scent. He flicked the switch and went to sit on the couch. It was late afternoon now, so they deserved some time to just relax. Evan joined Tommy on the couch and snuggled up in his arms. Slowly the scent of pine tree started to permeate the room. Evan took a deep breath, “I know you said they were Christmas, but what do I smell besides pine?”

“I make my own wax melts,” Tommy admitted, “I can never find the scents I really want in the way I really want. So, I make my own with pine oil, some cinnamon, some vanilla, and the barest hint of cloves. Something to have the Christmas smell for me.”

“It smells perfect,” Evan said, “Is there anything else that needs doing?”

“Oh, there is lots to do,” Tommy replied. Evan made a slight groaning noise, “But that is for another day. Today was about setting this up and now relaxing. Maybe order something for delivery.”

“I think they added a new restaurant to UberEATS that I’ve been wanting to try,” Evan added.

“Sounds like a wonderful plan,” Tommy replied, “I’ll get that ordered, and you get to relax since you helped me so much after a food coma and a traditional Evan Internet Deep Dive kept you tired.”

“An informative deep dive,” Evan replied, not leaving Tommy’s arms. Tommy smiled, it would be hard to hold Evan and order dinner, but he would keep it that way for awhile. Tommy didn’t even smell the wax melts he made. Just Evan right now and it was perfect.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me more of that deep dive that you learned,” Tommy added, “But lets just relax a bit for now.”

Tommy was perfectly happy. He had Evan, he had his memories and his decorations. Everything was perfect. Without noticing, Tommy’s eyes may have flicked to the bedroom area without thinking. Hidden away in his nightstand, a special gift that Tommy intended to give to Evan on Christmas. But that was a few weeks away, so he tried not to get too excited about it. Tommy did hope he would say yes though.

***

Author’s Note: I just really wanted a cutesy Christmas decorating story. Christmas is my favourite holiday, so I just want a happy one for my favourite couple. I apologize if there are some conflicting ideas in here. I honestly don’t plan ahead on what I write. I just start and stop and go from there and as the words come into my head that is when they come into my story. I legit didn’t know where it would end, just that it would end eventually. Any Constructive Criticism is welcome.

[rummels]

weight on my shoulders

relationships: platonic Reader & Chan & Changbin word count: ~2300 warnings: none tags: fluff, platonic intimacy, gender neutral reader summary: You're in a weird and uncomfortable headspace, your friends and flatmates Chan and Changbin help you with lots of soft affection and understanding.

read on ao3

You quietly plod into the living room, your feet hidden in thick fluffy socks causing you to sneak up to the couch unnoticed. Your frame is completely concealed by an oversized hoodie that reaches down to the middle of your thighs, tickling the back of your bare legs a bit when you stop a short distance away. You’re not sure if you like the feeling, it feels a bit like tiny zips of static prickle against your skin where the fabric brushes against you just the tiniest bit. It causes you to frown, huffing a tiny breath out of your nose. Everything feels a bit…off. The figure sitting on the couch hadn’t noticed you until now, engrossed in some TV show or movie, but the quiet noise makes the man look over to you.

“Hey,” Chan says softly, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

“I didn’t even notice you coming in. You wanna join me?”

He pats the space next to him in invitation, raising his eyebrows slightly in question and rearranging his position a bit so his legs are not stretched out across the couch. You tilt your head in a curious gesture and nod slightly, shuffling over and plomping yourself into the newly vacated spot, immediately leaning into Chan’s side. It’s not uncommon for you to seek out physical contact with your best friend and flatmate, the both of you sharing and enjoying skinship in a very loving yet platonic way.

It’s quiet for several minutes, Chan again taken in by whatever is shown on TV. You couldn’t care less, your brain going both zero and a thousand miles per minute, leaving you feeling a little overwhelmed and disoriented, not really knowing what to do with yourself while thoughts zip around in your head without you really being able to grab onto a single one of them. Chan’s hand unconsciously wanders across the back of the couch to you, his fingertips starting to slowly comb through the hair at your neck. You let out a low hum and close your eyes. This is nice. Somehow grounding. Just the tiniest bit, you push your head against the touch to encourage it and let Chan know to not stop his ministrations. He looks over to you again.

“Are you okay?” He looks a bit concerned. Usually you’re much more talkative, especially after a long day at work, wanting to share whatever annoyed or excited you that day or simply let out your annoyance about some frustrating project or other. Your brain rambles at you from the moment you wake up and simply letting your thoughts out and sharing them is often very relaxing to you, especially when you don’t have to be worried about being written off as an annoying chatterbox. Which you never have to worry about with Chan. Never had to, actually. So your continued silence is definitely raising some worries in your attentive friend.

You look at him, obviously giving the answer some thought before you scrunch your nose up and nod-shake your head in a definitely a little weird display of uncertainty. Immediately, Chan tunes in on you more, his whole body angling towards you a bit more while he studies your face.

“Did something happen?”

You shake your head no.

“Are you having a bad day?”

You shake your head again.

“Hm…are you getting sick?”

Again, a definite no, you shake your head.

“So simply a bad day maybe?”

You begin to negate that too when he hastily adds “You know that would be okay too, yeah? You can have a bad day without any reason and it’s still okay and valid. Some days are just fucked.”

A small grin sneaks onto your face, knowing he is about to quote one of those silly motivational Tiktoks you both send each other sometimes. He grins back, relieved at seeing your reaction.

“And there’s no way to unfuck them. Try again tomorrow,” he says and can’t stop himself from giggling a bit before ruffling your hair affectionately. You clear your throat, it feeling a bit scratchy after actually being silent for quite some time – you hadn’t even consciously realized that until now.

“Don’t worry, I’m not feeling bad, I’m just –“ You try to find the right words, frowning a bit, “-off? I don’t know,” you trail off, hoping he might understand. You yourself are not even able to understand it but Chan is smart, he gets people. And maybe he understands. Even if not, you know you don’t have to worry, he will simply accept it and will not try to force something out of you just for the sake of his own peace of mind.

You are proven right when he softly nods his head, his eyes deep in thought until he snaps back to you and gifts you one of his blinding smiles. “Come here, babygirl,” he says while pulling you over and manhandling you into a cuddling position against his side, halfway in his lap, his hands again finding themselves in your hair again. You make a little squawking noise at the pet name but your weird aversion to speaking right now is definitely not helping your protest. Factor in that Chan knows how much you actually secretly like the term of endearment? You’ve got no ground to stand on. The voices in your head have just started to discuss if this is something to be happy or disgruntled about when you feel his fingernails scratch against your scalp and you think you could start purring like a fucking cat any second now. Fuck this. There’s no snark left in you right now to defend yourself and you actually start to feel a tiny bit more like yourself so why bother?

Chan goes back to watching his show while holding you against himself, switching between softly combing through your hair with his fingers and giving you head scritches. You feel weirdly small, which seems a bit ridiculous to you considering you’re actually exactly the same height as him and also not exactly small in any other way. But it’s so nice, you melt more and more into him, your eyes drifting shut every now and then until your weird brain swirls manage to drag you up again.

By the time the front door opens and closes again, it has turned dark outside and Chan perks up, looking over the back of the couch towards the hallway.

“YA!” A shout echoes through the apartment, announcing the arrival of Changbin as he throws his backpack somewhere into the hallway.

You flinch at the sudden noise, also moving your head a bit but Chan suddenly has a rather firm grip in your hair and keeps you in place. Eyes widening, you feel like your pulse is suddenly going down in a very relaxing way. What the hell? The effect is too nice to fight against though, so you decide to go with it and stay where you are. Maybe Chan really does know best. Your own brain definitely doesn’t feel like it’s able to deal with any responsibilities and decisions right now.

“Tone it down, Binnie.” Chan’s voice vibrates against the side of your face. Huh, when did you slide all the way over to rest your face against his chest? You instinctively try to perk up again in surprise, you’ve also started to develop a bit of crick in the upper part of your back from the position you were in. This time Chan lets you but keeps his hand at the back of your neck which you are weirdly thankful for. Changbin chooses that moment to stick his head into the room and, seeing the two of you cuddled up on the couch, wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner while smirking like the little gremlin he sometimes tends to be.

“You’re trying to win them over while I’m not home? Unfair business, Christopher,” he playfully scolds Chan and again you manage to smile. Yay, an emotion!

The two of them like to put up a whole charade of pretending to heroically and dramatically trying to win your heart over, each trying to ‘win’ against the other. All three of you are very much aware of the fact that this is all a game. You love them both to bits, would probably gladly cut off your own hand for them if the situation demanded it. But you’re also all very safe in the knowledge that nothing sexual would ever come into your relationship. Between you preaching about open and honest communication, Chan’s will to provide and care and give love and Changbin’s absolute lack of any kind of shame or reservations when it comes to feelings and affection, the three of you have created a very nurturing and loving environment in your shared apartment.

Chan’s chuckle is audible next to you before he speaks. “No wooing today, I’m just trying to cuddle y/n’s brain into submission because we’re feeling a bit weird today,” he explains, his thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin under your ear while his hand lays on your neck.

“Oh no, do we have a scrambled brain today?” Changbin sits down next to you on the couch and leans closer, peering into your face like it may just give him all the answers on its own. You nod and pull a frowny face.

“They don’t like to talk right now.” Chan lets you out of his arms as you reach over for Changbin, going to lean your forehead against his big shoulder. But he reaches down and cups your face in his hands, holding it and looking at you while obviously thinking something over.

“Can I try something?” he ends up asking. “It might help but you need to tell me if you feel uncomfortable with it today, you know I will not be mad if you do, right?”

Having no clue which brilliant idea he has cooked up underneath those fluffy curls, you nod your head in agreement. You don’t need to worry, that much you definitely know.

Changbin hurries to shoo Chan off the couch and pushes you down with sure hands until you’re fully laying down. You only manage to look up at him for a couple of seconds before he is once again pulling and pushing at you until you end up on your stomach. He also tugs at your hoodie a bit until it doesn’t form any big creases against your body anymore and then you feel a warm hand at the small of your back.

“I will lay down on top of you now, is that okay?”, he asks softly and you feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Yes. That would be perfect actually. Suddenly the fact that he’s not already settled on top of you seems almost cruel to you and you wiggle around a bit, nodding your head in clear agreement and permission.

He can’t help but poke your butt – of course he can’t – before crawling over you and then slowly letting all of his weight push down against you. You let out a small grunt of contentment, the air getting pushed out of your lungs and you feel like your bones turn into liquid. Perfect. This is exactly what you needed. Like putting on 3D glasses in the cinema, two separate yet connected, overlayered parts of yourself seem to finally slot together and begin to form a coherent version of yourself again. Changbin moves around a tiny bit still, finding the perfect spot and position to rest in while you turn your head to the side, peering into the dimly lit living room, your eyelids fluttering a bit.

Chan moves into your field of vision and crouches down to be at eye level with you. He’s got his signature ‘proud loving parent’ smile on and usually you would tease him for it – to hide how much you absolutely love get looked at like that – but right now it’s perfect for your mushy brain. He reaches out and tugs a bit on your hood.

“Would you like to put that on?”

You feel even less like talking right now, your body and mind almost like molasses. It’s a sweet, heady feeling and you smile, blinking slowly once and hoping he understands. He cocks his head to the side and raises an amused eyebrow.

“Is that a yes?”

You give a slow long blink again, probably smiling like an idiot. He chuckles and reaches over, slipping your hood over your head and arranging it in a way that makes you peek out of it like a little ferret out of its den. The fact that they know you so well, aware that you like to have your hearing muffled sometimes, feeling safe inside your hoodie, makes you so happy that you give another slow blink while contently scrunching up your nose with a smile. Chan boops it with his finger and stands up.

“You okay down there?”, you hear Changbin checking in from somewhere on top of you and you give a tiny wiggle so as to not accidentally throw him off of you but still answer his question ….somehow.

“Perfect. Just let me know when I should get up again, please don’t just yeet me off when it gets to be too much, alright?”

You wiggle again, completely settling in now and closing your eyes. Your head is not quiet, it never is when you’re awake. But right now there’s only a soft song buzzing in the back of your mind – you probably heard it somewhere on your way home – while you think about the new movie that’s running in the cinemas and you wanted to go to with both Chan and Changbin, your mind switching over to remember the time you all went to Changbin’s problematic cousin’s birthday party last month to crash it as a fake throuple, nearly sending the whole conservative side of his family into a collapse. Also there’s this brownie recipe Felix shared with you, maybe you’re gonna try that out tomorrow…

[guilty-pleasures21]

Another one?! Ugh, I get bored at work, okay?!

Guys, you don't know how many iterations this scene went through 😩.

2. I wrote it.

Part 1 - the towel

Part 2 - the morning after

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

----------------------------------------------------------

He slipped through the window into X’s bedroom and collapsed into her desk chair, not wanting to risk getting any grime onto her bed. At least he’d managed to get a vial of Scorpion’s poison, he thought, setting it down on her desk. Now they could try to reverse engineer a cure so it wouldn’t be so deadly anymore. His lips quirked at the ends as the sound of X singing in the shower wafted through the bathroom door. She had a nice voice, he thought to himself, not expecting it from someone normally so soft and shy. He rolled his neck as she continued, trying to get rid of some of the soreness as he waited for her to be done. Then the shower stopped and she walked out of the bathroom, her damp hair brushing over the tops of her breasts, her more sensitive parts barely hidden beneath the towel she’d wrapped around herself. Miguel sucked in a breath at the sight. 

     She’d forgotten that she’d put her pyjamas in the laundry that morning, leaving her stranded in the toilet without any clothes to put on. But it wasn’t like she needed to cover up for anyone anyway - she lived alone, after all, no one would see if she just slipped out to grab some clothes from her cupboard. But then a flash of red caught the corner of her eye and she jumped, startled to find Miguel sitting in her desk chair, lips parted and eyes wide as his gaze travelled over her barely concealed form. She squeaked in surprise and clutched her towel tighter around herself, wincing in embarrassment. “M-Miguel?” 

     He shouldn’t stare, he shouldn’t stare, he shouldn’t stare. But f*ck, she looked gorgeous, her long, smooth legs, her soft, tanned skin, all of her just waiting to be devoured by him. He dragged his gaze up to hers, snapping his jaw shut and swallowing hard. “¿S-Sí?”

     She kept her head down, avoiding his gaze as she made her way over to her closet. But why had he come over? Was he injured? That was the only time he’d normally come over. “Are you okay?” 

     His eyes fell back to her body as she shuffled over to the cupboard, unable to help themselves from roving all over her. He nodded, then tried to stammer out a response as she reached into the cupboard to get her clothes. “I-I … I just …” 

     She released her hold on her towel to dig out her pyjamas from deep inside her cupboard - she really had to rearrange her closet - but she hadn't twisted the towel tight enough, so it fell open, revealing her entire bare back to him. She let out an embarrassed yelp and grabbed the cloth before it fell to the floor, quickly wrapping it back around herself. She winced and turned back to him slightly, too afraid to look up and see what his reaction would be. 

     ¡Ay, p*ta madre! She was … She looked so f*cking soft, her cute little ass just waiting for him to bite down on it and force more embarrassed squeaks out of her mouth. He clenched his fists and bit down on his tongue, his body almost shaking with the effort it took to restrain himself. Then he called out to her, trying to get her to look up at him. “Ara … Arañita.” 

     His voice was low, hoarse and she bit her lip at the desire evident there, peeking up at him shyly from beneath her eyelashes. ¡Coño, she was cute! Miguel reached a hand out to her, then stopped halfway, curling his fingers into a fist and lowering it back down to his side. He shook his head at her. “Don't … Don't look at me like that, arañita.” 

     And this was it, this was the turning point. She could either run back to the toilet, throw her clothes on and pretend like none of this had ever happened … Or she could tease him, in that way she always did, her gaze trailing over his body appreciatively before she flashed him that challenging smirk. Her features flickered with indecision as she considered her options and he prayed to God she'd choose the latter. He didn't think he'd be able to control himself much longer, not with the way she stood across from him, so small and so delicious, just waiting for him to have his way with her. Finally, the ends of her lips twitched and she looked up at him again, her eyes glinting with mischief beneath her dark and curly eyelashes. He swallowed hard. 

     “Like what? Dr O'Hara?” she asked him naughtily. He groaned and marched over to her, forgetting all about the soreness in his body as the adrenaline began rushing through his veins. He placed one hand on the cupboard behind her, leaning over her and trapping her beneath him. Then he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, his pupils dilating as his eyes fixed on her mouth. 

     “W-What … does it do to you … Miguel?” she breathed. “When I call you that?” 

     “Carajo, arañita,” he mumbled softly. “You know what it does to me when you call me that.”

Her eyelids fluttered at the feeling of him so close to her, so warm and so strong, the calluses on his skin catching on her lips. She tilted her head up, overcome with the urge to close the gap between their mouths - to taste him as she'd imagined doing so many times before. 

     P*tas, that was even worse: hearing his name fall from her lips like that - like she needed him, not just wanted him. He let his fingers trail down her throat, then bent over, bringing his mouth even closer to hers, so that he could feel her breath blowing over his lips. “Arañita ..."

     She shivered at the huskiness of his tone; at how so very close he was to her, the woodsy, slightly spicy scent of him washing over her and clouding her brain. “S-Say my name, Miguel. P-Please?” 

     She tried to pout up at him, to frustrate him like she always did, teasing and poking him until he couldn’t take it anymore, until his mouth watering with how the need to taste her. But her eyes just fell to his lips when she opened them again, unable to focus on anything else. So he pressed them to hers, gentle at first, then more aggressive, his tongue sweeping across her mouth as he licked her up hungrily. Mierda, she was even better than he’d imagined: soft and sweet, her tongue winding around his as slow as he was fast. He uncurled his fingers from around her throat as he continued moving his mouth against hers, his hand drifting down her collarbone and to the fist still clenched around her towel. He tugged on her hand lightly, then lowered his lips to her neck, moving his arm to wrap around her waist as he began pressing open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder. “X. X, can we … X …” 

     He brushed his nose up her neck, nudging her head to the side, then grinned against her ear when she let out a soft gasp. He lowered his hand to grip her ass and growled when she let out a surprised yelp as he closed his fingers around her. She whimpered as he tugged on her skin with his teeth and he let his hand trail even further down her curves, right to the edge of her towel where he started sliding his hand up her bare skin. 

     “W-Wait!” she gasped, grabbing onto his forearm to stop him in his tracks. He curled his fingers against her, confused, then straightened, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he tried to focus. 

     His eyes were so dark, the glowing copper of his irises engulfed almost entirely by the blacks of his pupils. She gulped at the sight, then looked away quickly, mentally rehearsing what she wanted to say to him. 

     ‘One night wouldn’t be enough for all the things I want to do to you, arañita,’ is what he would have said if she hadn’t just poured her heart out to him so honestly. She turned back to him, her lips parted in surprise, her eyes wide with shock. Then she bit down on a smile, curling into herself shyly. P*ta madre, he’d just said that out loud. He took a step away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to figure out what to say. 

     “I really … I really like you, Miguel. Like, a lot. And I … I don’t want just a one-night stand from you.” She glanced up at him quickly, trying to gauge his reaction to her confession, then lowered her gaze again. “Or something.”

She let him go then, shifting nervously in position as she waited for his response. 

     “Okay, so … what should we do now? I mean … I’ve never done this before and …” She smiled up at him again, excited this time, and he felt the testosterone begin to sprint through his veins. But then all of a sudden, her features melted into an expression of apprehension. “Wait. You’re my boss, Miguel. Is this … allowed?” 

     “I … I didn’t mean … What I meant to say was …” He rubbed the back of his neck, his heart thrumming rapidly in his chest. “I … really like you too, X.”

He turned back to her, lifting his gaze to meet hers, and she grinned at his confession. Coño, she was cute, standing there smiling at him shyly while she was still all wrapped up in her towel. He had to get her out of that damn towel. She brushed her hair behind her ear, oblivious to his thoughts. 

     Mierda, he hadn’t even thought about that. His stomach churned with anxiety. “I don’t know. I’ve never … I’ve never checked … before.” 

     “Um, well, we can check?” she suggested, grinning at his revelation. Then she started moving closer to him, her each step slow and cautious. “And, even if it isn’t allowed, I mean … it’s not like we’re going to be all lovey-dovey at work and stuff. We’ll still be professional! And, anyway, we’ve kept this secret for this long.”

She stopped in front of him and shrugged, treating him to a smile so sweet that he felt his mouth start to water. He cupped her cheek in his hand, his eyes racing across her body hungrily. She was right, they’d find a way, they’d … 

     “We’ll be careful, Miguel,” she reassured him. “I know how much you care about me. And … I don’t think I can spend another day pining after you hopelessly now that I know what your lips taste like.”

     “Arañita,” he began, his voice hoarse with restraint. “Are you sure? You … I’ll be fine. But you …”

He would be fine, renowned and respected as he was. But she? Fresh out of uni in her first job? A woman of colour surrounded by entitled, middle-aged men? And non-confrontational as she was? They’d eat her alive. And she was much too clever for that, she had far too much left to give. He couldn’t do that to her - he wouldn’t. She reached up to twine her fingers around his, her expression softening in understanding. 

His jaw dropped at her naughty declaration. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to ‘pining hopelessly’ after her now that he knew what she tasted like. Now that he’d seen that cute little ass of hers just ready for him to bite down on it and make her squeal for him. He licked his lips as he cupped her face in both of his hands now, pulling her to him so he could start kissing her again, harsh and desperate, like she was a lake in the middle of a desert. He licked her tongue aggressively, running his hands down her wonderfully soft little body and lifting her up into his arms so he could carry her over to her bed. He set her down, then deactivated his suit and crawled on top of her, nothing left between them but his underwear and that goddamned towel. 

     He was hers, all hers, his broad chest, his tanned skin, his rippling muscles. She reached out a hand and brushed her fingers cautiously across the hard planes of his chest. Holy shit, he felt good. She couldn’t wait to feel him wrapped all around her, his firm muscles pressing against her soft curves. He lowered himself on top of her and she slid her arms around his neck as he began kissing her again, running her fingers along his back appreciatively. She wrapped her legs around his waist, then moaned as he pushed his hips into hers, his large bulk grinding against her already throbbing p*ssy. 

     “Arañita,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She hugged him tightly, sliding her fingers into his hair and scrunching the strands as he grinded himself into her, his hips rolling so deliciously against hers. 

     “M-Miguel …” she interrupted him, smiling against his neck nervously, “I’m ... still a virgin, by the way.” 

     P*ta madre, how could he have forgotten?! He sat up quickly, pulling himself away from her and putting far too much distance between them. “Are you … sure you want to do this? We don’t have to; if you don’t want to.”

     She pushed herself up to a seat, grinning at the desperation so clearly written across his face. 

     “I want to!” she replied quickly, trailing her gaze over his body and licking her lips. “Are you insane, Miguel?! You’re so hot! I want you so bad, mi araña.” His lips twitched at her eagerness and he leaned forward again, allowing her to curl her fingers around his shoulders and get a feel of his corded muscles. 

     “Besides,” she began uncertainly, avoiding his gaze in embarrassment. “I know what it feels like. Kind of.”

He shook his head, confused. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? “W-What?”

She looked away and cleared her throat, her cheeks heating up at her own admission. 

     “I’ve … touched myself … before … a little,” she mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. He perked up, his eyes lighting up at the thought. 

    “Where?!” he asked her quickly. She raised an eyebrow, taken aback by his unexpected excitement.

     “What do you mean ‘where’?” He gestured to her body.

     “Where do you touch yourself?” Another confused raise of her brows.

     “Where do you think I touch myself?” 

     “Don't you want to touch me, Miguel?” she teased him. “I already know what it feels like. Don't you want to find out?”

     “I want to see.” He nodded at her towel, his tone firm. “Show me.”

And finally, gracias a Dios, finally, she unwrapped that damned towel and slid it off, tossing it aside. She leaned back on the pillows, fighting against the instinct to cover herself up as his eyes ran over her body, bare before him. Then she bit down on her thumb, a mischievous expression on her face.

He clenched his jaw as he leaned over her, sucking in a breath as he tried to figure where to start. F*ck, she was gorgeous. She chuckled at his uncertainty and sat up, climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. He groaned at the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest and dug his fingers into her ass, gripping her tightly.

     “Cariño,” he pleaded. X giggled at the desperation in his voice and slid her fingers into his hair, burying them in the soft strands as she began kissing him. She moaned into his mouth as he wrapped his strong arms around her, his tongue tangling with hers so deliciously. He slid one hand down her back, dragging his fingernails along her spine until he reached her thigh, then he lowered his lips to her neck, holding her close to him as he brushed his nose along her shoulder. Ay, por Dios, she was so f*cking soft! “Arañita …” 

     “Mmm, Miguel.” She bit her lip as she began moving her hips against his, her head falling back in pleasure as she felt his clothed c*ck brushing up against all her sensitive nerves. He kissed his way up her throat, his hands arching her lower back and pulling her more vigorously against him. Then he sank his teeth into the crook of her neck, his sharp fangs grazing her skin pleasantly. She lay one hand on the bed behind her, stretching herself out and grinding herself even harder against him. Shit, she was getting so wet, so very wet, her arousal dampening his underwear beneath her. 

     “Miguel! Miguel!” she moaned loudly, digging her fingers into his brawny shoulder as the pleasure kept building up inside of her. Miguel growled as he pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck, then he lowered her down onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. He reached down and pulled his underwear off, revealing to her his rapidly hardening c*ck, and she felt her nipples tingle with excitement. He took hold of himself as he leaned over her, pressing his tip against her folds and tracing her clit with his c*ck. She shivered at the feeling, her eyelids fluttering shut as her hips bucked off the mattress, begging him for more. 

     “Arañita,” he whined, nipping at her ear as he dragged his c*ck along her folds, rubbing himself up against her. Dios, she felt so f*cking good, her stiff nipples dragging along his skin as her soft breasts bounced up and down against him. He reached a hand down and slipped a finger inside of her, pushing and prodding at her walls as she twitched and writhed around him. She moaned loudly and rocked her hips harder against his hand, her movements getting more frenzied as she approached her edge. Finally, she came, his powerful muscles holding her in place as she shook and shuddered in his arms. He kept his d*ck pressed against her p*ssy as he removed his finger and kissed a trail along her cheek, his c*ck so painfully hard for her. Especially when she was looking up at him with that lovely f*cked-out expression on her face. He growled, his fangs pricking her skin at the spot where her neck met her shoulder and she sucked in a breath, curling herself around him tightly. 

     “You like that, preciosa?” he chuckled, delighting in how helplessly she squirmed and writhed beneath him. “You like feeling my d*ck on your p*ssy?”

He buried his face in her neck, groaning at the very thought, and moved to wrap his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. 

     “M-Miguel,” she whimpered, her toes curling at the feeling of how hard he was. God, he felt good, his strong body wrapped around hers so very nicely. “Let me … Please?” 

     He pulled back to look down at her, her curly hair matted around her face, her cheeks flushed and glowing with pleasure. Dios, she was beautiful. He leaned closer to her again, his lips curling into a smirk as he murmured against her lips. “Let you what, princesa? You know there’s no way you’re fitting my d*ck into that tight little p*ssy of yours tonight, right?” 

     She whined in protest and grabbed onto his face, kissing him deeply, the movements of her tongue so slow and appreciative against his. 

     “Mmm, I can … There must be … something else … I can do,” she mumbled in between kisses, hoping to please him even half as much as he’d pleased her. He grinned and slid his hand down her torso, taking hold of her breast and squeezing it. 

     “Mmm, arañita.” His low voice rumbled out of his chest and sank into her skin, vibrating along her very bones. He circled her nipple with his thumb and she squeaked into his mouth, feeling herself starting to leak again at the feeling of his calloused skin on her. All his, she was all his, her cute little smile and round perky tits and her soft and smooth curves. Just as he was hers. He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, brushing his lips down her collarbone and to her breast where he dragged his tongue across her nipple before pulling it into his mouth. He sucked on her gently and slid his hand back down to her p*ssy, teasing her clit with his fingers so that her arousal continued to drip out of her, her body so sensitive to his every touch. Then he sat up and flipped her over, pulling her hips up off the bed. She barely had time to react before he'd slid his d*ck in between her thighs, squeezing her legs together so that they closed around his c*ck.

     “F*ck, arañita,” he muttered, his fingers digging into her ass as he began moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his bulky length against her soaked folds. He leaned over her, bracing one hand on the bed by her head and using the other to lift her up against him. He pulled himself in and out of her slowly as he moved his hand up her abdomen to squeeze her breast, burying his face in her neck and groaning against her as he did so. “Mmm, sientes … You’re so f*cking soft, arañita.” 

     He pulled her up so she was on her knees, back pressed against his hard chest as he thrust his hips against hers, his legs holding hers together so her thighs squeezed around his d*ck. God, he was huge, so large and so satisfying between her, rubbing up against her clit so very nicely. He grazed his teeth against her neck as he kneaded her breasts in his hands, relishing the way her ass bounced against his abdomen as she came again, her tiny little body struggling against him. He licked a line up her neck and nipped her ear when she was done, then wrapped his arms all the way around her as he felt his own body begin to tighten. She let out a surprised yelp as he came too, his body twitching as he tried to continue his movements through it, his balls slapping lazily against the backs of her thighs as he painted her skin with his seed. He slumped over her when he was done, his heavy weight forcing her back down onto her stomach beneath him. 

     “Miguel,” she laughed, finally having returned to her senses. He didn’t even give a grunt of acknowledgement, so out of it he was. “Miguel, I can’t breathe!”

He sighed and flopped over onto his side, giving her the space to curl herself around him. He slid his hand up her back as she settled in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, cuddling her loosely against him before moving his fingers to her hair. 

     “That first time, after you helped me with that first mission,” he mumbled into her hair, thinking back on it. She'd heard him curse as the Lizard had cut him with a claw, piercing the fabric of his suit and breaking the skin of his arm. He recalled her tone being laced with panic as she'd asked him if he'd been hurt, but she said nothing more about it after he'd waved her off, letting him focus until he'd taken down the villain. Then she'd commanded him to go to her place, waiting until he'd dragged himself over so she could patch him up. And as he'd sat at her kitchen island, her slender fingers brushing against his skin, her messy hair tickling his cheek as she huffed in annoyance over his carelessness, he realised that he was glad she'd found him out - glad that it had been her and no one else who'd discovered his secret and then convinced him to let them help. Because, he'd realised then, he didn't want anyone else. He just wanted her. Just her, just for him, the two of them together. “What about you?” 

     “Miguel,” she murmured, breathing in the wood and nutmeg scent of him. He hummed in question, his fingers twirling her curls as he waited. “When did you … When do you think you started liking me?”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and she snuggled against him comfortably. 

     She pushed herself up slightly so she could give him a fake look of confusion. “Spiderman or Miguel?” 

     “Arañita,” he chastised her, his brows setting into a frown. She grinned and lay back down in his arms, then trailed her fingers along the defined ridges of his chest as she thought about it. 

     “Well, I always kind of had a crush on you - because you're really hot and really smart,” she told him, her tone tinged with amusement. “But … I think for me, it was that time you asked me what was wrong. When I was sad that day? And you made me stay back after the meeting to check up on me?” 

     She tilted her head back to look up at him, her almond-shaped eyes so wide and pretty as she gazed at him in question. His lips curled at the corner and he brushed her hair out of her face. 

     “I really liked you then,” she confessed, grinning and snuggling back into his chest. “You're so … You care so much about me. How could I not like you?”

He smiled, his eyelids fluttering shut as he drifted off to sleep, the both of them warm and content in each other's embrace.

[nerdanel01]

Appearances

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook (*Emmrich POV) 1.5k+ | SFW A chance meeting with Myrna in the dining hall yields some unexpected revelations. EXCERPT: “If you ever left the Mourn Watch, what would happen to Agnes, then?”

Emmrich swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

Myrna flashed him a skeptical look before refocusing on her hand. Her fingers wavered over the discard pile, then changed course and plucked one from the deck. “Aren’t the two of you…?”

9:50 Dragon

It was well past dinner by the time Emmrich returned to the Necropolis, and the Mourn Watch dormitories within. Watcher business had taken him into the city, to the Dietrich Estate on the banks of the Minanter. The visit was a formality, a courtesy; Lord Dietrich was on his deathbed, and arrangements needed to be made for his internment in the Necropolis. Such visits were perhaps the most emotionally harrowing responsibility the Watchers held: often, they were more about reassuring and comforting the living than they were about making arrangements for the dead. But Lady Dietrich, Emmrich had long suspected from his brief encounters with her in the past, cared very little for her husband. Her displays of grief were utterly transparent, a ploy for his attention; she had called upon every social convention and all the somber duties of his post to keep Emmrich in her estate far longer than was decent. 

Between the company of the Nevarran nobility and the dead, more often than not, Emmrich preferred the latter. 

Fortunately for him, there was still a pot of leftover stew bubbling away in the kitchens when at last he made his way home. He ladeled himself a bowl, carved a slice of bread from the loaf laid out, and carried both back to the dining hall above. This late in the evening, the hall was mostly empty, only a few scattered groups of Watchers collected along the two banquet tables. But Emmrich spotted Myrna in the corner, lingering over a cup of tea, playing solitaire alone. She smiled when he joined her and recollected her cards, shuffling the deck and dealing him into a game they could play together.

“How was your visit with Lady Dietrich?” Myrna asked, teasing him, fanning and then rearranging the cards in her hand.

“Uncomfortable,” Emmrich answered, with an honest chuckle, “as usual.” Discarding one of his cards and then picking up another from the deck, he added, “She offered me a job.”

“Really?”

“Well, you know, her husband is dying—though the loss does not seem to weigh on her too terribly,” he told Myrna, dryly. “She is looking for someone to design his tableau, and to undertake a general restoration of the Dietrich mausoleum.”

Myrna snorted, picking up the face card he had discarded and tucking it in her hand, then placing the four of swords down on the discard pile. “A position for which, I am sure you were quick to tell her, you are not in the least bit qualified for.”

“Indeed, I reminded her quite emphatically that I am a necromancer, not an architect nor an artisan.”

“Which, undoubtedly, did not dampen her enthusiasm in the least,” Myrna said, clucking her teeth disapprovingly. “The gall of that woman, trying to poach you from the Mourn Watch for her vanity project. As if you could be bought.”

Emmrich nodded in agreement, drawing another card. “Not that I’d ever accept the offer, mind,” he told her, adding again to the discard pile.

“Of course not,” Myrna replied, as though that fact were clear as day. “If you ever left the Mourn Watch, what would happen to Agnes, then?”

His eyes shot to Myrna’s face, but it had not changed in the slightest. Her eyes were fixed on her cards, her lower lip caught thoughtfully between her teeth as she plucked at one card, then another, shuffling their position in her hand. As though she had not just said something so bizarre, so provocative.

Emmrich swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

Myrna flashed him a skeptical look before refocusing on her hand. Her fingers wavered over the discard pile, then changed course and plucked one from the deck. “Aren’t the two of you…?”

The trailing end of that question was a tiny torture. “Aren’t the two of us what?”

Myrna’s eyebrows shot so high they nearly reached her hairline. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be, Emmrich?” she asked him, in her most no-nonsense tone (though surely, it was she who was speaking utter nonsense—wasn’t she?) “You’re going to make me say it out loud?”

A note of impatience crept into his voice. “Yes, Myrna, you will have to use your words, as I haven’t the faintest idea of what it is you’re talking about.”

“Fine,” Myrna said, yielding with a huff. “Aren’t you two more than partners?”

The dining hall suddenly felt much too warm. Though his back was towards the rest of the Watchers who still lingered, Emmrich was suddenly keenly aware of them: of the clink of their utensils, of their low voices. Did his conversation with Myrna carry across the hall to their ears? He worded his answer very, very carefully. 

“Well... yes, of course we are also very good friends.”

Myrna looked at him like he could not possibly be so thick. “Not more than friends?”

Trickle of sweat from the crown of his skull down the back of his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt. He longed for the cool of the Necropolis. He wanted to go down among the dead and never reemerge.

“That’s…” Emmrich began, then laughed uneasily, frowned, cleared his throat. He turned his eyes back to his cards; he did not think he could bear the scrutiny in Myrna’s gaze. “That’s preposterous, Myrna. I cannot imagine what gave you that impression.” Lower, under his breath, he added, “By the Maker, I am old enough to be her father.”

“Perhaps,” Myrna answered, not missing a beat. “Just barely. But even if that were true, that doesn’t preclude the possibility of something else growing between you.” With a casual little shrug of her shoulders, as if each of her words did not have the force of a wrecking ball knocking his sense of self and reality into dust, she added, “Some people have a predilection for that sort of thing; I am not one to judge.”

“She doesn’t,” Emmrich said, forcefully, feeling the sudden need to defend Agnes against whatever Myrna was insinuating. “What gives the impression that I’m—that she’s—”

Myrna set her cards face down upon the table, raised her hands, and then, favoring Emmrich an absolutely withering look, began ticking off the reasons on her fingers.

“Exchange of gifts,” she said, pointing to the lazurite scarab ring on his hand. One finger. “The little dates you take her on to the opera.” Two fingers. The word ‘dates’ made Emmrich wish the floor would simply swallow him. And then, not bothering to hide her bewilderment, Myrna lifted her third finger and delivered the coup de grace: “The fact that the two of you share a tent during your excursions to the Necropolis, even if it is as you say, and you aren’t actually—well. Sleeping together in the erotic context.”

His heart was pumping so fast, his blood rushing in his ears. His neck was unbearably warm. “We shared a tent one time,” he practically hissed at Myrna, “and only because we had lost our other tent while we were getting chased across the King Aurum’s Bridge.”

Myrna’s lips curled into something awfully like a smirk. “Are you actually blushing, Emmrich?”

He did not dignify that with a response; surely his burning cheeks spoke well enough for themselves. He fixed his eyes on the playing cards in his hand, all game strategy flown from his mind, trying to ground himself by focusing on the pictures on the cards: the eight of wands, the ten of cups. The High Priestess. The Lovers. Unbidden, his eyelid gave a faint twitch. 

Feeling hardly prepared for the answer, he asked Myrna:

“Is this just an absurd fancy of your own imagination, or does everyone in the Watch believe such torrid nonsense?”

Myrna shrugged, turning her eyes back to her cards. “I think most people are probably too polite to say one way or the other.”

“But you think they, too, assume…?”

Myrna only answered with another noncommittal shrug. 

Incredible, how indifferently she could sit there while Emmrich was in a complete spiral. How long had that reputation followed them? Surely not since the incident with the one tent? Did everyone make such assumptions about them, or was it just Myrna and a select few? Surely Agnes herself could not be aware that they were the source of such speculation—or so he dearly hoped. 

“Emmrich, please don’t get upset,” Myrna said, gently. “Really, I didn’t mean anything by it. And whatever everyone else assumes, I’m sure no one thinks less of you, one way or the other.”

But it was hardly himself that Emmrich was worried about. All he could think about was Agnes in the gardens, Agnes at the opera, Agnes humming love songs under her breath. She wanted the kind of love in that music, in those stories; sweeping, total, romantic. After everything she had been through, she deserved it: to love and be loved in kind. 

And that was never going to happen for her if every man she met assumed she was already spoken for. Until now, Emmrich had stolen that possibility from her. Stolen her youth from her. 

Perhaps, were it not for him and his selfishness, Agnes would have been happily married long ago. 

“Myrna, forgive me. I just—I have to…” Emmrich rose from the bench, his stew and bread untouched. He no longer had an appetite. “We’ll play again soon, yes?”

“Emmrich?” No small amount of concern or alarm in Myrna’s voice as she called after him, but Emmrich was determined, moving with purpose. And now it was so obvious to him it was mortifying, everything that Myrna had seen, had read into: his inappropriate affection, clearly far less well concealed than he had imagined. The way others might interpret Agnes’ near filial devotion to him, the way she cared for him. Worst of all was the suspicion that a part of him had known all of that to be true for years, and had done nothing to stop it. That a part of him—irredeemable, unforgivable—had wanted to keep all her light to himself. 

In no time at all, he was at the threshold of Johanna’s office. He knocked once. When she did not answer immediately, he knocked again. Then again.

At last Johanna emerged, straightening her glasses on her nose, a look of irritation on her face. “Emmrich, what in the name of Andraste—” she began, ready to reprimand him for his impatience before she took in the sight of him before her. Her face fell, and her tone flipped in an instant to one of concern. “Copulating corpses, Emmrich, you look awful. Is everything alright?”

“Is now a bad time?” Emmrich asked her, red-faced, breathing heavily. “I need to speak with you.”

--- This piece is Part VIII in a series of XI. [ Start from beginning ] [ Read Part IX ] [ Nerdanel's Fic Masterpost ]

[where-dreamers-go]

“A Walk Amongst Emotions” Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Part Five, here we are! It’s been a while because of those holidays. Anyway, 1966 Dick Grayson soulmate au series! I have a soft spot for this series. And it’s almost summer break for the pair!!!

Warnings: Reader has social anxiety, use of (Y/N), some angst, and fluff. The amount of effort I put in for these titles…?

Word Count: 4,862 words)

<- Previous

~~~

A lovely weekend afternoon and all was friendly inside the Wayne Manor. Tea had long since been poured and sipped from small cups. Conversations continued to flow. Everyone was civil, even over tea.

Not one mention of sharing secrets or punishments. No hints either.

Two households spending an afternoon together. Only the afternoon.

However, Dick and yourself were determined to have more than an hour.

It’s almost weird being here with my guardian again. You thought as you sat on the edge of a couch cushion. It feels like forever.

A smile lit up Dick’s face as he sat opposite from you, sitting on the ottoman.

Despite what had happened over the past couple of weeks, you were okay.

It was a comfort to be back inside the manor. Even with all its vastness and unknown areas, you found it homey.

Today’s not the day he’ll get to show me the music room. He hasn’t said much about it. Maybe another day.

One more week of school was left before summer break. Such a tease.

Between you and Dick sat the coffee table with a pile of puzzle pieces on top. Ones you had seen countless times before.

What better way to have more time together than working on a jigsaw puzzle? It was something you two had been eager to do when brainstorming on an activity over the phone. So you had brought over one of your own. Quite happily too.

Tea and snacks were gone.

Teamwork was in action. Only the pair of you.

Picking out any edge pieces, you set them aside to be put together first. It was a good starting point. If you wanted to get fancy then you’d separate by shape and color next.

You peered up and saw Dick’s curious expression.

“I have a system,” you stately firmly.

“I can see that.” Dick watched as your fingers worked across the table in quick succession. “Let me know when you want me to help.”

“Just jump in there,” you encouraged. “There’s a thousand pieces. It shouldn’t take us too long.”

“There’s a thousand,” he urged.

“It’s less than five thousand.”

“That’s true.” He inched closer.

You smiled at him. “Have you done a five thousand piece puzzle before?”

Blue eyes glanced up. “Have you ever put together a puzzle upside down?”

“No. The blood would rush to my head.”

“What? No.” Dick chuckled. “The puzzle.”

“Oh.”

You felt as head rose up your neck.

Of course that’s what he meant.

“Uh, that’s a ‘no’.”

Leaning in, Dick whispered, “I have and it wasn’t my idea.”

“I think I can guess who’s.”

He raised both eyebrows for a second of acknowledgement. A faint grin soon following suit.

Why on Earth would Mister Wayne think of completing a puzzle with its picture down in the first place? You thought to yourself.

As if reading your expression clearly, most likely, Dick shrugged.

“Was it fun?” You handed him a corner piece.

“Uh.” He glanced over to Mister Wayne beside you. “You might call it, uh, mental exercise.”

“Okay.” You bit back a grin.

The two of you shuffled through more small pieces. Rearranging them; almost how Mister Wayne and Dick traded seats so the puzzle could be tackled form either side of the table.

Around you, the adults were in midst of small talk. Again.

Honestly, you tuned them out. Mostly. They were right next to you after all. It was more as if their words were fading in and out of your ears like the tide. A skill, you could perhaps call it, after years of trying to focus on tasks while others made noise or moved about. It was still difficult to do.

Moving the jigsaw pieces to designated areas of a table came as familiar motions, almost automatic. Hand-eye coordination keeping up as you spotted edge pieces. Easy and quick movements. Too quick in fact.

Your fingers plucked your soulmate’s fingers on accident.

“Oops! Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Making light of the situation, you grabbed his hand and shook it. “Hey, how are you?”

Dick chuckled, “I’m fine.”

Along the couch and all so familiar, the shaking of soft laughter filled the space. Unrestrained and genuine reactions.

The smile you shared with Dick was all the more joyful. Admittedly one of your favorite sights on any day. Because he was your friend, of course.

You released his hand and rapidly shifted through more pieces.

When you took a peek, you saw a silly grin remaining on Dick’s face as he searched for pieces to sort or piece together.

A flutter of what you deemed as ‘proud satisfaction’ appeared in your chest at the sight.

You could get used to that; making Dick smile.

I might not be a hero, but making someone happy still means a lot. It’s a special kind of reward.

Together, the pair of you made progress by connecting all of the edge pieces. Just as planned. A great team so far.

One of the best teammates I’ve ever had. In general. Lucy is still number one for saving me during that presentation. Eh, you practically shuttered at the merely remembering. Never again. This is a hundred times easier.

The day, so far, had gone smoothly. Sure, the first couple of minutes had you uneasy with anxious fears of possible scenarios involving your guardian’s recent choices. Those fears were real and highly unlikely to become reality inside the Wayne Manor.

Greetings had been cheerful and polite.

You, however, did hold back from hugging your soulmate in front of your guardian. Unfortunately with them there, you weren’t comfortable enough to show much affection to Dick. It was as if an itch covered your skin underneath a microscope. Quite uncomfortable.

But they can’t comment much about us working on a puzzle, you thought in confidence.

With a small click, you separated two pieces that did not fit together.

That’s weird how it does that in the box. You squinted at another set of pieces.

“(Y/N), sit up straight.” Your guardian tapped your shoulder.

Your body did as instructed automatically.

Flashing of something negative passed through your soulmate bond.

A sharpness in Dick’s eyes hardened his features as he looked passed you to your guardian. Targeted and unhidden. A disliking of the order given to you. His reaction was not backed by seeking fairness, but rather something more.

You were unsure of Dick’s thoughts, but you definitely knew your own.

Uh. How am I supposed to reach, then? I’m not gonna sit on the floor.

Keeping your wits about you, you chose not to reply. Play it safe and smart.

On the coffee table, the puzzle was ignored as Dick slowly unclenched his fists.

Is he okay?

Reaching across the surface, you lightly touched his hand.

Upon gaining Dick’s attention, you mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’

He nodded briefly and gave your fingers a squeeze.

Hmmm. That was quite the look though. He might still be irritated with my guardian, I guess.

Both you and Dick slowly pulled your hands a part.

“It took our combined efforts, but his sister agreed to host at her apartment.” Your guardian announced in triumph. “She finished decorating just last week. She should be proud to share her new space.”

Share? More like show off.

“That’s lovely,” Mrs. Cooper commented politely.

You could had snorted with a laugh.

“The plan is for it to be late in the summer. That way some of us don’t have to worry about our vacation plans.”

At your guardian’s words, you felt a wave of panicked guilt. You had forgotten something.

“(Y/N) and I leave Gotham City during their summer break.”

“What? When do you leave?” Dick asked quickly.

“I forgot,” you muttered and completely slouched forward over your knees.

Of all things to forget. You thought and scrambled to remember details off of your calendar at home.

“Three days after the end of school. So, I have two free days. I think it’s Saturday when we leave.” You looked up in thought and turned to check with your guardian.

“It’s Saturday.” They confirmed. “We’ll have to beat the traffic. You’ll have to get up early like a school day.”

Turning back to face Dick, you mouthed a very unenthusiastic, ‘Yay’.

Gaze softer, unsure, Dick glanced at Mister Wayne before returning to you.

“Will I be able to see you before you leave?” Your soulmate asked tentatively.

An almost clenching in your chest left you hiding your equally uneasy thought of disappointment and separation.

“Oh, I’m sure you two can see each other,” your guardian said before they directed their attention back to Mrs. Cooper. “It’s such a lovely little house my cousin has. There’s a porch and screen doors.”

Beside you, Mister Wayne leaned towards the coffee table.

“I’ll arrange a day for you two.” Mister Wayne said in a hushed tone.

Dick and yourself exchanged hopeful smiles.

I guess we don’t have to worry about anything. You thought. But it shouldn’t be too bad. It’s not forever. But I somehow forgot about the beach house? We went last year too. Way to be last minute!

You felt ridiculous.

Everything would be all right, you were certain. Meanwhile, you felt a distress in yourself and within your soulmate.

You just dearly hoped Dick had not started planning out the summer with your company in mind. You would surely feel guilty then.

Luckily, and hopefully, him reading your essay would entertain him. Dick held a curious excitement about it. As in, he had rushed to store the papers in his room upon you handing it to him when you arrived.

At least you knew Dick wouldn’t misplace it.

And to think I was going to give him my essay after the school year was over. You sighed quietly. Everything’s fine.

Time trudged by. Sneaking every tick and tock as jigsaw pieces were assembled. The coffee table decorated in color and multiple piles of lonely pieces.

Dick and yourself were making progress with the puzzle. Happily shifting the pieces around. Content to work together.

“All right,” you guardian directed their attention to you. “Find a stopping point. We still have to pick up a few things.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your shoulders dropped.

“We have a couple of hours before my parents are expecting us.”

“Oh.” You dropped a puzzle piece.

I forgot! Gosh, where’s my mind lately?

Looking over the unfinished puzzle, you were stumped.

“Um…” You scratched your arm absentmindedly. “Can we move it?”

“If we’re careful.”

“Move it where?” Mrs. Cooper inquired.

“My room.” Dick answered with a tilt of his head.

“It’ll fall a part,” your guardian interjected.

“Not if we slide the finished pieces onto a board.” Mister Wayne countered.

“Then we can move it any where,” Dick announced excitedly. “Great idea, Bruce.”

You smiled and it only widened when Dick glanced your way before immediately ducking his head.

“We can take care of that later. Another time, the two of you can resume where you left off.” Mister Wayne added.

“Fantastic.” Your guardian clapped their hands once before standing from the couch. “Thank you so much for the tea.”

“It was our pleasure.” Mister Wayne said as he joined Mrs. Cooper and your guardian standing. He sidestepped to be beside the furniture.

If it wasn’t for your reflexes and leaning back, your guardian would had completely pushed passed your seated form.

Whoa. It’s like trying not to get hit by a train’s caboose. You thought.

“Let’s go, (Y/N).” Said your guardian who was half way to the door with the other adults.

“Like the wind.” You exaggerated lightly and stood to your feet. Stretching your back a little.

In no exaggeration at all, Dick waited to walk you out. All gentlemanly and hiding a secret smile.

“What?” You smoothed down any wrinkles on your clothes.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“The expression you made,” he whispered, “when you guardian walked by.”

“Oops.”

Dick smiled openly as his fingers brushed your own.

“Will you work on the puzzle during the summer?” You asked and linked your pinky finger with his discreetly.

“Not without you.”

“You could. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Me too.”

✧ ✧ ✧

A week of school had come and gone. The end of the school year had finally passed.

Good news for many.

With warm weather more prominent, people of Gotham City enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

For Dick Grayson, it was the day. A day to spend with his soulmate, his good friend and crush.

Yet the youth had to wait.

The batmobile zoomed down a familiar road.

Bonding would have to wait.

The dynamic duo were solving a case as swiftly as possible. Thankfully there was still time. The criminal’s hideout would be their last stop.

Lest they’d be scolded by Aunt Harriet upon their return to the manor.

We’re gonna catch ‘em, Robin thought in determination. We’ll be sure to make it quick too. He hit his palm. They won’t know what hit them.

✧ ✧ ✧

Sitting at the edge of your bed, quiet kept you company. Also Sir Hopps, your loyal blue bunny companion.

Comforting sunshine warmed your toes as the curtains remained pushed aside.

Since midmorning, you had been aware of the muffled juggling of emotions from your soulmate. You deemed it safe to assume that Dick was busy wearing green and red.

Is it okay that he keeps getting annoyed? You couldn’t help but to smirk at the thought of his little pout. It’s better than being scared or mad. He must be fine though.

Maybe your closeness with him gave you the thought, the possible explanation. The sneak peek into his specific feelings.

Dick is probably getting impatient. I hope he knows I don’t mind waiting a little longer. We’re just going to the park…not an event or anything. You thought with a quick glance to the clock. Or maybe he can’t wait?

A quiet sigh left you.

Both yourself and Sir Hopps observed the empty luggage bag sitting near the closet. A handwritten list sat atop of it; a reminder of the summer trip ahead of you. One full of sand, water, and almost a full house of people. No visits to the homey Wayne Manor. If luck was on your side, you might have a phone call to your soulmate.

Even without school, he could still be busy. But at least none of us have homework! You thought and stuck your tongue out at the paper remanences of your last semester. It’s summertime!

✧ ✧ ✧

“Don’t they know they have the whole summer to talk over lunch?” Aunt Harriet voiced from behind the steering wheel of her car.

“I suppose.” Dick tapped his fingers along the passenger side’s door. The youthful ward had only. Been out of his costume for a little over fifteen minutes.

“It’s such a pretty day too.”

“Thank you, Aunt Harriet, for offering to drive us to the park.”

“You’re welcome, Dick.” She smiled and soon added, “To be honest, I really wanted to see (Y/N) before they leave for the entire summer. Oh, I know you must be so disappointed.”

Shoulders slumping, Dick sighed.

“The summer vacations always pass quickly. You’ll see them again in no time.”

“I know.”

Out of the window, Dick recognized a familiar figure.

“I see them.” He announced happily.

“Goodness,” Aunt Harriet had already turned on the turn signal. “Don’t jump out of the car, Dick.”

“I won’t.”

Sparks and bubbles of joy filled his chest. The best feeling he had all day. Personally. Well worth the wait and punches he exchanged earlier.

How will I feel when I see them after summer vacation? Dick thought as the car pulled into the residential area. Happy for sure…or maybe surprised because it’ll feel like forever. Golly, knowing your soulmate is really something else.

A click of a door opening gave Dick another jolt of positive emotions.

“Hi, Mrs. Cooper,” you slid into the backseat and closed the door.

“Hi, dear. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“No. It’s all right.” You buckled yourself in before tapping the back fo the passenger’s seat. “Hi, Dick.”

“Hi.” The youthful ward sent his soulmate a wide smile. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. What about you? Are you letting Mrs. Cooper pick the radio station today?”

“He is.”

Aunt Harriet focused on her driving. Safe as always.

Gotham City held many sights and places. Tall and even the easily ignored. Traffic moved steadily.

The car was parked near somewhere close by the park.

Upon exiting the vehicle, Aunt Harriet grabbed a book she brought along to read and Dick grabbed your hand.

Holding your hand had become a habit he did not expect. He liked it of course, very much so. It was a simple gesture on the surface with much unspoken feelings beneath.

This is real different than the first time we held hands, Dick thought. That was the first time we actually met! At least we haven’t been in that situation again—with Penguin. Things would be a little different now.

A gentle squeeze on his hand and he turned his attention to his soulmate. Curious eyes watching him, never judgmental or uncaring.

“How has your day been so far?” You asked.

Oh, Dick had to think of a clever answer. Nothing too close to his masked persona. Nothing too heavily a lie. He didn’t like giving you an excuse.

“Fine. Bruce and I did get caught up in conversations with others, which is why I’m sorry for being late to pick you up.”

“It’s not a problem. We’re still here, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

“Then we’re fine. Your aunt gets to read her book and we get to wander around the park with no worries.”

No worries, Dick thought, yes. It keeps getting better. He sent you an easy smile. Who knew I’d be holding hands with my soulmate?

The pair of you walked on, in no rush or going in any specific direction. Cloud cover protected eyes from the brightest of the sun’s rays. A slight breeze kept you both comfortable. The perfect day off.

Less than a day to spend time together.

That was not something Dick wanted to be reminded of.

All the schoolwork, studying, your ridiculous punishment and you two can’t be together during the summer. It could be considered unfair. Dick surely was ill-prepared for the news.

I’ll miss quiet moments with them too, whether we’re working on something or not. He thought as he looked at the grass ahead of their path.

“Your knuckles are a little red.” You muttered, eyes downcast. “Did you accidentally hit a wall or something?”

No, he thought, I missed the crook and the wall, but I didn’t miss the metal tray.

“Yeah,” he answered, “but not a wall.”

“Oh, good. Because that hurts…especially if your hand was moving fast.”

He tried reading your face and asked, “Have you hit a wall?”

Holding his hand between both of yours, your shoulders raised defensively. “It was an accident. I was just walking out of the bathroom, turned too quickly, and BAM.”

“Today?”

“No,” you answered almost playfully.

“Yesterday?”

“…Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. I’ve had worse.”

Dick stopped walking, alarm rising in his chest.

Worse? What happened? Was that before we met?

You held his hand under your chest, looking at him in slight panic.

“No, no, no,” you said quickly, “I meant hitting my funny bone or my toe against a table. It’s okay. I mean…sure I’ve gotten hurt before, but who hasn’t? Something minor.”

Exhaling slowly eased his new worries.

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I overreacted a little.”

“Teeny tiny bit.”

Of course you knew, you felt Dick’s emotions before he could keep them in check.

They’re fine at home. They’re fine now.

“Come on,” you tugged on his hand. “I promise I’m not that clumsy. I’ve never dropped my textbooks while tripping.”

“That’s good.” Dick couldn’t help but to smile.

The two of you begun walking again. A breeze to your side. Feet walking in step of the other’s. Keeping a distance from other park visitors.

“Charlotte tripped the other day leaving math.” You mentioned casually.

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah…I caught her with my backpack…or rather she caught herself on my backpack on me at the doorway.”

“…Okay.” Dick cracked a smile at your thoughtful gaze.

“School’s weird.”

“Don’t let Bruce hear you say that.”

Twisting around, you started walking backwards. “But it’s true. Not just the social stuff. We learn things in a classroom and then go home to do more on our own. Then the next thing we know, it’s the end of the school year and all I have are tons of notes and bags under my eyes.”

“But we learned a lot.”

“Sure, but do I physically have anything from the results? Like a plant or,” you gestured widely, “a new skill or a project that will help others and the environment for years to come?”

“You could still do those things if you want.”

“If I have the time…or actually remember.” You mumbled, “I didn’t remember about the beach house.”

A weighty, almost cool, feeling came through the soulmate bond. One Dick recognized from moments where he thought he didn’t try hard enough as Robin when it counted. It always mattered to him.

Dick watched as you dragged your shoes through the grass. Crestfallen and too critical of yourself.

The urge to make you fell better took hold of him. To be there for you. No obstacle in his way, only to find the right words. Hopefully.

“There’s a bright side,” stated Dick.

“No school?”

“Right. And no Gotham City events with lots of people.”

He smiled victoriously when you perked up at his words. His pacing kept him closer to you, still backwards in your movements.

“No dinner parties where you don’t know half of the guests. No essays or homework.”

Surging warmth of his own emotions cycled between you both.

“You don’t even have to carry a pile of books if you don’t want to.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” You swung his hand with yours around in the air. “I just wished I would’ve remembered to tell you.”

“But then you would’ve had to tell me instead of your guardian announcing it like the best holiday of the year.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He had found the right words.

You stopped walking and Dick joined you easily. The breeze moving the nearby trees carried murmurs of others. None of which he paid much mind to because he focused on you. Giving you his honesty.

“Even though I wish we could spend more time together; I know you’ll have fun at the beach. It might not be Gotham City’s or have good waves, but you’ll have the opportunity to relax.”

A curve of your lips held promises to your future vacation.

“Not gonna lie,” you reached up with a hand for a moment and tucked a loose strand of Dick’s hair back in place.

He swallowed.

“I’m really looking forward to sleeping through most of the morning.”

“Right.”

That breeze feels really good right now, he thought as heat creeped up his neck.

“So, uh, what do you like to do at the beach?” He asked and wondered if they should walk around more. Then perhaps you wouldn’t notice him overheating.

“Besides playing in the water.” Your gaze wandered as you thought. “Eating ice cream and bird watching.”

“Which ones do they have there? Birds, I mean.”

“Usually mourning doves, cattle egrets, and seagulls.”

“Cattle egrets?”

“They’re mostly white, maybe with a little yellow and they eat insects and some times stand on the backs of cows.”

“Bruce takes me bird watching some times.” He said, keeping his free hand by his side still unsure of what to do with it.

“My guardian doesn’t really care for it, but everyone usually watches movies on the television.” You shrugged and circled your thumb around his knuckles. “I hope they’re better than last year.”

Partially distracted by your touches, Dick almost stumbled on his words upon asking, “Who stays at the beach house with you?”

“Charlotte and her mom will definitely be there. I’m not sure if Charlotte’s older cousin is going again. She’s kind of loud.”

“It’ll be fun with your friend there.”

“Yeah. Charlotte’s fun to be around. Some times I wonder why teachers haven’t separated us.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“We’re not being disruptive. We just…fully support each other when there’s a debate in English class.

Nodding, Dick tried his best to keep in his wide grin. Imagining you being bold in your words in class, for your friend, could not have made him more proud. You were strongly loyal.

“I’m pretty sure you’d do the same.” You smirked knowingly.

Hit with the intensity of your gaze, Dick looked away. He knew you were right, but the point was you knew.

Do they know me that well already?

A sudden drop of emotions, however muffled, pulled in his stomach.

Blue eyes peered up.

Something held your gaze.

“Darn it,” you whispered.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dick saw his aunt waving them over. A book in one hand. Above her, far into the sky, large clouds more grey than when you all arrived. All signs to leave the park.

Heaviness in his heart kept him in place, familiar and unwanted.

Don’t feel upset or sad, Dick thought as his gaze returned to you. They’re going on vacation. Heck, they deserve it!

Truly, Dick Grayson was happy for you. The emotions spun in him somewhere amongst the sea of disheartenment.

But that was life, wasn’t it?

“Ready, Mister Grayson?”

“W-what?”

Releasing his hand, you linked your arm with his and offered a smile. The forced delicate curve of your lips distracted Dick from the inevitable. For a second.

A gentle nudge to his side and Dick walked with you towards the end of your outing.

I thought we’d have more time.

Building higher together, the afternoon clouds formed even grayer. Turning into storm clouds as they rolled into the city.

Do they have to go home right now?

Around him, across the green lawn, people wandered or scurried with gazes trained skyward. Ordinary people and citizens of Gotham City going about their lives.

How many citizens have gotten close to their soulmate, but never met? How many people know their soulmate, but just don’t know!

Fingers squeezed his arm before holding firmly.

We could’ve had the whole summer.

The pair of you reached his Aunt Harriet and followed her lead. Back in the car, Dick gave no mind to the passenger’s seat. Soulmates sitting as close as seatbelts allowed in the back of the car.

Your fingers traced soft patterns on his forearm while Dick clenched his hands at his sides.

“I’ll be back,” you whispered into his shoulder. “I promise.”

Clicks of the vehicle’s turn signal no longer added a grin to the ward’s face.

I don’t like these feelings. He thought as you moved away from his side.

Car in park, Aunt Harriet looked into the backseat. “Alright, dear. Have a wonderful vacation.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cooper,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “You too.”

Smiling fondly she said, “You can call me Aunt Harriet.”

Your eyes widened and a warmth coated your heart.

Dick smiled as you did. Earnest and bittersweet.

Leaning over the center console, you kissed her cheek. “Bye, Aunt Harriet.”

The older woman chuckled. “Good bye.”

As you slid out of the car, Dick Grayson followed. Not wanting to waste a second.

His close proximity didn’t surprise you, not after the ride back to where you lived. It did allow the pair of you to hug immediately. A tight embrace desperately trying to ignore the concept of time and knowledge of distance.

It’s just a few weeks.

Dick reluctantly lowered his arms as you pulled away.

“Have fun, okay?” You kissed his cheek.

Comforting warmth blossomed from your lips into his skin. He closed his eyes from the soft familiarity.

“I will.” Dick looked to you adoringly and said, “I hope you have fun every day.” He pressed his lips to your cheek briefly. Upon seeing the surprised look in your eyes, he smiled. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Voice quiet and eyes full of wonder, you remained still. Hands somewhere between intertwined and fiddling.

The young ward did not know what to make of his nor your actions. He did know you both could not remain outside forever.

“Go get packing. I still need to read your essay.” Dick nudged you ever so slightly.

One last smile and on you went. Heading back indoors to prepare for the beach.

No farewells exchanged.

No eager waving.

There was, however, a strong belief that you would have fun and gain needed rest.

Meanwhile for young Dick Grayson there would likely be a busy summer ahead wearing a mask and cape. Until he saw his soulmate again, he would help keep the city safe. And maybe have a little fun while doing it.

~~~

Part 6 -> "Summer Dreams And Warm Emotions"

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @

DC Tags: @

Dick Grayson Taglist: @projectdreamwalker

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[vickyvicarious]

Today's entry does not match Lucy ill in London as of her last two diary entries, leaving two distinct options.

Stoker messed up the timeline (Doylist)

Lucy is lying to Mina (Watsonian)

There's no way to have both work at once, not really. I suppose you could try, but it would take a lot more effort to have both be true at once and I'm not really sure how it would work (either you take a halfway approach to shuffling some dates but not all, or you say Lucy isn't outright lying but is exaggerating, I guess?). Nor is this post super interested in that. Instead, I want to take a moment to look at what each interpretation would mean for Lucy.

Doylist

This interpretation is supported by such details as: lots of other timeline weirdness happening in the latter half of September, and the letter being postmarked from Whitby. It would presumably be harder to lie about where you're sending a letter from, after all.

What it would mean for Lucy is that she recovered for a while. She was able to experience true happiness for at least a little bit. And it shows up that she is someone who doesn't linger on her stresses once they are no longer actively bothering her; instead she throws herself fully into her joy with Arthur here. I like this in the context of chronically-ill!Lucy. She might be used to being uncertain about how long feeling well will last, or indeed when it will happen at all, and when she does feel good she tries to seize the day and make the most of it. Also, it seems like her recovery, if this letter is totally honest, is fairly complete/happens fairly quickly. This would mean, too, that her diary entries in London show a much more rapid fall, as opposed to her slowly getting a bit better than feeling worse again. It would have been such an abrupt, scary shock when it happened.

Lucy and Arthur get to spend a lot of time together. They get to be really happy and fall more and more in love, they get to look forward to their future together as they enjoy their present. I love them getting to experience such happiness, I love that the promised fun summer at Whitby gets to come true even if just for a short time. Lucy is full of life and love before she returns to London. And then suddenly, all the illness and fear and loneliness is back with a vengeance that she wasn't prepared for.

Watsonian

If we assume the dates are correct, but that Lucy is lying about the contents of the letter, there's a lot less rearranging to do (there would be a bit of a cascading effect of having to adjust when the Harkers got married/how long the mail took to arrive, etc.). The letter being sent from Whitby is harder to explain, though.

What this means for Lucy is that she has finally taken the next step from pretending she's fine to actively lying about lots of details. It gives a very bleak impression of her in London, scared and alone but choosing not to confide in even Mina after her mother rejected her attempt at seeking comfort. I imagine the reasoning to be an extension of what was going on in Whitby: Mina currently has to care for a very ill Jonathan, and Lucy doesn't want her to feel worried about her as well, or guilty for having her health take a dive after Mina left her side. Continuing the theme of self-isolation driven by love... She also is trying to answer the wishes Mina so sincerely expressed for her in her letter. Mina was looking forward to Lucy's happiness so much that Lucy doesn't want to tell her none of it is coming true at all.

Lucy never gets to be really happy during this time. She has a very brief respite in Whitby when Dracula left before feeling awful again almost as soon as she arrives in London. Maybe Arthur was never able to join her there, and she's only seen him in London. All the activities and joking around listed here, instead of being what really happened, become in this interpretation Lucy's daydreams. Her wishes. This is the kind of life she wants to have, and she's imagining it and pretending she really has it to Mina here. But it's all the more tragic because even as she writes this, she's incredibly weak and in pain.

.

In the past I've leaned more towards the latter, but honestly, both are very compelling in different ways. Especially after writing it out like this, I now feel torn on which I prefer.