#sparing boxing gloves

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ WHERE THE HEART LIES ˚ ༘♡

a/n: fluff, pining, childhood friends to lovers, reader was in the same orphanage as wriothesley when they were kids, mild codependency (?)

happy wishing everyone! ≧◡≦

Amongst the hundreds of books stored in the Duke's office, none hold a place in his heart quite like the dusty old atlas you gave him when you were children.

It's old and worn, something aged with the faint scent of Tidalga wafting as the pages turn. To an outsider, the atlas almost looks like garbage, or rather, exactly what it is—the only crappy book in the entire vintage shop that you could afford with your terrible allowance.

He doesn't see it that way.

It's a precious commodity to him, something he holds in high regard (despite the way he's glued the spine together on nearly a dozen occasions with the amount of times he's flipped through it).

Wriothesley is not a sentimental man. Growing up the way he did taught him not to grow too attached to material belongings.

There are few things in the world he would consider treasures: his boxing gloves, for one, though that's a given. His growing tea collection that originally started as a treat he would spend coupons on, but somehow evolved into a hobby.

And lastly, but perhaps most importantly, the map of Teyvat you gave him in the orphanage you came from. Because it wasn't only a birthday gift, it was something infinitely more meaningful than that.

He remembers that birthday fondly: he was twelve and you were ten. You'd snuck into his room beyond curfew and lights out, sheltered yourself under his blanket, and shoved the poorly packaged gift bag into his hands.

The two of you spent the entire night going through the pages, amazed at how giant the world truly was outside the confines of your orphanage—imagined how freeing it would be to explore it with nothing but your pair of feet and each other.

"One day," you breathed with excitement bubbling in your voice, "We'll leave this place and travel all across Teyvat."

It wasn't just a promise to see the world. It was a promise to see it together.

For a boy who had nothing at all, what you offered him was like placing the universe itself in his hands. And even at twelve years old, with you and that book sitting between his legs and a blanket thrown over his body, he knew he'd found a dream.

The older he got, the more he clung to that. 

You were the one he came back to when he was lost. The one who made the orphanage a home. The one who gave him a raggedy atlas of the world and whispered purpose into him.

Something to cherish. Something to protect. Something to love in this world when he had little to spare.

Though time had changed everything in his life, he still found it hard to abandon the welded pieces of your conjoined hearts.

Unlike Wriothesley, you had chosen to return to the surface after you finished serving your sentence.

It was lonelier beneath the crushing pressure of the sea without you. He made sure you knew that, too, always bringing it up whenever you came by to visit in the most nonchalant ways.

The Fortress of Meropide was a home both of you had discovered after years of being without one. "Come home already," he used to complain when he was still just a regular inmate and you were dropping by with a care package. "I miss you."

Nowadays, he made certain you understood the gap in his heart without you by other means. Like, say, when he would invite you personally to his office for a cup of tea and some cake, which was a rare treat you missed out on as kids.

Once, you called him out for attempting to bribe you back down into the iron fortress which he, of course, denied with his chest. Still, you never failed to make the trip down despite your outspoken disinterest in being back in the prison, and his weak offer of sweets since you now worked at one of the most prestigious bakeries in the city.

You had initially greeted him this time with your hands all over him, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck in a hug that he could barely breathe. Sweet smiles and kisses pressed to his cheeks and fingers pinching his nose—every action endearing and a remnant of your childhood spent together.

Now, you're seething in the office at his simple question: how are things on the surface?

"... That's when I turned to Lady Furina and, get this, she somehow ate every pastry I'd brought in a matter of seconds!" You huff, pacing back and forth in front of Wriothesley's desk while you rant about your latest visit with the Archon.

Furina was often in your schedule in one way or another, and almost always she wanted you to bring along sweets from the shop you worked at.

Wriothesley finds humour in your woes, following you around in your pacing with his arms folded over his chest.

"You know, you could just show up to your audiences with her without treats."

"She would call high treason and toss me back in prison!"

The Duke just snorts, earning him a well-deserved glare. Even with the pull of your lips into a thin line and the narrowing of your eyes, he thinks you look like a breathing angel under the warm orange light of the office.

There was nothing in the world you could do that would make him stop loving you. Not even glaring daggers at him like he's your mortal enemy.

"You're exaggerating," he hums, trailing behind you once again as you pace around the desk. 

"No, I'm not. She's absolutely crazy. She's insane—!"

He nearly bumps into your back when you suddenly halt in your steps, attention stolen from the conversation. The hands that were flailing around in the air to animate your anguish drop to your sides.

Wriothesley peers curiously over your shoulder at what has caused you to stop so abruptly.

Oh. Oh, Archons. He can sense the heat rising to his ears.

He feels as though he's been spotted in vulnerability, even though that isn't at all what has happened and that you would be the last person to judge him even if he was.

But he feels seen. Caught in the act of sentimentality just because you've picked out the book you gave him all those years ago when all you had was each other.

"You still have this?" You gawk, pulling the atlas from its prestigious position on his bookshelf. It's in a spot that he can always see as soon as he enters the room—in his direct line of sight, he has a part of you with him.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I just thought..." You consider the words for a moment, tasting them in your mouth before admitting embarrassingly, "I just thought you'd have thrown it out for a newer atlas. You know this is out of date, right? Half the oasis in Sumeru is covered in sand now."

"Why would I ever throw it out?"

"It's old," you lament again.

"And?"

"And... you can't even use it?" Your statement comes out more as a question and he can't help but roll his eyes.

"I can still use it," he insists.

You raise a brow, slotting the book back into its regular spot. "Good luck. When are you ever going to have time to do that, oh great and powerful Lord of the Fortress of Meropide?"

He ignores your little jab, as he's gotten so good at throughout his life. There's a sense of familiarity that rises in his chest, a strange nostalgia that drives him to open his mouth once more.

"Actually, about that..."

You turn to look at him again, hand coming up to brush the hair from his eyes. You always used to scold him for not taming it better. Now it seems permanently stuck as a fluffy mess.

"What is it?"

Your fingers graze his skin and he falls apart on the spot, feeling as though you had just tipped him over the edge of the cliff he's been too afraid to dive off of.

His hand catches yours, holding it just beside his cheek for a moment before lowering it to his side and tugging you just a little closer.

If he didn't ask now, would he ever?

"Let's leave this place," he murmurs, reciting the dream you promised him when he was twelve years old. "Let's travel all across Teyvat."

The silence that follows is so loud that it makes his ears ring. For a moment he falters, thinking he may have misread the situation and in turn whatever feelings he thought you may have harboured for him.

But then you take a daring step forward, nearly flush against his body. There's a look of wonder in your eyes that makes his heart race.

"Just you and me?"

"Just you and me." Just us.

There's a heavy implication behind that and you both know it. More than a proposal to chase a dream of bygone days, it's starting to sound like a confession. In his own roundabout ways, of course.

He can see the hitching of your breath, the subtle widening of your eyes, and all he wants to do is laugh at how seriously adorable you look.

"And what about the Fortress?"

"People here are less problematic nowadays than you may think."

"Won't the paperwork back up?"

"I can deal with it whenever I come back."

"Why me?"

Another silence.

"You ask too many questions," he says quietly, dodging your interrogation. In reality, he already has an answer. It's instantaneous, resting comfortably in his mouth but never leaving.

Why would it ever be anyone else?

He's having trouble focusing on anything right now with your chests so close together and his thumb running along your knuckles.

"Wriothesley," you say his name and it sounds like honey, the sweetest thing in all of Teyvat. And the look you're giving him, so touched and melting into nothing but a smiling mess—he isn't sure his heart can handle this. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"You kiddin'?" He laughs, slowly closing the distance between you. "It's all I've thought about my whole life."

He watches you carefully as you swallow down the lump in your throat. Your hand squeezes his and that's when he knows he's got you. You kiss him and he can feel the curve of your lips, the ever growing smile on your face meeting his. His knees are on the verge of buckling by the time you pull away.

"Surely you'll miss this place in your absence. This is your home now, isn't it?" You tease.

"Well, you know what they say." He gives you a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle. "Home is where the heart is."

It didn't matter if you were braving a sandstorm or the rainforest or the depths of the sea. 

Wherever you were, you would be his dream. You would be his home, too—just as you always had been for as long as he could remember.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[w1ll0wray]

Alternate universe! Powder with Ekko's twin sister, smut and getting caught going down on her

RELAX ft. powder au x ekko’s twin sister fem!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: on top of her work, powder reveals that she’s struggling to sleep well. you offer her some help in relaxing but end up getting caught.

⊹₊⟡⋆warnings: sub!powder au x dom!femreader , smut, slightly nsfw, reader is ekko’s twin sister, getting caught, powder!receiving head, minors or men dni, other characters mentioned.

wc. 600

𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you:)

this was a request; I hope this reached your expectations!

“I reckon you’re going to pull an all-nighter again?” 

You lean against the doorframe, your arms crossed at the sight of Powder focused on constructing some type of object. Her head snaps up towards you, a faint smile spreading across her face, “Probably.” She hummed out, turning her attention back to her project.

Sighing, you take slow steps towards her, glancing at the fairy lights lit up over the hideout. Once you arrived right behind Powder, your arms wrap around her, “But doesn’t sleep sound really good right now?” Powder only giggles, but she still remains seated and fixated on the objects. Frowning at her concentration, you groaned, leaning your hips against her working table, “I’m not joking— go get some sleep.” 

Powder shook her head, not bothering to spare you a glance, “Shouldn’t you be working down at the bar?” She twisted a screw, brows furrowed in determination. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “My shift ended— Vander wants you to rest.” His name prompts her to halt, inhaling deeply to collect herself, “I….. can’t sleep.” Her words drive you to grimace. 

“Why can’t you sleep?” You pulled out another stool, sitting beside her, your palm resting on her bare shoulder. Powder takes off her gloves, violet blue eyes finally meeting yours, “I uhm— get nightmares.” 

A glimmer of vulnerability danced in her eyes, hesitance evident. But to her relief, you offered a warm smile, rubbing her shoulder, “I can help you with that.” 

“Shit.” Delicate toned thighs looped around your head, nails scratching your scalp. Licking in a circular motion, your tongue glides over her clit, coaxing her to whine louder. Her pleasures moans echoed around the hideout, Powder’s body laying beneath you on the peach-colored sofa. Her legs twitch, indicating that she’s close. 

Her chest heaved, rising and falling in a quick rhythm, her soft stomach quivering under your palm. Her fingers guide you closer, slightly grinding against your lips like a touch-starved animal. Humming against her pussy, she whimpers, “Don’t stop—please.” 

Chuckling, you suck on her clit, your tongue assaulting her bud. Her leg hooks on top of your shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. The more her back arched, the closer she was getting. You wanted to help her relax, help her get a good night sleep. When you had pushed her onto the couch and took off her pants, she had obeyed and spread her legs like the good girl she was. So, you let her force your head in deeper. 

“Fuck— Yes!” She cried out as you ate her out like your life depended on it, lips hugging her cunt. In the midst of her pleas for an orgasm, a rough cough interrupted you both.

Instantly pulling away, you hid Powder’s body behind you, eyes widening when you face two flabbergasted people— Ekko and Vander.

Powder scrambled to hide her lower body with a blanket, cheeks flushing a deep crimson. 

“We—” Your voice wavered, visibly mortified by the sudden interruption. 

The box Ekko held fell to the ground, objects scattering everywhere, his jaw hanging low, “Oh my god.” He turned his head towards Vander — who had his eyes nearly flying out of their sockets. 

Not knowing what to say in this situation, you glanced at Powder, who narrowed her eyes into sharp slits, scowling at them both, “Get out—both of you.” 

They didn’t move.

Her gaze hardened, her brows knitting together before yelling, “Right now!”

hope you enjoyed reading this! :) reblogs r highly appreciated!! (sorry it’s shorter today)

creds to banners.

requests r always open for ur ideas btw

[ellecdc]

Baby…my love…my obsession. While you’re working hockey!marauders I would die for enforcer!sirius black. Even just a little blurb 😌😌😌

I will never say no to a hockey au, I won't lie.

hockey player!Sirius Black x team medic!reader who is not at all pleased with Sirius' theatrics /sarcasm [859 words]

CW: gn!reader, hockey fight, swearing, blood, flirting/banter

Sirius was on his feet before Krum even hit the ice, and he was shouting (and cursing) by the time Krum looked towards the referee as if saying ‘did you not see that?’ as he fixed his goalie mask and reached for the stick that was knocked clean out of his hands.

“Fucking interference! That was interference!” 

“I know Black, I saw it too.” Coach grumbled from behind him; sounding far calmer than his most violent defenceman though he was staring daggers at the linesman currently skating away from his goalie that was just slammed into in his own crease. 

“Let me out.” Sirius barked as he kept his eye on the player - number seven - who dared to touch his goalie. “Come on! Let me out!” 

“Wait your turn, Black.” Coach barked back as the play continued. 

Fenwick raised his glove requesting to switch as Dearborn followed him toward the bench. 

“Alright, Black & Potter, you’re on.”

Sirius had hardly waited for Fenwick to make it to the bench before he was clearing the boards, hearing James’ skates seconds behind him as they moved towards the play.

Sirius hardly spared the puck a second glance as he made it to the other end of the rink, dropped his gloves and launched himself at the fucker who had checked his goalie moments before. 

He had the bastard's jersey tight in his fist as he swung his other into the side of his face. He’d landed one good punch before the Slytherin player clued into what was happening and then it was fair game. 

Sirius could hear the whistle of the referees as other players paired off with one another to keep them from joining the tussle. It was a riot of noise from the crowd as bells and horns sounded and fans banged on the glass lining the boards as Sirius and his opponent focused both on staying upright in their skates and knocking the other over simultaneously. 

Sirius’ helmet fell off with an elbow to his mouth that left his eyes watering, but he quickly had number seven in a headlock as the player fell back, Sirius landing on top of him and landing one more hit before the refs were pulling them off of each other. 

Sirius got two minutes for roughing, but so did number seven, so he felt it was rather worth it as he used one of the gatorade branded towels to clean the blood from his lips in the penalty box. 

His fight seemed to inspire a goal from his team, so he then felt it was very much worth it when the two minutes were up and he left the box to go back to the bench.

“Did ya like my fight, doc?” He asked you breathlessly as if he hadn’t just been sitting in a glorified time-out for the last 120 seconds; his wide, beaming smile only serving to further split his lip as his teeth started to taste like iron.

“For fucks sake, Black.” You muttered as you pulled out an alcohol wipe and dabbed at the cut on his lip; Sirius couldn’t even find it in him to wince at the sting of the alcohol when you were cradling his jaw with your free hand as though you were handling a baby bird; gentle, tentative, loving.

Maybe he was making that last one up, but he felt emboldened by the ghost of a smirk gracing your lips. 

“Always making more work for you, eh doc?” Remus teased from behind you; you rolled your eyes but didn’t bother gracing Remus with an answer as you leaned behind you to grab something.

“Maybe I just wanted you to kiss it better, yeah?” He asked when you turned back towards him. You seemed startled at first; not in a negative way, but rather like you hadn’t expected Sirius Black to be loudly and brazenly flirting with you. You schooled your expression quickly, however, when you narrowed your eyes at him playfully and slapped an ice pack in his glove-free hand.

“Ice it, Black.” You ordered.

“Good idea, gorgeous.” Sirius agreed as he did what was told, turning back towards the game. “Wanna make sure my lips are perfect for our first kiss.”

“Wait, don’t ice it! Some people pay big money for lips like that, Black!” Wood called from further down the bench. 

Sirius pretended to consider it as he squinted his eyes at you, watching as you worked particularly hard to not return his gaze. “No, no. If I ice it now, I’ll be in tip top shape for kissing after the game.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” You muttered as you watched Caradoc nearly toss a Slytherin player onto the Gryffindor bench, your tongue in your cheek as you tried not to smile at Sirius. 

“Thank you!” He accepted readily as the whistle blew - the lines were about to change.

“Try not to get into any more scraps, yeah?” You called to Sirius as he dropped the ice pack into your awaiting hand and lunged over the bench.

“For you, doc?” Sirius volleyed with a cheeky smirk as he skated backwards toward the face off. “Anything.”

[tremendouscreationperson]

At Stan's sham funeral you have a strange conversation with 'Ford'

Part 2

Going to Stanley's funeral was surreal to say the least.

And worse was that his mother had to tell you. She called you, quietly sobbing down the line, late at night to inform you.

You couldn't believe it.

Stanley.

Your Stanley.

Well no. He was never yours.

He could have been...

In another life maybe.

You packed for a small stay and arrived at the shitty hotel, which upon further inspection was semi-decent but that did nothing to brighten your mood.

Memories of you, Ford and Stan at school flashed across your mind. The twins were your only friends, you weren't popular to begin with and even as your body changed and you filled out, being associated with them didn't change your reputation. But you loved them.

Ford was scarily intelligent and lightning fast with comebacks you were too stupid to understand.

And Stan was brilliant.

You knew he hated being the 'shitty' twin. The 'useless' one. The 'spare' Stan. But he wasn't!! Stan was amazing.

He had a brilliant imagination and you loved seeing him really throw himself into a task. He hadn't liked boxing to begin with but as he grew up and got better you'd go to his matches, cheering him on.

He always came to your side after a match - win or lose - always claiming you were his good luck charm.

It was bliss until it wasn't.

Until the twins fell out. Until Stan was kicked to the curb.

You had resented Ford for letting their dad throw him away.

Stan had stopped by yours one evening to say goodbye, you knew his cocky "don't miss me"s were an act and knew he was hurting but didn't want to ruin the evening. If you had, you might've followed him.

Seemingly overnight, they were both suddenly gone and you were alone.

~~

The service was tiny.

A man in a shabby suit stood at the door, scowling at the coffin. Caryn was standing at it crying silent tears as Ford rubbed her back. They were both in black, Caryn wearing a posh dress with a shawl wrapped around her shaking shoulders and Ford in a suit.

You hadn't physically seen them in years.

Drifting apart unnaturally when the rift formed.

You stepped up and stood on Caryn's free side. She noticed the movement and immediately squeezed you in a hug.

"Oh, love." She whispered into your hair, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. "I'm glad to see you."

You agreed. It had been too long. "I wish it was under different circumstances."

She nodded, turning back to the closed wooden box.

Next to it was a photo of Stan shyly smiling. You had taken it using your Christmas present. God you adored that camera, adored taking stupid photos with it. The photo was from when he decided to grow a mullet, his hair was longer than usual and as he smirked into the camera he looked younger than you knew him to be. He'd always be younger than you now.

You had to force your eyes away and they landed on Ford, he was staring at you, brows pulled. It was hard to look at him. Had he always looked that much like Stan?

"Hey." He scratched his chin with a gloved hand.

"Hi." You stepped back to not speak over his mom.

"You came."

Why wouldn't you?

Well, you hadn't been sent an invitation.

Maybe he didn't want you here.

You didn't care.

"Of course I'm here." Your eyes watered. Was he going to turn you away? "Stan meant the world to me."

"He did?" Ford's words were small.

You nod once, biting the inside of your cheek as you willed the tears to stay put.

The three of you stood there staring at the coffin in silence.

What more could you do?

A few words here and there were spoken but none of you had the heart for anything grand. He deserved it but you couldn't.

You had to excuse yourself after the silence became too suffocating. Sitting on the steps outside. It was cold.

It didn't take long for Ford to find you.

He sat next to you, twiddling his thumbs. You were going to be sick, that was something Stan did. When did Ford pick up the habit?

He had brought the silence out here. If you were alone it was merely you being alone but now the two of you weren't speaking. It was silent.

"I loved him you know?" You spoke to no one, eyes glued to your knees. Why had you confessed? That wasn't something you thought you'd do today.

"Don't say that." Ford pulled out a packet of cigarettes, offering you one. Fuck, even that was reminiscent of his brother.

"It's true." You shook your head at the offer. "Had the fattest crush." A dark chuckle escaped you as he lit the cigarette. "He was way outta my league, though."

Ford coughed, spluttering at your words. "Fuck off."

Patting his back you replied, "It's true. I could never compete with little miss hot pants."

Ford was staring at you. It wasn't freakish or weird but it was for a prolonged amount of time. You didn't care. It wasn't as if you were lying.

He took a drag of the cigarette. "He was leagues below you."

"Don't do that." Your tone wasn't forceful but you felt an anger simmer. "I know you guys argued but he was brilliant. Truly brilliant."

Ford eyes were glossy, his face contorting in pain. You spied his hand hovering near yours before it closed and he pulled it to his side. The man let out a sigh before hugging himself.

"He-he loved you."

You rolled your eyes. "You don't have to pretend, I'm alright."

"I'm not pretending, he truly loved you. You were his favourite person. He talked about you in his sleep." You raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious. He was only with 'hot pants' because he didn't want to fuck it up with you."

That hurt.

He loved you.

Fuck.

You both liked each other and wasted your time.

Shit.

You buried your head, weeping.

.

.

.

Part 2

[darkbluekies]

The OCs search history <3

Silas:

"How to take care of ptsd in partner"

"How to make someone stop crying"

"How to make your partner forgive you"

"Best restaurant"

"Dark web"

"Diamond ring/neckace/earrings/bracelet"

"Best steak"

"How to stop people from gawking at my partner"

"Protein powder"

"Best soap to wash away blood from skin"

"Best detergent to wash away blood from clothes"

"Best cleaning supplies to wash away blood from walls"

"Best spray to keep blood smell away"

"Five star restaurant booking"

"Why are my clothes thrown out the window?"

Dr Kry:

"Morphine"

"Book series without explicit scenes"

"Healthy recipes"

"How to frame someone for murder"

"Am I secretely perverted"

"Forged signatures without watermark"

"Protein shakes"

"What happens if you mix poision with alcohol"

"Puzzles"

"PG-13 rated movies without angst or horror"

"Plushies"

"Needles"

"How to become an author?"

"How to know if your strict childhood has had any impact on your mental health"

"How to get over your phobia for germs?"

"Strong caffeine drinks"

King Edmund (let's pretend he has internet for a hot minute):

"Is it really dictatorship if I let people complain"

"Ptsd test"

"Why doesn't my wife talk to me?"

"Nightmare analysis"

"How to cheer up an angry wife"

"Can a queen rule over a king?"

"How much alcohol can you drink before you get knocked out?"

"Beatiful dresses for a queen"

"Jewelry for a queen"

"Are public executions a good fear tactic?"

"How do women's anatomy work?"

"Can you punish theft by death?"

"Can you cook rats?"

"Why are little kids scared of me?"

Jerry:

"Is drinkable bleach a thing????"

"What to do if your s/o is a fucking loser"

"Is saying 'you're an idiot' synonyms for 'i love you'?"

"Guns"

"Knives"

"Sexy outfits that doesn't make me look like a fucking clown"

"How to ask someone out on a date without sounding like a loser"

"Impressive date ideas"

"Alcohol that will make me forget today, yesterday, tomorrow and a week forward"

"Spare parts to motorcycle"

"Why am I so fucking cool?????"

"Why am I so fucking miserable?????"

"How to hug your s/o without it being cringe"

"How to make your motorcycle go much faster?"

"Boxing gloves"

"40 boxes of *your favorite snack*"

Hedwig:

"Aestethic wedding ideas"

"Is baby trapping illegal?"

"Is nepotism really that bad?"

"How to guilt trip someone"

"Utterly obsessed with my partner"

"How to be a good kisser"

"Dark web"

"Buy hitmen"

"How to bankruptcy someone"

"How to impress your partners parents"

"Best flowers for dates"

"Best hotel resorts for couples"

"Can you become a super model without school grades"

"Love poems"

"Poison"

"*your adress*"

"Best perfumes to seduce someone"

"*your instagram*"

"*your name*"

"How do I know if I'm blocked on social media"

[yawnderu]

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3

[latenightdaydreams]

Thief!Reader X Mafia! Konig, Please 🥹😢😥🤲

The reader is a smart, notorious thief who sneaks into houses and steals rich people's property, until one day she completes the milestone of 100 houses she has stolen, for the last house.

Cô quyết định ăn cắp tài sản của một người giàu có vào giữa đêm, nghĩ rằng đó là một anh chàng giàu có may mắn trúng số. Trong khi ăn cắp, cô không biết đó là một cái bẫy dành riêng cho cô.

She made a wrong decision, it's time to pay the price for that decision, rape, baby trap, pregnancy!!!

Thank you for fulfilling my previous 3 requests, I have been following your posts every day, love the way you write fanfics, I will be happy all day if you answer me about this request ,you will make my day better,love you !!!❤️❤️😘🤗😍❤️

🩷🩷🩷

Mafia!König x Thief!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, p in v, baby trap, restraints

1.1k word count

💰

.

.

It’s been four months of making sure today goes as planned. Every base has been covered; you make your way towards the house just after midnight. You’re dressed in black leggings and a black hoodie with latex gloves to leave no traces behind. The owner of the home left ten hours ago and won’t be back until next week on Wednesday.

In the cloak of darkness, you make your way to the back door of the mansion. With careful precision, you get the door unlocked and slip inside. You carefully make your way through the home, noting every room and where the valuables might be.

Each step you take is careful as you climb the stairs to the second floor. You pass two empty bedrooms, which seems odd but you ignore it. You continue on until you open the door to an office. Everything is neatly organized. First, you head to the desk, pulling on drawers to see if any of them are unlocked; only one is.

Inside you find a few notebooks; phone numbers and small reminders, nothing important. There was a small box with a key. You quickly test the key in the drawers, but nothing works. Before leaving, you look over the rest of the room.

You walk down to the last door at the end of the hallway; the door is locked. Inside of your pocket you reach for the key, slipping it into the slot and it fits. Excitement rushes through your body. If it’s locked, that means it must hold something important.

The door opens and you step inside. Your eyes travel over every inch of the room, walking towards the large walk-in closets. A safe, perfect. Quickly you walk in, but then you hear a footstep that’s not yours. Right as you turn around, a muscular arm wraps around your neck, one around your waist, and drags you out of the closet.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you flail your legs in an attempt to break free from his grasp. You shout profanities at the man, your hands grasp the door frame trying to tear yourself away from him, but he’s so much stronger than you it’s no use. The man slams you down on to the bed, he takes a moment to linger over you wearing a tear-stained hood. He reaches for the fabric and pulls it off. König.

“Fell right into the trap like I thought you would, Maus.”

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was yours—”

König wraps his hand around your throat and presses you back into the bed, pressing hard on your windpipe. Your hands go to his, trying to pry him off of you. “You’ve been an issue for me and my friends, Maus. It’s time someone put you down.”

He takes his time to inspect the rush of emotions that show in your eyes. With his free hand he moves his hand down your body, caressing the curve of your shape. You look better in person than you do on camera. Such a silly little girl.

You take a deep breath as he pulls his hand away from your neck. In an attempt to change his mind, you begin to beg for mercy, to be let go and have your life spared. The stories you’ve heard about König send a chill down your spine.

“I’m not going to kill you. That would be such a terrible waste of a woman.” König begins to strip his clothing from his body as he looks at you. “I’m going to breed you.” Finding love is hard in his line of work. Women only talk to him for his money and status, none trust worthy of carrying his seed. But you, you can be his perfect little pet. “Undress. Slowly. I want to look at my new toy.”

Your eyes dart to the door before looking back up to König. It’s not worth the risk, he would find you one way or another. As König undresses, you stand up on the bed and toss off your hoodies. Underneath you have on a black tank top that you skip and move on to pulling down your leggings.

“Slowly, I said. Make it enjoyable.” König demands of you.

Not wanting to anger him anymore, you slowly pull your shirt off. There you stand in only a sports bra and basic cotton underwear. His eyes roam over your body taking note of every minor imperfection, every scar you’ve gotten on your little escapades to match his own. When your bra comes off, he can feel his mouth begin to water. He looks at you like a hungry animal, waiting to pounce and feed.

When you’re fully naked he instructs you to lay down on the bed. You listen, your body completely trembling as you feel anxiety take over. He notices, and doesn’t care. You’ve basically begged him to do this with how you take from him. Fair is fair. If what’s his is yours, then you’re his.

“Spread your legs for me.” You reach forward and grab your legs, pulling them apart. “More. I’m a big man, I need room.” He says with a small chuckle.

The bed sinks in as König climbs on to the bed, positioning himself in between your legs. His hand moves over your legs before grasping the base of his cock and slipping his tip between your folds. His free hand caresses your stomach, beginning to envision what you’ll look like swollen with stretch marks covering your flesh.

König thrusts forward, shoving his cock into you. A loud yelp of pain pours from your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and scrunch your face tightly. His cock is monstrous, what else would you expect from someone so big?

He’s well aware how painful this is for you, like it is for all women he’s been with. His broad hips slam against your petite frame at an unforgiving pace. You feel as if he is splitting you in two as you squirm underneath him.

“Please, it hurts.” You cry out hoping for relief from his brutal pounding.

“Shut up.” König’s voice comes out in a low growl as he places his hand over your mouth to hush your whimpers and cries. “You’re going to learn to love this cock, Maus. I don’t care how torn your pussy is, I’m going to fuck it.”

Tears roll down the sides of your eyes as König mocks you. Maybe it would have been mercy for König to have just taken your life. Now you’re a prisoner, a sex slave to this tormented man. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes in the room alongside his deep grunts. You feel his lips press against yours in a needy kiss. The taste of tobacco consumes you, making you feel even more disgusted.

Months pass and those close to you have begun to search for you. König has been paying off the police to lessen their search, making them discourage your family from looking for you. You stay nearly 24/7 chained to the same bed. A chair on each wrist and ankle to ensure you, sneaky little mouse, couldn’t find a way of escaping once more. Especially not now that you have König’s precious little baby forming inside of that precious womb.

[moonchildreads]

don't you know what the night can do?

summary: you call for help in the middle of the night and eddie comes to your rescue

pairing: best friend!eddie x reader

tags/warnings: mdni. technically a college au? depression, abusive relationship (not eddie, he's a sweetie), talks of potential homelessness, no SA happens but eddie thinks it did for a second before it's cleared up (again, it does NOT happen, but since it could be triggering consider this your warning), hurt/comfort, happy ending!

wc: 2.8k

a/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but upon rereading it i realised it was me trauma dumping so i rewrote a significant portion of this to make it into it's own thing. i hope it brings you as much comfort for you as it did for me, and if you are in a situation like reader is, please seek help. i believe in you and i am rooting for you 🖤

Now's the time when it's down to me and you Spread these wings, we'll be flying

It’s already late when the phone rings and he’s immediately shoving his feet into his sneakers, rushing out the door of his apartment and into his van. It’s even more late when he parks across the street and decides against waking your entire building up by ringing your doorbell. Hurriedly, he searches his glove box for that little spare key you gave him for emergencies - the one that has a big metal ring and a tiny plastic tab with your name on it. He lets himself in, the storm outside in the sky and inside your head getting worse and worse every second that ticks by.

Eddie finds you slumped against the small table where your phone rests, the receiver still in your hand, and he knows. He knows something terrible has happened and it doesn’t matter that he’s been anticipating it ever since you told him you’d begun dating that asshole classmate of yours because nothing could have prevented his heart from shattering the moment he sees you.

You’re a lifeless looking doll, devoid of any emotion and feeling. He’d fear you’re actually dead if he couldn’t see your chest rising and falling slowly.

“Sweetheart?” he says, lowering himself to where you’re sitting and trying not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” you say, almost surprised when his eyes come into view. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, baby, of course I’m here,” he shuffles closer to you, but still doesn’t touch you.

Eddie swears he can still feel your arms around his neck sometimes, how your hands always used to find his, and how your legs would tangle on the couch all the time. You don’t like to be touched too much these days. He misses your warmth.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Cold.”

“You’re cold? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“NO!”

Your voice rings loud in the quiet apartment, your eyes locking with his in a fiery yet terrified stare. What are you so afraid of? Eddie takes in your appearance and it’s clear that you’ve been crying, though he doesn’t really understand why. He peers into the hallway that leads to your bedroom, searching for answers though he finds none.

“I- I’m sorry… I made a mess,” you explain, deflating once more. “I was upset and the sheets, they… they’re not on the bed anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “We can put them back on.”

You afford him a movement that barely registers as a nod and he thinks he hasn’t seen duller eyes in his entire life, except for when he used to look into the mirror when he was younger. You shouldn’t feel like that, not if he can help it. He raises up onto his knees, still keeping his distance but signaling that it’s time to get up.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

“Can… can I get a hug first? Please?” you whisper, your face contorting into a pitiful sight.

Eddie doesn't say anything before he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms shielding you from anything and everything that might be trying to hurt you. He lets you bury yourself into him, lets you crawl underneath his skin and bones, become a part of his very soul and he holds you tighter whenever you exhale another heavy breath.

He waits and waits with his ass turning into ice on the harsh linoleum floor of your kitchenette area, and he doesn’t let go before you do because you once read to him that you should always hug kids until they let go first and he still hasn’t forgotten about it. A booming thunder shakes your windows and Eddie feels as though the storm has moved inside your home. You are no longer a kid, but right now you remind him too much of himself when he first went to live with Wayne, and so he keeps holding you until you pull away first.

"I really needed that, thank you," you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. He takes it as a win anyways, because you haven’t smiled in a while and Eddie has always loved your smile.

"You can have as many hugs as you'd like, sweetheart. Why don't you go take a shower while I get your bed ready, huh? You can leave the door open if you want, I’ll be here."

You follow him into your hallway, eyes full of tears at his words. He might be the only person in the world that knows you better than you know yourself, and you don’t take that for granted. You take a hot shower and rub at your skin with your washcloth until it's raw and sensitive and cleansed, and when you come out wrapped in your fluffiest towel Eddie says nothing about the fact that when he walked into your bedroom, he could tell that you’d ripped your bed sheets off the mattress somewhere between a nervous fit and calling him in the middle of the night. There’s a new set, clean and smelling like your favorite fabric softener, and he’s laid out your most comfortable sleepwear at the end of your bed.

Eddie throws your used sheets into the washing machine and gets it started while you get changed, and when you're done you fish out a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt he left behind what feels like eons ago. He thanks you, almost surprised to see you have those clothes and it dawns on you that he doesn’t remember he gave them to you, because you haven't had one of the movie nights where he used to wear them in a while now. When you're both ready for bed, Eddie lifts your covers for you and tucks you in, laying next to you on top of the duvet.

"You can get in if you want," you say, and it's clear you want him to do it.

Eddie thinks he'll never be able to say no to you, so he gets in without you having to ask twice. You are quick to shift closer to him once he gets under the sheets and he takes the hint to put his arms around you, bringing your head to his shoulder and tangling his legs with yours. It’s been ages since he’s held you like this and he’s not going to start complaining about it now - not when you’re right back where you’ve always belonged.

"I have to move out by the end of the month," you mutter, starting to explain the night's events.

"That sucks. You’ve been house hunting yet?"

"No. I found out today and I was hoping Matt would help."

"And he didn't," Eddie says, knowingly.

"He didn't," you confirm. "I asked him to come over earlier because I was upset and he said he’d be here for dinner."

"You cooked?" he hums, petting the back of your head.

"Yeah. I made, uhm, lemon chicken? It wasn't very good."

You've always been a wonderful cook, at least in Eddie's eyes. You don't have a lot of recipes you can whip out from under your belt upon short notice, but the ones you do have are some of his favorites. The chocolate chip cookies he has to hide from Wayne, the chicken noodle soup you bring over when he’s sick, the banana pancakes that always went along with his scrambled eggs and bacon when he used to sleep over. You've never made lemon chicken for him, but you're good at following a cookbook so he thinks it mustn't have turned out inedible.

By now Eddie has learned that "it wasn't very good" means "Matt didn't like it". He doesn’t understand why that piece of shit is dating you if never likes anything you do. Hearing you repeat the things he says to make you feel bad makes your best friend want to dig through your fridge for the leftovers and eat them all just to prove to you that your boyfriend is wrong.

"I think I have to break up with Matt."

Your words make Eddie's head turn. Of all the things you could have said tonight, this was not something he ever imagined. He could have sworn you'd date Matt until he'd decided he'd had enough of you, or you'd marry him and he'd have to sit in the front row watching that fucking guy sap you of your life force for the rest of your days.

Eddie is haunted by the sound of your vacant voice when you'd asked him to come over. At the forefront of his mind he can see it all in loose pieces: the disarray in your bedroom, your obsession with being clean, Matt not being here after you said he’d come over earlier for dinner. He waits for you to paint a clear picture, hoping he won't have to break your boyfriend's nose (or worse) when he sees him around.

"Did he hurt you?" Eddie asks, heart sinking.

"I don't think he likes me anymore," you say, breaking down. Eddie shifts closer and holds you while you shiver. "He, um… he said I can't live with him if I can't find a place before I have to move out of here. A-and when I got upset because I don't want to be fucking homeless during my last semester, he- he tried to distract me with sex."

"What the fuck."

"I t-think he only came o-over ‘cause he wan- he wanted to get laid," you admit between hiccups. "And when he- he couldn't g-get it, he just left.”

"Sweetheart, fuck, I'm so sorry. He's such a fucking asshole," he lets you sob into his arms, the tears coming out of your tired eyes rivalring the downpour outside hitting your windows.

“He- he wouldn’t even hug me. I was crying and he just stood there! He doesn’t care about me being homeless, he- he doesn’t care about me at all!”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he says gently, and you want to believe he’s telling the truth but you don’t. You can’t.

“It’s not. It’s not okay,” you try to move away but he follows you, heart chasing after yours.

"What do you mean, baby?" he brushes a tear away from your face as you both sit up.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m just… there’s nothing in here,” you say through your teeth while you grab at your shirt frantically, scaring him with the rough motion. "I feel so empty and I think- I know there's something really wrong with me, Eddie. Something has to be wrong. I’m not normal.”

"Hey, no, no, there's nothing wrong with you," he pulls you into him once more, not letting you run away from him again. "Sweetheart, I promise you, you're- you're not empty, what are you even saying? You're full - you're so full. You're full of love, a-and kindness, and if that son of a bitch is making you feel like you're not full then, I don’t know, dump his ass! He's mean and pathetic, please don't- don't break yourself into a million pieces for someone who doesn't deserve you."

"I don't feel full, Ed."

"That’s okay, we can work on it," Eddie says, confidently. "And I’m not gonna let you be homeless, I swear. You can move in with me until you feel ready to start house hunting!"

"What if I never feel better?"

"Then we’ll live together forever,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you know he means it.

"Ed-"

"Babe. I'm serious. One hundred percent. You can even have my bedroom, I don't care."

"And where are you gonna sleep, huh? Don't be stupid."

"Wayne slept in the living room for like a decade and he's still kicking, I'll survive."

You turn in his arms so you can look at him. Eddie looks back at you with his warm eyes and mischievous smile firmly planted on his face. He’s so special to you. And luckily for him, you've never been able to say no to him either.

"When is your lease over?" you ask, wiping your tears and feeling suddenly determined.

"Uh, after you graduate I think?"

"I’ll move in with you but don't renew it. Let's find a new place."

"Yeah?" Eddie grins. "You wanna be roommates? For real?"

"I think- I think it could be good for me," you raise your hands and squish his cheeks. I think you could be good for me. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

"Me too," he says, gaze softening.

He knows it's not your fault Matt has taken over your life, not when he's conditioned you for the past year to depend on him for everything. Eddie also knows he himself has been the source of many of your fights, and while it hurts to see you cry every time Matt gives you the silent treatment until you apologize for something you didn't do, your adamant refusal to cut your best friend off your life makes him incredibly proud of you.

As much as you've stood up for Eddie throughout your lives, you've never been good at standing up for yourself. He thinks it’s time he starts standing up for you too.

"You, um," Eddie starts, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from his cheeks and onto his lap. "You really are gonna break up with him though, right? Because I don't think I can pretend like everything's cool with the guy when he keeps hurting you like this."

"No, I know. I can't keep going like this anymore. There's... there's so much stuff you don't even know, Ed. Sometimes he really scares me," you confess.

"He hasn't, like… hit you or anything, right?" his throat constricts.

"No, but he says things... weird things. He's so mean sometimes,” you huff, finally getting rightfully angry. “He got mad for no reason the other day and said that the only time he felt I loved him was when he got sick and I stayed with him during Spring Break. I spent an entire week taking care of him and then when he gave me the fucking plague, because of course I got it from him, Robin had to take care of me because he was sooo busy."

"He's such a goddamn loser, he totally held you hostage ‘cause you had plans that didn’t involve him for once. I knew he had a problem with us going to Steve's cabin, he’s never liked any of us!”

"Also he says I humiliate him in class because I think I'm smarter than him. Like it’s my fault his grades suck.”

"You are, though," Eddie says, grinning.

“Huh?”

"You are smarter than him. You have always been the smartest of us all."

"No, I’m not,” you scoff. “Nancy was valedictorian."

"Be real, you didn't want that shit anyway."

"No, I really didn't," you giggle softly. "I was too busy running around town with you and Jonathan.”

“Those were the good days,” he snorts. “We totally made Hopper age in dog years.”

After the laughter ends, you two look at each other and know that something has changed tonight. Something that was slowly veering off track got violently course-corrected, and you let yourself feel hopeful for the first time in a very long time.

You’ll go to sleep in Eddie’s arms and wake up to the smell of him frying bacon. You’ll whip your banana pancakes from thin air and you’ll start deciding together what you want to sell, what you’ll put in storage and what you’ll take with you once you move out of your place. You’ll talk about your finals coming up and Eddie’s new job, and he’ll do the dishes while you call Nancy, who’ll call Jonathan, who’ll shake Argyle up, who’ll call Eden, who’ll call and wake up Robin, who’ll yell at a sleepy Steve to get up, who’ll then call you to ask when they should be coming to help you lug all your stuff into Eddie’s van.

And Matt won’t call all weekend, because he doesn’t care about you, but you will never know that because you’ll be getting drunk at Robin and Steve’s while Eden tells you about a two bedroom apartment that a classmate of hers is vacating after graduation, and everyone else will make bets on how long it’s going to take for you and Eddie to notice that you won’t actually need two bedrooms.

But for now, with eyes that hurt from crying and limbs that feel heavy with a tiredness you’ve been carrying for months, you feel a little less empty because you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll always have Eddie by your side.

thank you for reading!

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Your Favorite Flavor

modern!aemond x fem!dealer!reader 

Summary: After a rough week filled with midterms Aemond is hoping to come home and relax. After arriving home he finds it to be worse than his dorms and Helaena offers him a contact who can help him with his needs. 

Warnings: 18+ drugs(weed), smoking, cigs, swearing, oral(m), p in v, unprotected 

Authors Note: girl dealers are top tier frfr n e ways this is super self indulgent and my first time writing in this type of PoV also mans has both of his eyes

Word Count: 3.7k

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Aemond was positive this was his worst week of midterms he’s ever experienced in his entire university career. Normally this week would bring him so much joy with the thought of passing his exams and being able to go home for the week to enjoy the holidays. This week however started terribly and ended even worse. 

Monday morning he slept past his alarm and missed one of his biggest exams. The professor reassured him he would be able to make up the exam and still be able to receive full points. He hoped it was just a one time slip up but when he awoke well past his alarm again on Tuesday he was ready to start sleeping outside the lecture halls of his classes for the rest of the week. By the time Friday came he was so nervous he wouldn’t wake up in time that he barely slept and his eyes felt heavy and dry. The only reprieve was that after this last exam he gets to go home. 

After he finishes his last exam he runs back to his dorm to grab his bag and thuds down the stairs making a straight line for his car. The frown he was sure would be gone for a couple days returns to his face upon seeing a flat tire. He throws his bag into his car and groans before getting out his tools and spare. Once the tire is on he throws the tools back in the trunk and gets behind the wheel. He rarely does this but it’s been a long week so he opens his glove box and pulls out the pack of cigarettes. He looks at the lighter in his hand praying to the Gods that it has fluid left. It ignites and he sighs when the smoke seeps into his lungs. 

He’s thankful for his hour drive home and turns up his music letting it drown out the thoughts in his head that he failed every exam. By the time he pulls into the driveway he’s smoked enough cigarettes for him to wish he never picked up the habit. He rests his head on the steering wheel trying to calm his nerves and hoping the house is empty when he walks in. He jolts when someone’s hands land on his window. 

“Welcome home, baby brother.” Aegon laughs wildly before tugging some random girl into the house with him. 

Aemond snatches his bag from the passenger seat and begins to drag himself into the house. He hears his mother humming from the kitchen and he tries to make his way upstairs but he’s stopped as she calls his name. His shoulders slump as he turns and makes his way to greet her. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” she coos pulling him into a hug and she inhales deeply. “Aemond,” she scolds, pulling back. “Cigarettes? Really?” she glares at him. 

“I’m sorry.” he sighs, defeated. “I had a long week. I want to go lay down.” she looks at him with pity filled eyes and he turns and trudges up the stairs. 

He pushes his door open and drops his bag before shutting and locking his door. He walks over to the bed and collapses face first into his pillows. He wraps his arms around them tightly and lets his eyes close trying to catch up on his much missed sleep. Right as the world fades away he hears Aegon's ‘guest’ moaning and he grabs a pillow slamming it over his head. He gives up and turns on his TV and lets the noise of some thrice revived show drown out the life around him. 

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There’s repeated knocking at his door and he groans rising from his pile of blankets and pillows. He rubs his eyes and walks over to the door. His face softens as his mother is there with a small tray of food and drink. He smiles and she sweeps into his room and sets the tray on his desk and turns to him. 

“Are you doing okay?” she looks over him as he leans in the doorway still. 

“I’m just tired.” he yawns and she walks over to him and pulls him down to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Okay.” she pats his chest. “Let me know if there’s anything you want or need. Helaena would also like to see you when you’re feeling up for it.” she hums and shuts the door behind her. 

The smells of his favorite soup and sandwich have Aemond abandoning the thought of visiting his sister. He sits at his desk and lets the warm food take him back to his childhood that was once filled with such happiness. He takes a bite and groans leaning back in the chair. This is exactly what he needed to start feeling better. He relishes in the silence and food until his peace is once again interrupted by Aegon and his guest in his room. 

He rolls his eyes, turning on his computer and searching for a video to watch and drown out the noises once again. He finishes his meal and moves the tray to make room for him to play a couple of games. He plays until his eyes burn and he opens his drawer looking for something else to help him relax and curses when he finds his stash empty. Fucking Aegon. He gets up to storm into his room but then remembers his guest and turns on his heel with a huff. He knocks on Helaena’s door and she opens it with a smile. 

“I was wondering how long you would hide in your room.” she smirks, pulling him into a hug. “How were the exams?” he follows her in and they sprawl on her bed and he tells her all about his week. 

“Aegon stole the rest of my weed.” he finishes the end of his terrible week with a sigh. “Do you have any?” he pushes out his bottom lip. 

“I’m on a break.” she chuckles. “I’ll text my dealer and you can go get some.” she pulls out her phone. 

hel: can i send my baby brother to you? 

“Helaena.” Aemonds eyes go wide.

you: how old is he? i don’t babysit or sell to them either 

hel: he’s 20 and had such a bad week at uni 🥺 

“Enough of this.” Aemond snatches her phone wishing he would’ve just stayed in his room. 

you: fine. give him my number. you’re lucky you're my fav customer 😘

“See it’s fine. She’s very nice and her stuff is better than anything you would get from Aegon anyway.” she snatches her phone back. 

Aemond glares at his sister before storming back into his room. His phone dings with the contact for Helaena’s friend. He runs his fingers through his hair and quickly changes into sweats and hoodie before grabbing his keys and heading downstairs. He waves at his mom and walks out the front door. The moon and stars greet him as he strides to his car he turns it on and pulls out his phone. 

aemond: it’s helaena’s brother 

you: ok helaenas brother. what can i do for you? 

aemond: i’m stopping at the gas station before i come over. do you need anything? 

you: diet dr pepper and some form of chocolate 

Aemond chuckles to himself as he types out his response and smiles as you send another message. 

you: and wraps i like to smoke with my customers 😶‍🌫️ and hel said you had a bad week so i'm thinking you need it too and i don't need you to tell her i was mean 

aemond: any specific flavor?

you: your favorite flavor 

aemond: sounds good send me the address. 

Aemond leaves his phone in the car as he makes his way into the gas station. He grabs two sodas and spends a couple minutes in the chocolate aisle not knowing which ones to get so he grabs a couple different options and makes his way to the counter. He picks out a strawberry wrap and leaves with a small bag and a smile on his face. He looks at the address and sends a message he’ll be there in ten. 

He smiles that it’s fairly close to his house as he pulls into the driveway. He cuts his lights and pulls out his phone to text you. He looks up as the car in front of him flashes its lights and his heart starts to beat faster that maybe he’s at the wrong house. Or Gods what if this was a prank and- He watches as you slip out of the drivers side and sprint up to his drivers side barefoot. He starts to roll his window down but you open his door and he looks at you bewildered.

“Well come on.” you put your hands on your hips causing your oversized shirt to bunch further up your thighs. “It’s cold, Helaena’s brother.” you pout at him and he’s well aware of the temperature as your nipples poke through your shirt. He internally groans as he takes his seatbelt off as starts to get out of the car. He grabs the bag of drinks and snacks and your eyes dart to it. 

“I’m Aemond.” he says looking down at you. 

“Almond? Mm you should’ve gotten me an almond joy.” you chuckle and start to skip back to your car. 

You nod at the passenger side and he slips in and watches you push your seat back. You curl your legs under you and grab the bag from his lap. You pull out the soda and smile, opening it and taking a sip before rummaging through the bag of candy. You start to chuckle and he feels a blush run up his neck. 

“You did get me an almond joy and a lot of other chocolate.” you look up at him with amused eyes and he offers you a sheepish smile. “A strawberry wrap? Did Hel tell you these were my favorite.” you purse your lips and he looks at them wishing he could press his lips to them. He pushes the thought from his head knowing he’s only here as a favor from you to Helaena. 

“I like the strawberry one too.” he nods and you smile at him. He tries to stop his heart from beating any faster as his eyes catch on everything about you. 

“How much did you want to pick up?” you smile at him before turning in the seat and bending over to push bags around in the backseat. Your shirt raises up and he can see the lace of your panties and he snaps his head forward and stares straight forward at his car. “Hello? Almond?” you call, still moving bags around. 

“An eighth is enough.” he clears his throat. You finally turn back around with a bag and pull the zipper open. You pull out a pre-packed bag that has a little black ribbon around it and place it in his hands. “How much?” he hums, admiring the time you put into the packaging. 

“Eh,” you wave him off. “You bought me stuff from the gas station.” his brows scrunch. You really wanted to tell them that he was far too pretty to pay but you were unsure of how he would take that.

“Are you sure?” he watches as you pull out a metal tray and grinder. 

“Yeah.” you nod, adding some bud into the grinder. “Can you split the wrap?” you glance at him and he nods opening the package. 

“Here.” he offers you the empty wrap and you smile at him, grabbing the wrap and begin to start filling it. He watches as your fingers nimbly pack and roll and when you bring it to your lips he watches as your tongue glides across the seam and he readjusts in his seat. 

“Tell me about your week, Almond. Hel said it was bad.” you hum flicking on the lighter to dry the wrap. 

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about uni.” he nibbles his lip. 

“Why cause I sell drugs?” you raise your eyebrow putting the blunt between your lips. “I’m graduating next year. I’ve had my fair share of shitty midterms.” he watches you light the blunt and as the smoke flows out of your mouth he looks at you as if you’re the first woman he’s seen. 

“Really?” he tilts his head. 

“Really.” you smile handing him the blunt. “But tell me about your week.” you turn your body to him and give him your full attention. 

He starts off with Monday and you listen, nodding your head as he speaks. You both pass the blunt back and forth until it’s no more and you continue to stare at him as he speaks. The haziness of the car is causing you to lounge deeper into your seat and you bring your feet back out from underneath you. He continues talking about his midterms and you frown that he’s still so worked up. 

“I’m sorry.” he frowns seeing your frown. “Am I boring you? I am. I should go.” you shake your head. 

“No,” you grab his arm and he stops. You rub your thumb on his skin before leaning back again. “I just thought you would relax more but I think we need to smoke more.” you bite your lip smirking. “If you want of course.” you look at his pink cheeks as he nods. 

“We can use mine.” he fishes for the bag in his pocket and you wave him off again.

“No, let me just rest my feet in your lap. I’m scrunched up over here.” he chuckles at your pout and pats his lap. 

He watches you throw your legs over the center console and curses himself as he hesitates to rest his hands on your bare legs. You lean down and grab the metal tray and grinder once more. His eyes roam all over you unabashedly gazing at your relaxed and flushed features. When you hand him the blunt he looks at you curiously. 

“Well I sparked the last one. It’s your turn.” you nod at him. “Do you need me to flick the lighter on for you, baby Almond?” you tease leaning up with the lighter. His eyes darken at your nickname for him and he plucks the lighter from your fingers as you fall back into the door in a fit of giggles. 

“I’m gonna tell Helaena you were mean.” he smiles as he passes the blunt into your awaiting fingers. 

“Mean? Me?” you grasp at your chest letting your head fall back. “I could never be mean to you.” you push his leg with your foot and he thanks the Gods it wasn’t a little higher up his thigh. “Oh sweet little Almond who isn’t full of joy right now.” you giggle at your attempt at a joke and he watches as you bring the blunt to your lips still giggling. 

“I’m happier than I’ve been in weeks.” he softly admits and you crack your eyes open looking him over with a soft smile. “Sorry I didn’t mean to get dramatic again.” he shakes his head. 

“I think you just need some head.” you hum passing the blunt back to him, silently giggling that he didn’t process your words yet. He hits it and then your words play through his head again and he turns back to you who is waiting with a smirk. “Or I’m sure you already have someone to take care of that for you.” you raise an eyebrow and he passes the blunt back to you. 

“I don’t.” his words are low as he licks his lower lip. His mind has finally relaxed and he’s confident enough to start slowly trailing his fingers up your legs. You put the blunt out in the ashtray as his fingers start to knead into your legs.

“I find that hard to believe.” you sit up and look him over with squinted eyes. “You’re so pretty. If we went to the same uni I’d be on my knees for you daily.” his fingers dig into your legs. He can’t believe that these words are coming out of your mouth. His breathing deepens as he watches your tongue slide across your lip. 

Aemond can’t take it anymore. Your shirt has been slowly riding up and every glimpse of your panties has his cock throbbing. Now with you looking at him like that while saying you want to be on your knees for him he’s absolutely done for. His hand travels up your thigh to see your reaction and you slowly spread your legs for him and he groans. 

That low sound from him is all you need to have your feet back under you and leaning your front over to console instead. He grabs your hand that reaches for his waistband with eyes saying you didn’t have to but you palm him over the soft material and he throws his head back. He pushes his sweats down enough to free himself and your mouth is wrapped around him instantly. 

“Fuck.” he groans moving your hair to the other side to watch you. Your tongue swirls around him and he restrains himself from jerking up into your mouth. You push your head further down and when he hits the back of your throat he lets out more soft curses. You hum around him, starting to bob your head quickly. His arm stretches to lift up your shirt and his fingers dig into the tender flesh of your ass. 

You moan around him as his fingers dip under your panties and slide down your slit. He teases you as you continue to suck around him and when his fingers circle your bud you still your movements on him. You hear him chuckle above you as he starts to move his fingers faster. You slowly pull off of him and let out a soft whimper that has his hips jerking. You press your lips around his tip and suck harshly as your hips chase his fingers. 

“Can I fuck you? Please?” his voice wrecked. You turn your head and look up at him and he groans again lifting you up and pulling you onto his lap. His length presses against your wet panties and you both grind against each other too dazed and hot to line him up with your entrance. You smash your lips against his as you both push and move against each other. His tip slips under your panties and you cry out as it brushes against your bud. 

“Fuck almond.” he groans at the name, fingers digging into your hips as his nostrils flare. 

“If I’m going to fuck you, your going to cry out my actual name.” you nod your head before resting it on his shoulder. He pushes your panties to the side and lines himself up at your core. He dips his tip in and pulls it out listening to you whimper. 

“Aemond,” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulder. You try to move your hips down to find his length again and he groans feeling your wetness slide against him. 

“Like that.” he slams into you and you fall forward on his chest as he starts pushing up into you. “You feel so good.” his hands land on your ass and help you bounce against him. You toss your head back and he stares at your nipples poking through your shirt and he attaches his mouth to them over the fabric. You look down at him with pleasure filled eyes as you start to rock against him frantically. 

“Aemond, fuck,” he looks up at you with such reverence. His hand curls around the nape of your neck and pulls you into a bruising kiss. He groans feeling you squeeze around him and he brings his fingers to your bud and he relishes when you whine loudly into his mouth. “Aem,” your toes curl as you come around him. 

The feeling of you falling apart around him as his eyes rolling back. His fingers continue to circle your bud enjoying the pulsing of your walls around him. His other hand is still firmly on your ass helping you bounce on him. His high slams through him as he holds you closely as he feels you still clenching around him. You both pant in each other's arms and he lifts you off and adjusts your panties. He helps you crawl back into your seat and you lay your head back on the rest still trying to catch your breath.

“You’re the best dealer I’ve ever had.” he looks up at you with lidded eyes. 

“I better be your only dealer now.” you purse your lips and he presses his against them quickly. 

“Then I better be the only customer who gets this treatment.” he smirks. 

“I definitely don’t do that with Hel.” he chuckles at your words. “Come find me again after winter exams.” he internally frowns that he has to go back to uni and this isn’t something that gets to grow right away. “Don’t go pouting again.” you pinch his cheeks. “Just a couple more weeks and then we’re free for the holidays.” you nod at him.

“Then I'll see you when there’s snow on the ground.”  he presses his lips once more to yours before sliding out of your car.

As Aemond shuts your car door the crisp breeze bites at his flushed cheeks and he’s quickly climbing into his car. He knows he has a ridiculous smile on his face but he couldn’t care less. He starts his drive home and decides to stop at the gas station once more to get Helaena her favorite snacks as a thank you.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

i’m making at least two more parts to this bc i already got the ideas for them 😖

Part 2

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

[changbunnies]

Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading. 

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically. 

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see. 

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely. 

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him. 

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read! 

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises. 

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken. 

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful! 

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t. 

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind. 

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there. 

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue. 

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you. 

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!” 

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before. 

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even. 

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained. 

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house. 

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances. 

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world? 

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone. 

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!” 

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips. 

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least. 

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that. 

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now. 

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him. 

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller. 

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath. 

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you. 

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before. 

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you. 

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.” 

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him. 

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day. 

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror. 

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you. 

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all. 

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body. 

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist. 

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it. 

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling. 

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. 

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock. 

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.  

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away. 

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right. 

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release. 

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.” 

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky. 

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer. 

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs. 

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them. 

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away. 

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening. 

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems. 

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

[megalony]

Another Life Lost

It's been quite a while, but I've finally managed a Buddie x reader imagine and I'm rather happy with this one.

Please let me know what you all think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Buddie Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Eddie, (Y/n) and Evan want to start a family together, but it doesn't seem to be going the way they planned.

Enjoy.

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A grunt passed through Eddie's lips, followed by a hiss when he leaned to the left. A sizzling pain seared in his left side like he had been prodded with a hot poker and he could feel his muscles twisting and tightening when he leaned further until he was stretching over the passenger side.

He took the envelope that he had thrown carelessly on his jacket on the spare seat and clenched it with such a grip that the envelope crumpled beneath his tense fingers.

With a huff, Eddie opened the glove box and tossed the envelope in there, hearing it clatter against the CDs before he slammed it shut. He could deal with it later.

Walking into the house with an envelope full of tainted money would only give away what Eddie had been doing tonight, and he didn't want to do that. He hadn't even thought up an excuse for the bruises on his torso, the black eye he was going to have in the morning and the split knuckles on both hands. He was going to have to get creative.

Once the envelope was safely forgotten about, he grabbed his jacket and slung it on his shoulders, bearing another grunt and a choked moan when his chest stretched and his muscles seized up at the movement.

He had changed out of his shorts back into his joggers, but he hadn't bothered with his jacket. He drove home shirtless with the windows down to try and cool down.

Fighting always riled him up.

He heaved himself out the jeep and shut the door as quietly as possible while he leaned back and clicked his spine into place. He grimaced. Oh, he was going to feel beat and broken in the morning.

His head hung down as he trudged up the path towards the house, but when he happened to look to the left, his brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed when he pulled up on the drive. Evan's jeep was where it always was, parked right up near the bay window, and Eddie had parked behind him on the drive as normal.

But pulled up on the lawn in front of their house was another car. Eddie recognised the car but he couldn't put his finger on who it belonged to. It was someone he knew, it had to be. Who was here at their house at midnight?

His brows furrowed as he continued to trudge up the path, but a shiver coursed down his spine just as he zipped up his jacket.

The lights were on.

Both his partners and his son should be fast asleep by now. Eddie had been counting on (Y/n) and Evan being asleep so he could crawl into bed and not be questioned about where he'd been or why he was groaning or stiff with pain. If they were awake, what were they doing around the house at this time?

The front door was open. Eddie could feel his nerves going haywire when he walked inside and nudged the door shut behind him.

The hallway light was on, the living room lamp was on. The lights were illuminating in the kitchen and he could hear raised voices and clattering items from various areas of the house. What on Earth were they doing?

"Babe?" Eddie reached into his jacket pocket and grabbed his wallet and phone which he dumped on the cabinet in the hallway. He kicked off his shoes and trudged past the living room, aiming for the corridor that led to the bedrooms.

But he took a step back when a figure loomed at the end of the hall near the bathroom.

Evan stalked out into the hallway like a demon crawling from Hell. His shoulders raised high near his neck, his hands were clenching and twitching at his sides and his chest was heaving. But when he turned, the light behind him seemed to cast a dark halo around him that made Eddie's upper lip twitch and had him taking a sharp breath which hurt his chest.

The way Evan sped down the hall implied something was drastically wrong and it made Eddie's gut tense and tighten like a rope knotting up in his abdomen.

He watched with panicked eyes as Evan stormed his way and he didn't even reach Eddie before he was speaking with venom dripping from his voice.

"Where the Hell have you been?!"

"What?" Eddie couldn't help but lean his head to one side and tense his own shoulders like he was squaring up for another fight.

Had he missed something? There had been nothing special about tonight. (Y/n) had the day off, Evan had worked a night shift last night and Eddie had just pulled a double. He didn't specify what time his shift finished and he didn't always come straight home, although ninety percent of the time he did because he was tired and he didn't go far without his partners.

The fights were the only thing Eddie seemed to do on his own, and he didn't do them often. But when he got the call this morning, he couldn't pass up the opportunity. He won those fights; they allowed him to let off steam better than he could at the gym or when he was on shift. He could let loose and it didn't matter who he punched or how hard he hit them.

And the money he won was always a good bonus.

He hadn't been gone that long since the end of his shift. What had happened tonight, why was the house so alive and hectic?

"I've been calling you. I called Bobby to see if you were at work, but your shift ended four hours ago and no one's seen you. Where were you?" Evan seemed to point his finger near Eddie's chest before he changed to curl his trembling hand into a fist.

He had called. He called dozens of times, he left voicemails and texts but he got no response. Evan had been going out of his mind tonight and not being able to get hold of Eddie had made things ten times worse.

Where had he been? What had he been doing? What if he got into a crash or got attacked or something happened? If he didn't tell Evan or (Y/n) he was going out somewhere, they couldn't get hold of him in an emergency like this. And they wouldn't know where he was if he got hurt or something bad happened to him. They would be frantic, just like tonight.

Eddie rolled his lips together and lifted his chin to meet his partner's stern gaze which he did not favour tonight. His pointed chin jutted out and his cheeks hollowed as he took a deep breath, ignoring the pain it ignited in his chest as he did so.

"I was out." He didn't like the way Evan threw out a sarcastic laugh and held his hands out at his sides like he was about to pray. "Buck what's going on, who's here?"

He was taken back when Evan's hand suddenly cupped his chin. Neither of them were strangers to a heavy kiss mid-argument or just after a row, it was something common in their relationship with (Y/n). And for a moment, Eddie thought he was going to get the kiss of a lifetime with the grip Evan had on his chin.

But when Evan twisted his head to the side and his eyes narrowed, Eddie shuddered beneath that firm gaze. He knew exactly what his boyfriend was looking at. He was looking at the discolourment starting to form beneath Eddie's left eye.

He let go of Eddie's chin a bit roughly which made Eddie's head jerk down from the loss of touch, and he swallowed down a growl when Evan grabbed his wrist to inspect his knuckles.

"You promised."

He sneered. Evan actually sneered the words at him and the disappointment was clear in his eyes. Neither of them needed to speak to voice the fact that they both knew where Eddie had been tonight. He had been to the illegal fights he had been caught up in these last few months. The fights he promised not to attend anymore once Evan found out where he was going and subsequently told (Y/n) why their boyfriend was coming home battered and bruised.

Eddie tutted and rolled his eyes, instantly regretting it when he saw the way Evan's brows rose and his nostrils flared. He tried to walk around his boyfriend, but Eddie stopped abruptly when something caught his eye.

Blood.

Reaching down, he snagged Evan's wrists and pulled both hands up for inspection. Arguments and fights always got put on pause or on the back burner if any one of them were ill and this was no different. Why did Evan have blood on his hands? What had he been up to? Where was he hurt?

"What's going on?" Eddie raked his hands up and down Evan's bare arms that were clear of blood.

He took in what his boyfriend was wearing. A grey lounge shirt and matching grey slacks, usual attire for going to bed. And Eddie could see specks of blood around the knees on the slacks and one or two drops on the shirt, but nothing significant. No point of contact, no wound or cut or scratch to imply where it had come from.

He ignored the way Evan tried to tear out of his embrace and he revelled with inner glee when Evan stopped abruptly the moment Eddie cupped his face in his hands. His thumbs brushed across Evan's cheekbones, something that always short-circuited his brain and he tilted his head down so he could inspect him closely.

"Are you okay-"

Eddie could of cried when Evan reached his arms up between them and bashed his arms into Eddie's wrists, effectively making him let go and drop his touch.

"It's not mine." The way Evan's voice broke caused Eddie's heart to drop down to his gut like a ten ton stone and the feeling almost had his knees caving in.

He knew.

He knew Evan's every facial expression, and the look in his eyes wasn't glassy or paranoid or uncertain like it was when Chris was involved. In the beginning of their relationship, Evan would always feel horrible if Chris was sick or scraped his knee when he was under Evan's care. He felt like he was letting Eddie down somehow. It wasn't much better now, even when Evan and (Y/n) were classed as his legal guardians which made them just as much Chris's parents as Eddie.

That look in his eyes wasn't fear for Chris, it was sorrow and pain and torture and panic about their girlfriend. Something had happened with (Y/n) tonight.

"(Y/n)." Her name passed through Eddie's lips like a whisper on the wind and he found himself pushing into Evan's chest, trying to get him to move. But he wouldn't. Evan stood in his path like a boulder that wouldn't be moved. "Evan what's happened?!"

Evan visibly cringed, coiling his arms near his chest for a moment when he heard his name. Although it was common for (Y/n) to call him that, Eddie always stuck to Buck. He seemed to have a certain way of saying Buck that held love and a flare that got the fire going within Evan.

He only ever heard his name pass through Eddie's lips if Eddie was asking him something very serious or if something was wrong. Like this whole situation. Every aspect of it was wrong, and there was nothing Evan could do about it.

"She miscarried."

His words were finally enough to stop Eddie from trying to push him out the way. Eddie's head began to shake before he really knew what he was doing or what he was trying to process.

"No,"

That wasn't right. That couldn't be right.

Eddie had seen both his partners yesterday. He had kissed (Y/n) goodbye before he went to work in the morning. He kissed her stomach and felt the baby move as if they were saying goodbye to him. He kissed Evan when they passed at work as Evan was on his way home and Eddie was beginning his shift.

Everything had been fine this morning; couldn't they go back to that moment? Couldn't they replay this day again and make it work out properly?

They were nineteen weeks along. Everything had been fine. They had their scan last week and the baby was fine, healthy, the perfect size and always moving and kicking like they never slept at all.

(Y/n) couldn't have miscarried, that just wasn't right. She was okay, she was healthy, no complications or problems before now. Nothing had been wrong. She couldn't have lost their baby when Eddie wasn't here, when he was out being selfish and not thinking that any situation was arising back home.

Tears streaked down Eddie's face as he looked at his boyfriend who was grimacing and becoming desperate for air.

"While you were out fighting, we lost a girl."

Trembles set out in Evan's body and he went to clutch his hands at his face until a sea of red was all he could focus on. His hands were smeared with blood. (Y/n)'s blood. He raised his clenched hands above his head and smothered his forearms into his face until his nose felt like it was breaking and spit gathered at his lips as he wheezed for breath.

Tears streaked down his face as he gasped and began to shake.

He tried. He tried to stop it. He tried to console (Y/n), to make her feel better and control the situation. He tried to call Eddie and find out where he was when (Y/n) began to wail for their other partner to come home. Evan couldn't seem to do anything. He couldn't stop the miscarriage. He couldn't console (Y/n). He couldn't get hold of Eddie. All he managed to do was call his sister so she could come round and sit with Chris so Evan could stay with (Y/n). Even the ambulance he called hadn't turned up yet.

"I'm- I- baby I'm sorry." A broken sound emitted past Eddie's lips as he reached out for his partner.

His hand cupped the back of Evan's head while his other arm secured around his waist. He reeled Evan into his chest and smothered his lips into his curls, trying to breathe but it wasn't going very well. Eddie was just relieved that Evan didn't try and push him away. Instead, he dropped his arms from his face and bound them around Eddie.

He finally stopped fighting to push him away and clutched at him instead, drawing him closer as if he thought he might just fall apart if Eddie let him go.

"Maddie's with Chris- I called an ambulance." Evan's words were muffled against Eddie's shoulder, but he heard him all the same.

He hummed against Evan's hair and took another moment to kiss the top of his head and squeeze him tightly into his embrace before he tried to separate them. They had to get back to (Y/n). They had wasted enough time talking and arguing out here. If Eddie knew what had happened he would of run straight in and gone to find (Y/n) instead of wasting precious time out here.

He had to get to (Y/n). He had to apologise and make sure she was okay and somehow try and rectify this situation.

"E- Evan? Evan…" The meek sound of (Y/n)'s voice and the desperation clawing at her tone made both men shiver.

Evan felt like his legs were going to give way on him when he bustled down the hall and headed back into the bathroom. He could feel the distance growing between him and Eddie and he knew that meant Eddie was peeking his head into Chris's room just to check he and Maddie were okay.

"I'm here, I'm here." He bustled back into the bathroom, expertly remembering which way to walk to avoid the blood splatters on the floor and the mess of towels, piles of clothing and tissues scattered about.

His knees tremored when he bashed down to the floor and reached his arms back out for (Y/n).

She was sat in the small gap between the bath and the toilet as she kept feeling sick, but so far all she did was hyperventilate rather than throw up.

As soon as he was within reach, (Y/n) weakly held out her arms until Evan reached out for her. He enveloped his arms around her and reeled her into his chest, letting her hands scrunch up in his shirt and her face smother into the middle of his chest until her nose was crushing against his sternum.

He could feel each shaking breath she took which felt like she was wheezing into his chest rather than breathing.

His nose buried in her hair and he started peppering kisses to the top of her head as he swayed back and forth, rocking (Y/n) in his arms to see if it would do anything to calm them both down.

"It's okay- baby… (Y/n)?" Evan could feel his heart lurching up into his throat when (Y/n) leaned into him enough to set him off balance and have him tilting backwards. He strained his legs and tensed his back to hold them both up while one hand curved around to cup the side of her face which he tilted back so he could look down at her.

The way her eyes were rolling in her head made Evan's stomach clench like he had been punched and he watched her pupils blow up until black was the only colour he could see.

"Eddie? Eddie!"

A croaky "Oh Jesus," scraped past Eddie's lips when he swung around the corner and skidded into the bathroom.

His hand fell onto Evan's shoulder as he crouched down behind him and leaned over his shoulder to reach out for (Y/n). His hand cupped the side of her neck, pressing his fingers down over her pulse to mentally tally each beat per minute and feel how deeply she was breathing.

"Lay her down, she's starting to burn up."

Eddie swiped his sleeve beneath his nose before he rolled both sleeves up past his elbows until it felt like his circulation was being cut off. He didn't want to strip off his jacket and expose the bruises littering his chest. He didn't need to panic Evan with that right now or (Y/n) if she came back around soon.

He swiped his hand out for one of the flannels beside the bath and soaked it in cold water until his fingers went numb and began to shake.

He perched down on the side of the bath so he was level with Evan and he helped him lay (Y/n) down until her upper half was laid over Evan's lap. Eddie placed the flannel over (Y/n)'s temple and stooped over, keeping one hand on her temple while he shakily pressed his other hand around her abdomen.

They had no idea whether she was bleeding internally or if part of the miscarriage was retained and causing problems or infection.

Tears sparked in Eddie's eyes again and began to silently flush his face when he watched Evan hunch over and start to card his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair. He kept his hand on (Y/n)'s neck while he hunched forward, parting his knees to the sides so he could press a kiss to the back of Evan's head.

Why didn't he come home? Why didn't he have that sense of foreboding or an inkling of intuition that something was wrong? He should have been here with them.

~One~

***

(Y/n) couldn't refrain from tapping her feet against the bed from the moment she sat down. Her hands were running up and down her thighs, unsure what to do with herself until Eddie reached down and tangled their fingers together.

Both men could see the uncertainty written across her face, and they understood why.

Eddie began to glide his thumb up and down the back of her hand while Evan folded his arms over his chest and leaned into Eddie's side.

It almost seemed strange to be back in this position over a year after the miscarriage. Evan and Eddie hadn't managed to make it to (Y/n)'s first appointment for this pregnancy, they had both been scheduled to work and neither of them could swap or get off for an hour to come with her.

It left them both anxious all day because they knew (Y/n) would be panicking and they didn't want to leave her to attend the appointment alone. The only upside was that everything had been fine and the baby was fine.

This time they had both managed to come down and they were glad they were here because (Y/n) was anxious. They had been nineteen weeks when (Y/n) had the miscarriage and she was roughly twenty-one weeks now. For the last month she had been on edge almost every day and both men knew why, even if none of them voiced it.

This appointment was going to calm them all down.

"Okay, let's take a look."

(Y/n) rolled her shirt up and when the gel was placed on her stomach, she leaned her head on Eddie's arm and looked up at him and Evan. She could see the faraway look in Evan's eyes, he looked like he was in another world but the delicate smile on his face was soothing. He had one arm across his chest and his other hand was curled into a fist and pressed against his mouth, slightly obscuring his smile.

For a few moments, (Y/n) closed her eyes while she felt Eddie kissing the top of her head. Although she was sure his eyes were intently focused on the screen that was slightly angled away from (Y/n) so it was aimed towards the midwife. They all wanted to know how their girl was doing.

She tried not to wriggle or shift around at the uncomfortable feeling of the sonogram pressing down on her bladder. She tried to focus on the baby instead; what their girl was going to look like on the screen. How she was going to be laid this time, how cosy she was going to seem.

It took a few moments for (Y/n) to realise that the sonogram was still roaming her stomach rather than staying in one place. Usually the midwife stopped after a while and turned the screen so they could see the baby. What was she searching for?

She gingerly tugged on Eddie's hand and opened her eyes to look between him and the midwife.

Eddie's head was tilted to one side and his narrowed eyes were darting between the screen and the midwife with perplexion hidden in his eyes. And Evan's smile had faded as one brow arched up. They were all confused.

"Is everything okay?" Evan dropped his hand from his mouth so both arms were folded over his chest again and his fingers began tapping against his biceps.

None of them liked the look on her face. The midwife looked stricken. She wasn't looking at them, her head was leant forward towards the monitor and she tapped a few keys on the keyboard while she focused on something. But when she finally stopped moving the sonogram, (Y/n) felt a small slither of relief now the uncomfortable movement had stopped. But it was replaced with dread.

Something must be wrong, she wasn't speaking to them. It didn't usually take this long for them to talk and point out what their baby was doing on the screen.

"I'm very sorry… I can't find a heartbeat."

(Y/n) couldn't breathe.

She couldn't feel her hand that Eddie had suddenly clenched into his fist like he was trying to squeeze all the blood out of her fingers. She couldn't feel anything but the thumping of her heartbeat- a beat which should be providing for her baby too.

This wasn't right. (Y/n) couldn't do this again. She wouldn't be told she'd failed for a second time. Not another baby. She wasn't going to wait and see blood trickling down her legs. She wasn't going to sit in agony and lose a life she was desperate to protect.

She didn't want to see the way she broke both her partners when they realised what had happened. She didn't want Evan crying into her hair or Eddie at a loss for words, trying to console her but not knowing how.

"No… no, please. Check again." She didn't care how frantic her voice became when she dropped Eddie's hand and moved both trembling palms to cradle either side of her stomach.

The midwife did as asked, presumably because she saw the way (Y/n) leaned forward and was two seconds away from taking the sonogram and searching for herself. She finally nudged the screen in their direction, but if anything, seeing their baby on the screen made all three of them more frantic.

She was right there!

She was there on the screen. (Y/n) could sense and feel her. She had to be okay. She had been kicking and moving about all night. There hadn't been much movement today, but that was normal. It had to be. She was sleeping, she was just sleeping and the midwife was having a hard time waking her up.

"I'm afraid there isn't a heartbeat, and baby isn't moving." The midwife tried to rest her hand on (Y/n)'s thigh, but she retracted her touch when (Y/n) started to shake.

This was never the kind of news she liked to give and it was always heart-wrenching to have to be the one to tell people. And she never knew what kind of reaction she was going to get.

Evan's hand moved back to cover his mouth, pressing his palm as tightly as he could against his lips so no noise broke the atmosphere that was becoming suffocating. While his other arm bound around his torso so tightly he was starting to compress his abdomen into a contorted shape.

Not again. His eyes glanced over at Eddie as if watching him to try and make him do something. Make him rectify this mistake, because that was what it had to be, and Eddie always made things right.

But his boyfriend looked hollow. His eyes were vacant of anything but sorrow. His lips were screwed shut into a contorted shape and his trembling hands were curled into fists, shaking at his sides.

"No!"

"Shh, shh, okay." Eddie lunged forward and bound his arms around (Y/n) before she had chance to try and scramble off the bed or grab the sonogram; he wasn't quite sure what she had been aiming for.

His arm pinned across her chest and his other arm curved around her waist as he reeled her back onto the bed and tugged her into his chest so he could curve around her like a blanket. His lips attached to the back of her head and he felt her shoulder pinning into his sternum as he started to sway her back and forth.

There was nothing else he could do. There was nothing he or Evan could do to make this situation any better. Just like last time.

Eddie cringed at the sadistic thought that at least he was here this time. He wouldn't have known what to do or where to turn if he or Evan had missed this appointment or God forbid, if both of them couldn't turn up. (Y/n) wouldn't of dealt with this news on her own, she shouldn't have to either.

After last time, Eddie stupidly hoped and prayed that they would never have to go through that again. He tried to bargain and he even prayed, something he hadn't done in a long time, that if he stopped fighting, could they get another chance. Could things work out better this time.

Eddie stopped the fights. He hadn't been to one since that night because the memory of both partners curled up on the bathroom floor, splattered with blood was burned into Eddie's mind whenever he thought about those fights. He would never be doing that again. He shouldn't have gone in the first place, he knew (Y/n) and Evan didn't like him fighting and he wouldn't want Chris to find out either.

He thought that something like this wouldn't happen again. Maybe he stupidly believed it had been a punishment for the way he had been acting and what he had been doing. Clearly not.

"Shh, shh."

He could feel (Y/n)'s nails scratching into his arm that was strapped across her chest like a belt. And he felt her sobs wracking through his blood with her face meshed into his bicep like she was trying to use him to suffocate herself.

Eddie moved his hand up from (Y/n)'s back to cradle the base of her neck and his fingers wove into her hair while he continued to kiss the top of her head. He could feel tears burning behind his eyes and he was surprised he hadn't shed any yet, especially when he looked to the left and saw the gaunt expression on Evan's face.

Evan shakily sat down on the edge of the bed level with (Y/n)'s knees and he reached his hand down to curl around her thigh. Gripping as tightly as he could to see if it would make a blind bit of difference for either of them.

"I'll go and fetch doctor, to talk you through the next steps. I'm so sorry."

(Y/n)'s head started to shake and wheezing breaths became staggered past her lips as she began to hyperventilate. Her body started to rock back and forth into Eddie's arm while he curved himself around her and squeezed her more firmly, praying it would do something to comfort her.

As soon as the door closed and the three of them were alone, (Y/n) tried to lift her head. She didn't care about the wheezing breaths she was taking or the spots dancing in front of her eyes.

All she cared about was trying to get her boys to do something. She needed them to make this right. To do something to take the pain away and rectify this horrid situation because it wasn't right. Every aspect of this was wrong and (Y/n) wanted it to stop.

Her watering eyes made Evan's heart clench and pause and had him coiling in on himself as tears finally started to well up in his eyes.

When (Y/n) let go of his arms, Eddie stayed holding her into his chest just in case she tried to get up. He didn't want her moving right now, not when she was in shock and they needed the doctor to come in and confirm things and talk them through the next steps.

But when her hands moved to shakily cradle her stomach, Eddie's eyes fell closed and his head tilted back to stop himself from bursting into floods of tears. And he could hear the way Evan had taken to heavy breathing to try and calm himself down.

Evan let go of her thigh and opened his arms when (Y/n) flopped forward. She buried her face against his thigh, pinning both her hands into her stomach that didn't feel any different than it did yesterday. No pains. No crippling agony like last time. No blood. No cramps. No premature baby to show for the pains. Everything was supposed to be fine.

Neither of them heard what she tried to mutter into Evan's thigh while Eddie resolved to crouch down beside both partners.

He crouched beside the bed, one hand on Evan's knee and the other hand gently caressing the back of (Y/n)'s neck. He brushed his thumb across her cheek and tried to tilt her head in their direction.

"What, mi amor?"

"A-another one." She couldn't bring herself to look at either of them. Her cheek meshed into Evan's thigh but she closed her eyes so she didn't have to face them. "I lo- I lost another girl."

Two girls. Both pregnancies had been with girls, and (Y/n) had gone and lost them both.

Why couldn't she give them a daughter?

~Two~

***

Twisting to the side, (Y/n) bound her arms tight around her waist and coiled her knees up towards her abdomen. Her nose scrunched up as her face twisted into a grimace and she huffed, trying her best to tuck her face up against Evan's back.

Her breaths mingled with his bare skin and she tried to concentrate on the lulling sound of Evan's deep breathing, rather than the sickness welling up inside of her.

She didn't know what time it was and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out either. Not when all three of them had work soon and would have to be up early in the morning.

Usually, lying in between both her partners made (Y/n) sleep better. Unless one of them was at work on a night shift, (Y/n) was always laid in between the boys. It was just the way they functioned, they way they always slept, and it always made (Y/n) feel loved and protected, like two shields surrounding her.

But right now, (Y/n) felt like she was being penned in; more specifically, like she was starting to overheat between them. And being warm usually made (Y/n) feel better when she was feeling unwell, but right now, the heat was making her feel sick.

She coiled her knees up a bit tighter to her stomach, but it seemed to be the wrong move because her stomach twisted and her throat started to clench and tighten.

(Y/n) tried to twist the other way. She pulled away from being tucked up into Evan's back and shuffled onto her back, but the movement jostled her stomach and she knew. She knew she was going to be sick.

Her arms flung at the covers, trying to free herself from being penned in the middle of the bed and her legs shook as she scrambled to sit up.

Sitting upright made (Y/n)'s head spin and her hands flapped out to the right, trying to wake and nudge Eddie because he was in the way. He didn't move quick enough.

(Y/n) clamped her hand over her mouth while her free hand pressed down into Eddie's chest. She could feel tears burning up in her eyes and spilling down her face as bile rose in the back of her throat. She winced when Eddie groaned as her legs tangled with his and she leaned her weight onto his abdomen, forcefully jolting him awake.

Both Eddie's hands clamped down on (Y/n)'s hips and his eyes shot open and blinked furiously. His head lifted and shook from side to side to try and figure out which partner was now sitting on his lap in the middle of the night.

"Baby-"

One of Eddie's legs flung off the side of the bed when (Y/n) scrambled across his lap to get off the bed. His hands stayed on her hips until his body twisted to the right and he had to let her go or face falling off the bed.

He watched with a wince as (Y/n) stumbled and crashed to the floor with enough of a bang to jolt Evan awake, but it didn't stop her from hurrying.

(Y/n) kept one hand over her mouth and the other reached out for the door which she flung open, trying to hurry to the bathroom.

Tears burned down her face and she coiled over, clinging to the wall as she threw up in the hall. Both her knees quaked together and her body shuddered before sliding down the wall until she was sat in a heap on the floor. Legs coiled beneath her awkwardly, an arm around her waist and her other hand on the wall as she threw up everything she ate for tea.

"Baby- oh mi amor. Buck, she's been sick."

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s body and she whimpered when Eddie's hands found her arms and he crouched down behind her. His thighs curved around her with his knees pressing into her waist and he gathered her hair in his hand when she leaned forward and spewed again.

"Deep breaths… breathe amor, that's it." His lips attached to her shoulder and he switched to running his hand up and down her back when she started to gag.

She threw up so much that her throat burned and she could feel her stomach and throat clenching, desperate to keep throwing up but she was losing air. Eddie's hand on her back helped kick start her lungs and get them working to take in large gulps of air.

Evan swiftly grabbed the bucket they kept under the bed for emergencies like this and jogged out into the hall. Whenever one of them was ill, Chris included, they got the 'sick bucket' out in case they couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.

Evan would have gotten it out earlier if he knew (Y/n) hadn't been feeling well, but she had seemed fine this evening. She hadn't complained of feeling sick or a headache or any ailment.

He set the bucket down beside Eddie, grimacing at the sight of the hallway as he flicked the light on to see where he was going. Mainly to avoid the sick as he trailed into the bathroom.

"Okay?" Eddie murmured into her neck when it seemed like she had finished and (Y/n) tried to nod before she gave up and tossed her head back on Eddie's shoulder.

"Here," Evan leaned over and handed a bottle of mouthwash out to (Y/n) while he set down a bottle of bleach spray and some wipes on the floor ready to clean up.

He gratefully smiled when Eddie looked over at him and motioned to the wipes. He knew Evan wasn't the best when it came to cleaning up sick, whereas Eddie was used to it from the amount of times Chris had been ill over the years.

He waited patiently for (Y/n) to swirl her mouth out and spit the mouthwash into the bucket. And when she groggily lifted her head, Evan crouched down in front of her and gently reached out for her arms. He looped them around his neck and slid his hands down until he gripped the back of her thighs and effortlessly lifted her up. He loved the way her legs instantly curved over his hips and she clung to him like a monkey.

Her face tucked into the crook of his neck while Evan headed back down the hall and into their room. He crawled up onto the bed and gently laid (Y/n) down in her spot in the middle and moved to sit next to her.

His arm looped over the back of her shoulders and he pressed his lips to her temple when she curled up into his chest like a child seeking protection.

(Y/n) coiled her arms around her waist as she closed her eyes and tried to tuck herself more into Evan until he was practically surrounding her. The way he kissed her head made her feel a warmth spreading all over and when he pulled the covers up so it was draped around their legs, (Y/n) pinned it into her abdomen.

"You never said you felt sick," He murmured into her hair while he rubbed his hand up and down her arm and sank back into the pillows.

Both their head turned in the direction of the doorway when Eddie walked back into the room. Evan turned the bedside lamp on so Eddie could flick the hallway light off and come back to bed. He looked around the room for a moment before placing the sick bucket down on his bedside table. If (Y/n) needed it during the night she could just shake him and he would grab it for her.

"All sorted. How you feeling, mi amor?" Eddie climbed back into bed and leaned over so he could gently take her chin in his hand and tilt her head in his direction.

He could see the wary look hiding within her eyes and the way she pursed her lips told him she didn't feel great. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple, noting that she wasn't burning up or flushed or going through a cold swat, all good signs.

"Come lay down." Eddie dragged the cover over his frame and looped his arm around (Y/n)'s waist. He was about to shuffle down and lay on the pillow, but he stiffened in place when (Y/n) shook her head. The tears that started to trickle down her face broke his heart and made his chest tighten at the same time.

They both felt the way she started to shake and when her trembling hands moved to cover her face, Eddie sank his teeth down into his lip. He locked eyes with Evan, both unsure what to do as Eddie shuffled back up and twisted so he was sat the same as Evan, with his back against the headboard.

"Try and sleep, baby, you'll feel better soon." Evan's lips smothered her temple and he tried to glide his hand up and down (Y/n)'s thigh but she shook her head again.

She seemed to burrow down in between them both and when Eddie gently held her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face, she whimpered.

"No I- I won't." (Y/n) couldn't help the way she hiccupped through her words and she tried to wipe her eyes, but she couldn't stop crying. Even as Evan tried to shush her and Eddie leaned over and pressed his lips into her shoulder while he let go of her wrists in favour of looping his arm around her waist.

"What makes you say that?" Eddie peppered kisses against her exposed shoulder, but he couldn't help how unnerved he felt.

"Because I'm pregnant."

The way she wailed the words made both men cringe and coil around her tighter like they were afraid if they didn't hold her together, she would fall to pieces.

Leaning up a little more, Eddie bound his arm higher around (Y/n)'s waist with his hand clamped down into the curve of her waist and he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck so his lips could attach to the soft skin beneath her jaw. He felt (Y/n) leaning her cheek on top of his head while Evan turned to curve his chest over her back while his hand glided up and down her arm to try and calm her down. Panicking and getting upset wasn't going to do any of them any good.

"So that was morning sickness?" Eddie murmured against her neck which vibrated with his voice, feeling her nod as she sniffed and tried to take deep breaths to calm down.

"Baby, please don't cry." Evan practically pleaded as he moved his arms to loop them around (Y/n)'s waist. He gently eased her back with him until she was leaning into his chest again and he slouched down into the pillows to try and get them all to relax.

His lips meshed into her hair as he shuffled down so he was leant up against the pillows just a little, with (Y/n) adjusted between his legs. And Eddie huddled at their side, laid on his front so he could look up at the pair of them.

Eddie had his arm looped around (Y/n)'s middle again but he pressed a shallow kiss to Evan's shoulder when (Y/n) took Evan's hands that were around her waist and pressed them into her abdomen. He could feel the shudder that tore through Evan who didn't quite know what to do now.

This wasn't like the last two times she gave them this news.

The first time they had all been so excited, so happy and over the moon. Eddie thought Evan was going to explode with happiness when they found out. The second time (Y/n) gave them each a small box with a pair of baby boots in and they all shed some tears at the news.

This was different. Somehow, it didn't feel like another chance at having a baby together. It felt like another dreadful chance of losing a baby.

(Y/n) couldn't face another loss like that again.

When they lost their first girl, (Y/n) had felt a kind of desperation she had never felt before. She wanted a baby. She wanted to feel their baby moving and kicking and have her child in her arms. Getting pregnant a second time had been frightening but also came with such a sense of relief because she wanted a baby, and so did the boys.

She could see their yearning when her bump started to show again. She could see the look in their eyes and feel the desperation in the way they held and kissed her and lavished her bump with feverish touches.

(Y/n) didn't want to get halfway through again only to fail and lose another child. They couldn't grieve for another life lost.

(Y/n) tilted her head down to look at Eddie when he shakily placed his hand on top of Evan's that was resting on her stomach. His chin perched on her shoulder again and he kissed her neck lovingly.

"If it's a girl, I'll lose her."

"Baby don't say that."

(Y/n) shuddered at the dark, demanding tone in Evan's voice that had her rattled to her core. She couldn't help it. That was what she was afraid of, even if she didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to believe that she couldn't have a little girl, but that was what it felt like. Twice, they'd tried for a baby. Twice, (Y/n) had lost their little girls. Maybe if she had a boy, she might be able to get through the pregnancy.

She felt even worse when she thought back to those pregnancies. The first time, (Y/n) remembered Evan kissing her stomach and telling her he was certain they were going to have a girl. She remembered what he whispered against her bump.

"I want a baby girl to spoil."

(Y/n) almost got it right. She almost gave him a girl, if she could of held on a few more weeks, they might have gotten a chance to save her.

She remembered finding out the second time that they were having a daughter. She remembered the apprehension she felt but also the love because she could remember Eddie's voice whispering in her ear.

"We've got a girl to cherish, I can't wait to meet her."

They all wanted a girl. Both boys wanted a girl to spoil and love and hold, and (Y/n) lost them both. If this was another girl too then she didn't stand a chance with (Y/n) as her mother.

She didn't realise more tears were pouring down her face until Evan suddenly started to hum and shush into her hair.

He inched down the bed again until he was properly laid down which eased (Y/n) down with him. She was still laid between his legs with her head on his chest and Eddie practically lying on top of them both. As soon as Evan reached over and turned out the light, (Y/n) shuddered until Eddie's lips were on hers and Evan was kissing the top of her head.

She could feel their hands roaming around her body, trying to wrap her up in their embrace and keep her calm and comforted and loved.

"It's gonna be okay."

Eddie cupped the side of her neck and kissed her cheek before he laid his head on Evan's shoulder and hooked a leg over his and (Y/n)'s thighs. He felt Evan kiss his temple while they both stayed quiet and tried to see if (Y/n) was calming down at all. They had a feeling none of them were going to be able to sleep tonight with this news.

"It has to be a boy… I might- I might be able to carry a boy." (Y/n) tried to hover her hand over her stomach again while she felt Evan become bold and slide his hand beneath her shirt to cradle her stomach.

"No, mi amor. Whatever we have, they'll be okay this time. We'll make sure of it."

"Yeah, we're gonna look after you, both of you."

They weren't just words. They were vows; promises. Whatever Eddie and Evan could do, they would do it. They would make sure that this time it turned out differently, whether they had a girl or a boy.

[traumatrios]

thinking about…

luke taking care of you when you’re sick.

one morning you’ll wake up and suddenly your throat is sore as fuck and you can’t breathe through your nose— a deadly combination. coupled with the fact you have scattered bruises and growing pains sprouting in your body, to say the least, you were not going outside today.

now this probably developed from overworking your body and mingling with various campers because i mean, it was bound to happen to somebody!

luke would have to find out about your sickness from one of your siblings, but he’d be hot in his heels to get to your bedside. you don’t even realize he’s there until you feel the callused skin of his knuckles pressing against your forehead and his worried voice muttering a, “gods, you’re burning up on me, angel.”

the medic cabin doesn’t really take in run-of-the-mill sick campers because they like to keep the beds open at all times but luke convinces them to let you lay in a cot so your cold doesn’t affect your siblings.

so you lay in a cot all day. luke managed to cancel almost all of his sword fighting lessons (leaving a few to spare because you were stubborn on not letting him get stuck in here with you). he’d practically be shoving water and mortal medicine (aka aleve) into your mouth, with a hearty and warm meal when appropriate.

say you’re a child of athena, whom we know is graced with the powerful yet self deprecating trait of ambition. you’d be begging to finish up work or helping annie with strategies for future games and luke would be there to press your shoulders back on the thin mattress of the cot and tuck you in so you’re as snug as a bug in a rug.

or let’s say you’re a child of apollo, nearly being brought to tears when you hear your own gravely and weak voice echo through the air. “my poor voice!” you’d cry “what will i have if i don’t have my voice?” and luke would just sit there with a tired sigh and the roll of his eyes.

he’d always have his hand around a Kleenex box because he always seemed to sense when you’d sneeze and would shove it into your chest quick enough so you could catch whatever resulted in said sneeze.

or imagine lowkey germaphobe!luke triple masked and gloved— he might as well have a full hazmat suit on. you’d go the entire day shooting him a side eye when he’d jump back in his stool if you’d so much cough in his direction.

either way he would never leave your side until you were better :)

loverschatbox, 2024

[diana-thyme]

Witchcraft and Cars

A small list of ideas of witchy things that you can do to your car. I hope this inspires you!

Keep a protection satchel in your car

Put road opening oil on the dashboard/outside of car/mirrors/seats/etc. to avoid traffic (not Abre Camino oil)

Put luck oil on the dashboard/outside of car/mirrors/seats/etc. to avoid accidents

Hang charms or spell bags on the rearview mirror

Keep crystals in cup holders/door pockets/glove box/etc.

Make steering wheel covers or mirror covers and enchant them

Making and/or enchanting window shades

Get air fresheners (vent or hanging) that correspond with your intents (scent or shape)

Use essential oils that correspond with your intents

Keeping a worry stone in the car

Keeping lucky things (rabbit feet, feathers, luck charms, etc.) in the car

Playing grounding/visualizing/whatever music that corresponds with your intents for the day

Keep a spell bag in your car to bring it back to you if it’s lost/stolen/towed

Keep a mini broom in your car (for protection and to clean it)

Create sigils to use in your car (drawing them on with writing utensils/water/oil, keeping a piece of paper with them written on it, etc.)

Enchant windows and mirrors to be more aware of the road and conditions

Keep a satchel to remember things (parking permits, your registration and license, your wallet, your keys, etc.)

Enchant coins for prosperity and easy access to parking or tolls

Get car washes to cleanse and purify your car or to banish unwanted energies (spirits, people, luck, etc.)

Keep a grounding spell in your car to always find your way home (never get lost!)

Keep a spare divination tool in your car just in case

Keep a voice recorder in your car to record any spiritual thoughts or ideas you may have and to keep your mind flowing

Enchant your steering wheel to turn easily

Enchant your mirrors to never go out of place

Manifest/pray/etc. in traffic or when having to wait in your car

Use colors from stickers, covers, decor, etc. in your car that correspond with your intent

Enchant your tires to never get stuck, never get you lost, never flat, etc.

Take random drives during slow hours to clear your mind or ground yourself

[m-jelly]

Hi, Jelly ❤️❤️❤️

What about the reader and Levi and the sweet comfort of home? Levi is walking home from work and, hearing a squeak, finds a small stray black kitten. He can't leave the hungry little one behind. He takes it home with him to the reader, hoping that she will like this adorable little ball of fur. The reader happily agrees and adores the new fur family member and comes up with a name for him 😊

Biscuit

Levi x fem reader

Sheriff Levi, small town AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, black kitten

Levi brings a kitten home after a shift at work.

It'd been a long shift for Levi. It was the holiday season, snow was thick and the holiday cheer was in the air. People were getting silly with the drinking, and many tourists were pushing things too far. He'd done a night shift and a full day one right after. He was cranky and desperately needed to be wrapped up in your arms.

He trudged through the snow and made his way from the station to home. The whole time he'd been working his long shift he'd been calling you and texting you often. He loved seeing you on video calls and in pictures, you were adorable beyond words.

Levi was planning on proposing to you on his birthday. The two of you celebrated his birthday instead of Christmas but agreed that when you had kids, you would change things up a little. For now, though, you had many fun birthdays with Levi.

He heard a little noise and stopped in his path. He strained his ears and moved closer to see a blanket over a box. He crouched down and dragged the blanket off to see a little black kitten inside. "Tch, fucking monsters leaving you alone little fella." He scooped up the cat and cradled it in his gloved hands. "Let's help." He opened his aviator coat a little with the fluffy lining and placed the kitten at the top of his scarf and just below his chin. "There. Now let's get you home."

The journey home was a lot nicer than Levi was expecting. He couldn't help but smile at the little black kitten meowing at him now and then. He petted its head a little and walked right up to the front door of his sweet townhome with you. He cleaned his boots off, unlocked the door and purred when he was hit with the divine scent that was you and your perfect cooking.

He hummed in delight. "Smells so good in here."

You ran out of the kitchen with an apron on. "Levi!" You squealed in delight. "Welcome home! I baked a big meat pie for us and I even made dessert."

He chuckled. "Thank you. I missed you."

You walked closer. "I missed you too."

He lifted the kitten out of his scarf. "Could you hold this little one?"

You gasped at seeing the black kitten. "Oh, you are so cute!" You took the kitten and cuddled it. "Hello." You kissed its head as Levi took his winter things off. "Where did you find him?"

"Some arsehole abandoned him. I found him in a box with a blanket over him."

You whined a bit. "Poor baby." You carried him to the kitchen. "Let me get you something to drink and eat. I should have some fish spare..." You grabbed a little bowl and filled it with water. You knelt down and placed the kitten next to the water. "Here you go. I'll get you your fish."

Levi walked closer and watched the kitten happily drink. "I'm glad he drank right away."

"Me too. We should take him to Mike so he can check him over."

Levi nodded. "He's the best vet."

You walked over to another spot and placed the fish. "Sorry, cats don't like eating and drinking in the same spot. Hopefully he's okay." You smiled when the kitten stumbled over to you. "Aww, he's so cute."

Levi smiled as the cat started eating the fish. "He seems like he's doing perfect. So, do you want to keep him?"

Your eyes lit up. "Really!? We can keep him!? I'd love to!"

He chuckled. "Good, I was hoping you'd want to. We need to name him though."

You patted your cheeks as you thought. "Mm..." You stood up and walked over to Levi. "I have a name, but you'll probably think it's silly."

He pulled you against him and kissed you. "I won't. I love how cute and sweet your mind is."

You smiled sweetly. "Okay, how about Biscuit?"

He massaged his fingers in your hair. "Biscuit is perfect." He looked down at the kitten as it let out a tiny burp. "He's cute."

"He's a sweet little bean. We'll make a bed of blankets for him."

"Perfect." He hugged you tightly. "We'll go to the shop when the snow is not too bad and get him all the things he needs."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid @abiatackerman

[prncessjaeger]

making slime with bf!eren ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

ღsypnosis: the title…that’s it!

ღan: i wrote this already but changed it up a bit and boom here it is

“bro, why can’t we just get the big things of glue instead of buying these small ass bottles?” it was late at night, possibly around 11 pm, and you and eren were currently in walmart after he brought up the cute idea to make some slime. “because, it’s just for us two, we’re only getting one clear and one white glue bottles, now what’s next?”

“uh the borax solution…but all i see is this big ass white box.”

“that’s the solution.” eren examined the box, “how in the fuck does powder and glue make slime?”

“you have to add water i think, that’s what mikasa said, now we need food coloring, choose a colors, “ he picked out the yellow one and you chose pink (obviously), “do you want your slime to have a scent? or any add-ons?”

“you can do that?!” he screeched, scaring the other few shoppers, “sorry,” he bashfully said, rubbing the back of his neck, “why’re you apologizing, people have heard worse, they’ll live. anyways, yes you can do that so pick the ones you want, imma do strawberries…”

he scanned through them, picking out a strong vanilla scent, “okay and we’re gonna get some glitter and a couple of spons and bowls, that’s it.”

paying for your things, you drove back to the house with all your slime supplies and some extra snacks and when you walked in, you saw your cat in armin’s arms, being swung around like nothing, “boy put my baby down?!”

“oh come on, she likes it, right??” the cat just meowed and meowed, “right! talk yo shit, pookie!”

“girl hush, come eren,” you went to the back and got the materials laid out on your spare table you made armin set up for you, and began to make your slime. when you poured the amount you wanted, eren leaned over, “wow, you’re like insanely cool, and talented, and beautiful, and also really intelligent-“

“what do you want, eren?”

“could you pour my glue i’m scared ?”

“scared- i’m not even gonna ask, hand me the one you want,” he handed you the white glue to pour, “what color?”

“the one that’s not pink.” you dropped a couple of yellow dye in, “now i wanna make my slime. mix it until you see no white left,” he began mixing while you started on yours, hearing the loud music from the living room armin blasted, “i don’t know who’s worse, you or armin-“

“woah i’m like the perfect boyfriend ever-“

“you literally thought dwayne johnson and the rock were twins eren..”

“hear me out cause it makes sense if one was wrestling and the other twin acts!” staring at this man in disbelief, “eren why do you think they added “the rock” in parentheses of dwayne johnson?”

“to acknowledge the limited space on the screen?”

“okay, you know what! let’s just finish making this,” you chuckled, trying not to laugh in this man’s face. you added the glitter in, “alright now add your vanilla scent in and added a small amount of mine in the pink one as well, i’ll make the solution.”

once you were finished, you both begane pour solution in the bowl and watched how it clumped together, “alright you got your gloves on?”

“yep, let’s knead it together,” you both began playing with your slime, “uh y/n…” you turn towards eren sighing deeply, “oh my god.”

he was covering in slime from the top of his head to the middle of his chest, “how did you- i don’t even wanna ask, come here.”

and the rest of the night was spent with you and armin trying to get slime out of his hair, “eren! stay still goddamnit!”

“ow! you popped me!”

“oh shut up!”