#stressing me out? of course not! do i desperately want to do something special for him bc i love him so so so much? absolutely.

[shirogane-oushirou]

🍄 Happy (belated) Renniversary!! 🍄

it's been one year (+ two weeks) since the dream i had about a Strange and Silly Guy who ended up becoming Ren!! i've never had an oc who's been this important to me, and he's helped me through some difficult times and exhausting issues. he's also the reason why i formally joined the selfship community and met so many cool people!! 💕

i'm so happy to have finally finished this piece to celebrate the day (night?) he dropped into my head almost completely formed, changing my life for the better. gripping him in my fist and squeezing ARGH i love my little Fun Guy... Fungi... so so much, and i hope he always knows that. 😌💖

[fluentmoviequoter]

Devastation

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: You leave Tim because he takes out his frustration about a long day on you. The next day, everyone in the station can tell you're both miserable. A surprise calls sends Tim into a devastated spiral as he wonders if what he said was worth it.

Warnings: ANGST, arguments, break up, death, mentions of execution, brief fluff at the end bc Tim deserves a break

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Los Angeles is seeing an intense spike in crime rates.”

“The Los Angeles Police Department has received more calls today than in the last two months combined.”

“A new, temporary emergency line has been announced. In case of emergency and busy 9-1-1 lines, please call…”

“Nearly 5,000 police officers are on the streets of Los Angeles city limits, with more dispatched throughout the county.”

As residents lock themselves into their homes in an attempt to be protected by the crime spike, you respond to call after call with no break in between. Some of the stops you’ve made were false alarms, but you’ve also been shot at, yelled at, and engaged in two fights between those pointless stops. Though overtime was approved, you’re nearing the end of your sixteenth hour in the shop and need a break. Grey called the officers from this morning to return to the station before heading home. You only get eight hours off before you have to come back, but you’ll take what you can get.

Tim’s place is closer to the station, so you plan to go there rather than your home on the other side of the city. The more time you can find to sleep, the better. You’re sure everyone is just as tired and in need of rest, so you would like to do something special for them in the morning. If you can wake up in time, that is.

“Hi,” you greet when Tim opens his door.

He is obviously surprised to see you but invites you in any way. You thank him as you walk toward the couch.

“Can I crash here tonight? It’s closer and I’m exhausted.”

Tim scoffs before he nods. He returns to the kitchen and continues cooking as you set your bag down.

“How was your day?” you ask. “I had endless calls, so I can’t imagine how hectic it was for you.”

“Of course you can’t,” Tim replies without looking up. “Considering you’re just a glorified meter maid.”

Tim is tired and stressed, you remind yourself, but the words still cut through you like the knife in his hand. You were in dangerous situations for most of the day, and though you haven’t been a cop as long as Tim, your job is still important. And you’re good at it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask after a tense moment of silence.

“What I said. I do more than you, but if you’re so exhausted that you can’t even drive home-“

“Tim, that’s-”

Tim finally looks up as he cuts you off to say, “You barely passed your rookie exam, you haven’t made a decent-sized arrest in months, and you think they attached you to any decent calls? This city is ripping at the seams right now and trust me when I say you are chasing garden fluff because no one trusts you to do any more. You’re lucky they were desperate enough to bring you up from writing traffic tickets. We just needed help and you were there.”

Tim’s jaw clenches as he steps toward you, and you try to remember that he is just emotional from a long day. You are, too, but you’re not taking it out on him.

“I don’t want to fight with you about this,” you offer.

“Well, sure. Because it can’t be your fault, right?” Tim asks.

His voice is rising, and only the couch separates you. His eyes are dark, and though you don’t want to give him an excuse to keep going, you refuse to be treated like this.

“Why does everything have to be about who is at fault with you?” you demand. “Are you aware that things just happen sometimes?”

“Not to you, though.”

“If you think my life is so perfect, why do you insist on worrying about me so often? No one asked you to do any of this! You could have just asked me to go home if you were this upset about a bad day.”

“You don’t even know what a bad day is! What did you do today? Respond to all of the scared housewives in gated communities?”

You could tell him the truth, that you were inches away from a bullet intended to kill you, but you think he’d somehow find a way to blame you. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and though you want to stop fighting, you also need to remind Tim that you’re not a rookie he can walk all over you and blame for every little thing that goes wrong in his life.

“If that’s what you think I do, I can’t change your mind,” you reply.

“Well, those of us who actually acted like cops today went through more than you’ve seen in your career. You’re a bad cop, which makes it harder on the rest of us, to carry your weight, but no one admits it after they see your pretty smile,” Tim snaps loudly.

“I’m done, Tim!” you yell.

You’re surprised by the volume of your statement, but it gets Tim to fall silent, if only for a moment.

“With what?” he asks.

“This! I am done coming back to you every day just for you to pick fights over nothing!”

“Oh, so now it’s nothing? You can complain about your day, but I can’t?”

“That’s the difference, Tim! You’re not complaining about a long day to share something and ask for comfort. You’re tearing me apart because you can’t handle your own emotions. I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it.”

“You love me but I’m not worth it,” Tim says with a sarcastic shrug and set jaw.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“Well maybe I’m just as stupid about emotions and relationships as you are about police work.”

You pick up your bag and pull it onto your shoulder quickly. As you brush past Tim, you murmur, “I’m not doing this anymore.” The door slams behind you as you leave and severs the connection you and Tim had.

After you leave, Tim sits in his anger for a while. He blames you, picks apart everything you said, and misremembers your words to make you seem like the bad guy. Suddenly, though, Tim hears your genuine I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it. He remembers the look in your eyes as he yelled at you. You never wanted to fight; you asked to stop because you just wanted to relax before returning to work. Yet Tim treated you as an emotional punching bag, something he promised himself he would never do.

Tim drops his head into his hands and sighs. He needs to apologize but can’t take back a word he said. You said you weren’t doing it – your relationship, he presumes – anymore, so Tim gives you room. The clock ticks slowly as he thinks about you, but his next shift grows nearer quickly. He texts you an apology, knowing it’s less than the least he can do. You deserve a grand gesture, a middle-of-the-night, in-person apology from the heart. But with an early morning shift, Tim knows you and he both need the break Wade sent you home to take. So, he sends a few simple words before sitting back in his misery.

In your room, you sit alone to wallow. Your phone buzzes, and you read Tim’s apology before you toss your phone to the side. It’s not enough to forgive or forget everything he said, and you can’t return to that environment yet. So, you don’t answer.

You fall asleep at the same time as Tim, though far away from the comfort you craved, with only a few hours before you’ll be forced to see each other again. Maybe another seemingly endless shift will distract you from your sadness.

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station the morning after your fight with Tim, your injured pride and broken heart go nearly undetected. You attribute this in part to the specialty donuts you brought in; you couldn’t sleep anyway, so you left before your alarm went off to try to make everyone else’s day better than yours. Lucy talks to you in the locker room like it’s just another morning, even though you are heartbroken. Tim, however, is the talk of the station. His visible devastation and misery draw the attention of every officer in the building. When you step out and unintentionally make eye contact with him, the people closest to you can see what you’re hiding a little better. 

“I should have seen it before,” Lucy tells Angela. “She was acting a little different, but I thought she was just tired.”

“I’ve never seen Tim like this before. He is miserable,” Angela says. “And he will take it out on you.”

“That’s fine. But… will they be okay?”

Angela shrugs. “I wish I could say yes, Lucy.”

Wade notices you and Tim sitting on opposite sides of the room during roll call, and he’s the last of them to be pulled into your shared misery. Now that you have seen Tim, your misery is just as obvious, and even the people who don’t know you or Tim well can see the difference.

“Nolan,” Wade calls before he instructs John to ride with you for the day. You’re unsure if it’s because of you and Tim or something else you don’t know about. Regardless, it’s because your emotions play a role in your ability to be a good cop… but maybe you were never one of those, to begin with, like Tim said.

At least I won’t have to talk. Nolan can carry the conversation for both of us, you think.

“What’s up with Tim today?” Nolan asks.

“We’re not talking about Officer Bradford,” you reply quickly.

“Okay. Then what’s up with you? The donuts were nice, but I assume you had the time to get them for a reason.”

“Nolan, we’re not having this conversation,” you snap. “We’re cops, not friends.”

“Sounds like I’m with Bradford,” Nolan mumbles.

“You have no idea,” you reply.

Meanwhile, Tim and Lucy are stuck at the station doing paperwork. Today is slower, and there’s a lot to catch up on from the chaos yesterday. Lucy knows better than to pry after spending so much time with Tim, but she can see that something is weighing on him. More than whatever invisible burden he’s carrying, Tim is devastated. She has seen it before, briefly when one of Tim’s former partners passed away, but this is different.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy offers.

“No,” Tim replies immediately.

Lucy nods before her phone chimes. It only makes noise when another cop contacts her, and she rushes to read the message.

“Tim, Nolan said he needs us to meet them. He just said they’re trapped and it’s really dangerous,” she relays.

“Let’s go.”

Tim runs through the station to reach his shop, and his mind races with every step. Tim lost you last night, but he refuses to lose you forever. If – when you both get to the other side of this, Tim will give you the apology you deserve, he tells himself. And he will never be in this position again.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” Nolan asks over the nearby gunfire.

You’re a bad cop, Tim says in your mind.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Nolan,” you admit. “I can’t do this.”

Nolan’s eyes widen. He knew you were acting differently, but your sudden and complete lack of confidence shocks him. Both of you are pinned in the corner of a warehouse, in danger of being tortured, executed, or some sick combination of worse things. You know you need to act, but your pride and your abilities are shot, thanks to Tim. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get shot, too.

“You can do this,” Nolan assures you. “You have to. Whoever said-“

“Move!” you demand.

Nolan ducks, and you fire through a nearby doorway. It draws attention to you and Nolan, and your confidence takes another hit as three men aim rifles at your chest. The red dots form a perfect triangle around your heart. Things could have been so different if you had just gone home last night instead of giving into your never-ending craving for Tim’s comfort.

“Tim,” Angela calls when he and Lucy arrive. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“Yes, I do,” he replies.

She pushes a hand against his chest and shakes her head. Despite Tim’s grumbling, he trusts Angela as a friend and a fellow cop.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

Angela looks to her right, and Tim follows her line of sight. Your shop is standing wide open as CSU combs through it. The windshield is shattered, and the interior is riddled with bullet holes. Tim’s attention catches on the blood coating everything. No one could have survived that blood loss.

“Where is she?” Tim demands.

“We don’t know,” Angela admits. “She wasn’t here when we arrived. Neither was Nolan.”

“Let me help.”

Angela looks around before she whispers, “You’re too emotional.”

“She left me last night, Angela. It was all my fault, and I didn’t even get to apologize! So, I am helping, whether you want it or not.”

Angela nods as Lucy returns to Tim’s side. He looks back to your shop and knows. He knows he is too late. That realization changes everything.

“You’re right,” he tells Angela. “I’m too close; I shouldn’t help.”

“Timothy,” she begins.

“No, I- she’s gone. We both know that. And I can’t do this, not knowing that she died out here thinking that I didn’t love her. That I didn’t fight for her.”

“Let me know if that changes, Tim.”

Angela walks away to continue investigating the scene. Lucy lays her hand on Tim’s back to provide some comfort, but he shakes her hand off before he moves toward the shop. Crime doesn’t stop just because Tim’s world ends, and if throwing himself into his work will distract him, he’ll let it. But being busy and tired will never get between you and him again.

“Snipers,” Lucy whispers as she reads something on her phone.

“What about them?” Tim inquires.

“Oh, uh, just something Angela sent me.”

“About her?”

“Yeah.”

Tim nods, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the steering wheel. “There were snipers?”

“Three of them, from what they can tell. A gun left behind matched the ballistics of the bullets in her shop. It seems like… like someone was executed in her shop.”

“Let’s take another call, Chen.”

Lucy nods and requests dispatch to begin sending them calls again. The first is a bank robbery in process, and Tim only hopes that adrenaline and devastation mix well.

“Gun!” Lucy yells before ducking behind the armored personnel carrier outside the bank.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to raise his arms and shoot. The sniper falls backward, and Tim wills his mind not to wonder how different things would be if he’d been with you instead of Nolan. Snipers took you from him, but this taste of retribution doesn’t help Tim. He walks away as soon as the bank is cleared. He wants to punch something, yell, cry, and maybe do it all at once, but it won’t bring you back. Nothing short of an apology that he can’t give will.

Tim sits on his couch in the dark because it’s as close to peace as he can get. If he closes his eyes too long, he sees you standing on the other side of the room, defending yourself from his emotional outburst. The argument was pointless, and you wanted to stop it, but Tim kept pushing. The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to turn his sadness into self-hatred because he acted like his father. He drops his head into his hands and asks himself why he allowed himself to be driven so far. Despite how he treated you and the horrible, untrue things he said, you told Tim you loved him. He loves you more than anything but didn’t return the sentiment in the heat of the moment. And now he never can.

“I love you,” Tim whispers now. “I’m so sorry.”

Someone knocks on his door, fast raps with no break between them. Tim rubs his face as he stands and walks around the couch-turned-fighting ring to answer it.

“Tim,” Angela says quickly. “We found something. We know where they were an hour ago.”

Tim looks over his shoulder to the cruiser at the end of his driveway. The lights are on, and Nyla is inside, ready to go.

“I wanted to extend the invite,” Angela adds.

Tim nods as he yanks his keys from the table by his door. He doesn’t bother to check if the door locks behind him as he races toward the car, toward you. Nyla drives quickly and parks outside an abandoned house less than fifteen minutes later. While Tim looks at the house, he sees someone move in the window.

“Somebody’s inside,” he alerts.

Nyla nods and instructs Tim to wait while she and Angela approach the house. Before they exit the car, the person walks out of the front door with their hands up. Tim throws the door open and sprints across the yard before anyone says anything.

“Nolan,” he calls.

“What happened here?” Nyla asks.

Her tone makes Tim look around, and he counts at least eight bodies in the front yard. Most are covered, and the desperation, dread, misery, and heartbreak churn in his stomach as he wonders if any of them are you.

“We walked into an ambush. She got one of them down, but we were cornered, surrounded. They dragged their ‘failure’ to the shop and finished him off before they brought us here.” After he explains, Nolan turns to Tim and says, “She asked me to give you this.”

He pulls a bloody piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to Tim, who accepts it wordlessly.

“Where…” is she? Tim wants to say, but he can’t finish the question.

“Uh, she’s inside,” Nolan answers.

Tim hears confirmation that you’re here and runs through the carnage-covered yard and house to find you. He grips the letter tightly as he navigates through the dark house. Tim stops when he sees your badge lying in a corner, and squats to retrieve it. It’s scuffed and bloody, but Tim can’t leave any piece of you behind. He tucks your letter into his pocket to hold your badge.

“Officer Bradford?”

Tim turns quickly and nearly trips over a bloody hammer. He would recognize that voice anywhere. When his eyes finish adjusting in the darkness, and he sees you slumped in the opposite corner, propped up behind the door, he crosses the room in the time it takes you to blink. Tim’s hands cup your face gently as he leans closer to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Save it,” you reply. “This isn’t over yet. He said he was coming back.”

“Where’d he go?” Tim asks, effortlessly switching back to cop mode.

You smile, and Tim swallows harshly as your injured lip splits and produces a fresh bead of blood. “To rob a bank. As if you weren’t busy enough, right?”

The sniper at the bank, Tim remembers. “He’s gone,” he says quickly. “We got him.”

“You got him?” you clarify.

Tim shakes his head, and you raise your hands to his sides as you lean toward him.

“I could never do this alone. I can’t do any of this without you.”

“Did you read my letter?”

Tim pulls the paper from his back pocket and shakes his head as he reads the two short sentences.

“I forgive you. I love you,” you say as Tim reads the same words.

“It won’t happen again,” Tim promises.

“It might. We have hard jobs, but we can get through it. Right?”

Tim’s reply is a careful kiss to your forehead before he yells for a paramedic. Nolan leads Angela and Nyla inside a moment later, and they enter the door beside you.

“You could’ve mentioned she was alive,” Tim tells Nolan.

“You ran in before I said, ‘she’d like to see your face first, considering she almost died and you were the only thing she talked about,’” Nolan answers.

“Shut up,” you and Tim say together.

“This is the thanks,” Nolan mumbles.

“Can I crash at your place?” you ask Tim. “Without the argument?”

“Wouldn’t let you go anywhere else. The best cop I know deserves some comfort.”

“I thought I was the best cop you knew,” Angela teases.

“I love you,” you tell Tim.

“I love you,” he answers. After he looks into your eyes and smiles, he yells, “Where is the ambulance?”

[froggiewrites]

Baby You're a Haunted House

Pairing: Ghost!Bartolomeo x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your house doesn’t want you to leave. You feel insane for thinking it, but you know it’s true. And after your keys go missing, trapping you here for the foreseeable future, you can’t help but finally crack and let the house know this has to stop. You don’t expect a handsome man to appear to dry your tears and beg you not to leave, with hands as cold as ice and pleading eyes. Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Ghost Sex, Temperature Play, Cockwarming, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Talk/Behavior Word Count: 2.7k Halloween Special 2024

There is something wrong with your new house.

You had tried to convince yourself that you were simply on edge from living alone in such a large old house, that the creaking and bumps in the night were simply the house settling. But from the moment you moved in, you could feel eyes on you, and some part of you knew that you were being watched. If it were only that feeling, you could dismiss it, tell yourself you were being paranoid.

But then your things started moving.

At first it was only small things. Your hairbrush moved a few inches to the right. A drawer left a little open when you could have sworn you had closed it. The clothes swore you laid out the night before tucked amongst your dirty laundry, wrinkled as though someone had held them. Your keys becoming frequently misplaced, never where you last left them. It was always something tiny to delay you from leaving, as though the house was begging you to stay in whatever ways it knew how. You were late to work more than a few times, and you could tell your boss was starting to get pissed about it. And really, you know your explanations sound like bullshit excuses, but you can’t really say, “Sorry I’m late, I think my house is haunted and the ghost doesn’t want me to leave.”

But today, finally, a line has been crossed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. Your car keys aren’t moved. They haven’t fallen to the floor, they aren’t on a different table than you left them on. They’re gone. You have searched every place you could possibly have left them, and they are simply nowhere to be seen. You’re forced to call your boss and tell them you aren’t coming in to work today, and they’re, of course, horribly displeased. But you have no choice. You’re stuck here until someone can come rekey it, and that will take at least a few hours and a hundred bucks, if not more. You don’t exactly have a lot of time or money to spare right now.

There are tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, though you can’t tell if they’re from rage, stress, or simply from being overwhelmed. No matter where they’re from, the hiccuping sobs force their way through you, demanding more air than you have to give as you slide to the floor, pressing your palms into your eyes with so much force you start to see stars. You can’t keep dealing with this. You can feel the eyes on you even now.

“I’m not insane,” you mutter to yourself through your tears, as any sane person would.

The house doesn’t answer.

“Why are you doing this? What did I do to you?” Your voice cracks, small and pathetic. You were so tired. So tired of never feeling alone. Of constantly worrying that tomorrow would be the day your boss finally got tired of this and fired you, and you’d be stuck all alone in this big house waiting for the moment it decided to finish doing whatever it wanted to you. “I can’t afford to lose my job.”

A floorboard creaks.

“I can’t spend an hour looking for my clothes every morning.”

A cold overtakes the room.

“I can’t keep putting off showers because I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.”

The light above you flickers.

“I can’t keep doing this. I really, really can’t. I can’t afford to move.”

“Please don’t leave.” The voice is deep, panicked, and desperate. You flinch, finally opening your eyes, and you’re not quite surprised to see that you aren’t alone in the room. There is a man towering over you, shirt hanging open and tattoos on display. His teeth are sharp, and he looks like he could bite you in two, but his eyes are pleading as he leaves toward you. A chill creeps over you as he gets closer. “I didn’t want to make you leave. I’m sorry.”

“Who are you?”

“Uh, my name’s Bartolomeo. Nice to meet you?”

You look up at him, tears still spilling down your cheeks. “Why do you keep taking my things?”

He clears his throat, looking away in embarrassment. “I–uh–I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Why?”

“You’re so–I–” His cheeks are red. “I wanted you to stay. Gets lonely without you. I was used to bein’ alone, but when you showed up I realized how nice it can be, havin’ someone around.”

“Someone lived here before me.”

“They weren’t you.” He says it like it’s obvious.

“Why didn’t you show yourself until now?”

His shoulders tense a little, eyes shifting away again. He mumbles quietly, “I was nervous.”

“Nervous?” You stare at him in silence for a moment as he quietly crumples under your gaze. “About?”

“What if you got freaked out and left, and I never saw you again? What if you didn’t wanna live in a haunted house?” His next question is quiet, voice soft and vulnerable. “What if you just didn’t like the way I looked and you ran?”

“That wouldn’t happen. The last one, I mean. The first two are pretty reasonable concerns, actually.”

“Yeah, I know. So I figured I’d just…try to keep you for a little longer. I didn’t think I was hurting anything. I really am sorry about that. I–I didn’t wanna make you cry.” His voice wobbles, and you can’t help but soften.

“But why hide my things if you knew I’d always come back? I know it must get a little boring while I’m at work, but I spend more time at home anyway.”

“What if you didn’t this time? What if this time you left and that was it?” His hand reaches for yours, and you expect him to pass through you like in the movies, but his fingers intertwine with yours. They’re freezing, but they’re solid. “I’d go crazy wonderin’ what happened to you.”

You stare where you make contact with amazement. “You can touch me.”

“Hm?”

“I–I didn’t think you’d be able to.” 

He stares at your hands for a moment, his mouth slightly agape, before he looks up at your face. His other hand brushes briefly over your hair before settling on your cheek, cupping it with affection. “I didn’t think I could either. I–I never tried.” He can’t hide his awe. “You’re so warm.”

“You’re freezing.” You place a hand on his chest, trying to feel if his heart still beats, if his body still goes through the motions of life. He seems to still be breathing, but that could just be instinct. You find no pulse between your fingers, just cold skin that slowly warms to your touch. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“It was at first. You get numb to it after a few years.”

You try to imagine years of this, of an icy creeping chill that never seems to leave, all alone in this big old house as life happens around you. You can’t feel a trace of your earlier anger, just sympathy that rises from somewhere deep within your chest. “Do you…want to be warm?”

“I mean, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do you want me to help with that?”

He looks at you with the same kind of reverence most would reserve for a god. Almost instantly tears threaten to pour over his lashes as he stares at you, slack jawed. “Are–Are you bein’ serious? You really mean it?”

You pull him forward by the shirt, wrapping your free hand around him. You had intended to simply hug him, but he tumbles forward, pinning you beneath him. He groans quietly at the sensation of your warmth flowing into him, the closest thing he’s had to life since he lost his. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arms fully around you, burying his nose in your neck. He drinks in everything you’re willing to give him, a softness he has never known and a kindness he hasn’t received in a very, very long time.

You lay together for a while, just feeling his skin heat up from your touch. He slides his hands under the back of your shirt to warm them up faster, causing you to shiver from the chill on your spine. They don’t wander, simply running up and down your back, enjoying the feeling of your goosebumps beneath his fingertips.

Then his lips brush against your neck.

“Bartolomeo?”

“Sorry, I just–they were cold too,” he says, unconvincingly. “A lot of me still is.” He shifts his legs, and you feel something pressing into your thigh.

“Oh! I, um–”

“Please, sweetheart. We don’t have to–uh. I don’t have to move. Just let me feel how hot you are, please.” His words come out as a desperate whine, one that makes your heart squeeze. It’s a bad idea, surely. But he sounds so horribly sad, so lonely, and he needs you.

“Okay.” Your hands reach for his belt.

He beats you to it, ripping off your pants and panties before your hands are even halfway to your destination, and his belt and pants come off before you make contact. You expect him to slam into you, but instead he inserts one finger slowly, still a little cold but much warmer after being tucked against you. You let out a soft gasp at the sensation, and he whispers in your ear. “Just makin’ sure you’re ready. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m ready,” you squeak out as you clench around his finger. Instead of stopping, he pumps once, twice, then inserts a second when he’s sure you can take it.

“Wanna be sure.” His fingers move slow and steady, working you up just enough to take three. When he finally deems you properly prepped, he pulls out his fingers, inserting them into his mouth and sucking your juices off of them with a moan. He aligns your hips up with his before plunging into you, immediately groaning at the heat and tightness surrounding him. You gasp at the sudden cold of his cock, legs kicking out instinctively, but he holds you tight so you can’t move an inch. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’ll just take a second to adjust. No need to run.”

“C–Cold!” You hiss, and he holds you impossibly tighter, every inch of you pressed against him.

“I know. You can fix that. You don’t have to try to run away.” He buries his face against you again. “You don’t have to leave.”

You can feel your nipples hardening from the cold, brushing against his chest in a way that sends little jolts of pleasure down your spine as you clench around him. He moans quietly into your hair, but he keeps his hips still. You sit, entirely still, slowly feeling your warmth leave you and leech into him. He makes quiet noises of pleasure as he savors the feeling, the facsimile of life you’ve gifted him.

“Thank you for this,” he murmurs. His icy lips brush against your hair, your cheek, your lips, your neck. His hands rub over your back and sides, every movement dripping with gratitude. “I thought I’d never get to feel this again. Thank you.”

As his attention continues, you find it harder and harder to sit still. He’s slowly growing warm inside of you, and his hands are rough as they brush against your tender spots. Your nipples rub against his chest, as he still refuses to allow you to part for even a second. Once his hands reach your thighs, you can’t take it anymore, and you allow your hips to twitch, giving you the slightest amount of relief. His fingers dig into your thighs as he grunts quietly, trying to ground himself.

“You’re testing me, sweetheart, please.”

“Please, please, move.” You sound absolutely pathetic, wanton and begging, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just can’t stand all of the sensations, so much but not enough.

He sucks in a breath, steadying himself for a moment, before he responds with a sharp grin. “Of course. Anything for you.”

He pulls out slowly, savoring the feeling of you rubbing against him, before he plunges back in furiously fast, making you cry out. His hands reach for your hips, bouncing you furiously against him as his mouth reaches for your neck. His sharp teeth nip lightly against you, never enough to hurt but certainly enough to mark. The delicate scrape of his canines, still icy cold, combined with his thrusting overwhelms you, making you reach desperately for anything to ground you. You settle for his hair, intertwining your fingers and tugging with every new bite mark he leaves on your skin. He groans as you do, clearly savoring the sensation. Pain is usually saved for the living. What a gift for him to feel it now at your hands.

His pace is unrelenting, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping and your moans, slowly growing louder as he works you up. One hand remains on your hip as the other reaches for your clit, pressing it with shaking fingers. You don’t know if his hesitation is from nervousness or inexperience, but either way he seems to find his footing quickly, allowing your sounds to guide him. As your moans grow, his pace becomes unsteady as he struggles to maintain his rhythm.

“Oh, god,” he whispers. “Those noises, I–You’re killin’ me.” You open your mouth to try to make a joke about it, something about being the first man to die twice, but he hits a particularly sweet spot and you can say nothing other than his name, which only makes him pound into you harder. You’re so overwhelmed you can hardly think at this point, your world and mind filled with nothing but him.

Your pleasure builds quickly, all of the sensations working in harmony to bring you to your climax. You clench around him, feeling as though you’re falling and his hand on your hip is the only thing keeping you grounded. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, ensuring he has wrung every bit of pleasure for you that he can before he releases, groaning into your hair as his cum paints your walls. The sensation is strange, not as chilly as the air around you but colder than anything that would come out of a human. You cannot help but be incredibly aware of every drop as it slowly warms inside of you.

He doesn’t pull out, or pull away from you. He pulls you closer once again, pressing your chests together and tenderly kissing you on the lips. “Thank you.”

You laugh quietly. “No one’s ever thanked me for sex before.”

“Not just–well. For that too.” He stumbles over his words a bit, struggling to articulate his feelings. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel alive again.”

“And do you?”

“Hm?”

“Feel alive?”

He gives you a toothy grin. “More than I have in years. If I didn’t know any better I’d think my heart was pounding right now.”

Your hand rests on his chest. It’s moving from his heavy breathing, but there’s still no beat underneath your fingers. You take one of his hands and place it right over your heart, fluttering rapidly. “That’s alright. Mine’s working hard enough for both of us.”

He grins. “Does that mean you’re willin’ to share?”

There’s a heavy implication beneath his words, one you aren’t sure of. But his eyes are so pleading, and he looked so horribly lonely when you first saw him, and something inside of you is whispering that he needs you, only you. So you smile softly, affectionately, “I could be convinced.”

He grins, all teeth. “I can be very convincing.” He kisses you again, a little more demanding this time. “And we can have all of the time in the world for me to do it, if you just stay.”

As his teeth graze your neck again, you get the feeling you won’t be leaving for quite some time.

Taglist: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[vnards]

Bear!Price Pt 7

The lessons continue and the evening passes. You and Price going back and forth on different defensive techniques and vulnerable points in case attacking is the only option. By the end of the night, he’s confident you could take care of yourself if anything were to happen.

You both are breathing heavier after a few more sparring sessions before calling it a night. “You did well.” Price appraises. You smile. “Could I get you a cup of water?”

“Please.”

He walks to his front door, grabbing his keys on the way to unlock the door. By the time he’s found the right key, he feels the heat from your body behind him, waiting for him. He pauses, “I-I can bring it out here to you.”

“I was hoping I could take a seat for a moment?” You look up at him with those eyes and Price swallows any nerves that may be showing.

“O-Of course,” he allows you to step through his door first, holding his door like a gentleman. And to give him time to recover from the whiplash of you entering his space. His den.

John pushes through the thoughts of the beast coming forth. Mine. Water. Getting her water.

He continues his momentum to the kitchen, trying to stay on task. He robotically grabs a glass and gets you the filtered water in the fridge.

Price finds you look around his living room, the fireplace, that hasn’t been lit just yet, that sits under his television with a couch soft blankets. “I like your cottage. It’s cozy.” It’s yours.

John clears his throat as he offers you your drink. “Thanks.” He looks for something to say, anything. But yet, he just stands there, mouth flopping like a fish.

Luckily, your focus wasn’t on him. Simply the pieces of him that lay around. His hands find his pockets once more. The silence makes him antsy. He’s been under much more stressful situations that demanded him to sit and wait. But he can’t. Because it’s you.

“John,” He snaps his attention towards you, “I have a confession.” He waits with bated breath as he watches you place the glass on the side table. He finds his senses have snapped to attention as well, the bear lingering under the surface. He tries to remain calm. You sway towards him and he has to focus on keeping his feet planted. “I didn’t just come here for a lesson…”

You place your hand gently on his chest, right over his heart, as if you hadn’t stolen it already. You look up at him and he could swear he’s being put under your spell. Your scent so strong to him he could barely think about a response, “You didn’t?”

“Well, let’s just call it an appetizer.” You’re flirting with him. Messing with him in a way only you can do.

“An appetizer?” It seemed John could only do so much than repeat what your beautiful voice lilted to him. You stepped closer to him, your perfume, your scent, your arousal became prominent in his nostrils.

“I like you, John.” You admitted. His muscles tense. You offer your lips to him, “And I think you like me too.”

Mine.

His face is burning with heat as you toy with him. He forgets he needs control. He takes your lips, his arms wrapping around you to never let you step away. You taste just as sweet as he imagined. He’s about to bring his hands to gently touch your face before he notices his claws are out.

He uses his body to pin you against the wall, so he can hide from you. He takes a deep breath, trying to remember. By the time he gets himself together, he sees you looking up at him with those eyes of yours and he nearly croons for you, smitten, “You taste so sweet.” He admires longingly. He goes in for one more taste of you before he stops.

You look desperate for more, “You don’t know what you’re getting into you with me.”  He counters, needing an excuse to not ravage you right here, right now.

“I want to know”, you chirp. Former Special Agent Captain John Price nearly loses control of his beast.

John is careful to keep his paws off you, too worried about the last time he’s worn down his claws. He searched his brain for an excuse not to fuck you tonight.

His mind went blank again as you kiss him again, pressing your body against his. Your tits cushioning against his body that he could only describe as soft. His grunts are broken by a deep growl as he tries to remember not to touch everything you’re offering to him.

For some bloody reason…

“John,” You’re breathless against his lip, aching for his touch, “Please…”

Price always knew he was selfish. Territorial. He’s a born predator. It’s in his nature.

But you were not prey. You are not meek or shy.

Price will not devour you. He will savor you. But first, he has to find control within himself.

“Not this time,” He turns you down softly. He can see the barely there flinch, “I want to do it right, sweetie.” That catches your attention again in your lustful haze, pupils open. “Take you out on a few dates.” He leans down to kiss your cheeks, soft, “Spoil you,” his lips descend to your neck, “Tease you,” his teeth feel sharp when they nip at that soft flesh of skin.

It takes a moment for you to come back in your daze, something Price secretly takes pride in, but you relent, “Okay.”

John’s smile is genuine, more than pleased, “Thank you, Honey.”

<-previous part next part -> masterlist ->

[meeludrawz]

hi i love your writing! can you do tomura shigaraki trying desperately to cook or plan a cute date night in for someone he likes?? thanks!

Weeee!! :D I was excited to write that one! :3 Content: Fluff, Comfort <3 Warnings: Mention of blood

Perfect - Shigaraki x Reader

He was sweating bullets, he had been trying to prepare something special for the both of you but the league kept entering the motherfucking kitchen to grab snacks and wouldn't leave because it was 'funny to mess with him'.

At least that's what he was thinking, in reality, they weren't doing anything to stress him. He just didn't know how to deal with this. Usually, he or you'd plan an outing, sometimes Kurogiri would cook or you'd get takeouts.

This time though, he really wanted to plan everything from A to Z, including cooking.

Dabi had stopped in the kitchen's doorframe, a raised eyebrow. This was literally the first time that he'd step in the kitchen since Shigaraki had started planning for tonight. "Geez boss, I knew you hated me but no need to act like that"

The white haired mand didn't even look up at him, his bangs hiding his eyes. He kept scratching his neck, staring at the recipe. It shouldn't be that hard, right? "Go away" He mumbled.

He could see, from the side of his vision that Dabi rolled his eyes and walked away before coming back 2 seconds later. "Okay, the fuck's the problem?"

"Nothing, everything's fine" Tomura spat out of his mouth like it was venom.

"Uh huh" Touya clearly seemed to not believe him.

Tomura took a deep breath and finally looked at his friend, associate, colleague…, employee? He still wasn't sure what to call Dabi. "Fuck off, I'm fine"

"Sure, whatever but you should patch up your neck before that ruins your date" The scarred man disappeared in the hallway.

Tomura blinked then looked at his fingers. Fuck. There was some blood under his fingernails. He had scratched too much without even noticing.

This wasn't going well.

A few minutes later, he was back in the kitchen, hands cleaned, he had washed them at least thrice to make sure of it, and bandages were wrapped around his neck.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn't so bad. It's not like he had lost an arm while cooking, right?

He followed the recipe as much as he could. Tomura swore at it, multiple times as he had to google some terms that he couldn't understand. He almost used his quirk twice out of spite but didn't. He had to do it. For you.

But something went wrong, he didn't know what, but smoke was coming from the oven. "FUCK" He stuck his head out in the hallway, looking for something.

But of course, living in an abandoned place, there wasn't any fire extinguisher. The smell of smoke quickly invaded their whole lair, the other league members started showing up, lowkey panicking. Except Dabi.

Luck must've been on his side because you, Sako and Kurogiri warped into the kitchen a few seconds later. The purple mist man quickly warped the oven to some unknown place.

Sako and Kurogiri urged the league to open every window so the smoke could escape, while also leaving you two in the kitchen.

The look you had on your face, that worry, he couldn't handle it at the moment so he avoided your gaze.

You approached him and gently grabbed his wrist. He silently followed you as you brought him on the roof. He helped you climb due to your tight clothes stopping you from doing some movements. He also was wearing something nice.. Well now it was ruined due to the ashes.

You both sat down and leaned against each other. "Sorry"

"For what?" You gently asked.

"I burnt our dinner"

You smiled softly. "It's okay, as long as you're not hurt"

Tomura groaned and you looked up at him. "No it's not, I was trying to do something special for you and it just didn't fucking work." Tomura wasn't the type to curse unless he was pissed, like now. He spotted that frown forming in your face and his state worsened.

"Tenko, it's fine, I promise, I really appreciate-"

God, he loved it when you called him by his real name. He almost forgot why he was angry for a split second. "You don't get it" He interrupted you. "I wanted this to be perfect for you. It had to be something special that you'd remember"

Your frown switched to a confused expression. "Why?"

He snorted, he couldn't believe that you couldn't understand something so obvious. "You're genuine, funny, caring, kind.. You're even more than that.. But it's perfection to me"

"I'm not-" You started before he interrupted you again.

"Shut up, yes you are, even your little quirks and bad habits of yours… Somehow" He sighed and his scarlet hues finally met yours. "You deserved something perfect tonight" Tomura looked down. "But I ruined it.. Because I'm.."

A monster, was what he was trying to say. He didn't care about his looks, he really didn't. But on the inside? He was mean, cruel, a dangerous freak. And yet you still loved him. How? He didn't know but that's why you were so special to him, that he loved you back.

You didn't need him to finish his sentence to understand what he was thinking about, and he loved that too about you.

"Tenko.. I don't care about what happens when we're having a date. I don't need fancy shit. We could legit have it in the sewers or in a trash container behind a crappy restaurant and I wouldn't care because you'd be with me. And as long as you're having a good time too, I couldn't care less about the rest" You grebbed his hand and he intertwined his fingers with yours. He was always wearing gloves nowadays, because he never knew when you'd grab his hands. So he was being extra careful.

Tomura snorted, 5 seconds ago and he thought he was the freak one but now you were saying that a date in the sewers was okay. "You're weird, we should discuss about those strange date ideas of yours"

You hit his shoulder with no strength in it and he laughed. "Those were examples!"

The young man snatched your wrist before you'd "hit" him again. "I know and I get it now"

You smiled softly and he dropped your wrist before reaching for the side of your face. "I love you" You whispered gently.

And he could've melted right here and there but he smiled back. "Love you to the stars and back"

You snorted, he had done that cheesy line on purpose, just to hear you laugh. Because you knew he disliked the lovey dovey speeches. "Look at you being cheesy"

"What can I say? I'm a romantic"

Your laughs echoed through the calm night that the only light was the moon and stars.

{Yeah, nevermind} He thought. {This is perfect}

When you can't properly gradient the sentences because of Tumblr's character limit per blocks 😭😭😭

[emswritingsstuff]

Blood Root (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

summary: bonding with daryl over your cooking

note: another @caseylicious request!! this quite a while in the making and i hope you enjoy, even if it did take forever!! also highkey recommend MF DOOMs special herbs albums because i listened to them on loop while writing this

WC: 3.7k

--

Since the start of the camp at the Quarry, you had the job of cooking and making food to go around. You volunteered to do it and loved it, not to mention it made things feel somewhat normal. But, with supplies running low and resources scarce, it got hard to make things for everyone. 

It seemed meat was always in stock; thanks to the Dixons’ hunting and the Harrisons’ fishing, you never really had to worry about losing that. But spices and herbs were difficult to come by, with only a few of you knowing how to identify herbs. Not to mention, spices aren’t a priority when it comes to necessity runs. It was disheartening you had to admit. All you wanted to do was make appetizing food, or at least something better than cooked, unseasoned rabbit. 

Doing research on herbs and plants before the fall through books and such, you knew how to pick out edible plants, including fungus like mushrooms too. With that came the knowledge of harvesting and cooking, which was your favorite part no doubt. But going out into the woods was a difficult task, not because of the potential danger but because you were always needed elsewhere on camp. 

Finding herbs was tough in general, a lot of them blending in with the other plants in the woods. Luckily, mushrooms came easy with how they stuck out like sore thumbs against the green grass and dark trees. The trick was knowing what was edible and what was toxic. Everyone was always skeptical about the mushrooms, not wanting to run the risk of getting sick. Thankfully, Shane could vouch for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bitter that no one took your word for it. But you couldn’t dwell. 

And now you’re here, stressing about the low stock of your cooking supplies and ingredients. A lot of the group was out on a run, meaning you had to pick up the slack when you weren’t cooking. Ultimately meaning you couldn’t go out and look for ingredients yourself, which upset you even more. Sitting with the thoughts racing in your head, making attempts to think of a way to get the things you needed. 

An idea soon struck, and it was honestly a shot in the dark. But it could never hurt to at least ask. 

Daryl Dixon was an expert in those woods, and thankfully the mushrooms you needed were located there. The shaggy mane mushrooms ironically sprout on game land trails, and the oyster mushrooms on fallen trees. It was almost perfect, but the hard part was getting Daryl on board. 

The Dixon’s were loners, and it was respected for the most part. They both had tempers, Daryl being more explosive than Merle. Merle had his moments too, but he was more condescending and somehow irrational than his brother. It was common for everyone to avoid them so as to not piss them off and risk an explosion. And maybe you were risking getting a bad reaction from the younger Dixon, but you couldn’t care at that moment. Desperate to restock the makeshift inventory you had, you would try anything. 

Scanning over the camp to find Daryl, you managed to spot him talking to Shane about the hunt he was about to go on. Bingo. 

When the conversation ended between them, you bolted over to Daryl. Projecting a loud “Hey,” in which he didn’t hesitate to turn around and look at you. Catching up with him, you stopped and caught your breath before cutting to the chase. “I wanted to ask if you could grab some mushrooms while on your hunt? If you see them of course.” Handing him a piece of paper, it had attempted drawings the mushrooms you needed as well as small important details to pick them out. Getting nervous, you attempted to explain yourself, “I would go out myself but with a bunch of people out, Shane has me running around this place like crazy.” What you said was followed by a nervous laugh, watching Daryl as he gave an intense side-eye to Shane. 

Taking the paper from your hands, he looked over it and nodded, “I’ll see wha’ I can get.” Nodding back you handed him a small container, “In case you find them.” Taking the container he offered you a respectful nod before walking off and disappearing the blur of the woods. 

The days dragged on while he was gone, getting antsy to see if he found anything out there. So many bland meals have come and gone, feeling helpless and upset with yourself you couldn’t do better for the group. Amongst all the thoughts, part of you had to wonder if Daryl had even done what you asked in the first place. What if he just said he would get you off his back? What if he actually didn’t find anything? All you could do was wait and dwell on those intrusive “what if” thoughts. 

Right as you started to get lost in your brain, the archer emerged from the woods, a bunch of squirrels roped around his body. Trying to focus on cleaning from that night's dinner, all you did was hope he would make his round toward you. And luckily he did, as soon as you looked back to spot him, he was coming toward you with his bag. 

Glancing at him, you muttered a fast greeting before he placed his bag on the ground and reached into it. “Found the shrooms, got some herbs too. Remember ya talkin’ to Carol about ‘em.” Daryl handed you the container full of the mushrooms and well as a dry rag that held the herbs. Your mouth was agape, in shock he did this for you. Blinking rapidly, you mustered out a speedy “thank you.” Maybe you didn’t show it, but you were ecstatic. 

Dinner the following day was much better than you anticipated. It made you feel like yourself again, the food wasn’t five star quality but you did it. You made it, and the compliments from the group added to your radiant joy. There was one thing that damped your spirits though.

And that was Daryl not coming to dinner. Him and Merle never ate with the rest of the group, usually just grabbing food and leaving, tonight was different. He didn’t come over at all. With Merle being out with the run group, he was all alone. Peeking over at him, Daryl just sat at his spot working on something you couldn’t really see. Unsure if he ate something, you made the choice to prepare a small portion of what you made for the group for him. 

Considering he was nice enough to go out and help find the ingredients, he deserved to try some. And you were going to make it happen. Approaching his space, you stood there for a minute, unsure if you should disturb him or not. It didn’t take Daryl long to notice your presence, stopping what he was doing to look up at you. No words were spoken, just simply handing him the bowl. And he ended up taking it, investigating what exactly was in there. 

Taking in a breath, you finally spoke, “You didn’t come to dinner, didn’t know if you ate or not.” Crossing your arms, you watched as Daryl nodded along and took a quick bite. “Good, it's good.” Daryl's words surprised you, even if they were muffled by the food in his mouth. “Oh, thanks.” Pausing for a minute, you continued to sneak glances while he ate. “Want more?” And by the time you asked, he was a few more bites in, perking up at the question. “Got more?” Nodding, you grabbed the bowl from him and took it to grab him more food. 

As you walked away you smiled fondly to yourself, absolutely thrilled you made the most stubborn person in the group at least a little bit happy. He may not have had a ‘happy’ expression, but you could feel the energy off of him. 

And from that point on, the relationship you had with Daryl bloomed into something more. A sort of friendship, but you weren’t entirely sure if he would’ve agreed with that. 

Nonetheless, since that day at the Quarry, you had grown accustomed to talking to Daryl about random recipes you had made in the past. Or showed him beat-up cookbooks you’d found. Just going on and on about what you could do if you had the ingredients. 

And like clockwork, Daryl magically found an ingredient or two that you talked about on a run. It would always make your day, knowing he was thinking of you and about what you talked about while out there. And without a doubt the dinners were always better. 

Hence, the dinner routine started. Daryl always got to try what you made first, your way of showing gratitude to him. He’d always take what you handed him, sometimes begrudgingly. To him, it felt like you were sort of “babying” him. Also known as, feeding him decent food. 

He tried to act all stubborn and tough, but all the walls came down the minute he tried what you made. More times than not, he would be right over as soon as the group started eating. 

After arriving at the prison, soon came the new opportunities with an almost gated off “community” you all had created. The change was good. Even if it was stressful to get used to at first. As the days went on, the more and more improvements you had made. And the more people that joined. One of the improvements was livestock and gardens. With the help of Hershel and Rick, maintaining both of them was easy and rewarding. 

Meals got better too, suddenly having so much more food and ingredients at your disposal to mess around with. And with that, came Daryl too. 

The so-called dinner routine that had been created between the two of you blossomed to something more than you letting him try the food. Once everybody’s routines got solidified, so did the time for meals. With that came Daryl always somehow being around and getting first plate was given out. 

It was adorable, you had to admit that. Daryl would never outright say it was because he enjoyed your cooking. But all of the signs were there, not to mention he’d try and play it cool every time he stuck around while you cooked. The nonchalant act he was putting out didn’t work on you at all. Not even for a single second. 

“You can just say you like my cooking, you don’t have to race for first plate everyday to show it.” Shooting him a cocky look, he just scoffed in response. “Not tha’. Jus’ got nothin’ better to do,” as you worked you sneaked fast glances at him, a smirk just on your face. 

“Really? Everyday, you have nothing better to do?” Daryl just gave you a “Please shut up” look, which caused you to eventually drop the subject. But an indescribable joy filled your heart every time you saw him waiting, even if he was so stubborn about it.

As the weeks went past, the relationship you had with Daryl grew. It sprouted into something so much more than what you would have ever thought. Amidst all the times he’s helped find ingredients or hang around you while you worked, a new feeling ignited in your chest.  You liked him, and it was a feeling you really couldn’t deny any longer. 

So, you did something about it. A feeling within you told you he felt the same, but the man was so hard to read that you were unsure. And With all the confidence you could muster, you asked him out before dinner one day. A ping of nervousness was there, thinking you misread the signs he was giving. Thankfully thought, you were right. The relationship the both of you had basically remained the same, but with more touches and kissing now. It made you happy, and it made him happy.  

Somehow within all the moments of disappointment and sorrow, you finally had something amazing. Something you never thought you would be able to have.

But like all good things come, they also go. For once you wished everyone would stay the same, thankful for the change you had. but now the prison was gone, and now you all were on the road. After being separated and being held at Terminus, everyone had changed. In one way or another. 

To you, Daryl’s was the most notable, especially after Beth. He was always stubborn, but it wasn’t like him to be so closed off and quiet. The going off by himself worried you as well, but he never wanted you to go with him. Not wanting you to see him in such a way. 

Just as everything seemed to get worse, a man named Aaron came along. Speaking of a community called “Alexandria”. It sounded too good to be true and no one believed it was true. 

No amount of pictures or “brochures” could convince the group otherwise. But Aaron was a man of his word it seemed, ultimately taking you to Alexandria to show you the real thing. 

It was a dream, you swore you had to be imagining the whole thing. Sure you had running water in the prison, and you had other “normal” things. But electricity and hot water was something you never thought could be possible again. And here it was. 

After the interviews, all of you were accepted. Getting jobs or “earning your keep” as they say. Even getting offered a home, which Aaron was kind enough to show you to.

Finally stepping into the new home, it felt even more unreal. Looking around you weren’t sure how to exactly feel about it. Aaron bashfully followed you in, Daryl sicking outside with his crossbow. Aaron slowly inched his way to be up beside you. Looking at him you gestured toward the kitchen. “You weren’t shitting us right? All of this works?” as you spoke you pointed at the oven and stove. Aaron laughed as he crossed his arms, “Take a look for yourself.”  Raising an eyebrow, you did what he said. And to your surprise, it did work. 

“Holy shit?” Aaron laughed at your amazed tone, causing you to laugh with him. “This whole place is for you and Daryl, if he ever comes inside that is,” peeking at Daryl outside you could barely see the top of his head as he sat on the deck. Shaking your head, you muttered a quick thank you before following Aaron outside. 

“There's a welcome party at Deanna’s tonight, all of you are invited. If you want to go,” looking at Daryl, you could see in his face that it was a hard ‘no’ from him. “Think we’ll just stay in, adjust to everything you know,” Aaron nodded in agreement. “I understand, but Daryl,” his head shot up as Aaron addressed him directly. “Stop over at my house at some point, have something to ask and show you,” you could see Daryl’s blank stare as Aaron spoke to him. And as if on cue, Aaron quickly made his leave, waving a goodbye before walking off to his home. 

Walking over to Daryl, you made your place right beside him. Sitting there in silence, you rested your head on his shoulder causing him to wrap an arm around you and pause working. Bringing your hand up, you captured his hand in yours. 

“I know this isn’t what you want, but I think this could be good,” you whispered quietly, causing Daryl to let out a breath. “Judith needs a roof, so does everyone else,” he couldn’t even look at you, almost ashamed. “What about you?” shaking his head, he finally looked at you. “Don’ know,” wrapping your arms around him, you let him bury his face in your neck. Letting your hand play with his hair, you began to speak again. “You should go in the house, get cleaned up. I’ll run to the pantry and I’ll make us dinner,” he grunted quietly but obliged. Placing a kiss on your head and letting himself into the home. Waiting a few minutes, you eventually got up and made your way to the pantry. 

Walking through the streets of Alexandria, it felt peaceful, like nothing can hurt you anymore. It felt silly to think such things, but maybe this place was the safe shelter you’d always strived to have. This was your fresh start. 

Once grabbing everything you needed for your dinner, without any delay you made your way back to the house. Ready to relax after days on the road. 

Entering the home the sound of running water filled your ears, signaling Daryl was in there. Smiling fondly to yourself you walked to the kitchen, ready to start dinner. Just deciding to make plain spaghetti, it was easy and something you haven’t had since the fall. Plus it was romantic in a way, or at least it was considered that in your opinion. 

Cooking up the sauce and meat, you let them simmer together while you start the noodles. Putting on the pot and letting the water boil, and while waiting you lifted yourself up on the counter and sat there. 

Sitting there for a few minutes, Daryl emerged from the hall. His hair was still wet, but he was cleaner and had a fresh set of clothes on. A gleeful smile painted your face as he walked toward you, standing still beside you. 

“Whatcha makin’” his gruff voice broke the silence, him shyly looking up at you. “Just some spaghetti, change of pace from stew and jerky,” you laughed as you spoke, even getting a chuckle out of him. Reaching your hand over to his hair, you ran your fingers through it. “How are you feeling?” 

You could see Daryl biting the inside of his cheek before responding, “Fine, don’ worry 'bout me.” Not wanting to start a bigger conversation he didn’t want to have, you dropped it. Much to your own dismay though.  

As if saved by the bell, the water had started boiling. Hopping off the counter, you placed the pasta in the pot and letting it cook. Daryl remained in his place, watching you work. 

After about a few minutes, you fished out a noodle and rinsed it off so it was cold. Putting it in your hand, he looked at you confused. “Wanna try it? See if it's done?” still holding the noodle, he went to grab it and swiftly ate it. He looked unsure and all you could do was giggle at his demeanor, “Never taste tested a noodle?” Shaking his head with a “no” your face subtly dropped, but you didn't let it ruin the moment. 

“You know, if you throw it at the wall and it sticks. Means it’s done,” getting out another noodle and washing it off, he took it from your hands. Raising his eyebrow looking at you, he threw it at the nearest wall. 

“They’re done,” he pointed at the noodle stuck on the wall. Giggling softly, you made quick work of straining the noodles and mixing them with the sauce. You took the pan with the spaghetti and set it on the table, towel under it so as to not burn the table. Daryl took it upon himself to set the table with plates and silverware, before you could even think about it. 

Both of you sat down at the table across from each other, sitting there for a moment you gestured for Daryl to take his portion first. “Shouldn’t ya? Ya made it,” pointing at him, you quickly shut him up. “That’s exactly why you get the first plate. Now, eat,” Daryl put his hands up in a surrendering motion before making his plate. As soon as he was done you got yours, prompting you to both start enjoying your dinner. 

It was silent, almost a little too silent for you. Daryl’s expression was one that signaled to you that he was thinking about something. Staring at your plate, you waited for Daryl to finish eating before you asked anything. It definitely looked like something was wrong or at least bothering him. And you were tired of waiting. 

By the time he was finished eating, he had noticed you staring. His hand waving in front of your head caused you to look at him, a questioning look on his face. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to speak.

“Daryl, tell me what's on your mind,” instantly freezing, he looked down at the cloth napkin on his legs. Obviously debating with himself on what he should say. “Jus’, thinkin’ about us,” setting down your fork, you took your hand in his. “What about us?” 

Daryl cleared his throat, stalling, still looking down. “No one’s ever done anythin’ like this for me before. Don’ know wha’ I did to deserve it,” his voice was quiet. Looking at him softly, your thumb rubbed his hand, drawing soft shapes into it. Staying quiet, he continued to speak. Just opening up to you at that moment. 

“When mom died, Merle took over cookin’. It was never like this, it’s why I liked ya so much back then.” Looking at his face, the tears in his eyes were obvious. The memories from his childhood were painful, it was a known fact between the both of you. It was rare for him to be so open like this. But it meant he felt safe. 

Bringing up the hand you weren’t holding, he wiped off his face. Sniffling in the process, he apologized for how he was acting, almost ashamed. Reassuring him it was fine, you stood up and hugged him from behind. Planting a soft kiss on his head, and after staying like that for a minute, the both of you separated. 

As you walked away you rubbed his back, picking up the dirty dishes in the process. He was quick to follow you, wanting to help with the cleanup. You almost protested, wanting to tell him you could do it, but he was already washing the dishes. As you watched him, the thought of the change in him creeped into your mind. You knew you might never fully know what was going on with him, and that was his choice, but today was a step forward. And you were thankful for that. 

[holybladeknight]

Sing for me 🎼💞

Characters: Severus Snape x GN!Professor!Reader, random Slytherin students

Tags/warnings: Christmas themed romance 🎄, bad grammar

Summary: During the preparations for the Yule Ball, you discover that Severus actually can sing...

Author's note: My first romantic fanfic, please be gentle 😳

Special thanks: @severus-snaps for the lovely inspiring chit-chat 💖

"This song is stupid..." Draco mumbled in annoyance, when Severus stopped the rehearsal once again.

"I agree, Mister Malfoy. Perhaps, you should say it to Professor Dumbledore in person? It was his idea, after all," Severus answered in his usual stern tone, clearly being annoyed too.

Children's chorus singing the Christmas Carols for the Yule Ball indeed was Albus' idea. This tradition was quite popular in his youth, so he wanted to recreate it for the next celebration. Though, it was much easier to say than to do...

Severus deeply sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, standing in front of the young Slytherins. He didn't like this song too. Honestly, he didn't like the grand celebrations overall, preferring to spend the winter evenings quietly in your company, but he had no other choice. At least Severus wasn't teaching the Gryffindors how to dance, like Minerva, and the thought that he wasn't suffering alone somewhat reassured him.

Severus didn't care much about traditions, holyday spirit and other ephemeral nonsense. He considered learning the Christmas Carols with his students as an another working task, no more, no less. And Severus was used to do his work properly and thoroughly.

"One more time... Repeat after me and follow the rhythm. We need the perfect syncing. Understood?" Severus waited until the students' attention got focused on him again, and then began to sing. He didn't know you were standing behind the door and listening...

The results still weren't as perfect as these children's choruses from the old Christmas movies, but more than less acceptable. The rehearsal was over for today, and Severus let the students out. He massaged his temples, feeling tired and a bit frustrated, when you came in.

"Merlin, save me..." Severus thought, seeing your wide smile and your shining eyes. He knew very well what was coming next.

"So, you can sing," you said with barely contained excitement in your voice.

"Shouldn't you work on the decorations right now?" Severus asked in response, hoping to change the topic. It didn't work on you, obviously.

"Would you sing something for me, Severus?" you slightly tilted your head, watching his reaction carefully. Severus knew it wasn't a question, it was a statement. He couldn't say no to you, of course.

"You have a terrible musical tastes," Severus huffed in his signature witty manner.

***

Getting back to home, Severus was exhausted and overwhelmed by the noisy teenagers, his brain felt hard-boiled after the long busy day. You understood his desperate need for silence, so you stayed quiet... expressing your love in other ways than words.

You were peacefully sitting on the couch, when Severus layed down here and rested his head onto your laps, just like a cat silently asking for pets. You got his hint and softly stroked his hair, brushing your fingers through the long black strands. Severus closed his eyes and smiled contentedly, relaxing under your soothing touch.

"Severus..." You spoke to him gently, continuing the stress-relieving scalp massage.

"I remember, love. What do you want me to sing?" Severus responded, recalling your request. He was in the much better mood now, and the idea of him singing didn't look that ridiculous for him anymore.

"Anything from your poetry. At your choice," you asked almost sheepishly. Only you knew about Severus' secret passion, only you he trusted his verses to.

Severus sat up straight and cleared his throat. He didn't need to look in his notebook, he remembered every single line by heart, since he wrote them by his own. After a brief pause to gather his courage, Severus started to chant one of his verses, as if it was a song lyrics.

At first Severus sounded shy and insecure, but the pure love in your mesmerized eyes inspired him to keep singing. As he immersed himself in the rhythm, Severus got more confident, lowering and deepening his velvet baritone voice. There was no need for any background music, Severus' magnificent acapella was more than enough for you.

Severus sung for you, and you felt his raw emotions in every note. It was a love confession in the form of song. The lyrics themselves were amazing, full of colorful metaphors and tender epithets, but being embodied in Severus' voice... It was something above and beyond.

Severus ran out of breath at the few final lines. The lack of experience was evident, though the sincerity of his feelings outshone any flaws in his performance. Severus' heart fluttered in his chest as he looked at your with a hopeful eyes, waiting for your reaction.

Your mind went blank. You were speechless, being unable to formulate any thoughts because of the overwhelming emotions. You just grabbed Severus in your embrace and showered his face in gentle kisses, whispering incoherent yet sweet nothings about how much you loved him.

***

"Severus... Will you sing the Christmas Carols along with your students at the Yule Ball?"

"Of course not."

"But Sevvy... Pretty please..."

"..."

"..."

"...fine. I'll sing, just for you, my most devoted fan. Perhaps, I'll even sign an autograph..."

You planted a tender 'thank you' kiss on his cheek.

[theslut4smut]

𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗿𝘁 | 𝗵𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻

𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝘆: fluff & smut

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: hyunjin uses his wonderful artistic skills to make his sweet y/n realize how beautiful her body is when she becomes ridden with insecurity

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4.5k

𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀: afab reader, curvy/heavier/plus sized reader, insecure reader, sub!reader, i don’t even wanna say softdom!hyunjin… he’s just the sweetest and mushiest little gumdrop that is trying to make you smile and cum simultaneously, terms of endearment, lots of “i love you” ’s, some tears, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, sweet ol’ missionary 🥹, USES YOU LIKE A CANVAS!!!

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: this was requested!! to the sweet little baby anony that requested this, i hope you don’t mind that i added more of an overall body insecurity. of course i will still mention hyunjin loving that big ol’ booty like you asked, but i felt the story would be too short with just that.

i’m a chubby fat girl myself, so this should be ✨ healing ✨

also!

my second hyunjin story! and it’s another insecurity reassurance one 🥺🤧

_____________________________________

you peek into the somewhat messy room. canvases of different sizes leaned against the walls, used paintbrushes in tubs of water, tubes and buckets of paints scattered along the floor.

hyunjin’s safe space.

the room he’d go to when he felt overwhelmed or stressed, excited, inspired.

you look over to him sitting in his chair in front of a large canvas, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he twists and twirls the brush in between his fingertips.

he was so handsome like this.

you make your way over to him and hold up the bowl of fruit you had prepared for him in his line of sight.

he snaps out of his focused state. “ah.” he says, smiling excitedly before putting the brush down.

he places an orange slice into his mouth, closing his eyes and letting out a hum of approval. “fruit is always so much better when you give it to me.”

you laugh softly. “all i do is cut it.”

“mm, well you’re a great cutter.”

you give him a playful eyeroll before turning to look at the progress of his creation that only had a few strokes near the bottom.

“what is it gonna be?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

he takes the bowl from your hands and sets it on the desk in front of him. “a surprise for you.”

you look at him with wide and sparkling eyes. “for me?”

“don’t act like i haven’t made you hundreds of them already.” he says, laughing softly as he wiped his brush on a stained cloth.

“i know.” you start, turning back to the painting. “but it makes me feel so special every time.”

he places a hand on your bottom, rubbing his palm on it in circles. “you are special.”

you feel your body stiffen as he continues to touch you. as much as you loved hyunjin’s affection, you had been struggling with insecurity for the past couple of weeks and it was causing you to not want to be felt or even perceived by him.

of course he had respected the lack of intimacy the two of you had shared in recent time, not questioning the excuses you had when you stopped moments that were becoming intense.

it made you feel miserable. not allowing yourself to kiss, caress or savor hyunjin the way you so desperately craved.

hiding yourself behind baggy clothing of either yours or his just to not be seen. eating only enough to survive instead of what was satisfying.

you knew that you didn’t have to hide yourself away like this. being a larger girl was something you were always self conscious about.

and despite those insecurities, hyunjin did nothing but show love and admiration for them.

you were one thousand percent certain that you were loved and that he would never see you the way you see yourself, but it was just too hard to fully accept.

you reach around to his hand that was still playing with your bottom and interlock your fingers with his, pulling it up to kiss his knuckles.

he closes his eyes and smiles at you.

“i’m only allowing you in here because you can’t tell what it is yet.” he says.

you giggle.

he grabs you by the waist and turns you around to look at him.

he pats his thigh as he looks up at you. “c’mere, baby.” he says softly.

“no, it’s okay.” you say, rubbing your lips together as you try to keep your composure.

he shakes his head as he furrows his brows. “you love to sit on my lap while i paint.”

you begin to pick and pull at your fingers as you think of excuses.

“i can’t watch you, it’s a surprise.” you stammer.

he sighs with a laugh as he shakes his head again, grabbing your hand. “i’m just placing the base color today. you won’t be able to tell.”

he begins to pull you into him, puckering his lips to kiss you.

“i-i don’t even wanna see that.” you dig your heels into the groan.

“angel, it’s fine.” he says, using more of his strength to bring you closer.

“hyunjin, please!”

he immediately stops, giving you a concerned look.

“i’m not sitting on you, hyunjin. i cannot sit on you.” you exhale deeply as you place your hair behind your ears and cross your arms over your chest.

he lets go of you, placing both hands on his knees. “you don’t want to or you can’t?”

you close your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. “i… can’t.”

he leans closer, poking his cheek with his tongue. “and why can’t you?”

“i’m… ”

“you’ll hurt me because you’re too heavy?”

you bite the inside of your cheek.

he sighs as he rubs his temples and closes his eyes. “god, y/n.”

he shakes his head as he looks around the room.

“what have i told you? what have i done to ever make you feel like you’re not able to relax and accept yourself?”

“it’s not anything you did, hyunjin.” you say softly.

he stands up and pulls you into him, caressing your hair as you lay against his chest. “i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

you move your head, your chin pressing into him as you look up into his eyes.

“i think you’re so perfect. inside and out.”

you smile sweetly as he continues.

“everything about you, i adore. your smile, your laugh, your voice, the way you hold me.” he kisses your forehead softly. “i don’t care what you think, your body is gorgeous. desirable. it’s beautiful because it belongs to you. and anything that has to do with you is everything i’ll ever want.”

you close your eyes as you shake your head slightly.

“yes.” he says, holding your face with his hands. “you don’t have to believe me for it to be true.”

“i know you mean it, but it’s been so hard.” your voice cracks slightly.

“baby.” he wraps his arms tighter around you as he places kisses into your hair.

you squeeze onto him desperately, feeling as if you hadn't experienced the sensation of his body on yours in ages.

all of the horrible and intrusive thoughts that had been clouding your mind for the last several days were finally silent as he held you in his embrace.

there was no need to ever feel insecure with a lover like hyunjin, but it was so difficult sometimes. it was clear he meant all of the praises he gave you. whether it be for your looks or what made you you. quirks, traits, habits.

you felt guilty for it not even being that serious. you were confident in who you were. you were never one to make jabs at yourself or feel incompetent. you gave yourself grace for making mistakes and congratulated yourself when you accomplished a task.

it was purely physical. you hated the way you looked.

life would just be so much easier in a smaller body.

and you knew how much that upset hyunjin too. he always talked about how cheap it was to value or prioritize appearance over well being and personality.

looks alter and change as time goes on, and it's such a waste of time to spend the years of your life that are filled with the most freedom and opportunity worried about whether or not people find you attractive.

you knew it wasn't important, but there was also a part of your mind that couldn't accept that it was okay to not stress about what size you were or the number on the scale.

you were always so close, yet so far.

the hardest part had to be the lack of intimacy. you wanted to throw all of your cares away and just let hyunjin have you the way he wanted, but something always held you back.

you missed his touch, the way he smelled, the feeling of the two of you becoming one.

you couldn't bare to go a second longer without him.

"hyunjin." you huff breathlessly as you dig your nails into the grey sweatshirt he was wearing.

he pulls away and looks down into your pleading eyes staring back up at him.

he places your hair behind your ears before pulling you in with his hand placed on the back of your head, ghosting his lips over yours. "can i take care of you, baby? i just want to make you feel better."

you let out a soft whine as you nod slightly.

he grabs your hand and pulls you beside him as he clears the tools and brushes from his desk.

he turns back to you and places his hands on either side of you, causing you to hold your breathe.

he notices, letting out a small sigh. "i can lift you, angel. you don't need to be scared."

you release a shaky breath as you looked down at your feet.

he redirects your gaze back onto him, cocking an eyebrow. "may i please?"

you fold your lips in before exhaling through your nose and nodding.

he smiles happily, lifting you up from the floor. you can feel your heart rate quicken as you watch his toned arms flex. it had been too long without him.

he places you onto the now clear surface, running a hand down your clothed body.

even with the barrier between the two of you, you could feel the jolts of electricity run through you.

you let out a soft moan.

he chuckles softly, pecking your lips. "can i take off a few layers, princess?"

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly as you nod.

"awe." he laughs an empathetic laugh as he caresses the side of your face. "it"s been so long, hasn't it, baby?"

"yes." you whine.

he begins to undress you, maintaining eye contact as he does.

"is this why you've been avoiding our special time?" he asks, rubbing his hand over your soft skin.

you nod as you pout.

"oh, baby." he coos. "i'm so sorry i didn't bring it up. i just assumed you wanted your space."

he stops inches away from your lips. you feel his breath fan against your face. "let me make it up to you."

before you can respond, his lips are on yours.

you sigh into the kiss as he gently pushes you to lay on your back.

the cool surface against your bare skin makes you hiss slightly, but you’re too distracted to pay that much attention to it.

he remains standing as he continues to make out with your soft and lust swollen lips.

“i missed you, my baby.” he says in between the smacking of your two mouths.

you let out a soft whine. “missed you.”

he giggles that cute giggle of his at how worked up you are just over kissing. it's been some time since the two of you had shared a moment like this.

he pulls away to admire you. the way your soft and supple skin glowed under the gentle morning sun that spilled in through the open window. stray pieces of hair that framed your red and pleasure covered face beautifully.

"hyunjin." you say, soft and needy. "i don't want all of the build up right now. i need you so bad."

he laughs through his nose before leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead. "i never want to deprive you, angel. just let me savor and take my time with you the way you deserve."

you let out a whine as you close your eyes and squeeze your thighs shut.

"you're just so... breathtaking." he says.

you keep your eyes shut as he continues on, trying to calm down as you feel yourself become more and more aroused.

"all of the art i’ve seen in my life, whether it be mine or someone else's. it could never, ever compare to you, my love."

"hyunjin-"

"ah." he stops you with a finger against your lips. "i wont argue with you. you cannot change the way i feel."

you can hear him shuffle through something on his desk before he begins to speak again.

"i've tried to encapsulate your beauty so many times before, but it simply cannot be replicated. no one could create your perfection on a canvas."

he's silent for a few moments before you feel cold paint touch the surface of your skin.

you gasp sharply as your eyes snap open.

"shh." he coos, using your chin to pull you in for a kiss. "i can't show how beautiful you are through a painting, so let me try it this way instead."

he leans down to kiss your exposed tummy, causing you to slightly push his head away.

his big brown eyes look up into yours.

“y/n, let me be creative with your body. have you see it the way i do. there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

he uses the pads of his fingers to gently outline the shape of your curves with the light pink shade, his eyes sparkling with love and admiration as he did.

“look at how beautiful this is, my love. the way you were created.”

you glance down yourself. even though it was nothing but simple tracing, he always managed to make things look so good. whether it was a sneaky doodle of you on a coffee shop napkin or a quick sketch of the sunset on the horizon, it was never sloppy.

“i love how full and soft you are, baby.” he starts, moving his fingers up to one of your nipples and swirling the paint, causing you to slightly twitch and sigh. “sensitive, too.”

he gently places his hands on both of your knees before spreading your legs and slightly lifting them to your chest.

you make an uncomfortable noise before turning your head away.

“what is it, my love?”

“i don’t like that.” you say softly with a slight crack in your voice.

“don’t like what?” he leans into you as he places a strand of hair behind your ear, observing your upset expression.

“the way my stomach does that.”

he furrows his brows before pulling away and looking down at your tummy. he places his hand on it before looking back up to you.

“the way it doubles into rolls, i- i hate that.”

“my tummy would do this too if i were in the same position as you.”

“hyunjin, that’s not the same. yours is not nearly as big as mine.”

he blinks at you without saying a word before dipping into more paint, swirling colors near your lower tummy and thighs.

you whine again.

“your skin being able to stretch and move to accommodate your needs is a blessing, angel. not something to feel distain towards.”

he begins to trace tulips and dandelions on your left thigh while gently kneading your right.

you huff and sigh as he does, not being able to handle his close proximity to your most aching part.

“i love the way your tummy folds like that.” he says, looking up from his doodles on your skin, cocking a single brow. “it reminds me of how good and spread i have you for me.”

your chest begins to rise up and down quickly at his words, causing you to grab onto his arm in desperation of some sort of stimulation.

he smirks proudly to himself, knowing the effect he has on you. “and these thighs.” he leans down to gently peck the soft and plush skin, making sure not to smudge the fresh designs. “thick and enticing. the way they force me in between them once you can’t take anymore.”

you gasp as you begin to squirm.

“yeah, pretty girl? you love suffocating me with these when i’m making you shake and cry, don’t you? the way i dig my fingers into them as you press into me harder and harder? completely disregarding my oxygen intake as i devour you. feeling you just let go. twitching and spasming all over my tongue. you love that, huh, my angel?”

“h-hyunjin.”

“shh.” he coos, leaning down and brushing his lips delicately against yours. “you have to stay calm for me, baby. we haven’t even started yet.”

he pulls away from you before resuming his previous actions.

“you just get so excited, huh?“ he begins to trace his fingers closer and closer to your heat, but never to the exact spot you needed him.

you nod quickly, letting out a huff.

“but so patient, too.”

you open your mouth to plead, only to be cut off by the feeling of his breath ghosting over your swollen bud.

he looks up from your slick and eager heat with a deep desire in his eyes, his pupils slightly blown out.

“why don’t you do that thing that i love so much, hmm? just crush me in between them. show me how you’re able to let go for me.”

you gasp as you feel yourself beginning to pulse and contract on nothing.

“can you do that for me, pretty baby?”

“y-yes.” you whine breathlessly.

without another word, his lips connect themselves onto your sensitive clit, causing you to squeal as lapped up the juices you were already starting to secrete.

his fingers quickly find their way inside of you.

you let out a short and quick squeak as he pumps them in and out of you rapidly.

“oh-“ you grab onto his wrist, the sensation already being too much.

“pretty girl.” he says breathlessly against your skin as he continues to split you open on the two digits while simultaneously sucking onto your mound. “taking my fingers so well.”

you clench around him as you begin to feel the knot in your lower tummy form.

god, it’s really been far too long.

he can feel how close you’re becoming as his eyes pierce into yours.

he quickens the pace.

small trickles of your arousal begin to fly and shoot out of you before you’re full on squirting into his large hand.

“that’s it, baby. mix those colors for me.”

your hand quickly covers your face as it burns red, feeling humiliated at just how fast you came undone.

and just as he wished, your thighs slam into either side of his head with a thud, causing a muffled moan of his to vibrate throughout your core.

cries and moans of his name fall past your lips as he helps you through your intense orgasm, rubbing your thigh reassuringly as he did.

your legs twitch and shake as he continues.

a warm and soft kiss from his full and pouty lips grounds you a bit as your climax reaches its end.

you didn’t even realize he was no longer buried face first into your needy cunt.

you let out an exhausted sigh.

he disconnects from the kiss and pulls his dripping fingers out of you before rubbing the mess you made for him all over your body, swirling the lilac and mint green paint from the lower half of you in a beautiful way.

you look up to the ceiling while you regulate your rapid breathing as he begins to open another can of paint.

he whistles a tune to himself as he dips into the pale yellow, allowing you the time to become fully present for him again.

your head feels fuzzy and filled with love as it all sets in for you.

it’s been so long without hyunjin and the pleasure he’s able to bring you.

he was always so patient and delicate with you. like you were his little flower to nurture and protect.

you feel tears already beginning to prickle at your lash line.

he walks over to you with a sweet smile as he continued to stir the fresh paint with his finger.

“you back, baby?” he asks sweetly, his voice filled with tenderness and warmth.

you hum in response, still not being able to form words yet.

he sets the paint down and leans in to peck your forehead.

you grab onto his sweatshirt, letting out a whine.

he chuckles under his breath before softly caressing the outer part of your ear with his thumb. “you want me to take it off?”

“mhm.” you tug at his collar as you try to pull yourself closer to him.

he obliges, pulling the puffy top over his head and leaning back into you.

you take your turn to show hyunjin how you feel through art, dipping into the paint and tracing small hearts along his abdomen.

he smiles at you endearingly as he hums happily, rubbing his knuckles along the sides of your waist and hips.

he re-coats the now dry paint, using his long and slender fingers to stain the surface of your skin, twisting left, right, up and down to make different shapes and patterns.

“this color reminds me of the light you bring into my life. like my eternal sunshine even on the cloudiest of days.”

you bite your lip, once again feeling the overwhelming bubble of emotions trying to fight their way out.

his praise was never anything surface level and simple such as: “you’re beautiful” or “you make me happy.” it was always so much deeper and more passionate.

“when i see you, it’s like there’s no such thing as pain or heartache. nothing could ever phase me with you in my presence.” he says, taking his non-paint covered hand to stroke your cheek softly.

you sniffle a little as you place both hands on either side of his face and pull him in, noses touching.

“you know that, don’t you? how much you mean to me?” he asks.

you bite your lip as you try to suppress an upcoming cry, nodding your head. “yes.”

he places his hands on both of your hips before turning your body to face him as he stood before you.

“don’t ever think you have to deprive yourself from me. i will always be here to reassure you. in any way, my love. with my words, paintings, my tongue, fingers.”

you shiver as he whispers against your neck.

you pull him into a kiss by his hair.

“love you, hyunjin.” you stop to let out a soft and needy moan as he nibbles at your jawline. “i love you so much.”

he lifts his hips up before finally entering you, causing you to throw your head back as you let out a long and high pitched moan, your fingers turning white as you grab onto his torso.

“look at me, baby.” he says softly, pulling your head back up.

he exhales deeply before pressing his forehead onto yours, pounding into you harder and filling the room with the sound of your two bodies becoming one.

“take me, take me, take me.” he says, breathing heavily as he devoured you with his eyes.

“oh- oh my god.” you dig your nails into the flesh of his back desperately, wishing you could be even closer to him than you are right now.

“mhm.” he groans, grabbing onto your face as he kisses you, smearing paint onto your skin.

“you’re so beautiful, angel. so perfect. you were created so divinely and with such grace. i’ll never stop thanking every star that you’re mine. all mine, my baby.”

you begin to flutter and pulse around him, gasping as you arch your back. “hyunjin!” you whine.

“give it to me, baby. you’re so gorgeous when you come undone for me.” his voice becomes more desperate and filled with whimpers as his thrusts begin to falter and lose precision.

the two of you hold onto each others faces as you both unravel onto and into one another, moaning loudly as you reach your peaks together.

“ah! i love you, i love you, i love you.” he says through gritted teeth, fingers bruising your skin as he fucks in and out of you.

you stop fighting back the tears that so desperately want to escape and allow yourself to cry softly as you lay your head against his shoulder, slightly twitching as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

he exhales deeply once he’s finished, lifting your head up to meet his gaze as he smiles at you.

your face is pink and stained with a few blots of mascara, hair slightly untamed. but to hyunjin, it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“you did such a good job, angel.” he says, caressing your cheek tenderly, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb.

you smile as you bat your sleepy lashes up at him.

he changes both of your positions, switching the two of you to lay on your sides as you spoon each other.

“thank you.” you say softly to him.

he runs a finger from your forehead, to your nose, over your lips, down to your chin before tilting his head to the side. “you don’t need to thank me, baby. i’ll always be here to help you see the beauty in you that i do. i promise.”

your face turns a light shade of pink as you look down. he lifts it back up, smiling that precious squinty smile of his before kissing your lips soft and delicately.

“let’s just stay like this for a little while.” he says, closing his eyes as he rests his chin on top of your head, pulling you in closer.

“hyunjin, i’m not napping on your art desk.” you say, pushing yourself away from him and giving him a sassy look.

he groans dramatically, throwing his head back. “i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

you giggle softly as you get up from the desk, looking down at your bottom with a sigh. “ugh, it’s so big, hyunjin.” you say, shaking your head.

“hmm. let me see, baby.” he says, giving you a concentrated and serious expression as you turn around for him.

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, causing you to look back at him. “what is the point of- ow!”

you spin around, rubbing the cheek of yours that was stinging with burn of his slap. you feel something wet on your hand, realizing that it was paint.

you gasp. “did you just put paint on my butt?!” you try to hold back your laughter, wanting to seem upset with him.

“that’s what you get for speaking poorly about your body.” he says, wiping his paint covered hand.

you cross your arms and pout up at him, causing him to sigh and pull you in for a hug.

“i’m sorry, baby. i’m just teasing. but i meant what i said.” he says, poking your side slightly. “no more negative comments, alright?”

you sigh. “okay. ow!” you push yourself off of him and smack his chest at yet another swat against your bottom.

“and that one was for me. i just can’t get enough of this thing right here.” he says, squeezing into your butt roughly with his hands.

you shake your head, turning to walk out of the room, hyunjin quickly following behind.

“that handprint on your ass is amazing, angel. i should take a picture of it with my camera.”

“will you shut up?” you snap, scoffing as you fight back a smile.

“or better yet, i’ll use it as inspo for my next piece!”

“shut up!”

[vallanoux]

𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. - 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟏

ps: i'm new here and idk what i'm doing, but this is the first chapter of a lucifer m. x reader x alastor fic <3

(name) (surname) was nothing special. Sure, a famous broadway star, but that was it. She was just another regular human who experienced normal, average everyday problems. A difficult “hellhole” of a childhood, a lack of love life, worry and uncertainty for the future... all of them were undoubtedly issues that everyone went through, were they not?

In this day and age, who didn’t come from some form of trauma-inducing childhood hellhole? 

The only thing that really stood out about (name) (surname) was her death. She died in a freak accident at age 28. Sent to hell by such a gruesome death––what a poor thing! Especially straight into the ring of pride. That really was the only interesting thing about her.

Or so, most people would believe. 

“Why, oh why the hell am I in Hazbin Hotel?!!” (name) cried. 

(name) (surname) didn’t die in a freak accident at age 28. No, she was transmigrated into Hazbin Hotel, an adult animated series that had its first season recently aired in the beginning of the year 2024 after its pilot a couple years prior.

(name) sighs, and she slumps down on the sidewalk. She confusedly stared at her surroundings. The buildings were all gray, either barely holding up or derelict and destroyed. The roads were all covered with some form of garbage. Feces, drugs, guts. And god, everything was painted in red. Concrete bathed under the sky of red and puddles of crimson blood and innards. 

With a rising acid reflux, and her own build up stress, she could feel her own vomit crawl up her throat, waiting for her to belch out her instant noodle and scrambled egg breakfast. All too familiar with this feeling, she pressed her hand against her chest and stopped breathing in and out. The bile manages to sink back into her stomach, and at that, (name) breathes a huff of relief. 

“I need to get my shit together.” 

Just as she says that to calm herself, she sees a familiar face, staring at her. (name) didn’t know what to feel. Relief? Fear? Excitement? She could only stare at the figure standing in front of her––the figure of hell’s head honcho, Lucifer Morningstar. She couldn’t tell what he felt. The expression on his face was too well concealed. (name) opened her mouth, her lips trembling as she spoke. She couldn’t understand why such a man was here. 

“Hello,” (name) mutters out, holding her eye contact. 

Lucifer tilts his head and thankfully, he speaks. He didn’t sound angry, but he also didn’t sound all too pleased either. “Were you sent by Father? That divine power in you must mean something.” 

“I don’t even know why I’m here. What are you talking about..?” (name) was honest with her words. She stared at him helplessly, with a tone of desperation etched into her voice. “I don’t- I..” 

(name) could feel the tears building up in her eyes. She desperately wipes away her own tears, but they would only continue to patter right out. They were the tears of a showman. A through and through famous broadway star that presented their act as thorough as a michelin chef serving a full course five star meal. A meal that Lucifer bit into with little to none hesitation. 

He looks away regrettably. The flame of suspicion that once burned in his eyes flickering into dying embers. He truly wanted to believe (name). But this situation was far too… perfect. “I don’t know what I could do for you.” He summarizes up briefly and regrettably, and he turns around. He looks away. 

“W- Wait please. Don’t leave me here. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. If you could just give me a place to stay?” She lowered her head and pleaded. 

He turns his gaze back to her and his face morphs into a troubled expression. His lips curl into a worried frown and he balls his hands into a fist, where, (name) noticed, a wedding ring still nicely wrapped around his ring finger despite his widower status. He sighs and unclenches his hands. 

“You know I could be a totally bad guy, right?” Lucifer mutters. “You shouldn’t trust the first person you meet.”

“I know that. But you just seem.. Kind.” (name) was careful with her words, painting herself in an innocent light. A light that Lucifer would feel the need to protect. 

“Kind?” He narrows his eyes briefly, unsure. Yet as always, his gaze returns to her eyes. “Sure, why the hell not. Come, stay with me. But don’t blame me if you regret it too much.” 

(name) manages a small smile and held his hand, “I don’t think I will.” 

Her expression drops slightly when Lucifer’s grip on her hands tighten. His eyes narrowed and cut through her, “but if you’re lying… I promise you’ll find yourself in a situation far worse than being in hell.”

(name) nervously and shakily nods her head. “Got it.” 

2.7 pages

883 words

status: edited

Notes:

this is a story i created for fun, so updates are inconsistent~

only lucifer and alastor will be love interests currently.

also a small reminder, don't ask for posts/updates. it ruins my motivation to publish anything. if someone comments or personally asks, i might just consider postponing an update simply because.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Confessions on the Marauder

Echo x Reader

Summary- You and Echo finally have a moment alone on the Marauder. Of course the pressure gets to one of you, and confesses.

A/N- This is my first time writing for this fandom :) ! Possible OOC Echo, feel free to let me know any way I can improve! Love you all!!!

Word Count- 1,108

Defective. That's what you were told your whole life. Actually, that's what you were literally labeled since day one. A defective clone.

Unlike the rest- you didn't get any cool advancement. No special abilities. The only thing wrong- you were born female. How could the Kaminoan's be so careless! Ha, a female!

The thought almost made you want to laugh, smiling from ear to ear.

"Whats so funny?" Echo asks, craning his head from the 'Pilot' seat. You glanced from your seat next to him.

"Nothing important." He eyed you a moment longer before focusing on leaving hyperspace. The ship jolted, signaling the completion.

While typically Tech would be flying with Echo as Co-Pilot, this mission was different. Cid had sent just you and Echo to retrieve a package for her. A simple mission that was successful.

"Echo?" You asked, keeping your gaze out the window on purpose. Eyeing the planet you were getting closer to.

"Hm?" He responded.

"Can we not land yet?" You said, hesitant.

He slowed down the craft significantly, though still moving. "What for, we've got the package?"

"Yeah, I know. I just... I'm not ready to go back yet." You faced your fears and turned to look his way. To your surprise you were met with his gentle eyes, no sign of judgment.

"Did something happen?" Echo worried himself.

"No, no." You fought to tell him the truth, wavering.

"Then whats wrong?" To anyone who didn't know him, he might have sounded blunt and rude. You knew it was his own way of showing how he cared.

"Its just, it seems like forever since we've gotten a break. Mission after mission after mission." He kept his hands on the controls of the ship, but eyes on you. He waited for you to continue.

"In here, just us two... It's really relaxing." You said, trying not to sound too cliche.

"I can ask Hunter for you to sit the next mission out, you can stay with Cid." He suggested, trying to find a solution.

"It's not that Echo, I'd just feel guilty that I wasn't helping out. Pulling my weight y'know?" You were slightly hurt, thinking he missed the comment about the two of you.

"Five minutes. Five minutes of sitting here, no one knowing. Not being on guard every second, please?" This wasn't like you, but the crumbling weight of work and stress had put you at rock bottom. Desperate for a break.

Echo looked at you, understanding flashing through his eyes. He didn't respond, instead picked up his comlink.

"Minor detour, the package was distributed to the wrong planet. We've located it and are heading that way." Responses were exchanged, but it seemed everyone bought the lie.

You thanked him as he let the Marauder hover.

A few moments of silence went by. At first it was comfortable, but then you started to feel nervous. The reality of you and Echo being alone in the ship sunk in.

The man you had a crush on since you could remember. You wouldn't dare tell him, worried that he wouldn't feel the same. How could you continue on the team with denial weighing in the air.

You tried your best to seem smooth as you looked over to him.He sat with his eyes closed. Not asleep, just basking in the moment.

Eventually the silence got to you. You had to say something.

"How long do you think we'll do this?"

He peaked open his eyes, an indescribable look on his face. "This?"

You grew hot in the face. "I mean, the missions, working for Cid, fighting. Do you have any plans... after?"

"Well, I haven't put much thought into it. Were clones, it's just what clones do. I assume things are bound to change when Omega is old enough to look after herself." You started to pick at your nails, nervously, but stopped yourself in embarrassment.

You took a breath in to respond, but he continued.

"I do know that, as long as you're here. Then i'm content." You had never perked up so fast in your life, heart beating rapidly. He looks over at you, seemingly calm.

You take another deep breath, "Me? What if there's someone else, someone you want to make a different life with."

He looked at you with seriousness in his eyes. Not a shred of doubt in his next words. "There is no one else. No one else I would want anything else with. There's only you." He said it as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

"Why?" You immediately regretted your words. He just confessed and you froze up.

"Because I love you." He looked you dead in the eyes. You stood up from your seat, heart beating faster than any battle you'd been in.

He must have stood out of instinct, because he followed you up.

"Are you sure?" You asked, believing this was a dream.

"Yes."

It only took a single step to be as close as you could to him. Your breast pressed up against his chest. You tip-toed your way up to his face. Smashing your lips against his, dreadful in experience but just as lovely.

"I love you too, I have for years..." You claimed as you slightly pulled away, your foreheads touching.

You two simply breathed in each other for a moment, panting.

You pressed in for another kiss, just before your comlink went off. You heard Hunter calling your name and then- "...Echo! What's your current status?" Damn.

Echo responded before you could even get your thoughts straight. You mind hazy from the kiss. "Got the package, en-rout to Ord Mantell. Eta is still unknown." He lied, glancing at the said planet right in front of us.

You continued to stare up at him as he responded to Hunter, almost in a daze.

The second Hunter went out, Echo came down for another kiss, holding the small of your back.

After what felt like hours of kissing, you pulled away. The lack of oxygen dared you to take a step back, but you sharply breathed in through your nose.

Looking up at him, you realized he wasn't near as out-of-breath as you. He simply waited for your next move, patiently.

"What does this make us?" You asked, still pressed up against him.

"Whatever you want it to be..."

You smiled at this, responding with "I want it to be something. I want us to be something."

"Then we're something..." He leans down for one last kiss. Before the two of you have to break your pretty little bubble and return to reality. But for now, it was just you and Echo. Oh, and that secret something.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! Tags (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[rxmqnova]

Happy birthday, mama!

Y/N: 9 years old Story: Scarlett comes home after a stressful day to find a surprise waiting for her… ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Ever since Scarlett woke up today, the day has been a complete hell. Firstly, Y/N's babysitter cancelled as she's sick. Y/N being the hyper child she is, Scarlett just couldn't take her to the set with her.

After desperately calling all of her friends if they couldn't watch her daughter for the day, Lizzie was thankfully free and immediately came to watch her favorite niece.

That wasn't the only problem Scarlett had to solve for the day… she had troubles with her car, so she arrived late to the set. Her phone died and the filming was also very stressful, Scarlett just didn't have the best day.

Now she's finally on her way back home while Y/N and Lizzie are preparing everything for Scarlett's arrival.

After Scarlett left this morning, Y/N and Lizzie baked a birthday cake for the birtday girl. Y/N made a special sign saying 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMA!' that is now hanging in the living room.

"Your mom just pulled over" Lizzie announces with a smile, so you rush for the gift you got her and then stand with Lizzie under the sign.

A sigh of relief leaves Scarlett's lips as she shuts the front door after the horrible day she's had. She walks towards the living room, furrowing her brows as it's suspiciously quiet here.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Y/N and Lizzie shout as soon as they see Scarlett, making the blonde jump a bit.

"Oh my god" Scarlett chuckles, putting her hand over her chest and smiling when ber daughter hugs her tightly.

"Happy birthday, mama" Y/N repeats, looking up at her mom with a sweet smile.

"Thank you- wait… It's my birthday?" Scarlett asks surprised, completely forgetting today's date.

"You're so silly, mommy. Of course it's your birthday" Y/N laughs, shaking her head. "Come, you have to open your gifts" The 9-year-old says, taking Scarlett's hand in hers and dragging her to the couch.

"Honey, can I have something to eat first?" Scarlett lets out a chuckle, sqeezing her daughter's hand a little bit.

"Cake!" Y/N gasps. "Auntie Lizzie, can you help me please?" The girl rushes to Lizzie who's been watching the two with a smile.

"Baby, I think your mama would like dinner first. We'll have the cake later, okay?" Lizzie smiles softly, running her fingers through the little blonde's hair.

Y/N whines in response, she's really excited to see her mom's reaction on the gift she got her. Scarlett mouths a 'thank you' to her best friend who gives her a smile in response.

———

Scarlett finally ate her dinner, so now it's time for the cake that Y/N's been eagerly waiting for. Knowing how clumsy Y/N is, Lizzie better brings in the cake and Scarlett blows the candles.

"We made the cake, mama. Do you like it?" Y/N ask with a cute smile, looking at her mom while sitting comfortably on her lap.

"It looks so beautiful, honey. Thank you so much. You really didn't have to though" Scarlett smiles, pressing a kiss to Y/N's forehead.

"Oh come on. It's your birthday. Y/N wanted to make your day special and I was happy to help" Lizzie smiles warmly, running her fingures through Y/N's hair and receiving a smile from the little monkey.

"Mama, we need to eat some of the cake now, so you could finally open your gifts" Y/N says, looking at her mom and aunt seriously.

"You're right. We need to taste the cake" Scarlett smiles, pressing a few kisses to Y/N cheek which makes the girl laugh.

Once each of them eats a piece of the cake which Scarlett really liked, by the way. Y/N drags her mom back to the living room, so she could finally open her gifts.

"This is for you, mama!" Y/N grins, handing Scarlett the little box wrapped in a wrapping paper along with the card she drew for her earlier.

"Thank you, sweetheart" Scarlett smiles, bending down and kissing Y/N's forehead before taking the gifts and opening the card first.

Y/N wrote a little note in about how much she loves her mom which brings a few tears into Scarlett's eyes.

"That's so sweet. Thank you so much, baby" Scarlett pulls her daughter into a hug immediately, giving her a few kisses to the top of her head.

"That's not all, mommy. You need to open this too" Y/N chuckles, pointing at the gift Scarlett still hasn't opened.

"What could that be?" Scarlett teases, slowly opening the little box and gasping when she sees what her daughter got her.

Y/N got Lizzie to take her to the mall last time she was watching her and together they got her a silver necklace with Y/N's name on it. Lizzie knew there's nothing more Scarlett loves than her daughter, so this seemed to be a great birthday gift.

"Do you like it, mama?" Y/N asks sweetly, watching her mother's reaction carefully.

"It's so beautiful, baby. I love it. Thank you so much" Scarlett smiles, trying not to cry so she wouldn't make Y/N think she didn't like the present, because she absolutely loves it.

Scarlett puts the necklace on immediately, with Lizzie's help of course.

It's getting late though and Lizzie has to leave. She, of course, has a gift for her friend, but she's gonna give it to Scarlett at the birthday party the Marvel cast is planning for Scarlett on Friday.

Scarlett and Y/N decide to have a movie night then, so they cuddle up on the couch and watch Frozen as both girls like this movie.

Scarlett smiles when her daughter closes her eyes, falling asleep just a few minutes after the start of the movie. She kisses her little girl's head, whispering a few sweet things to her. Maybe the day wasn't as bad as it looked like it would be after all…

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

Happy birthday, Scarly!!! <33

Scarlett Johansson masterlist

Masterlist

[kidstemplatte]

Hi! I'm here to say I would read anything you have or make about Terzo as a dad!! 🥰🥰

the devil’s kiss

pairing: dad! terzo x female reader

summary: after giving birth to you and terzo’s first child, you discover there is something different about her.

message: hi angel!!! thanks so much for your request, i had an idea i absolutely loved, and as i kept writing it, i realized it could be split into several parts. what started as a few headcanons has now become a fully fledged story with characters of my own, and i’m a little in love with it if i’m being honest. it’s something very special and personal for me. i hope you enjoy this and i’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted!!

When your baby girl, Violetta, was born, many tears were shed. First, tears of pain. Then, tears of joy, tears of fear, and tears of joy once again.

And just barely after she took her first breath, entered this world, she was taken away before you knew it. Before you could even process her arrival, she was rushed out of the room.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” you cried in a panicked haze, weary from medication and high on adrenaline.

You had never felt such fear in your life. Terzo held your hand and muttered soft, rapid prayers in Italian and words of reassurance into your ear while you let out broken sobs, desperate to hold your daughter for the first time.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. She will be okay.”

Little did you know, he was just as afraid in that moment. But he kept a strong face, for you. For her.

“May Satanas bless our baby girl.”

And that he did.

Soon, a nurse entered the room, holding your daughter. She was a young woman, highlighted blonde hair pulled into a bun, wearing a dainty gold necklace with a small cross on the chain.

“Is she okay? Please, tell me she is okay.”

“She is perfectly healthy. She has what is called a port wine stain birthmark. We weren’t sure what it was initially, that’s why we rushed her out so quickly. I can’t apologize enough for the stress that caused, but you can breathe easy. She’s doing perfectly." The nurse explained, heart beaming with kindness. “You did a wonderful job. And you too, dad. You two are going to be great parents. Congratulations.” She reassured you, and with care, placed your baby into your arms.

“You know, some people consider marks like these an angel’s kiss. I do.” She remarked.

After catching sight of the pitch black grucifix on the bedside table, she was drawn aback. She was scared. But upon seeing the love in your eyes you had for your little girl, she quickly realized that neither of you could be evil. She couldn’t be scared of something because it was different.

“Or the mark of the devil. It’s really whatever makes you happy. The figure you may believe in, whether it’s God, the Universe, or Satan, whatever it is: they have blessed her. She is a special baby girl. Congratulations, you two.” And in the last few moments you spent with the nurse, you caught sight of her name tag that read “Elizabeth”.

And you were left with your precious baby girl, Violetta Elizabetta Emeritus.

“She’s beautiful.” you said, tears rushing down your face.

Eyes resembling your own, his raven hair, and of course, her devil’s kiss, entirely her own; a perfect representation of your love.

You had introduced Terzo to so many kinds of love, but nothing like this. Nothing like the moment when he caught sight of your baby girl for the first time. Nothing like the first time he held her, her skin so soft and eyes so big and round. His heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to make a perfect world for this child, it was his purpose beyond anything else. Nothing else mattered. The years of fame, traveling, money, and success meant nothing; she meant everything. The word “Papa” had become something entirely different, no longer a term of power, but one of love. He was her Papa. Nobody else’s.

A few minutes later, after you had spent some time with your newborn skin-on-skin, the doctor came back into the room and gave you another explanation of her condition, one that wasn’t as kind, but to the point.

“These birthmarks are rare. There are some conditions she may develop which correlate to the birthmark, but nothing to be too concerned about. Everything looks stable. She’s not in pain.”

She was safe with you, and that’s all that mattered.

After the doctor exited the room, Terzo kissed you on the forehead and stroked your hair gently through his fingers.

“I love you, amore mio. Le mie preziose ragazze. Il tuo fiore prezioso.”

——————————————————————

AAAAAAAA!

that’s it!!!

i really hope you enjoyed and please stay tuned for more dad terzo!!!

i got a little emotional writing this ngl,

remember that you are beautiful and so loved!

[thecclover-fanfictions]

The House That Waited For Its Lady

Carrying a dusty box down the stairs from her attic Camilla rolled her eyes, as she heard some noise penetrate up from the ground floor. She quietly moaned, why on earth the two rascals couldn´t live in harmony for just five minutes!

She hurried up to go down, yelling: “Tom! Laura! Stooop it!” But of course the little ones acted deaf, they just wrangled even louder. Camilla jumped down the last step and put the box on the next table. It rattled in there and Camilla prayed to God, that the crystal Christmas star, a precious present from her mother, had survived.

She sprinted over to her children, five years old Tom and the almost two years old Laura, who heavily battled for Laura´s doll. Tom tore at the legs and Laura desperately tried to tore at the arms. The doll almost burst, but with a determined “Stop it now!!” Camilla wrenched it out of her children`s grasp and put it on the fireplace mantel.

Laura started heavy to cry and rubbed her little eyes, Tom clenched his mother´s knee, under screaming too, to force her to go back to the fireplace. Yelling “Quiet! Quiet!” again and again Camilla finally freed out of Tom´s arms and stroke over Laura´s head.

The phone rung, moaning Camilla scuffled over and took the receiver: “Hello?”, she exhausted breathed. “Darling?”, a lightly worried voice asked her. Surprised, but brightly smiling now Camilla answered: “Hello darling!” “Everything alright with you? You´re sounding stressed out.” “Aaahhh…the children…and I wanted to start with the Christmas decoration and…but, darling, what´s up?”

She not even had ended her words, as Tom with wide spread arms jumped around and screamed: “Darling, darling, darling…” Laura had stopped crying and heavily giggled instead about her brother`s performance: “Daaalin, daaalin…” she tried to copy him.

Winced Camilla covered her mouth with her hand. She tried to never call Charles “darling” in her children´s presence, just “Sir”. But she hadn´t expect him to call at this time, as he usually was busy in the afternoon and so it just slipped out of her.

She ignored Laura´s and Tom´s noise, as she had tried to ignore Tom´s curious gaze last week. Charles was to visit and they had kissed, as she prepared tea for all of them in the kitchen. As she turned around, she terrified looked at Tom standing in the door frame with curious children´s eyes.

Quickly she distracted him with a biscuit, and similarly distracted were the children now with the next toy to fight for.

Charles laughed: “Oh, I see. The two are killing you today…!” Camilla just moaned as an answer. More serious now Charles asked: “Darling, the Christmas decoration and the chores…could it wait a few hours more…maybe?” Of course, if it was up to her, the bloody chores could wait the rest of her life…Charles continued: “So, then you could pack your rampaging little ones in your car and doing a little trip.” Camilla didn´t understand anything.

Charles finally enlightened her: “I´ve the opportunity to inspect a house. Maybe this time it´s the right for me.” During the last two years he had looked for a new home all over the country, as he hated Chevening House, a terrible bunker in his eyes. It was given to him to his disposal, but he never had used it. He looked for something special, where he could fulfil himself, as Camilla always encouraged him to do. And where he could start a family…

Camilla brightly smiled: “Really, dar…” She bit her tongue. “Of course I would like to see it. But it´s already afternoon, maybe it´s too late for the children then?” Suddenly Tom run over to her: “Mummy, Mummy! Is it Sir?” Camilla tried to avoid Tom´s grasp for the receiver. Charles laughed again: “Oh, the two really need a place to riot! But, don´t worry, darling. It´s just around twenty five minutes away from you!” Camilla couldn´t deny a rising joy. “Twenty five minutes!? Which house is it!?” “It´s called Highgrove, I think the former owners were the Macmillans.” “Oh yes! I think, I will find it! But,…how many people are there with you?” Charles had hard to think about, as he usually didn´t notice the amount of his entourage. “Uumm…two from the administration of the Duchy, two or three secretaries…not sure…maybe fifteen people or so. Why?” “Because…then I think it´s better to leave the children here. I will bring them to the neighbours.” Charles frowned: “Why? It´s enough place there, they can romp around!” Camilla breathed: “Chaaarles, you know…But, when will you be there?” “Around an hour, I think.” “Fine. I´ll be there!”, she answered joyfully. Charles paused for a few seconds and then quietly said: “Can´t wait, darling. I love you. And I…” he paused again and just said: ”So, well, see you then.” He blew a kiss into the receiver and hung up.

Quickly Camilla dialed the number of her neighbour Joanne. Of course she could bring the children along and it wouldn´t be a problem if her “urgent thing” would be last two or three hours. Joanne just knew, the “urgent thing” had to do something with the well-known young man in the blue Aston Martin Volante, who sped up the driveway to Boleyhyde Manor very, very often during the last months. And whom she had met before on a few of the Parker Bowles´ parties, where he dogged Camilla constantly with beaming eyes.

Fifteen minutes later Camilla locked the door of her house and put the children on the backseat of her car. It felt like ages to her until the frozen front window was finally freed from the ice. Meanwhile Tom and Laura had unpacked the bag with a small choice of their toys, but just for once didn´t fight. Camilla moaned, as she watched the mess on the backseat, but didn´t say anything as the two quietly played, finally.

She rushed down the driveway to the main street and after a half mile up the driveway to her neighbour. Joanne and her two kids already awaited them, Tom and Laura stormed into the house to occupy the toys laying around there. Camilla felt relieved that everything went so easy and kissed them good-bye. But in the doorframe Tom suddenly sprinted over to her and cried: “Mummy, I want to go to Sir!” Camilla winced and heavy blushed, as Joanne watched her. She bent down and quietly tried to comfort him, Joanne tactfully turned away. But Tom didn´t gave up, he loud insisted to visit “Sir” and now Laura had joined him. She excited wiggled with her arms and squealed: “Zzir…zzir…zzir!”

Camilla felt desperate. The time run by, Joanne could hear everything and the children didn´t stop. But she really couldn´t take them with her. She had no choice. Unpedagogical she promised them to watch TV, if they would come home later and a small portion of chocolate for each of them. And, of course, Sir would come to visit soon.

And finally she sat in her car again and started the engine. Hastily she lightened a cigarette and puffed it away by a half open window and the icy wind blowing in. She really should stop smoking, Camilla mused. She had tried before, and she actually had managed to stop it during the pregnancies. But it never didn´t take long. Charles had met a Yoga guru and he was sure that he could help her. But Camilla doubted that she was the type for doing Yoga and things like that. After five minutes she lightened the next cigarette.

And she thought of Tom and Laura and the fuss they made about Charles…

Somehow her life was perfect now, strange but perfect.

She couldn´t figure out, what exactly the reason was for the life she leaded now. For sure the deep love she shared with Charles since they first met. The love, that became stronger over the years, no matter what happened in their lives. In many ways she was closer to him as she was with her husband. But she loved Andrew too, just different. After the birth of Laura almost two years ago they hadn´t found back the way to be lovers again. There was no denial that Andrew´s constantly affairs with all sorts of women had really hurt her and deaden some kinds of feelings for him. But after all, she still loved him and they were a team, cared for each other and for their family and they were friends. She knew, she could trust in him, except for his faithfulness.

And then Uncle Dickie´s death a few months ago, Charles desperation…suddenly they were back together and it felt so right. Charles was the happiest man on earth now, he immediately stopped all of his half-hearted dates with potentially future brides and poured all of his love over her. And he had a lot of his love, Camilla giggled and she felt, how she beamed all over her face. Happiness hormones spread all over her body just by thinking of Charles and the fact, that he would hold her in his arms within the next few minutes.

Yes, she was really happy. She had a fulfilling relationship with Charles, in every way. Andrew knew everything and he didn´t have a problem with it. They had an agreement, mutually. The children came first, their welfare and happiness was the most important thing. They never should lose the feeling to have loving parents and a home, where they felt wanted and safe. And so Charles just had to be a close friend of the family for them.

But this was the problem actually. Andrew was stationed in Africa since a few weeks and now Charles visited them several times a week at home and stayed overnight very often. The children adored him. Tom hung on him all the time and begged for telling stories, rampaging and playing with him. And Laura loved to crawl around on him and to be carried on his shoulders and flying through the air in his arms. Charles was just brilliant with them and she knew, he loved them very much too.

So, she felt, for the children he was more than a friend of the family now. But bringing them out into his busy life, with all the entourage and the curious staff members wouldn´t be right for them. And it would break the agreement with Andrew. Charles knew all of this, but he was on cloud nine since months and sometimes tried to ignore the reality.

And the reality was something Camilla tried to push aside as well now. If it was up to her, she would go on with her current life for ages. But this just was impossible, it ached in her heart. The house was the first step into a new life for Charles. He was over thirty years old now, all the world waited for him to get married and having children.

On one hand it would be the greatest joy for her to know him so near to her. But on the other hand she hardly could endure the thoughts of him embracing and kissing a wife just a few miles away from her. She frightened the day she had to say good-bye to him and she frightened, if and how she would be able to cope the rest of her life living without his love and watching him happily married on the TV and in the papers and sometimes face to face.

With a racing heart she lightened the next cigarette.

But she had to concentrate on finding the right way now and slowed down her car. Suddenly she spotted a Range Rover parked at an exit to the left hand and noticed someone from Charles´ security. Now her heart jumped and continued racing, but in pleasant expectation now. Slowly she turned into the small street, the security man recognized her immediately and smiling let her pass.

The driveway was quiet bumpy, it seemed nobody had really cared for a longer time for the estate. After around two miles Camilla passed an old and rusty gateway and had already forgotten her sorrows. She couldn´t wait five seconds longer to see her little prince again, though he had left them just two days ago in Boleyhyde.

But her little prince seemed to be impatient as well, as he stood in front of the house and stared down the way to the gate. Hastily Camilla parked her car behind the row of Range Rovers and jumped out. For one second she had suddenly lost the orientation, but found herself back lifted up by Charles arms and steadied on his shoulders. Camilla squeaked and giggling hit his shoulders: “Let me down, let me down…!” Charles roguish laughed: “First you have to tell me, where you´d had been for so long!” “Whaaat? You´ve called me just an hour ago!” Charles laughed again and let her down: “No, I´m just here for a few minutes as well.”

His eyes were flooded with adoration for her, he cupped her face and kissed her gently. While sucking her lips and sending flashes down Camilla´s spine he breathed: “And I actually meant, why you haven´t been in my arms all the time over the last years.” In this moment Camilla really didn´t know why, Charles kisses let swirl her mind and burn her body for him. She flung her arms around his neck and they deeply kissed, their faces covered with bliss and happiness.

Now they stood in front of the house, arm in arm, and looked up the front. It was a bit shabby, the plaster was damaged and shaped in an almost rusty colour, but the size of the house seemed to be alright. Three floors, not too huge, but suitable enough to present The Prince of Wales, to receive guests for receptions and parties and still enough space for private life.

They got in into the entrance hall, where Charles staff swirled around and they met the trustee of the house owner, who would show them around. With wide eyes he stared at Camilla, he hadn´t expected The Prince of Wales in the arm of an unknown woman, but obviously very much in love. Charles ignored it and didn´t let loose of Camilla with her blushed face. His staff knew her anyway, since years, nobody really wondered that they were back together since a few months.

Four reception rooms surrounded the entrance hall in the ground floor with small rooms for the servants to prepare something, all in all a bit bedraggled, but not too much workload to refurbish. Charles liked the huge baroque stair in the centre of the house and the marble floor. In the back part of the ground floor was located the huge kitchen with a very ancient equipment. Totally waste, but nothing what Charles would disturb. In fact, he wasn´t interested in the kitchen any longer, as he had found a little treasure. Meanwhile he got loose of Camilla, who sceptical looked around in the kitchen.

Suddenly she heard an excited, but tenderly “Darling, darling, look at this!” somewhere from the outside. She found Charles in a very small garden, flanking the kitchen, and she slipped out of the small, shabby door. Charles stared at her with a gleaming face and almost children´s eyes and breathed enraptured: “A small herb garden!” Camilla had to giggle over his cuteness, he was totally away with it and spellbound turned around. Though it was winter, a few herbs still bloomed and he picked a little piece, deeply smelled at it with closed eyes and put it under Camilla´s nose with a raptured smile.

Camilla deeply breathed in the flavour and suddenly Charles tickled her nose with the herb. Giggling and laughing they teasingly battled around and Camilla fell on her bottom. Charles laughing pulled her up, embraced her tightly and whispered with an adoring gaze: “And, do you like it here?” But she couldn´t answer, as a member of staff entered the small garden and asked Charles for something.

They inspected the next floor. Enough space for livings rooms, dining rooms and one or two offices. There was a small lift from the kitchen and a hidden stair for the servants with small rooms again to prepare something. Actually perfect for leading a princely household. Nothing really spectacular, but with the right decoration and furniture it would give a pretentious, but still cosy home, Charles was convinced.

He didn´t know why, but this was the first house where he slowly could imagine to build a home. Holding her hand tightly he leaded Camilla from room to room and constantly asked her, what she would think about the house. And she liked it, somehow it suited to Charles and she could imagine him to giving it his personal touch.

A circular stair leaded them up to the third floor with the really private rooms. Again Charles pushed Camilla from room to room, but almost said nothing now. Crossing the corridor they spotted a huge window and rushed over. Looking out Charles was almost speechless and clutched Camilla´s hand even tighter. A huge garden almost touched the horizon, in fact, it wasn´t really a garden. Just an unending lawn, now and then grew a few trees. But in Charles mind it already started to work. It was perfect, just perfect. Exactly, what he wanted. Here he could live up his dream of a garden right out from the paradise.

Camilla knew what he thought and felt exactly the same. Full of joy she embraced him and kissed his cheek. Charles beamed at her and they didn´t need to exchange words, as usual. Excited Charles whispered to her: “Wouldn´t it be perfect to wake up here and looking out to the paradise?” He gently kissed her, stroke her cheeks and whispered again: “After looking into your beautiful eyes, of course?” Camilla´s heart jumped and ached at the same time. Of course, it would be heaven to live here with him, or to live with him at all, but it never could be reality.

She touched his cheek and just whispered back: “Oh darling…” Charles laid an arm around her and they went over to the corridor. He pointed to one room: “Look, this could be the right for Tom.” He pointed to the next room: “Maybe this one for little princess Laura…” Camilla interrupted him with a stretched “Daaaarling!”, but squeezed his hand. But Charles didn´t stop. His index finger wandered around: “And still enough space for more little cheeky monkeys.”

Camilla felt a knot in her stomach, slowly rising up to her throat and she shortly sobbed. If the circumstances were different, there would be nothing more she could wish for and, would fight for. Charles knew it, of course. And he also knew, that the both of them couldn´t change anything of this situation. But it almost killed him and he barely could bear the truth. He wanted to continue, but Camilla desperately covered her face with her hands and sobbed: “Darling, stop…!”

Sighing from the bottom of his heart Charles hit the door frame with his fist and turned around. With a grumpy face he stared out, one hand steadied against the wall. He was angry. Of course not with Camilla, he was angry of his life, again. Angry of his ancestry, of the strange traditions in his family, of the supposedly expectations from the public into him and angry, that he couldn´t do anything against it.

Camilla tiptoed over to him, embraced him from behind and leaned her head against his back. They just stood there, for a certain time. Now Charles, still staring out into nowhere, squeezed her hand and stroke her back of the hand with his thumb. Desperately he whispered: “It´s senseless to own a house, where you can´t live with me.” He had tears in his eyes and gulped. Camilla kissed his back, still leaned against him: “I can come to visit.” Charles desperately shook his head: “No! If you aren´t the lady of the house, it´s all senseless. Everything is senseless.”

Camilla turned around on him and snuggled against his chest, tightly embracing him. Charles flung his arms around her and kissed her hair. Camilla mumbled into his jacket with a teary voice: “You should think about buying the house. Maybe a few days. I think it´s perfect.” Charles kissed her hair again and pressed her tighter against him. He gulped again, but he knew, she was right. As most of the time.

Silent, hand in hand, they walked downstairs. His staff members still swirled through the house, inspecting everything and discussing with the trustee form the owner family.  A few of them stormed over to Charles, as he got down, but he waved aside and just walked on with Camilla through the backdoor.

And once again they were smitten. They stood in the backyard and stared at a huge old cedar next to the house. They got nearer and admired the tree that somehow had a magical presence.

Charles mumbled: “Yes, I should really think about to buy it. Come, let´s have a short walk over to the garden.” Camilla fumbled in her jacket pocket and fetched out her cigarettes. Charles playfully moaned: “So well, I´ll have the walk and you´ll stay here committing your sins…” Camilla arched back her head in laughter: “Committing my sins without you!?” Charles pinched her nose: “Love you, too.”

Grinning Camilla lightened her cigarette and Charles walked over to the garden. After a few steps he turned around to look at her and suddenly stopped. He watched her for a while, standing there under the old cedar, and fast and determined he stepped back with a serious facial expression.

He ripped off her cigarette and trampled it. Resolute he grabbed her shoulders and said: “I will buy the house.” Camilla was confused and stuttered: “Whaaat?” Charles determined repeated: “I will buy the house.” Camilla was surprised over his impromptu decision: “So well, but…”

Charles stepped nearer to her, cupped her face and with a serious, but tender and adoring gaze whispered: “Because I just watched us in thirty years, here on this place, coming back from a stroll through the garden, and kissing you right here under this wonderful tree.” He gently pecked her lips and then started to kiss her tenderly, getting deeper and more passionate bit by bit. And for one moment Camilla believed to see it too.

x

Around thirty years later, at one of the last sunny and warm September days, she stood at exactly the same place. After a walk through the garden with her husband, embracing and kissing him under the huge old cedar.

[avocado-writing]

can i request tangerine, ladybug, or lemon proposing to their significant other (gender neutral or male) please? i spent the entire weekend reading your work! it’s so good!!! thank you!

I decided to do these all but as lil bullet pointed lists, hope you enjoy!

Tangerine

probably going to be a big gesture to show how much he loves you, but he only will do it when he’s sure you’ll say yes

Like booking out the whole of your favourite fancy restaurant or something, only other people there are a couple of waitstaff, a bartender, and a band quietly playing in the background 

Disgustingly romantic. Can’t convince me this guy isn’t soft for his other half

But also stressed himself the fuck out beforehand over it. on the phone like “what do you mean you don’t have the fucking Sauvignon blanc in?! It’s their favourite!! THE NIGHT WILL BE RUINED”

You get the idea about what he’s going to do when you see what’s been set up

Halfway through dinner or whatever event he has planned he starts launching into this speech about how much he “fucking loves you” but he’s nervous and he feels daft for it, what sort of silly sod gets nervous over something like this?

So you just take his hand across the table and nod, encouragingly 

When he gets down on one knee you see he’s had the ring engraved especially (proving he had to buy it, not nick it)

And how could you ever say no to your Tangerine?

Lemon

it’s not as showy as Tan but that doesn’t mean it’s not special 

Probably somewhere where it’s just the two of you. Like he’s planned a date night with you, where he’s cooked dinner specially (lemon is a good cook, it’s canon sorry) then you watch your favourite movie 

You’re sitting together with a bucket of popcorn between you, your hands meet in it, there’s a pause and he’s like “I want to ask you something”

Digs in his pocket, there’s a ring

It’s not that you weren’t expecting it, but it’s a lovely surprise 

Give him his answer in a long smooch

Ladybug 

he proposes in the middle of a mission going wrong 

Look at him. His luck is so bad. He just sort of screams it at you while the two of you are being shot at, taking cover behind his car (it’s his third in as many months. They just keep getting shot)

But you know it’s something he’s been considering for a long time. The question might be spur of the moment, but the sentiment behind it isn’t 

His eyes are wide and desperate and honest 

You tell him of course you’ll marry him, if you get out of this one alive

(You do)

[feverishly-kpop]

Jongho & Ateez - Stomach Bug

Jongho is the strong maknae. He can split apples apart with his bare hands. He can lift his teammates with ease. So when he woke up to his alarm clock feeling less than ideal with an ache in his stomach Jongho knew he was in for a long day.

There wasn’t one member among them who wouldn’t drop everything to make sure that their teammates had everything that they needed if they were under the weather or hurt. They didn’t consider Seonghwa their “mom” for no reason. And some of the members liked being taken care of, but not Jongho. Being the youngest comes with a certain amount of special attention from everybody in their inner circle that he’s never been very comfortable with. Wooyoung would have been better suited as the group’s maknae whereas Jongho would have preferred to be a member of the hyung line.

Nonetheless, Jongho didn’t have time to dwell on the discomfort, knowing that he’d be late for his vocal lesson if he didn’t get moving. After locking himself in the bathroom he took a good look at his face in the mirror. He didn’t look too unwell besides the dark circles under his eyes, nothing a touch of sheer concealer couldn’t remedy. After applying a touch of makeup and swallowing a pain tablet, Jongho felt relatively confident that he’d make it though the day.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by San knocking on the door, his voice sounding stressed.

“Jongho, you’re not the only one with schedules this morning, hurry up” San called as Jongho looked down at his watch. He’d been occupying the bathroom longer than he had realized but wasn’t sure where the time had gone. As he opened the door, exiting with a quiet apology, San ran in with his towel, rushing to get a shower in before he had to leave.

“Yeah, good morning to you too, hyung” Jongho muttered under his breath as his eyes rolled involuntarily.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Jongho jumped at the voice behind him, not realizing that he wasn’t alone. Of course it was Seonghwa, the mother hen making sure that the baby chick had eaten before he left for the day.

“I’m not hungry, thanks though” Jongho replied as he slipped his shoes on. His ride would be there any minute to take him to work and he didn’t want to keep anyone waiting. But even more than that, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to stomach any food with the pain he was feeling in his stomach still.

“Hey, please have at least a little something before you go” Seonghwa countered. Seonghwa was used to the members neglecting themselves in favor of fulfilling their numerous obligations, and he took a firm stance on making sure that his dongsaengs were taken care of, even when they needed a second or third reminder. This was especially true for the youngest.

“I said I wasn’t hungry” Jongho said coldly as he grabbed his coat of the rack. He hadn’t intended on sounding so aggressive and internally cringed when he saw how dejected his hyung looked at his response.

“Okay how about a protein bar for later? Or I can make you a smoothie? Or even…” Seonghwa tried again, desperate to ensure that his maknae had something before leaving for his solo schedule.

Rationally, Jongho knew that Seonghwa’s intentions were never anything less than good, but he was simply not in the mood for it today and the words rolled off his tongue before his brain could stop them.

“Is this how you treat Hongjoong? Or Yunho? Contrary to belief I am an adult too. If I say I’m not hungry, I’m not hungry. Stop treating me like some sort of kid.”

Jongho instantly knew that he messed up. Seonghwa had never done anything to deserve that treatment from him and Jongho would have never treated him that way under normal circumstances. His pain and irritability were no excuse but, unsure what to say or do next, he quickly turned around and opened the door, slipping out without another word.

*~*~*~*~*~

The sky was overcast and there was a damp chill in the air as the season changed from winter to spring. Jongho stared blankly out the window at nothing in particular on the ride to the company, gently rubbing his stomach as he waited for the pain medicine to kick in.

“What time do you think you’ll be done” his manager asked from the driver’s seat, glancing briefly in the rear-view mirror when he didn’t get an answer. “Jongho?”

Jongho was pulled from his thoughts at the mention of his name. “I’m sorry what?” he asked, not having heard the initial question.

“I was just asking what time you’d be done, so I can make sure you have a ride home” his manager repeated.

“Oh, I’m not sure…” Jongho started before his manager cut in.

“It’s okay, do you want me to check with the the vocal coach when we get there?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll figure it out later” Jongho replied, his head feeling a little too foggy to think much about logistics right now.

“I just don’t want you walking back today. It’s still pretty cold out and I don’t like the idea of you walking back alone” his manager said firmly.

“Really?” Jongho said dryly. First Seonghwa, now his own manager?

His manager was about to respond before Jongho continued. “I am more than capable of figuring out when my lesson will be over. And I’m also more than capable of getting myself a ride. And, you know what, if I want to walk home, I’ll walk home. You all act like I’m helpless” Jongho said in a slightly raised voice.

His manager only sighed as they pulled into the parking garage. It was clear that Jongho wasn’t himself today but it was even more clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. After putting the car in park, he turned back to Jongho.

“I know you’re not helpless, Jongho” he said cautiously. “But I’d say the same thing to my own kids. There’s no reason to freeze and walking alone isn’t safe when…”

“Luckily I’m not a kid. Thank you for the ride” Jongho responded curtly, opening the door to the car to exit before his manager could finish.

*~*~*~*~*~

Jongho had been practicing for an hour and the pain medication still hadn’t kicked in. In fact, the uncomfortable pain he had felt when he woke up that morning had turned into a stabbing pain, complete with a mounting sensation of nausea.

“Your upper register sounds strained today” his vocal coach said softly as she handed him a bottle of water. “Have you been overusing your voice this week?”

Jongho shook his head as he sipped the water she had given him. He couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t sitting well in his stomach and took a couple quick deep breaths with the hope of calming it down before speaking.

“No, I haven’t been overusing it” he responded before adding “well, no more than usual. You know, just for performance and rehearsal.”

She nodded thoughtfully, considering the best course of action before speaking up.

“It’s okay, we all have off days” she said kindly, “let’s call it a day so you can try and rest your voice for the rest of the day. No more singing today, and, if the schedule allows, no singing tomorrow.”

Jongho had been working with the same vocal coach since before debut. She had never been anything but absolutely kind and gracious with him and today was no exception. Yet he couldn’t help but feel that he had disappointed her today.

“Please, can I try just one more time?” Jongho managed to squeak out, his voice shaky from the increasing nausea. “I know in can do better.”

She smiled in response, shaking her head as she stood up from the piano. “I know you can do better too!” She replied, collecting her sheet music. “Your voice is your instrument, sometimes it requires some maintenance. It happens to all of us. Nothing to worry about.”

Jongho nodded lightly making sure to confirm the date and time of their next practice before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. For a moment he felt defeated, but that feeling was quickly replaced with a wave of nausea that he could no longer ignore. Quickly clasping his hand over his mouth, Jongho ran to the nearest washroom as fast as his body would allow.

*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Jongho was done vomiting what felt like everything he had eaten in his entire life, he knew that he was far sicker than he had originally anticipated. And, to add insult to injury, he didn’t have a ride back home because he had been so impertinent with his manager that morning.

Not only was Jongho strong, but he was also proud. A combination that made him confident and capable. But sometimes it was also to his detriment, like now, leaving him unable to call his manager back to admit that he was wrong and that he needed a ride. So with that, he decided to set off on the thirty minute walk from the company back home.

*~*~*~*~*~

Half way through his walk, Jongho knew he had made a massive mistake. The cold breeze had fully penetrated through his coat, leaving him shivering uncontrollably. As luck would have it, it had also started raining lightly. No more than a mist really, but enough to contribute to the unbearable chill Jongho was experiencing. And the nausea, coming in unrelenting waves, made it all but impossible to continue walking. Pulling his hat down a bit farther over his brow, Jongho admitted defeat and flopped down onto a bench situated near the sidewalk.

He took out his phone, dialing his manager’s number with trembling hands. Luckily, the call was answered almost immediately.

“Hyung, c-c-can you give me a ride home?” Jongho felt ashamed asking.

“Of course Jongho, I can be to the company in five minutes” he replied, sensing something off in Jongho’s tone.

“No” Jongho blurted out quickly. “I’m not at the company. I tried to walk…”

His manager only sighed, silent for a few moments before speaking again. “Drop a pin on your location and send it over. I’ll be there as soon as I get it.”

Luckily for Jongho, his manager had been nearby completing some personal business and was there within a few minutes. His heart dropped when he saw Jongho sitting on the bench with his knees drawn into his chest in an attempt to stay warm.

“Aish kid,” his manager muttered under his breath and he put the car in park and jumped out. “What did I tell you about walking today?” His voice sounded more concerned than angry. “This is how you get sick, Jongho” he said, grabbing Jongho’s hands and pulling him to his feet.

And that was all it took. With absolutely no notice Jongho’s stomach did a somersault sending the remaining contents of his stomach onto his manager’s shoes. Absolutely mortified Jonho looked up, his tearful eyes meeting the shocked eyes of his manager.

“Hyung, I think I’m already sick.”

*~*~*~*~*~

“I swear to you, Joong, it was the weirdest thing” Seonghwa said, recounting his run in with the maknae that morning. Seonghwa, Mingi, and Hongjoong had been working on some music at the kitchen table together before Hongjoong finally closed his laptop and asked Seonghwa what was bothering him. They all knew each other well enough to know when something wasn’t right.

“He seemed really offended, and it was totally out of the blue” Seonghwa added. He had been replaying the events of that morning over and over in his head, trying to figure out what had actually transpired and why.

“It’s not you, hyung” Mingi said confidently, resting a comforting hand on Seonghwa’s wrist. “He’s probably just tired.” Hongjoong nodded in response.

“Let’s call it a day as far as work is concerned” Hongjoong said as he stood up and put his laptop away. “We could watch a movie…” he began before turning to the living room and seeing Yunho fast asleep on the couch. “Okay maybe not a movie, but we can, I don’t know” Hongjoong sputtered, making eye contact with Mingi in a way that looked like he was pleading for help, desperate to come up with something to get Seonghwa’s mind off of what had happened that morning.

“We could go for coffee?” Mingi added tentatively, throwing a lifeline to Hongjoong who gladly accepted.

“Yeah, we could go for coffee, what do you think about that?” Hongjoong parroted back, but before Seonghwa had the opportunity to respond, all three heard the click of the lock following by the doorknob turning and the manager entering with Jongho. After pulling his jacket off, he managed to get Jongho to the couch at Yunho’s feet.

Yunho’s eyes quickly shot open as he kicked the heavy blanket off to the floor, startled by Jongho’s sudden arrival.

“I’m up, I’m up. I’m ready to leave” Yunho said, clearly confused after waking so unexpectedly.

“Wait, what? Never mind…” the manager muttered, turning back to Jongho and removing his soaking wet shoes. Jonho sat in silence, his eyes cast down.

Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Mingi shared awkward glances, their eyes shifting between Jonho who was now turning his head away and wiping tears from his eyes, to Yunho who was still trying to find his bearings, to the manager who’s runners did not seem to match the slacks and blazer he was wearing.

“Are you feeling a bit better, Jongho?” The manager’s attention remained fully on the maknae, who was now hiding his face in his hands but nodding.

“What’s…going on?” Mingi was the first to speak up, trying to make sense of the situation.

The manager’s eyes shifted from Jongho to Mingi then quickly back to Jongho. He was clearly trying to decide how to handle all of it.

“Jongho, do you want to take a shower or head right to bed?” His voice was calm as he spoke.

“Just bed” Jongho replied. Mingi instantly moved to Jongho’s side, ready to help get him up and ready for bed despite still being clueless about what was actually going on.

The manager sighed, relieved that the situation was under control. He reached down and grabbed Yunho’s blanket. “Sorry to wake you Yunho, go back to sleep, okay?” he added as he draped the blanket over him.

Finally he turned back to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, indicating toward the kitchen. They followed him quietly, neither of them sure what to say.

“Maknae is sick” the manager said quietly to Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Seonghwa sighed, now better understanding why Jongho had been so temperamental. “Was he okay with you guys this morning?”

Seonghwa instantly shook his head. “I didn’t realize he was sick. But he was really irritable. He got mad at me for trying to get him to have some breakfast.”

The manager nodded. “He got upset with on the drive in this morning as well. He tried to walk home out of spite it would seem. When I picked him up he vomited…on my loafers.”

Hongjoong grimaced. At least that explained the runners. “Thank you for getting him back” he replied.

*~*~*~*~*~

Over the next few hours the rest of the members began to return home from their schedules and Yunho had woken from his nap. They were all gathered in the living room, quietly eavesdropping on the conversation between Seonghwa and Jongho.

“I’m not a baby” Jongho said for the umpteenth time, this time in response to Seonghwa bringing him a cup of ginger tea in bed.

“I know you’re not” Seonghwa replied softly, running his hand through Jongho’s hair. “But you are sick. So drink your tea.”

Jongho rolled his eyes but listened to his hyung and took a sip.

Satisfied with that, Seonghwa turned his back to leave Jongho to rest.

“Hyung,” Jongho called out softly. “I’m sorry for this morning.”

Seonghwa shook his head. “It’s okay” he responded before pausing for a moment. “Listen, Jongho, you’re our youngest. We care about you. But we also respect your boundaries. If we ever make you feel uncomfortable you have to let us know. But understand that we’ll never stop loving you, maknae. So get used to it.”

Jongho smiled and nodded, taking another sip of his tea before putting it down on his bedside table.

“I love you too, hyung” he said as he laid back down, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

“Oh, one last thing” Seonghwa said from the doorway. “I put a bucket by your bed in case you need to get sick again. No more puking on anybody’s shoes today.”

Jongho groaned at the embarrassing reminder, knowing he’d never live that down. But that came as part of the package as the maknae. He’d figure out another way to get his hyungs back for it, once he was feeling better.

[bluelolblue]

Hiiiii I’m excited to work on your last ask today!! ✨But also:

I liked your post about the comfort plush, that’s so cuuuuuute! What are some things Santino does to comfort himself and to cope when things are hard? (Can be healthy or unhealthy coping mechanisms 😈) Things like hugging that plush, deep breathing…smoking lmao

AAYY YAYAYY I get zoomies every time I get an ask from you THANK YOU SO MUUUUUCHHHHH 💖💙💖💙💖💙💖

Ehhehe I can't wait to finish the sequel for the TOSOP so the whole plushie thing will make more sense 🤭

Okay the plushie is from his childhood, so it really means a lot to him. I don't wanna spoil it too much for the fic, but it's something that's special to him. Just so many memories. You'll see I promise :)

A healthy way to cope for him is John massaging him! He can be really tense and John can feel it while massaging him. His shoulders, his back, his legs. And he feels so light after it, like he can't move, he is just spread out on the bed and he feels amazing. Bc I think John can SQUEEZE HARD. He wants to be gentle but c'mon it's Santino. He wants it hard. So, Santino is just... exhausted but in a good way yk it's relaxing.

Smoking is a way for him to cope when things get hard. It's one of the unhealthy coping mechanisms that he does. He gets that urge to do it. When he's really stressed out or something pisses him off... he pulls out the cigarettes. I do think they calm him down a bit, but then again it also still affects his nervous system

So um... it helps but also doesn't. Depends really on the day I think as well.

Another unhealthy coping mechanism I'd say is drinking wine (specifically red wine). Okay, he is not an alcoholic obviously, but sometimes he would pour himself a glass of wine. And when John catches him doing that, Santino just goes, "Well, it relaxes me, leave me alone >:[" I mean, John can't do much but to tell him to go easy on it. A little bit of alcohol can't hurt. And he never gets drunk, he just wants to relax.

Deep breathing is more of the healthier way to cope. But he usually does it when John is with him, because John has to remind him to do that. And he often does it with him to encourage him, since Santino kinda feels embarrassed about it. John holds his hand and is like "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. C'mon just like we practiced." Sure, he does it alone, too but most of the times John has to be with him for that.

It gets a bit suggestive from here :]

Okay, another coping mechanism is... sexy time. Another way he wants to relax is with sex. I think it's a fact that... masturbation and sex can help relaxing... bc of some hormones? Something like that I think. So, of course, Santino would be all clingy and flirty with John. And he would rub against him in bed until he gets what he wants. John knows it's one of his coping mechanics, so he gives it to him. But he feels bad that Santino is that desperate and that this is the way to relax. He just wants the best for him. Sometimes, it's like a slow, desperate sex but sometimes when Santino needs it rough... it can also be like that. And well masturbation as well.

A little extreme coping mechanism is destroying stuff! Literally tearing off papers or destroying random things. Usually, John has to calm him down in those situations and tell him that if he wants to destroy something, he can, but he wants to be with him during it in case he hurts himself accidentally. John just wants him to be safe. He guides him through it.

Another more relaxing way of coping is... go for a swim in the sea! If they're on a vacation or just near sea, it's something Santino likes, it's relaxing to him. And well my headcanon that he loves going to the beach. He needs to inhale that sea scent, it makes him calm. And swimming in it, preferably if John is with him... he feels happy and relaxed ^ ^

There are probably some more ways for him to relax and cope but these are the ones I had I mind for now. As you can see I wanna go to the sea again, I have that urge to just GO TO THE BEACH AND SWIM IN THE SEA

Anyways, Santino has lots of coping mechanisms, some are healthy and some are not really... but it's easier when John is with him :)