#that time of the month when I'm in the mood to actually paint something

[kokodrawings]

Artober day 21: Golden

[stevebabey]

question on my lips

kia ora my loves, i'm stuck with writers block on another piece and this is hopefully the cure <3 its all sweetness as usual [established relationship + fluff + 2k words] mucho mwahs as ALWAYS <3!

Steve’s in a bad mood.

Which might be very fair considering the state of the weather outside. Flurries of snow batter against the windows and a hair-raising chill leaks into the panes, painting them in condensation. It’s cold. You don’t want to be caught outside on a night like tonight.

But, somewhere across town, there’s a reservation under Steve’s name that is being wasted. At a pretty restaurant, with 2 too many forks for your taste — but Steve had insisted. Even put on a suit.

And even though Steve has told you he prefers the quieter nights in with just the two of you, he seems quite… miffed that you can’t go anymore.

Maybe not quite a bad mood but… well, it’s a hell of a pout he’s wearing.

Amber drenches the wall of the room, lit by your bedside table lamps — a cozy cocoon that feels worlds away from the blizzard coming down outside. You’re actually quite excited; there’s seldom a comfort like being in Steve’s arms when it’s cold like this. Tangled together in your bed, letting his perpetually blazing heart heat the both of you.

But… he’s still pouting. You’re both unwinding a bit, taking off what you’d managed to put on before the weather took a turn for the worse — but Steve’s stuck, hands in his pockets. He seems to be fumbling with something.

His silence worries you more. Maybe you hadn’t realised how actually upset he was that your plans were cancelled.

He had been mentioning it all week, all month actually- since he’d first made the booking. Some claim that you’d love the food and he loved any occasion to see you all dressed up and drool-worthy— (“Not that that’s not all the time, babe.”)

“Steve?” You say. His head jumps up, hands in his pockets going still. “C’mon, come to bed.”

He softens at your coaxing words. Like the very sound of them, the sweet nature of your words, melts his hardened edges. He nods, tugging off his tie and beginning to work on his belt.

In the meantime, you creep into the bed. It smells like a smattering of something sweet that you know to be Steve’s hairspray, fabric softener, and maybe what you think love might smell like if it had a scent. You sink into it lovingly. Warm. Safe.

Your eyes find him instinctively. Watching, observing, drinking in the sight of your lover soothes you like nothing else. Love spools messily in your chest, like a knotted ball of yarn strewn through your ribs. It aches sweetly. Steve catches you as he’s pulling a pair of sweatpants up his calf.

“You’re staring,” He states plainly, but he’s smiling a bit, lips turned up in the corners. He jumps, hiking his pants up over his hips, and wanders closer.

You nod, hair scrunching against the pillow. Your voice comes out a bit muffled when you speak. “That a crime?”

Steve grins this time. He pushes the covers back, kneeling on the mattress beside you — pausing to push back the hair covering your eyes. He smiles down at you, eyes fond. “If it is, lock me up, baby.”

He pauses, thumb drifting over cheekbone lightly. “I could look at ya all day.”

Something delightful purrs behind your ribs, warm and all-encompassing. Where you would’ve once hidden your face away, this time you just let your glee wash over your face — and let Steve see every second of it. You’re happy. Steve makes you happy.

Steve gives an awed exhale and flops, bouncing down on the mattress beside you. He works the duvet around, bundling up as best he can before his hands begin to search for you. Traversing across the sheets, seeking, til they meet skin. He hums happily. Pulls you into his chest and lets you figure out how you want to wrap around him, like unkempt ivy. He’s warm, as always.

You’re not even trying to sleep yet, either of you, just having a moment huddled up in each other's embrace. The wind whirls loudly outside. You wonder what you’d be doing if your plans had gone through.

“M’sorry,” you say into his chest. It rises and falls with his breath, soothing and constant. “That we couldn’t do dinner. Y’seemed really excited.”

Steve makes a little noise, saying that he agrees. For a moment, your words hang in the air and then he clears his throat, pulling you closer.

“S’okay, not like you can control the weather.” He murmurs his reply. He pulls back to peer down at you with suspicious eyes, a tease on his tongue. “Can you? Because as your boyfriend, I should totally know that, and considering what we’ve seen—“

“Shut up,” you giggle. You poke him in the ribs because you can’t think of a good jibe back.

“Shutting up,” Steve says, before snuggling back closer. There’s another moment of quiet. The window rattles in the absence of words. Steve sighs.

“Just…” He starts. You can already tell he’s got his thinking face on, a little furrow between his brows. “Had some good plans for tonight, is all. Not a big deal.”

“A plan within a plan,” you muse thoughtfully. Steve chuckles. “How layered this night could of been!”

“And instead, you just have to have this, huh?” Steve murmurs, dejection creeping into his voice. Your heart twists. He must’ve planned a lot just to watch it go down the drain.

You pull back from his embrace and catch his eyes, searching his face. Disappointment lingers in his expression and it pushes a pout onto your lips.

“Well, is there anything we can do? That was like your plans?” You ask.

Steve breaks into a grin, giving a chuckle — but a glint in his eyes says he’s grinning for another reason. He stares at you lovingly, eyes dragging up and down your face as he seemingly thinks of his answer. He shakes his head.

“Nuh uh. Nothing we can do tonight.” He says, a tad forlorn. His hand on your back sketches a soft stroke up your spine. You shiver in a good way and Steve speaks again, eyes searching somewhere behind you, imagining something. “Well, not— not the way I want to do this.”

There’s a long pause. At the same moment a soft realisation blooms in your chest and on your face, Steve seems to realise he’s said too much. His eyes widen, the apples of his cheeks turning scarlet.

“Were you gonna—?”

You push back from him, suddenly sitting up in the bed. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, risking bruising the inside of your ribs with each resounding thud. You don’t even mind because… because…

Steve sits up too, wide-eyed expression still on his face. He looks flushed, taken off guard — he clearly hadn’t meant to tell you today. Well, he had meant to tell you today but he wanted to ask you at dinner, on one knee, and then the storm—

“You were gonna ask?” You squeak. A smile wobbles on your face as you try to rein in your reaction, even as joy floods every nerve. “Tonight?”

Steve seems unsure of the right way to answer. “Yes,” He stammers. Then crushes his eyes closed, dropping his eyes closed to curse. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed— I had it all planned! This isn’t—“

Steve pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face. You feel a pang of remorse for ruining your own surprise but it’s completely overshadowed by the rampant happiness. You can’t help yourself for what you say next.

“Yes.”

Steve blinks. “What?” A grin grows on his face, like your own is contagious even as he shakes his head. “I haven’t even asked you yet!”

He’s laughing, a glorious sound, and so are you. You're so full of love you feel stuffed like you’ve just eaten, it fills every crevice of your body. You nod. You think your teeth might be aching with how sweet the boy before you is— pouting and giving away his own surprises.

“I know,” you breathe. “But if- when you do, it’s a yes.”

And you’ve known it before. You have known it long before tonight that yours and Steve’s futures are knitted together so intricately that where one goes, the other follows. Still, knowing it and saying it— the difference steals your breath. You feel like a teenage fool again, back to the first time Steve ever asked you, ‘Be mine?’

Steve sinks into the pillows, deflating into them with a blinding grin. Like he hadn’t been sure up until right then. He giggles. Another awed sound, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

“Okay,” he breathes. You sink down too, curling up into him. His warmth feels burning hot now as he pulls you back into his arms, the same as he had a minute ago; this time, you swear your hearts are an inch closer.

“I gotta come up with a whole new plan now, don’t I?” Steve asks, eyes shining as he peers down at you.

You laugh a little bit, delirious, and shake your head. Gathering courage, even as your stomach twists up in the best way.

“Nope. You can… you can ask now, if you really want.”

You hope your voice betrays everything you mean; that he could ask anywhere and you would say still say yes. That it didn’t need to be somewhere fancy, didn’t need to be a big spectacle, he didn’t even need to get on one knee and you would still say yes.

Steve stares down at you, drinking in the sincerity of your expression and he softens impossibly more. Smile lines you adore get scrunched up as he gives a shuddering breathy laugh, punched out of him by his own enormous affection. Christ, he loves you.

His hand raises, cupping your jaw sweetly and he tugs you closer to meet him in the middle. You come home to him, lips meeting lips as he kisses you deeply and maddeningly. There are a thousand sentiments in his kiss, I want to marry you and I love you among them.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against your own. His hand on your jaw rubs soothing, fingers tucking some stray hair behind your ear.

“Got a plan.” He murmurs, a wickedly handsome smile on his face as he taps his temple.

You’ll have to wait, it seems. You think you can stretch your patience a little longer, especially for this. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from your smile.

Another quiet moment. Then, your eyes light up with the recollection of an earlier memory. They skirt across the room and land on their target, Steve’s crumpled pair of slacks on the ground. You recall his fumbling with his hand deep in his pocket.

Steve follows your eye-line and the moment he spots what you’re looking his head whips back.

Steve fixes you with a stern look, a warning that says don’t. You move an inch, more to tease than anything — you don’t want to see anything til he’s the one giving it to you — but you don’t get very far anyway.

“Oh no, you don’t—” Steve’s arms around your middle tighten, pulling you closer as you pretend to reach off into the distance.

He shifts you easily, setting you down into the pillows and then squishing himself atop you. You let out a strange noise, a surprised yelp as Steve lightly crushes you beneath him, a slightly maniacal grin on his pretty mouth. His hair is a mess, cheeks still glowing, and he looks utterly in love.

You wiggle a bit, seeing if you can free a limb. Maybe to pretend to escape, maybe to dig your fingers in and hold him closer. Either way, it’s fruitless.

Somehow, you’re not all the mad with the situation; squished lovingly beneath your hunk of a boyfriend so you don’t go scampering around searching for a- for your engagement ring.

“Can I at least get a kiss?” You ask, knowing he’ll say yes. If there’s one thing, it’s that Steve never denies you a kiss if you ask. His eyes look a tad misty as he looks down at you so so fondly, eyes drawing down to your lips.

He doesn’t disappoint.

[joonipertree]

idea for the Boxer!Katsuki and Artist!Reader AU! What if, ON TOP OF a rly bad day w college and being overwhelmed w work, we lost our paints :( n we luv our paints so we cry, but katsuki’s there to make us feel better and get us a new set :3

Thank you so fucking much for this. Idk if you knew but I'm actually making a portfolio for art school and Ive been crying every other night because of how stressed I am and how much I feel like I'm a bad artist. So writing this was cathartic

Part 1, Part 2

Tags: Dom/sub undertones, reader acting out and Bakugo being stern, a peak of what kind of shit I want with older men hsjsjsj, fluff, hurt/comfort, soft katsuki

Katsuki was one of the last people you wanted to see when you're in a bad mood. And that might sound terrible but it's because you never wanted to show such a harsh, negative side of yourself to someone you cared about. You were very much a 'feel and then reappear more regulated' type of person. But Katsuki never let you go home on your own anymore, picking you and dropping you off even on days where he had something to do.

So you trotted towards him with a scowl and no energy to fake anything and he noticed instantly, his own concerned scowl mirroring yours.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You said and opened the door, closing it a bit too loudly. You cringed at the sound but buckled yourself in and turned away before the man got in the driver's seat.

"You're shit at lying."

"Fuck off."

Instant regret, a deep inhale from your part as you tensed.

Fuck.

His large hand came on your thigh and you stiffened, all he did was give it a warning squeeze before pulling away. The message was clear. 'Watch it'.

"I'm not willing to discipline you until I know nothing horrible happened but you do know I don't like that shit from you right?"

You said nothing.

"Give me an answer, doll."

"I'm an adult."

"Yeah, you are. And you're a smart one that knows that we have rules. That I'd be taking you over my lap if you talked like that."

Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them away, not willing to turn your head to show him.

He knew anyways and he dropped the subject, starting the car and driving off.

Katsuki pulled to a stop at a place that wasn't anywhere near your apartment. You were confused as he got out of the car. Your eyes followed him just as he entered a boba shop.

Oh.

A couple minutes later, he came out with a drink for each of you. You remembered when he said that there just wasn't any point of it, that it seemed stupid and too sweet. But pretty soon, he had his own usual order, which was just Brown Sugar boba tea with the sweetness to a minimum.

Katsuki gave you the drink without even looking your way, sipping on his own. You stared at it for a total of ten seconds before timidly taking a sip. The sweetness broke you out of your sour mood, eyes blinking as you focused on the flavour of your favourite tea. The boba was chewy and soft and it grounded you a bit.

Only after you took a sip, did Katsuki start the car and drive.

When you reached home, the apartment the two of you had started sharing a month prior, Katsuki only gave you time to take off your shoes and put down your bag before he had you over his shoulder.

You struggled, hitting his back and asking him to let you go but he didn't listen...not even feeling it.

And when your ass plopped itself onto the couch, your attempt at running away failed when he easily manhandled you in place.

"I'm not patient enough to coax it out of you, so tell me why you're upset. I'll make it better."

You wanted to refuse but the tears were already dripping down your face.

"I'm so bad at art. I'm so f-fucking bad at it. I don't-" you sobbed and his arms were instantly around you, pulling you onto his lap as you cried into him.

"There's so many deadlines and so many things I have to do and nothing is working. And I don't even know if I'm cut out to be an artist. I'm not good enough, I was never good enough for it. I'm gonna fail-- Katsuki I'm so tired."

Your boyfriend rocked you back and forth, giving you kisses everywhere he could reach, on the side of your face and your head and your hair. And you let the tears fall, hiccuping violently and sobbing without restraint.

"I even lost my fucking paints and I can't live without them and I saved up for them and I'm just doing everything wrong."

You let Katsuki envelope you, squeeze you and warm your inside as you let it all out.

When your sobs died down, Katsuki didn't stop peppering kisses everywhere. It took him a second to speak.

"I didn't know shit about art. It all seemed like fancy, time consuming pictures to me. Hell, even now I don't know shit. But when I saw your art, I felt stuff I thought I didn't know how to feel. And that was the first time I realised that maybe life didn't have to be as shitty as it was. Maybe things didn't have to be ugly."

"When we went to those art galleries, yeah they were cool and pretty but not gonna lie, nothing ever left me speechless like your art did. And yeah...I'm biased as fuck, especially because I thought that the look in your eyes was the prettiest out of everything. That sounds cheesy as shit but you make me feel cheesy as shit."

You had stopped crying, left drained and nuzzled against Katsuki while you looked for an anchor to hold onto. And he held you.

"I like seeing you paint the most though, I like how you focus...I like how you curse under your breath, I like how you grin when something looks right, I like how you scan art supplies before you buy them. I like your paint stained hands and your paint water mugs even when I've accidently taken a sip from them. I like that how you laugh when I do that shit. I love that look of pride you have when you're done and staring at it.

It makes you happy so even if I don't understand the point of it, it means a lot to me because of that. So, whenever that thing stops being fun for you, and really stops being fun for you, I'll support you if you wanna stop. But I gotta keep seeing your work, baby, cuz it's like the inside of your head and it's really neat."

You let a few more tears drop, sniffling and looking into his eyes. There was no ingenuity, only pure emotion. And you let him kiss your tears away, you let him pat your head and you let him make you drink water and feed you.

Because it was never a burden for him to do those things, but a priveledge.

The very next day, the same set of paints were in your bag. Brand new and untouched. Along with three different watercolour paper books. 100% pure cotton, 350 gcm.

With a note that said 'you're still down for a spanking for that shitty mouth of yours. Don't make it a habit.'

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I know you wrote for Kappa/Euro. Hear me out.. could you write for Euro/Dead from lords of chaos? No one writes for jack kilmer and it drives me insane‼️😭

Pure Fucking Armaggedon

Summary: In the midst of a heavy night of partying with the Black Circle, you crave your boyfriend's attention but just like so often lately, he's very much not interested, leading you to meet your needs somewhere else…

Pairing: Dead x fem!Reader x Euronymous

Word Count: ~3.7k

Content Warnings: Trve Kvlt Smvt 18+!, Talk About Depression/Mental Illness, Talk About Self-Harm, Very Angsty, Hurt/Comfort...ish, Alcohol, Smoking, Cheating…But With A Twist, Fingering, Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Pet Names

A/N: Hi, anonnie! Thank you very much for this ask <3 Before everybody jumps into my inbox about Jack Kilmer: Please don’t, okay? He’s not tickling my brain like Rory does and I’d hate to let y’all down by having requests sitting in my inbox collecting dust 🖤 However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a lot of fun writing this chaos!

Massive thanks to @spookyorchid for endlessly entertaining my rambles and inspiring me!

Disclaimer: This is solely based on the characters depicted in Lords Of Chaos!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

Could you stomach it anymore

Could you stand to be a breath away

Can you feel the way your face distorts

Did you think that it could be this way

- Stomach It By Crywolf

Your upper lip twitched a little as your gaze darted right into your boyfriend's chestnut-coloured eyes. In a rather stark contrast to yours, Pelle's expression was indifferent whilst he stared back at you, face smeared with a now gray amalgamation of once black and white corpse paint.

"Sorry…" He muttered, his voice lacking the depth and sympathy to really sell his point.

"No…it's, it's okay, really. It makes no sense to pressure yourself when you're not in the mood, no." You shrugged your shoulders at him, very much meaning what you said whilst you still felt that massive rock of repeated disappointment settling down in your stomach.

"I'm gonna go grab another beer then…can I get you something?" Pelle shook his head lightly.

"No, but thanks. I think I should just go to sleep now." The Swede with the long blonde hair allowed himself to slump deeper down into the old, worn out sofa, crossing his arms in front of his chest and with that not just verbally but also physically blocking you out.

"Nighty then…" You mumbled, turning away from your boyfriend to hide just how hard you fought to keep your composure.

Neither the heavy leather jacket, the edgy metal studs and spikes all over nor your trusty Darkthrone shirt hugging your torso were able to shield you from the emotional hurt raging inside of you. It's been months since Pelle last touched or so much as kissed you on the mouth. You knew just fine that something wasn't alright with him, that he was going through an episode again and the last thing you intended on doing was putting any blame for that on him but fuck was it challenging you this time. It didn't go past you how the I love you's had become more and more scarce, how he turned his back to you at night whilst you stared at the ceiling hoping for the oncoming episode to wash over him in a few, swift weeks but his current black hole of depression was unlike anything before. You hardly recognised your boyfriend anymore and felt like nothing but an accessory to the whole band persona he'd put up to cover up how much he was actually hurting on the inside.

To not come off as a soft, little crybaby to everybody else, you stifled your breath and wiped the emerging gush of tears from your lower lash line as fast as you could before making your way out to the densely crowded yard again. Empty bottles of beer lined the way whilst partially smoked-up cigarettes laid scattered all over, the heavy smell of a raging bonfire filled the crisp night breeze. Whilst almost violently looking to the ground to avoid anybody seeing you being about to burst into tears, you rushed to one of the cooling boxes to grab a beer or preferably something stronger. A sense of recklessness washed through you as you dug a deeply green, still halfway full glass bottle from the cooler. Jägermeister would serve you just fine right now.

Armed with the strong booze, you went right back into the house, hiding yourself away from all the action to simply get drunk in peace and solitude.

"Ugh…" Your whole body quivered as the herbal liquor shot down your throat, drenching your mouth in its bitter taste.

Right after the sensation eased up a little, you chased the first swig with a second, deeper one, the alcohol burning its way through your stomach before you'd even reached the corner of the house that could be described as a guest room to slump down on an array of dusty mattresses. With the intense warmth of heavy liquor washing through your body, you curled yourself up, shoving an old pillow underneath your head and before you really realized it, vagrant, quiet tears trickled from the corners of your eyes, pooling at the tear duct to eventually swap over the bridge of your nose. If you were honest with yourself, you felt sick of it, sick of being ignored and pushed away but at the same time you just couldn't bring yourself to point the finger at Per. He simply didn't choose this way of being and feeling yet it felt like he wasn't even trying anymore…which, again, would just be another symptom. You sighed in defeat before treating yourself to another numbing mouthful of booze.

Allowing the tears to just run down your face at their very own pace, you simply wanted to get drunk as fast as possible but even that wouldn't be granted to you, a gentle knock on the slightly ajar door pulling you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You muttered, sitting up straight again and wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

"Hey…are you okay?" The familiar voice belonging to Øystein asked.

His head peaked through the open door, a messy bunch of black hair framing his face in wavy strands.

"Saw you rushing through the yard and thought checking up on you wouldn't hurt…" He slid his lean statue through the small opening, stepping towards you before crouching down to meet your gaze.

"See? That's part of the problem…you, you care and Pelle just…he just sits there." The words blubbered out of you in an uncontrolled rush accompanied by a new surge of hot tears.

"Hey now…", Euronymous quickly sat down, tucking the frizzy hair behind his ears, "What's going on, hm?"

"I'm so sick of this shit, Øystein… I can't help him, I can't fix him and he just pushes me away time and time again. I'm so done with this bullshit." It practically gushed out of your mouth in a poorly choked-back wail.

"There's a whole horde of people out there, Euro, yet I feel so terribly fucking lonely all the time. Everybody's cheering for Mayhem and for Dead, going on about how fucking cool and true he is for what he's doing to himself on stage but you know what?", You tried to stifle your shaky breaths, "It's not cool. None of it. It's actually fucking terrifying…and it's me who's got to stitch him back to gether every damn time."

With every one of your words, Øystein's eyes widened a little more, partly in understanding about just how much his friend was dragging you through but also in plain sympathy for you.

"Come'ere, yeah? C'mon…if it helps you can squeeze me as hard as you want to, okay?" Euronymous spread both his arms, inviting you in for a tight hug.

Not wasting a second thought on it, you leaned in, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders to squeeze and press as tightly as you could.

"There you go…that's it, right there." Euronymous encouraged you, the palms of his broad hands resting at the back of your head to soothe you with gentle pets and strokes.

"I wish I could help you but none of us really gets through to him anymore…I'm so sorry." Øystein sighed into the curve of your neck, the tip of his nose almost touching the cold, black leather of your jacket.

"I don't even know what's going on with him anymore. Everything is just so terribly wrong and I don't know how much longer I can do this shit, Euro, I really don't." You sniffled, inevitably having the vastly different scent of Euronymous right in front of you sneaking up into your nostrils.

Unlike Pelle, he smelled like stale cigarette smoke, cheap aftershave and beer…maybe not exactly a crowd pleaser but you found comfort in it.

"It's okay. I don't judge you." He whispered to you in a soft tone and it threatened to break you apart from the inside.

"Thank you…", You croaked into his hair, your voice getting weaker with every letter, "I feel so shitty for thinking about it like that but…but I'm so goddamn tired. I-...I just wanna feel loved again."

"To remind you…there's a whole horde of people out there who love you." He tried to cheer you up but ultimately missed the point.

"Not…not like that. Ugh, I sound stupid…" You felt the need to take the words straight back and to just go with Øystein's attempt of calming you.

"No, you don't, seriously.", Euronymous led his fingers to get lost in your hair, fingertips softly stroking across your scalp down to the nape of your neck, "I can't imagine how you came up with enough energy to stay this long in the first place. We both know it's not his fault, neither is it yours or mine but we've all been watching you breaking away because of him. You're not smiling anymore, not screaming your lungs out at the gigs, you're barely even here anymore…he's eating you up."

"I can't just leave, Øystein…" You gradually loosened your death grip around his torso to lean back, your face wet with slowly subsiding tears.

"I know…all I'm saying is that it might be time to think about yourself a little more. It won't help anybody if you get lost in his chaos, too." Before you could raise your own hand to wipe the sleeve of your jacket across your face, Euronymous was already on it, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Whilst taking a deep breath to steady yourself a bit more, the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. You followed how he slightly grinded his teeth together, jaws clenching, withholding something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Øystein?" You furrowed your brows a little, the feeling of something being violently off ebbing through your chest.

"I'm sorry…" That's all he offered to you before cupping your face with the full length of his palm and leaning in to press an anything but timid kiss to your trembling lips.

A part of you, the voice of reason within, practically screamed at you to pull away, to scurry back and to let this go down as nothing but an awkward, boozy, little slip-up, but you didn't move by just an inch as the pungent taste of smoked cigarettes and cheap beer swept into your mouth alongside Euronymous' daring tongue. You simply let it happen, allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and intoxicate you with the dangerously addictive feeling of being wanted, desired by someone.

"Fuck…" You groaned into the nearly bruising kiss, hands reaching out to claw at his utterly worn out Venom shirt to pull him closer to you.

Catching the notion that he had dared to make the right move at the right time, Øystein's palm left your face, both hands roaming over your back down to your ass to simply scoop you into his lap, your legs wrapping themselves around the cold of his bullet-shell belt as the hem of your washed-out, gray denim skirt rode up generously over your fishnet-stocking covered thighs.

"I got you…just hold on to me." Euronymous muttered, trying to catch his breath a little whilst his fingers dug themselves into the curve of your behind, causing you to whine out as you arched your hips impossibly close towards his crotch.

The aching need to feel just something again practically pulsed through every nerve ending and every muscle, pulling you into his tight grasp and for your hands to slip under the soft fabric of his shirt, skin against skin leaving you to crave more. Whilst one of his hands left it's place cupping your ass to hurry down between your bodies, awkwardly fumbling with the buckle of his belt before almost violently pulling down the zipper, a short but heavy pang of guilt jolted through your ribcage, nearly causing you to flinch on the spot. Nothing about this situation at hand was right or somehow, in some crooked way, justifiable to you and yet you made not a single move to stop any of it from happening. You didn’t grasp for Øystein's hand as it hushed from his unzipped pants amidst your legs, the sound of your tights tearing and ripping thundering in your ears, right before curious fingertips brushed over thin lace panties, no. The only reaction it pulled from your body was a needy moan.

"Right there, yeah?" You heard the smirk in his tone without even needing to see it.

Nodding softly, you placed your mouth back onto his, teeth teasingly grazing over his bottom lip.

"Bet that feels even better, babe." At first you didn't know what struck you harder, the endearing pet name or Euronymous' fingers snaking past your slip, dipping right into your soaked folds to draw achingly slow circles around your entrance.

"Please…" You hummed into the kiss, your forehead leaning against his.

"Please, what?", He inquired, fingertips prodding and nudging against your cunt, "Want me to fill you up, no? Such a greedy little thing."

You choked back a whine as Øystein withdrew his hand from your slip to shove the fabric to the side, fingers freeing his rock-hard cock from the confines of his shorts right before thrusting into you with a precise rock of his hips against yours.

"Oh, fuck…" Your moan got lost in his mouth, the delicious feeling of being stretched out so harshly rippling through you.

"How long has it been, huh?" He pushed, drilling himself into you until it threatened to hurt.

"I dunno…four months, maybe five." You couldn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut, the burning heat of arousal and shame creeping into your face in equal parts.

"Yeesh, couldn't leave a girl like you untouched for that long." Euronymous huffed, his other hand steadying your posture with his palm flat against your back as he started rolling his hips, practically bouncing you on his cock.

With your entire body flush with the sensation of Øystein spearheading into you in a firm pace, the last bit of your coherent brain busy muffling and holding back desperate mewls and whimpers, you rendered completely oblivious to what was happening around you…unlike the black-haired guitarist. From the very corner of his eyes, Øystein's attention got pulled towards the semi-open door, the old, wooden floor in front of it creaking treacherously. Just by the way a well familiar pair of thoroughly worn out combat boots barely peaked across the lines of the door frame, he knew that the both of you had been caught right in the act but he didn't so much as even bother to stop from guiding you up and down his throbbing hard on.

"You at least got yourself off here and there, no?" You shook your head.

"Didn't feel right. I- I just hoped things would get back to normal…" You groaned, the sensation of Euronymous' cock stroking over that extra sensitive spot inside of you sending cold, little shivers down your spine.

"Oh, love, then I better make sure to give it to you better than Per ever could…lazy fucker." Øystein scoffed more to his friend and singer hiding next to the door frame than to you but you didn't take any notice of that, your senses way too busy with just keeping it together.

For a moment, Øystein felt actual and very real rage gushing through him. Anger towards his friend for being such an oblivious prick regarding the suffering and all-round neglect he was dragging you through. It was a terribly self-righteous emotion, that he knew for sure, however, he couldn't help himself but to let it fuel the way he rutted into you, burying himself as deep as possible inside of your wet pussy.

The rather morbid thing both of you failed to take notice of was what Dead was doing hidden away in the shadows of the hallway, the crushing humiliation not only going straight to his heart but to his awfully throbbing cock as well, the bitter-sweet masochistic rush leading him to palm himself through his trousers whilst biting down on his fist to not let just one singular sound escape from his twitching lips. The Swede was shamelessly jerking himself off to you getting railed by his closest friend.

"Gonna take good care of you, babe." Øystein groaned in a lust-riddled tone, both of his hands now closing down around your hips to hammer your form onto his cock with every jut and snap of his hips.

It had you bashfully nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the cigarette smoke soaked leather of his jacked cold against your cheek, whilst you still clawed at his sides underneath his shirt.

Your fingers dug into his skin as you felt your walls starting to flutter and contract around Øystein's hard on, the first crushing jolts of your pent-up orgasm rippling through your body, senses being sent into blissful overdrive.

"Good girl…fuck, pulling me in so hard now, huh?" Euronymous' voice cracked and eventually faltered just like the rolls of his lap against yours.

"Issok…", He talked you through your release, shoving himself balls deep into your spasming cunt before flooding your insides with white-hot ropes of his seed, a guttural groan ripping itself free from the depths of his lungs, "Just let yourself go. I gotchu."

The earth-shattering sensation of all the pent-up sexual desperation mixed in with shame and crushing guilt washing through your system had you biting down on his leather-clad shoulder, a fresh surge of tears threatening to swap over your lower lash line at any second.

"Aw, shit." A sore croak from outside the room led both of you to turn your heads so suddenly that it nearly gave you whiplash.

"The fuck?!" You shrieked out, practically jumping from Øystein's lap whilst he was equally busy with tucking himself back in and getting off the mattress.

"I got this!" Euronymous tried to calm you, awkwardly stumbling away from you before tearing the door open and vanishing into the dark hallway.

For a split second your overworked synapses tried to get a vague grasp on what was going down. Feet were hammering down stairs, noisy commotion erupted from inside the house before the sound of shattering glass and incomprehensible screaming and shouting filled the yard.

"Oh fuck no…" You huffed under your breath, wobbly legs nearly giving out as you tried to pull yourself from the mattress.

As soon as you stood upright again, you felt Øystein's load oozing out of you, soaking the flimsy fabric of your slip with every step you took. You dreaded the scenario that was unfolding outside because the yelling didn't seem to die down but much rather escalate further.

"You fucking traitor!" Pelle's raspy voice cut through the night air, hitting you as soon as you slid out the front door.

"Fucking traitor?!", Øystein spat right back whilst your eyes scanned the scenery anxiously, "You're the spineless loser, Per!"

"You fucked my girlfriend, Øystein!" Dead yelled and with his words you noticed Metallion and Jan Axel staring right at you, nothing but drunk confusion washing over their faces.

"And you pathetic fuck got off to it!" Euronymous had to duck down to dodge an empty beer bottle being sent his way.

"You what?!" You directed the question right at your boyfriend before you noticed a tell-tale damp and soaked-through spot right around his zipper.

"Yes, please tell her how you stood outside the room jerking off to your girl breaking down in front of me, Per!" Your bewildered stare rushed towards Øystein now.

"Huh? You…you saw him or what now?!?" The guitarist shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Jan Axel tried to intervene but both Per and Øystein shushed him almost simultaneously.

"You shut the fuck up!" Pelle sneered, looking like he was about ready to throw one of the plenty empty bottles of beer after his drummer too.

"No.", You huffed, wrapping your leather jacket around your torso to shield you from the creeping cold, "He actually got a point, because…what the hell?!"

"Pumpkin, I can explain, I promise." Per raised his hands in a soothing manner but you didn't feel like having any of it.

"Don't you dare sweet-talk me now, Pelle! You've been pushing me away for months but…you get off to, well, this?" You indirectly confirmed all that had been happening between Øystein and you.

"No. Just no. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck this shit. I'm not even remotely drunk enough to deal with this shitshow right now." To undoubtedly cement your point, you took a few swift steps toward Øystein who was looking at you with wide eyes as you fished for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, drawing one for yourself before deliberately putting it to your lips.

"Yes, I fucked Øystein.", You threw your hands into the air after lighting the cigarette, "Maybe I should've done that much sooner, who knows?"

The last sentence was solely aimed to hurt Per as much as he had hurt you.

"Fucking hell, I'm so sick of all this dysfunctional shit…", You just shook your head before heading back inside, "Better none of you disrupt the date I have with a piss-warm bottle of Jägermeister now or you fucking bet I'll cut your dick off!"

[archive-of-alexandria]

Grease Paint (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing on Tumblr in over 10 years, but I am so down bad for this man that I can't help myself. I'm working on drafting my Moulin Rouge! x Buggy long-form fic, and this was just something I scribbled out in the meantime. This is pure Buggy x Reader fluff, so I hope you enjoy!

***

For once in his life, the ever-flashy clown pirate has nothing funny to say.

Your thumb gently ran along Buggy’s cheek to correct your lines, and the genius jester felt the greasepaint being very obviously replaced by his own maddening blush. Your tongue pokes out in concentration, and he fights the urge to grab it between his fingers – haHA! Cat got your tongue! – and spoil the mood with a poorly concocted joke. 

Buggy blinks.

….Mood? Who said anything about a mood?

A blush begins to bloom under his collar. Buggy had, in fact, been planning a way to weasel his way into your heart for months - and it seems as if you'd fallen right into his brilliantly scripted scene....so how come he can't remember any of his lines?

You continue working, and Buggy’s usually frantic mind suddenly falls deafeningly silent. Instead, the captain seems to fall into a sort of trance – focusing the entirety of his attention on memorizing your face. He observes every freckle and crease, wishing to commit it to memory. This was the first time -the only time - he’d ever been this close to someone in this…domestic…way, holding his breath out of fear that the illusion of contented bliss would shatter. 

Buggy swallows.

He had planned for this, written out every charming and witty line he could think of.

Your eyes catch hold of his through the fan of your eyelashes. Now it was time for your ears to turn pink.

“You’re staring,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and Buggy practically melts as your eyes soften, “Something on my face?” As if on cue, a strand of hair falls in front of your eyes.

God.

He clears his throat, a soft chuckle rippling off his lips, “Well, now there is,” he muses, “Talk about a paid actor.”

You reach to push the hair from your eyes at the same time as he does, fingers awkwardly colliding as soft chuckles and mumbled apologies spill from both of your lips. Still, your eyes hold one another. 

You give way to allow Buggy to proceed, whose deft fingers trace along your forehead and behind your ear. Buggy feels electricity shoot through his hands at the feeling of his touch against you, swallowing as he allows his knuckle to caress your cheek. When you seem to lean into his touch, however, he panics.

It would seem he failed to write that into the script.

Buggy barks out a laugh, gently nudging your face and making a pop! noise with his lips to try and swim back to shore before he’s too far gone. You grab hold of Buggy’s lipstick, the last bit of his flashy facepaint to be applied. 

"And, for the finishing touch," You hum, taking his chin in your hands as you lean forward with his lipstick in hand.

Buggy's heart hammers against his chest as he feels your breath against his lips, the blood rushing to his ears in the same fashion as one hanging from a highwire.

At this moment, he indeed feels as if he is on the trapeze - delicately balancing with the hopes of making it through without a fumble.

“Doh–!” A chuckle passes through your lips, closing your eyes tight at the sight of Buggy’s comically crimson mouth. In the months that you’ve been a part of Buggy’s crew, you've never seen his makeup so fresh…and the sight was actually rather startling. It was as if the captain was in bad 3D, sponsored by technicolor, painted in by the most potent Crayola markers known to man. Buggy’s whole face looks crimson, but perhaps it's just a reflection of the brutal lipstick…

Buggy’s lips, like two bright cherries, suddenly form a pout at the sound of your laughter. His heart sinks, mind immediately skipping to the worst possible conclusion: You agreed to do his makeup not because you might care for him, but rather this was your chance to humiliate him. Buggy could feel his heart clench in his chest, and his delicate balancing act was about to turn into a dive routine.

“What?” He manages to quirk his lips into a strained smile, “You didn’t make me look like a clown, did ya-? Hrumph-!” His attempt at salvaging his pride is derailed by your thumbs pressing to his lips, your giggles giving way to a radiant smile. Little did he know that your fingers against his lips were just as much an attempt to quiet him as they were an excuse to touch Buggy.

“This color is so much more red than usual,” You say, your face growing warm, “What did I do wrong?” 

A blink. Moments pass as Buggy stares at you with saucer eyes before his hands fasten themselves to your wrists with a gentle tug. Had you realized that your fingers were still attached to his lips? 

“If you must know,” he gulped, “I have a top secret makeup technique.”

“Oh?” You feign surprise, leaning closer to your captain. A smirk twists into your lips. “Top secret, eh? Even from me?”

You bat your eyelashes, emboldened by your captain’s sheepish expression, and Buggy mutters a curse under his breath. 

Oh, fucking fucking fucker fuck.

Buggy’s voice lowers and his grip on your wrists tighten, the creak of the supple leather breaking the silence. “Especially from you.” A blink passes with the realization that Buggy wasn’t cracking a joke or being wise. He genuinely seemed…embarrassed. You’re not deterred yet, and instead, he finds you leaning in closer as your legs involuntarily squeeze together – Just imagine what those gloves would feel like in your –

You’re nearly nose to nose with the dread pirate as the air settles thick. For months you and Buggy have fallen into the old routine of cat and mouse, always teetering on the precipice of…something. The way Buggy allows his eyes to follow you during your routine without shame and latches on to your figure like a predator observing his prey is undeniable. He relishes in watching your body twist and writhe on the acrobat hoop, and you'll admit that all of your special tricks are, indeed, for him. You live for the moments he would stalk up behind you after a performance during the roaring applause when no one would be able to hear his voice - low and thick - praise you with lips ghosting your ear: “What a good girl you are, hm? Making your captain proud.” 

Your eyes fall to Buggy’s lips.

“Show me,” you swallow thickly, brushing your nose against his, “Show me your special technique.” 

Buggy’s eyes flicker elsewhere – anywhere – from your gaze before deciding upon your own lips. His grip falters, his body erupting into flame as his eyelids flutter. 

This was it: the climax of the show he has been planning and rewriting in his dreamworld for months. Buggy's flashy showmanship, however, deflates. Your hands are suddenly dropped from Buggy’s grip as he pulls back, redirecting his gaze to his now unoccupied hands. As he begins to peel off his gloves, the silence shifts into something unsettled. The fizzing tension between the two of you seems to thicken.

Meanwhile, Buggy is desperately trying to suppress an impending, raging hard-on. He already feels humiliated enough at the fact that you're laughing in his face, and now...

Cabaji had made fun of Buggy for weeks after discovering the wanted poster smeared in crimson red grease paint in Buggy’s quarters, your face barely visible beneath layers and layers of kiss marks. Buggy initially tried to cover it up, claiming it wasn’t intentional and he just needed something to “blot and perfect” his signature look with at call time. However, the sheer amount of kisses scattered across the page betrays him. There is no denying that Buggy was completely smitten with you. And here you are, practically begging him to kiss you. The set-up, the lead-in, the wind-up to the punchline…It is the perfect joke, all at his expense.

At least Cabaji hadn’t found the other copy of your wanted poster, crinkled and smeared thick with Buggy’s–

“Bugs?” Your hand on his thigh pulls the captain out of his thoughts, eyes darting up to meet yours with an unmistakable look of guilt as he tries to wipe away the memories of his moans and your wanted poster slick with his– “Are you okay?”

The clown clears his throat, finding the willpower to bring his fist before his face with a flourish as his humorless eyes settle on yours in an attempt to save face.

“For your viewing pleasure,” he forces a smile, “The technique!”

Without another word, Buggy begins to rub his lips back and forth vigorously against the top of his hand in order to remove the excess pigment. 

Fuckingfuckinghellthisissostupidthey’regoingtofuckinghatemewhatamIevendoing–

His brilliant demonstration is put on pause as you take hold of his wrist, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. A sheepish grin attempts to cross his lips, but it falters. His eyes fall to the floor.

He looks ashamed.

“For once,” Buggy’s voice is hoarse as he huffs out a laugh, “I don’t have anything funny to say.”

A beat. 

The intimacy of the moment is almost too much to bear, and your skin pricks with nerves.

“Buggy…” you breathe.

Your fingers find his face once again, tenderly wrapping around his chin. Buggy squeezes his eyes shut as you guide his face up to you. He refuses to see the expression in your eyes as you stomp on his glass heart. Suddenly you're cradling his head in both of your hands, “Buggy,” you mused, “I have a better technique to share with you.” 

Your noses bump against one another.

A choking noise passes through Buggy’s lips, and in a moment of sheer desperation for tenderness he whispers, “Please.” 

Your lips finally meet Buggy’s, and the awkward feeling of your body being too far away is overcorrected by the desperate captain. Buggy follows your lips with his body like a man possessed, knees knocking with yours as his arms swallow you whole. His hands find purchase wherever they can, trying to quickly grasp any and all of you as if you'd disappear. It's awkward, teeth knocking against teeth with the expertise of someone never before kissed, and you can't help the smile that comes to your lips.

You break away and Buggy’s breathing hitches, eyes still closed and hands gripping you so tightly you know you’ll have bruises.

You don’t mind, though. Quite the opposite. 

You can always cover them up with a little bit of grease paint.

[lethalchiralium]

You should totally not write a part two to Missus dying during birth. Where it's set month later??? Years later??? 😏😉😏

I mean the double angst would be just to much to bare! 😏😉😏

(No.... because side note I'm living for your GIRL DAD SIMON 😭🫶)

oh so you guys are EVIL evil. i partially wrote some of this way back, i was playing with the thought of her death but decided against it. this did get me in the mood to write for ACTUAL happiness, so watch out for that lol

warnings: alcoholism, grief.

happiness au!

Simon found that could never hold anger like he used to. It dissipates as quickly as it festers, he tried so hard to find something to be angry at over your death. He couldn’t be angry at Roach, he was with you in his place. He couldn’t be angry at Price, he was doing his job. He couldn’t be angry at you because you had done the best you could to get in touch with him. You nurtured his children, one sprinting around and one in your once warm belly.

He held his hand over WInnie’s eyes at the end of the funeral, little Mellie asleep in his arm yet still angling her away from the scene - he couldn’t bear to have his daughters watch their mother be lowered into the ground.

He did discover that alcohol makes the incredible pain disappear just a little.

In the month after your death, it was a cycle for Simon and Price to keep Winnie and Mellie afloat while he destroyed himself as they slept soundly. Drinking himself into a stupor and collapsing on his bedroom floor; his hazed mind forcing him to spread out on the hardwood, telling himself he didn’t deserve to sleep in a bed. In your bed. And despite the dozens of pounds he wasted on alcohol for that first month, the thought of you could never quite escape his mind.

You left nothing to direct him, nothing to guide him. Just hazy memories of your smile, dim visions of the way your skin touched his, faint pulses on his lips of what used to be your heartbeat. You had nothing away, no letters or little notes in any nook and cranny of his home - he checked drunk, he checked sober. He wanted to slam his hand into the wall that morning, hungover and wanting to scream - but his little baby Mellie babbled on his bed, little fingers dug into her stuffed dog, completely unaware of the myriad of emotions painted on the walls. It was like Simon had exploded, his emotions were everywhere.

And after one horrible night, Simon found himself on the floor of his room again. But he wasn’t alone - under his blanketed arm and curled into his side was Winnie, her green bear tucked into her own chest. His heart broke again at that, and even with the intense hangover, he picked up his daughter. He took the few steps back to sit on his bed, her gentle eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Do you wanna sleep up here, lovie?” He asked her, trying to keep his voice even as his head pounded.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His daughter mumbled, one hand wiping one of her eyes as she looked up at him. That made his heart burn like it had been doused in oil and set aflame. He crawled into the bed that hasn’t known warmth since you died, tucking in his four year old and keeping her close to his chest.

“Dad’s gonna be okay.” He whispered to his daughter, tears spilling from his eyes. “I promise.”

After that early morning, Simon stopped drinking and stayed sober for years afterwards. He was proud of himself for that seemingly small feat, but he was still devastated by the loss of you, he felt it every single day since. Teaching Mellie to walk, to talk, and to run were the first times Simon felt your loss again - he cried tears each time, knowing that it should have been you and him teaching your daughter these things. That you and him should have been teaching your children how to ride a bike, help them with their stupid math homework, help them navigate life.

But it was just Simon, trying to fill your shoes that he never had the heart to move from the front door.

He had tried to quit the 141 when you passed, but Price wouldn’t let him. Keeping him on desk duty meant Simon still got incredible pay and benefits, it meant Simon could take baby Mellie with him to base, it meant he could make it home before his kids got off of school when they were older. He never gave his all to the military again.

He had to learn all about periods when Winnie was twelve so he could help her as best he could. He had to learn all about her friends, then Mellie’s friends - he felt that time was always going too fast. He comforted his children through the loss of their beloved cat. He met boyfriends and girlfriends before his daughters finally fled the nest, leaving him alone for the first time in 22 years.

The month after he was left alone again, he opened a bottle of bourbon. He felt the pain creep back into his skin, he needed relief. He needed to not know what pain was. He’d drink when he was alone. He wouldn’t dare to have a drop when his children were around, when his grandkids were ever in his home. But when he was alone? It seemed just a glass of three fingers turned into a bottle, sleeping a couple hours turned into twenty, three missed calls from Mellie and a seven texts from Winnie - all asking if he was alright, that his constant sleeping was making them nervous.

One day, Simon tried to open his nightstand to find his ID tags, he was drunk the night before and woke up without them. He never slept without them, it was his way of comforting himself with something he’s had almost all his life. The nightstand’s drawer wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t pull open. He reached his hand underneath the drawer to try and dislodge whatever was keeping it from opening - a letter falls into his hand. He grew confused, there is no address or writing on the front - it’s obviously old too. He opened the envelope, seeing a date written on the lip in handwriting he’s wished to read for decades.

The day before Mellie’s birth was written clearly.

He ripped the paper from the envelope and fell to his knees, a photo of you in the hospital floated to the floor as he reads the letter. The last picture of you ever taken, one that came from that little polaroid camera he bought you before he left his whole family for the last time.

You didn’t leave him without direction. He just didn’t know where to look.

i love all the happiness asks so much that the new happiness chapter will be coming very soon

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Hello my dear, I’m sending you a twist on who’s your boo 👻🧡

So… Steve is your boo, but what are you going to do to get in the spooky season mood?

🍁 day date to an apple orchard - picking apples and having a lovely picnic lunch in the open fields!

🍁 haunted house and midnight mayhem at a Haunted Spooky fest!

🍁 a night in with carving pumpkins, Fall treats and cozying up with some seasonal movies- spooky or non spooky!

Ohhh I loved this so much, thank you for sending it in! This event has been such fun and I'm very grateful that you spent time on this and twisted the question like this!

And honestly, all these activities sound like wonderful things to do with Steve! (I mean I'd spend an afternoon staring at paint drying with Steve but that's beside the point.) I really want to pick all of them, but if I absolutely have to choose, then I'm choosing the Haunted Spooky fest. I've had a headcanon that Steve is a horror movie junkie for the longest time - he likes adrenaline, and in CA:TWS, he recognized the reference to Saw when it was a big deal in the movie that he's missed a lot while under the ice.

But all of these were so lovely that I actually wanted to jot down some headcanons for each. Unedited, drafty, bullet-point style writing under the cut.

🍁 day date to an apple orchard - picking apples and having a lovely picnic lunch in the open fields!

This sounds like a first date to me.

It's a fun activity that offers lots of time for talking, but in a way where you can concentrate on the activity itself to avoid awkward pauses.

Steve has cooked and packed the lunch for the picnic himself.

No, he's not letting you touch that cooler he's hauling around. He will carry it.

He's got a thermos full of hot chocolate too, for breaks between the apple picking, in case you get cold. It's delicious, and he stares at your lips in a way that makes you think he wants to kiss the remnants off your mouth.

When it's time for the picnic, he chooses the most beautiful place under the trees, and you realize he's been eying for the perfect one ever since you came in.

He's gone all out with the food because this is a man with provider instincts who wants to ensure you're fed. Cold wraps, filled sandwiches, fruit skewers, a slaw-type salad, cheese and crackers, home-baked cookies, chocolate... He's even brought a bottle of wine to go with it, and of course, coffee. He spreads it all out on a checkered picnic blanket, and you tell him it looks amazing and thank him for having gone through all this trouble.

It's all delicious, and you don't understand how you got this lucky.

The earth is already pretty cold at this time of the year, so sitting down, you shiver a little, and before you can even open your mouth to comment on it, he's taking off his coat and setting it on your shoulders. It smells like his aftershave and him.

You enjoy the incredible food and have a pleasant chat.

In a bout of courage, you move to lean on his side, resting your head against his shoulder, and for a moment you feel him freeze, before his arm moves as he puts it on your shoulders and pulls you properly in.

You turn to look at him, and he looks at you.

Carefully cradling your jaw with his other hand, he leans in for your first kiss.

🍁 haunted house and midnight mayhem at a Haunted Spooky fest!

This feels like something Steve and you would do with the Cap Quartet. You're all there in the event area, kind of doing your own things and meeting up every once in a while.

Established relationship, maybe a few months of very steady dating.

Steve is the biggest horror movie fan and his eyes are practically alight with excitement at this.

You love that boyish look in his eyes, and remind yourself to thank Nat for spotting the event ad.

The haunted house is amazing. It's been done with such detail and the actors are legitimately scary.

So of course, you cling to Steve's side, and he's in full captain alert mode because he's here to protect you. You worry that you're ruining his fun, and he grins at you that just like when you're watching scary movies, it's half the fun to see your reactions and see how you want to get even closer to him when you're scared. It makes him feel like a knight.

For a few times, you get so scared that you practically jump into Steve's arms, and he presses your mouth against your ear and murmurs: 'Don't worry, darling, I'm here to protect you from everything. Including vampires.'

You meet up with the Cap Quarted to eat and order a table full of glorious junk food, sampling everything from the selection and laughing and joking together.

When you're driving home, you muse how it would be to live in a house that was actually haunted. Steve, who is behind the wheel, says that he'll figure out how to punch a ghost if it scares his wife.

For a few seconds, it's quiet once you process it and he internally panics over the slip-up.

Then, you reach out a hand to place over his on the steering wheel and whisper 'Then I guess I will be very safe.' and he gets the BIGGEST smile on his face.

Once you leave the car to the Tower's garage, he carries you inside, bridal style, and you spend a lovely night together.

🍁 a night in with carving pumpkins, Fall treats and cozying up with some seasonal movies- spooky or non spooky!

This feels like another established relationship thing. Maybe you're already living together in the Tower?

You've made some nice snacks to go with it, popcorn and roasted almonds and some mulled cider to drink.

Steve is the artist, so of course his turn out glorious.

You are much more challenged on that front, and Steve laughs at you, very gently, when you frown at the pumpkin that definitely does not look like your artistic vision.

He stands up from his seat and comes to stand behind you, covering your hand on the knife with his own and uses the other to roll a fresh pumpkin in front of you.

He asks a few questions about what you want the carving to be, and then, very slowly and gently, he starts guiding your hand with his.

With your combined effort, the pumpkin turns out great, and he presses victorious kisses into the back and side of your neck.

You start watching a scary movie under a shared blanket, but the movie soon becomes background noise to your cuddling, until your oh-so-innocent (definitely not innocent) touches make Steve finally lose his patience, put the movie on pause and carry you to the bedroom.

Thank you again for this, it was so much fun!

TAGS:

ALL MARVEL: @darsynia @bitchy-bi-trash

ALL STEVE: @steviebbboi @krirebr @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Taglist is open! Drop an ask / reply / reblog and I'll add you on (must be 18+ to join). Let me know if you'd like to be tagged to all Marvel fic, Steve fic, a specific story, etc.

[robsterskellington]

Shin Soukoku again being the more popular vote, huh? This snippet has Vanitas being more of a side character, but he's still involved.

Context: "In six months time, I'm going to kill you." Akutagawa never breaks his promises, right?

*It's time.*

That text had frozen Atsushi's heart, and made him feel sick. After getting the date confirmed, he realised that it had been exactly six months since the end of the Cannibalism Incident, and thus it was time for Akutagawa to fight Atsushi to the death.

*Why? Why did this have to happen? I thought we were getting along, I thought we finally understood each other!* His thoughts weren't helping matters in the slightest- he felt betrayed, but how could he not? Akutagawa had been hanging out with him a lot; sometimes they sparred and fought, sometimes they simply met for tea, and sometimes Akutagawa would simply be there whenever Byakko needed to run around in that beautiful forest.

But clearly it was all for nothing. Akutagawa would never break a promise, especially not for an *enemy*. That's all Atsushi was, in the end. And it hurt, oh God it hurt. He had to excuse himself and run to the bathroom, crying his eyes out. This was always going to happen, Atsushi knew that, but... knowing that the time had come, knowing that Akutagawa was ready to kill him, it made him throw up.

Eventually he emerged, and simply texted back to ask where to meet. Maybe Atsushi would beat Akutagawa? But then would Akutagawa stop if Atsushi defeated him, or would the fight only stop when one of them died? Atsushi had to come to terms with the fact that it was likely Akutagawa had only been so kind, so good to him, to soften him until he refused to fight him, which would just give Akutagawa an easy win.

His sour mood didn't go unnoticed, but nobody spoke to him. Vanitas seemed keen on keeping everyone away from him, and Ranpo was helping. Dazai wasn't in the office, he was likely bothering Chuuya. Atsushi suddenly growled and faced them, "What's the deal with you all?!"

"Atsushi, just calm down." Vanitas spoke softly and looked at him, "Just go meet Akutagawa, and we'll talk later, okay?" Vanitas had been informed of the promise, but he didn't look nervous. If anything, there was a slight smile hidden on his face, and Atsushi noticed a twinkle in Yosano's eyes. They were up to something, obviously.

Atsushi was texted a bunch of coordinates- he still struggled to read them, so he showed Kyouka, who instructed him to go to the Port, and to an abandoned warehouse that had red paint, crumbling off on the outside. She then gave Atsushi a big hug, since she clearly wasn't in the same know-how as Ranpo, Yosano and Vanitas, and whispered softly, "Even if he begs you, don't kill him. And please don't die, I can't lose you."

He held her tightly, then kissed her forehead. She truly was the little sister he wished he had. After taking a breath, he left, his tears dry and his heart hardened.

****

After a walk that took entirely too long as a result of Atsushi dragging his feet, he arrived at the designated location. The whole area was barren, save some dilapidated buildings. The warehouse he was sent to was empty, just the main structures and some railings remained.

Akutagawa was stood leaning against a pillar, scrolling on his phone, not even dressed in his usual gear- his iconic coat was nowhere to be seen, he was wearing black jeans, black converse and a sky blue hoodie. Only a select few people, (meaning Dazai, Gin and Atsushi), knew that Akutagawa's favourite colour was actually lighter shades of blue.

The outfit was... inappropriate. Not because of the clothes having anything wrong with them, but because Rashōmon wouldn't have a good reach with them, though Akutagawa obviously didn't care. He looked completely relaxed, as if he hadn't just summoned Atsushi for a death match. That sight completely enraged him and he clenched his fists.

"*AKUTAGAWA!!*"

Atsushi jumped down, shaking with fury, but Akutagawa looked calm. In fact, after seeing Atsushi, he grew a warm smile, one that made Atsushi's heart skip a beat, "Greetings, Weretiger."

"...*greetings*?! That's all you can say right now? Fucking *greetings*?!" What was Akutagawa's play? This was insulting and ridiculous, and Akutagawa had the audacity to downplay his feelings?!

Akutagawa stood up properly, and walked calmly towards Atsushi, keeping his hands in his pockets, "You're upset, but you shouldn't be." Before the younger man could shout again, Akutagawa gently continued, "Jinko. I've spent my entire life making and keeping promises. I've never broken a promise. Only now do I realise just how idiotic that is."

That wasn't what Atsushi expected. It wasn't stupid to keep promises, was it? That was when a horrible image flashed in Atsushi's mind- Fukuchi and that cursed sword, slashing Akutagawa's throat. If Atsushi hadn't made Akutagawa promise not to kill, they might not have even gotten to that point. They could have killed the bastard before he could summon the sword. He couldn't speak, and he couldn't look at the man in front of him.

Akutagawa saw Atsushi's expression, and took that as a sign to continue, "These past six months have taught me so much. Finding ways to resolve situations without killing is certainly a good alternative, and it's less paperwork." He was only half-joking, but saw that Atsushi didn't even crack a smile. Taking another breath, he got to his point: "I can't kill you. I don't want to, so I refuse. This will be the first promise I *break*."

"...what?" This wasn't real. It couldn't be. But he hoped it was, that he wouldn't wake up and find out that this was just a dream.

Akutagawa took a step closer and smiled at Atsushi, "I... wanted to know what my actual feelings were. So during the time limit I set for us, I decided to spend time with you. I've been alive for nearly 21 years, and I swear that I've never laughed, cried, or enjoyed myself as much as I have when we're together. Being around you simply feels right. If I kill you, then that's all gone, and I cannot allow that."

He couldn't ignore his emotions anymore, and he didn't even really understand his jealousy in the first place! Sure, Atsushi got all of Dazai's attention and praise, but one, he'd earned every word of encouragement and kindness, and two, Akutagawa was dealing with a version of Dazai that was toxic and cruel. The facts of the matter was that they were a great team, the New Double Black, and knew that they could trust each other in any life or death situation. Akutagawa was done being cold to Atsushi, the man he willingly gave up his life for.

Atsushi was shaking, he felt more emotional than he'd done in a long time. Without thinking, he hugged Akutagawa tightly, sobbing into his chest. The tears fell more when he felt the other wrapping his arms securely around him, the two of them just embracing. After a little longer, Atsushi sniffed, "...Ryū? Is this really what you want?"

"I want a lot more, but that'll come later." He chuckled weakly, stroking the back of Atsushi's head, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the Weretiger's warmth, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wanted to, but I was so scared you wouldn't believe me. I didn't want you to hate me again, we've come so far from when we first met."

"Still, I'll get you for scaring me like that, you lunatic." They both laughed a little, and Atsushi finally calmed down, pulling away and wiping his eyes. They needed to talk things through properly, but while his emotions and mind were a bit fried, Atsushi looked up at Akutagawa, "I was scared. I didn't wanna die, I didn't wanna hurt you. Seeing you die on the ship..." he frowned then tilted his head, "You never answered my question. Why did you save me that day? Was it because of Dazai's orders, or because you wanted to kill me yourself back then?"

"Actually, when he ordered me to protect you, I initially refused at the time, like a fool." Akutagawa reached out and stroked Atsushi's cheek, "I saved you, simply because I wanted you to live. I wanted you to see that even if you thought you had no right to live, other people like myself disagree. You have every right to live, and I'm so grateful every day I see you, alive and well. No more suffering or pain."

He'd never heard those words before. Atsushi had never been told that others wanted him to live. Sometimes implications weren't enough. Sure, Kyouka had asked him not to die, but it wasn't quite the same. Someone being grateful that Atsushi was alive felt so foreign to him, so alien. Coming from Akutagawa, it felt sincere. Leaning into Akutagawa's touch, he felt tears well up again, but he didn't fight to keep them, just letting them fall.

Once he regained his composure, Atsushi assumed that maybe they could go out for tea or something, but Akutagawa looked nervous suddenly, "Actually, would you mind taking me to the Agency? I believe your head detective will have figured out that I'm not keeping this particular promise, so there's no need for hostility."

"I mean, sure. I can bring you." He knew now that after six months of not killing, Akutagawa had changed. There was no way he'd flip like a switch now, especially when Akutagawa had since acknowledged that Dazai belonged at the Agency. Akutagawa was in the Port Mafia, so killing was unavoidable, but Akutagawa would *try* not to, so that gave Atsushi some peace. But still, "May I ask why, first?"

"You may, and I shall tell." Akutagawa looked uncomfortable for a moment, then looked at Atsushi with a soft expression, "As you're aware, I have a lung disease that's slowly but surely killing me. However, five months ago, Vanitas had given me a medicine to soothe the pain, and allow me to breathe properly. Because of it, I have grown physically stronger, and I feel healthier."

Atsushi knew all this, of course. Vanitas had given Akutagawa the herbal remedy he'd concocted while the Port Mafia were still Vampires, and he'd been taking it for so long that his coughing was a rare occurrence now. The problem was that lungs, once damaged, tend to remain that way. The medication helped with the breathing difficulties, and helped Akutagawa do more with his body and life, but the lung disease would kill him in the end.

He felt his heart fill with light when Akutagawa continued: "Before, I was so weak that if your Doctor Yosano tried to use her Ability on me, I would have died before Thou Shalt Not Die could activate, which is one Hell of a feat, considering it can cure death in certain circumstances." He cleared his throat, "Now... I'm not that weak anymore. I can survive. So, please take me to her... so I can get rid of this cursed illness once and for all, and live for as long as I can."

Atsushi was having a day of emotional whiplash. What started off with pure fear, was now a situation that filled him with so much joy that he couldn't see straight. Acting without thinking, Atsushi threw his arms around Akutagawa, who held him securely and swung him around using the momentum created, laughing! It was so ridiculous, but they were both happy and clearly doing things in the heat of the moment. This was completely verified by Atsushi, slamming his lips onto Akutagawa's.

The Black Caped Beast, the Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia, was stunned silent and completely red in the face as the infamous Weretiger of the Armed Detective Agency kissed him like he needed Akutagawa's lips in order to breathe. In that moment, Akutagawa felt the same way, his arms holding Atsushi close, both of them aware of Byakko and Rashōmon purring within them, also happy.

Once they pulled apart, Atsushi grabbed Akutagawa's hand and practically dragged him to the Agency; it was a good thing that Akutagawa's lungs were already on the mend, at least now he could keep up without losing breath too fast and feeling like trash! He didn't want anything to ruin the moment they just had...

****

Vanitas and Ranpo had smug looks on their faces when they saw the boys return, and Akutagawa glared, "...you both really did call it."

"Yep!" Ranpo grinned as Vanitas explained, "However, we didn't want to risk anything going wrong, so we kept it to ourselves. The only other people who figured this out was the President, and Doctor Yosano."

As if summoned, Yosano came from the infirmary, looking surprised when Akutagawa bowed to her, "Doctor Yosano, after everything I've done, I understand if you refuse, but... I'm in desperate need of healing. Even with Vanitas' medicines, I'm not going to live too long with my lungs in this state. I'm willing to pay any price-"

Yosano cut him off by raising her hand, and looked at him, "You're a patient in need of help, and I'm aware that Vanitas' medicines can only do so much, while Mr. Mori is useless when it comes to diseases. You don't need to pay me anything, I'm just proud of you for finally admitting that you need help." She looked towards Atsushi and smiled, "You can trust me with Akutagawa's health."

It wouldn't take long, but Atsushi was still nervous at seeing Yosano drag Akutagawa into the infirmary. Kyouka had to hold him back when he heard the chainsaw whirring and Akutagawa's scream- he'd never heard Akutagawa scream with utter fear before, and he silently vowed that he would never let Akutagawa scream like that ever again. Kyouka hugged Atsushi, and he leaned into her. Obviously he knew that Yosano would cure Akutagawa completely, but it was still nerve-wracking to wait.

It was only a couple of minutes before Yosano came out, with a satisfied look, "Okay, that lung disease is all gone! And *yes* Atsushi, you can-" He zipped right past her before she could finish her sentence, but she found herself still doing so, "...see him now."

Vanitas laughed and went to make Yosano some tea to help her recover, "How bad?"

"If you hadn't given him that stuff, Akutagawa's lungs would have gotten worse. That boy hasn't smoked in his life, but his lungs were in a similar state to a chain smoker." She looked tired, but it was obvious that she thought it was worth it. "He probably would have died before meeting the six month deadline he'd set for Atsushi."

That was depressing, but unfortunately that was how unlucky life could be for some people. Akutagawa was already sickly, prone to infections and illnesses of all kinds. It was good that now he had support, and was able to trust people enough to help him. After giving Yosano the tea, Vanitas and Kyouka peaked inside the infirmary to see that Akutagawa was sound asleep in the bed, with Atsushi holding his hand and resting his head on the edge of aforementioned bed.

Vanitas smiled and grabbed an extra blanket, covering Atsushi's sleeping form before taking Kyouka's hand and leading her to the café to relax for a while. He'd already taken note of the fact that Akutagawa's breathing sounded steady, and he didn't look uncomfortable anymore. His chest no longer rattled, and he didn't cough himself awake.

*****

Akutagawa woke up an hour later, and he could immediately feel that he was *better*. It didn't feel like smoke was filling his lungs, and he couldn't taste blood in the back of his throat anymore. He felt someone squeeze his hand, and turned to smile at Atsushi taking a nap close to him. His heart hammered at the memory of that kiss, and he blushed to himself.

Maybe this partnership had more similarities to Chuuya and Dazai's than he thought. Working together, capable of destruction, and at the end of the day, they completed each other. Akutagawa and Atsushi weren't a single soul in two bodies, but their Abilities in the form of Kokko Zessō absolutely was.

Akutagawa smiled to himself as he watched Atsushi slowly awaken from his nap, and he couldn't help but stroke Atsushi's face when he saw that sleepy smile, "Ryū... how you feeling?"

"Healthy." That was honestly the best way to describe how he felt at this moment. Akutagawa leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Atsushi's, the pair of them holding each other like that for a moment.

It felt like now or never, so Atsushi spoke softly, "I... Ryū, I think I've made my thoughts clear, but I'm still gonna say it. I don't want us to be enemies anymore, or rivals. You may be in the Port Mafia, but that doesn't matter to me. I just... I just want to spend my life with you..."

That was something exceedingly dangerous to ask of a Mafia member, however Akutagawa completely returned that sentiment. He'd known Atsushi for months now, and they'd been through so much together. All Akutagawa wanted was to watch Atsushi live his life, while standing beside him the entire time. He'd never attack Atsushi, and he didn't particularly have any beef with the Agency, so a feud was pointless in his opinion.

All Akutagawa could do in response was pull Atsushi onto the bed with him, hold him close, and kiss him again. Atsushi squeaked, but wrapped his arms around Akutagawa and let them both sink into the bed, staying there for what felt like hours.

This was trust. This was loyalty. This was *love*.

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - freaky friday time travel fic

my prompt was the future Caroline Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes swap places and I was like, okay, I am going to shoehorn an entire plot in here after prom but before graduation. author is loading canon and firing it into the sun

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

The package was sitting innocently enough on the porch swing when Caroline got home from school. After a weird day of fielding concerned questions from her peers about Elena’s whereabouts–Stefan and Damon locking her in the Boarding House all weekend after prom was a last-ditch effort that looked like it wasn’t working–Caroline wasn’t really in the mood for a surprise. 

When a cautious sniff towards the box brought her the acrid smell of oil paint and turpentine, though, she had to bite down on her smile. The smell liked to cling to Klaus after he’d been painting all morning, as she’d discovered two days ago, the morning after prom. She’d been crossing the Square, coming from the Sheriff’s department toward the Mystic Grill to meet Matt for lunch and flashcards, when her name being called pulled her head back to the here and now.

“Caroline!” Klaus’ smile was delighted to see her as he crossed the street to meet her on the grass, dimples brighter on his face than the sunshine, and god wasn’t that cheesy and ironic, just like her agreement to be friends with the nightmare creature that had plagued their lives for months. Even stranger, that she actually wanted to. Okay, maybe he hadn't been plaguing their lives very hard recently. What with the others unleashing Evil Dead and Elena taking home all the queen bitch prizes previously scooped up by Katherine, Klaus had almost seemed like your friendly neighborhood serial killer in comparison. 

She waited until he caught up, swinging a large brown paper bag by string handles. “A word of advice?” she offered. He raised his eyebrows in intrigued curiosity. “Don’t go loudly chatting up the Sheriff's teenage daughter in the middle of town when you look like… that,” She gestured at all of him, including his loose-necked henley and comfortable jeans liberally smeared with paint, “Unless you want to get called a dirty old man behind your back.”

The laugh was practically startled out of him. He looked like an artist grad student at most, the kind that would debauch you on the furniture props, but judging by the slightly judgy looks from a few faces she could see around the square, that was too old for just barely eighteen Caroline. Oh yeah, Liz would be hearing about this before the day was out, and wasn't that just what Caroline needed?

Klaus leaned forward slightly, for all the world looked like he was sharing confidences with her. "Do you find me old, sweetheart?" he asked, dimples on display.

"Ancient, decrepit," she deadpanned.

His voice dropped a little softer, and unconsciously this time she leaned in a little to hear him. “You know our kind don’t measure time in years, sweetheart, it’s more about experiences.”

With a scoff and an eye roll, she leaned back. “Oh my god, you did not just ‘Age is just a number’ me. It’s jail for you, sir.”

“Mmm, they haven’t built a prison that can hold me yet, but if you prefer that sort of role-play, I'm sure I could think of something,” he said cheekily.

“Wow, okay!” She laughed, trying not to think of ‘Klaus’ and ‘role-play’ in the same context, “You are feeling much better than the last time I saw you.”

He seemed to sober, tension pinching his soft mouth. “Silas hasn’t shown himself that I’m aware of. Elijah is refusing to hand over the cure to either Rebekah or myself. Her on the grounds that she failed her trial, and me…” Klaus glanced away.

Caroline tried to dredge up some sympathy, really she did. “Well, we are all very much hoping there will not be an apocalypse hell-on-earth. I never met your parents and I would like to keep that track record going, thanks.” Klaus ducked his head, laugh soft, and Caroline nearly preened. “So, what’s in the bag? Thumb screws? Arsenic? Stolen lollipops?”

“Your imagination is a never-ending delight, love. There’s an art supply shop down the street that orders my paints for me. Which is fortunate, I was getting low on Cadmium Orange.” His fingers fiddled with the bag string.

“That is a very specific color,” she teased gently.

He tilted his head to the side in a self-deprecating sort of way. “Well, I need it for a very specific bit of shading, you see. The fall,” he gestured vaguely with one hand at some unseen painting, “Isn’t quite right. I’ve been working on it all night.”

Wrinkling her nose at him, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Is that why you have that ‘freshly bathed in linseed oil’ smell?” Knowing she was about to set the tongues wagging but unable to resist the look it would put on his face, she reached out and snagged his hand, flipped it over backside up. Bright yellow paint was smeared on his skin. “You missed a spot.” she pointed out helpfully.

He rumbled softly in his throat. “So I did.” When Caroline looked up, his hungry blue eyes were on her, quiet, watchful of what she’d do next.

“So,” she said, drawing out the vowel, “I’m supposed to meet Matt for lunch.”

“The human?” Klaus managed to fit a world of disgruntled judgment into two words.

“Ugh.” Caroline dropped his hand with a bit of force. “Matt is failing some of his classes and needs a study buddy. I happen to be queen of the flashcards, thank you very much. Finals are next week, and I just want…” She paused, emotion clawing up her throat and she swallowed. Blinked. The sun that seemed so bright before–but not warm, never warm, never again–seemed a pale imitation of itself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Klaus’s hand hovering next to her arm as if wondering if his touch was unwelcome.

This wasn’t helpful, this wasn’t what she needed, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the Square, for god’s sake. Her chin raised, she looked Klaus in the eye. He looked solemnly back. “I just want us to make it through graduation. All of us. So.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I do what I can, which means flashcards.”

Something bitter tilted his mouth. “The talents of a general and they have you tutoring the quarterback.”

Caroline scowled at him. “It’s not a waste of my time to care about my friends. You certainly benefited from that.” With a huff, she turned to go, and he stepped sideways into her path.

“Admitting you care, love?” There was something predatory about the glint in his eyes.

Raising her eyebrows loftily, she pushed past him, trying to ignore the heat from his body that seemed to cling to hers. “In your dreams, Klaus,” she shot over her shoulder as she headed toward the Mystic Grill.

While her vampire hearing might have been bogged down by the noise in the Square, she was annoyingly attuned to Klaus’ presence. His parting words reached her easily: “Someday, you will.”

[dandelionfairyyy]

Messy G. G.

Summary: just two lost souls finally finding peace in each others company

Pairing: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x fem!reader

Wordcount: 7,193 (I’m sorry 😭)

Triggerwaning: 16+ because of slight mention of: blood, torture, GSWs, panic attacks, use of drugs, underweight, mental struggle, trauma and death as well as explicit described sexual acts and possible incorrect description of certain things/feelings and possible writing mistakes

A/N: this piece turned out longer than I expected but I hope you still like it. And as a disclaimer or something: just to make it clear, I didn’t experienced any of this so I apologize for incorrect descriptions.

Red-stained water flows from your hands as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your face bears more stains and you have to close your eyes for a moment and breathe deeply to push back the memory as you continue to wash the red from your skin.

It's like dejà vu. Every time you clean up after painting, you feel transported back to the night three months ago.

There was red everywhere, as if one of your colours had tipped over, but your Ma had been clear when she had forbidden you to paint in the living room. And you had kept to it.

Your gaze wandered through the room of chaos and your breath was taken away when you spotted someone.

"Dad!"

You go down on your knees in front of him, pressing your hands on the gunshot wound in his chest from which blood was still running. Tears now ran down your cheeks as you remembered your mum and siblings.

"Where's Ma? And Olivia? And Wesley? Dad!"

Your dad made a strained groan and mumbled something. You moved your ear closer to his mouth and heard, "They took her... They wanted... Documents... Ma doesn't know anything about it... Bank... 273B..." You couldn't make sense of it, to you it all sounded like the confused ramblings of a dying man, but soon you realised that he was actually serious.

Agitated, you wash the red colour and salty tears from your cheeks. Your hands clench around the ceramics of your sink in an attempt to push back the panic attack.

They cannot hurt you. They cannot hurt you.

They know nothing about you...

With shaky hands, you open the small medicine compartment next to the mirror.

Shit!

You had smoked the last one the day before yesterday... frustrated, you slam the door again and grab your fanny pack with your money before heading to your new friend Johnny. The shivering slowly subsides. The cold winter air seems to help.

"Hey Sugar," he greets you with his typical flirty smirk.

"Quit it. I'm not in the mood. I need another five...'

Johnny looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "When we met you didn't want to know anything about the drugs and now you're one of my most loyal customers? What the hell happened to you?"

"Let's not talk about it," you suggest and take a few dollar notes out of your pocket.

Johnny presses the little bag into your hand and takes the money from you. "Hey, if you ever need something stronger, let me know."

"Don't give me any ideas."

Johnny playfully raises his hands defensively. "Just an offer." He looks at you again with concern. You've known each other for a few years now, travelled in the same circles and he's taken you to his heart. But you've only really had closer contact since the incident. That's why he was worried about you now. You hadn't told him what happened, you'd just asked him three months ago for something to quiet the mind and let you sleep. "Sugar, there's a party at one of my boys' on Friday night. Do you want to come?"

"I'll think about it." With those words, you turn around and make your way back to your little flat. Your flat... It belonged to your parents. It was bought as an investment at the time. Along with two others. For you and your siblings, should you want to move out. Now you have three flats and a house, as well as a flourishing family business worth millions, and you don't know what to do with it. And that's just what you know.

When you check the letterbox, there is another letter from your family's lawyer. You know what it says. That you should accept or reject the inheritance listed. That you have to take care of so many things you never wanted to worry about...

Closing the flat door with one foot, you make your way to the couch.

It doesn't take long and you have your "medicine" in stock again and you reach for the lighter on the small table.

The herbal taste spreads through your mouth after the first hit. After the third, you finally start to feel the marijuana. The comforting blanket wraps around your thoughts and they finally quiet down. The traumatic images from three months ago blur into a simple mist in your mind and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Knowing that hunger will soon set in, you make your way to the kitchen with the joint between your lips and take a look in the fridge.

Margarita, your parents' housekeeper, who is now looking after you, has put something in the fridge for you. Reading the little message lying next to it, you start to heat it up in the pan.

Because I know you won't cook anything anyway, I took the liberty of preparing something for you. You really should eat more, child.

You smirk.

Margarita has been working for your family for more than twenty years, taking care of the household and you and your siblings as children. Now there is only you left for her to take care of. You take another drag and these thoughts also fall completely silent.

Instead, you focus on the food.

Margarita's food was always incredible, but with the effect of the marijuana it is even better. Smiling contentedly, you eat in complete silence before fatigue sets in soon after.

Yawning, you plod barefoot from the kitchen back to the couch.

Next to the pillow lies the little sheep that you have had as a cuddly toy since birth. If someone asked you, you would deny that you still sleep with a cuddly toy, but since what happened three months ago, the little sheep has given you comfort when no one else could.

You lovingly hug the fluffy thing to you and finally close your eyes to fall asleep shortly afterwards.

Your flat actually consists of three rooms. A bedroom, a study and a living room.

But two of the three rooms are empty. The walls are bare and there is not a single piece of furniture in them. Only in the living room is a couch where you sleep and a table next to it. Otherwise, the boxes that Margarita packed for you from the house are standing around. You haven't even opened most of them. Everything in them reminds you of something that is no longer there.

Friday morning you finally stand in front of the mirror and look at yourself. You have lost a lot of weight after the incident, but thanks to Margarita, who forced you to eat more in the beginning, your clothes start to fit again.

You no longer wear your belts in the last hole, your T-shirts no longer hang down like sacks. Your hair looks fuller and healthier again.

Maybe you should make a change?

After a moment's thought, you call Margarita. And only thirty minutes later she is standing in front of your flat with hair dye.

"Are you sure, dear?" she asks in her Russian accent for the third time and lowers the scissors again. "Your beautiful hair..." When you were little, she made you pigtails every morning. Sometimes one, sometimes two. Sometimes braided, sometimes not. And every day she admired your full and soft hair.

By now you can do most of the braids on your own. But in the last few months you have neglected yourself. This is also noticeable in your hair.

"Yes, Margarita. I'm sure of it. And don't worry. It will grow back anyway..." you reply with a grin and watch as she takes a strand of your hair, applies the scissors and squints. You hear the sound of the scissors cutting through your hair. There is no turning back now.

Three hours later, you're standing in front of the mirror again and looking at your new hairstyle.

The dark brown has turned into a light blonde and your hair is much shorter. Before it almost reached your bottom, now it doesn't even reach your shoulder. The end just hovers over it. You didn't know how heavy hair can actually be.

"Wow...", you say and run your fingers through your new hair. You part your hair in the middle, make a side parting, and finally bites your lower lip with an admiring smile.

"You look great, love," she confirms to you and as you turn to thank her, she sees for the first time the glow in your eyes again for three months.

She hopes so much that you will slowly get back on your feet. You are like a daughter to her. She has watched you grow up and looked after you when your parents were busy again. So it hurts her heart every time to see you the way you are. You are lost. Lost in a world where you don't belong, where you never wanted to belong.

How she would love to take this burden off your shoulders, but she could not. All she can do is stand by your side and help when it is needed. But first you have to find your footing again.

After another look in the mirror, you decide to go to that party Johnny invited you to. While Margarita tidies up the flat again, you carelessly go through the boxes of expensive clothes.

Finally, you're back in front of the mirror in a pair of ripped jeans and a crop top. You look at yourself with a smile.

"You look like an angel," Margarita says as she leans against the doorframe, watching you.

You would not describe yourself as an angel, but as beautiful.

It has been a long time since you felt yourself to be beautiful. You see in the eyes of your old friend and housekeeper the hope that you wanted to feel so much. You no longer want to be this wreck, this shadow of yourself. But you are now in this new world where you never wanted to belong. And you don't know how to find your footing in it.

Shaking your head, you push the thoughts aside and thank Margarita again with a kiss on the cheek. You still ask her for one last favour, because you have to get to the party somehow.

"Sugar, what a surprise. I didn't expect to see you." "Well, if you want, I can leave again..." you joke.

Johnny smiles and grabs your hand to pull you into the house and his arms. "You look hot by the way", he whispers in your ear and places a kiss on your temple.

"Whatever," you dismiss the compliment with a little laugh and let yourself join the group of other partygoers.

"Hey guys, this is Y/N," Johnny introduces you and drops onto one of the couches. He pulls you with him onto his lap.

"You wish, Johnny. Keep your hands off. I am your customer, not your girlfriend, Sugar." You emphasise the pet name, which he always uses for you, especially.

"Worth a try, isn't it?"

You let your gaze wander around the room. Apart from Johnny, there are four other men sitting in the room. spread out the couches. "You call this a party? Or is this just the warm-up round?" you finally ask.

"I didn't know if you'd really come and how much of a party animal you are." Had he really done that just for you?

"Since when do you care how I am?" you ask him, poking him in the side.

"Some people I just like to take care of.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and don't respond further to his comment. Instead you say, "You didn't answer my question?"

"Hey Timothy, send out a message that there's a party here at short notice," Johnny gives to one of the other guests.

"You got it, boss."

"You'll have your party in an hour," Johnny promises and you smile. He leans forward a little and finally presses his lips to yours. You allow it for a few seconds before you release and place a finger on his lips, shaking your head.

"Nice try." You turn away from him and disappear into the bathroom.

A few deep breaths, a little water over your forearms and you're all better.

When you come back, you don't sit down next to Johnny again, but on the sofa opposite him. You need some space between you and him.

You like Johnny, he's a good friend, you can count on him, but he wants something from you. He makes no secret of it, but he doesn't understand that you don't want anything from him.

Now you are sitting next to a lanky young man, about your age, maybe a little older. With your back against the armrest, you casually put your legs diagonally across his, eliciting an overwhelmed "oh... okay" from him before you say, "Johnny didn't introduce us. I'm Y/N." You reach out your hand to him.

He takes it and introduces himself as "Mouse". You look at him in amazement. "Mouse?"

"Actually it's Greg, Mouse is a ridiculous nickname, but I've come to terms with it. Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"Nice to meet you too."

As Johnny promised, less than an hour later there was a party going on in the house. Music booms muffled from the big room into the smaller one where you are still sitting on the couch with Mouse. He's thawed out enough by now that he had his hands on your thighs to keep your legs from sliding down.

You feel Johnny's jealous gaze on you, but try to ignore it as much as possible.

"Hey Mouse. Are you also part of Johnny's business?" you finally ask curiously. To be honest, he doesn't really look like a dealer, more like a customer.

"I would rather say business partner.”

You look at him curiously.

"He introduces me to people who I then work for. I'm a computer crack."

"Oh. That's cool. I don't have anything to do with it. I'm totally incompetent at it. My talents lie elsewhere."

"It's not that hard. What do you do?"

"Y/N has divine hands...", Johnny comments and one of the men laughs quietly in the background.

"You bet," you hear and roll your eyes. Thanks to a former girlfriend, you now have that reputation gone...

"So I'm an artist," you clarify. "Johnny also introduces me to people I work for. I've painted one or two forgeries of famous works of art. There's even one hanging in the museum here in Chicago." You wink at him with a proud grin. "But most of the works are my own."

"Are you selling them?"

"Some. I was organising an exhibition where I could sell the works. Sort of a silent auction." You shrug your shoulders as if to dismiss the subject.

"What happened to that?"

"Something's come up," you dodge the question and instead reach for his beer bottle to take a sip of it.

As soon as the tingling liquid hits your taste buds, you contort your face.

"Yuck. How can you drink that. That's super disgusting."

Mouse laughs and takes the bottle from you again to drink a sip from it himself.

For the rest of the evening you talk about different things. It feels easy with him, like you can finally be you again. As if you had found an anchor to swim back to the surface. But you push back the budding sense of security. People come and go all the time. You've had to learn that the hard way. And they always want something from you.

"Hey, what's with the sad face all of a sudden?" asks Mouse in a soft voice, lifting your head with his index finger under your chin until you look at him. You have the feeling that he is really interested in your answer. It has been a long time since a person was really interested in you. So far, they've all wanted something from you in return. To buy something, to borrow money, to introduce someone to them, to sleep with them. But Mouse seems to be interested in you and you alone.

Tears come to your eyes and you have to take a deep breath. You put your head back and have to blink a few times until you can control yourself again.

"Do you know when the bad thoughts get too loud? And you don't know where you are, what's real and what's imaginary? What exactly is your mind playing you now and what is really there?"

"That pretty much sums up what I went through some time ago."

The tears were back and burning in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks.

"Have you figured out how to get rid of it?"

He shakes his head. "Not really. But it gets easier with time, you learn to live with it. I can promise you that." You nod and look at him with a sad smile.

"God. I'm so pathetic.

"Hey, don't say that. You're amazing. From what I've heard of you so far." With more affectionate words he tries to make you feel better and the only appropriate response that comes to your mind is to kiss him.

You lean forward and simply place your lips on his, silencing him.

You sense that he is surprised and overwhelmed by your reaction, which is why you withdraw again.

"I’m sorry," you say apologetically and pinch your lips together a little. Actually, you're not sorry, it felt too good.

"Don't be," he replies now, putting down his beer bottle and pulling you closer again.

His hands on your cheeks, he puts his lips on yours again and begins to kiss you.

You change position a little until you are sitting astride his lap. His hands now on your back and in your hair, your arms around his neck, your hands also running through his hair, you kiss each other deeply.

You dare to let go. You feel that it's okay, that it's the right thing to do, you just let go and the tears trickle down your cheeks while Mouse holds you, is your anchor to reality, so that you don't get lost in the whirlpool. The images you constantly see in front of you just pass by this time, have no effect on you, because Mouse's is stronger. You feel light, safe and secure in his arms, even though you hardly know him.

Your kiss becomes more intimate, more demanding and you receive his tongue with yours. Then your head is empty.

There is nothing more. Just you and this stranger who has this incredible effect on you.

Finally, you break away breathlessly and just look into each other's eyes. You notice that he can't hold eye contact for long, but that's okay. You know... you have experienced first-hand the effects trauma can have. Your fingers begin to trace his contours.

He makes you feel like you've never felt before. You don't have to say a word. It is as if your looks communicate everything.

Gently he wipes your tears from your cheeks. You nod slightly at his questioning look. Yes, you feel much better now.

"Thank you," you form with your lips. A small smirk settles on his and you lean forward again to kiss him once more. This time it's different. You no longer seek a hold on him, this time it's a "thank you".

Your kiss is gentle, careful and sensual.

If someone had told you this morning what was happening, you would have said that they were nuts. You still can't quite understand how this one person can have such power over you. That this one person can simply silence your thoughts like that.

Time passed, you're sitting next to Mouse again. Your legs crossed his as Johnny brought you not only a cup of Coke but also a joint. You throw him a kissing hand.

After lighting the cigarette, you hold it out to Mouse, offering it to him. He takes a drag while you hold the joint before you take one too.

You blow out the smoke upwards with relish.

A few puffs later, you lean forward again a little until your lips are almost touching and you inhale his smoke before exhaling it back upwards.

"Hey Y/N...", you hear someone's voice before the owner enters the room, just as you inhale Mouse's smoke one more time. "..Johnny said you were here... And apparently you're busy."

You make a grumbling noise, detach yourself from Mouse and blow the smoke back upwards. "Just what I need..." you mutter, before turning to face her. Even through the wonderful fog of the Weed, you are pissed off by the presence of this horrible person. Inconspicuously, you squeeze Mouse's hand tightly, again looking for support, before finally letting go and standing up.

"Genevieve..." you reply, looking at her with a fake smile.

"It's good to see you again. Hey. I'm sorry about what happened."

"Please, don't talk about it and say what you want." Your voice is cold and distant.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour. I know it was not correct of me."

You laugh in disbelief. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone, Genevieve. That's not something you just shrug off with an 'I'm sorry'."

"I know that. That's why I want to make it up to you. Tell me what to do."

"Would you do what you put me through?" She remains silent and you snort snidely before taking another step back. You need distance between you. "Of course you wouldn't. After all, then your great image would be tarnished. The great benefactor Genevieve..." you scoff, before adding: "You make me sick."

You see her expression stiffen. "And you are a slut! You slept with my boyfriend even though you knew he was MY boyfriend!" There she is, the real Genevieve, as she lives and breathes. You knew she had this side in her, but you never expected to feel it yourself.

Your hands clench into fists and you feel your fingernails digging into your skin. The pain helps you to stay calm as much as possible.

"Excuse me? That was some pretty lie he breathed into your ear. I told him I didn't want anything from him! Do you think he cared? You know what he told me? That you were too innocent, too willing. Too boring. I slapped him and told him not to talk about my best friend like that in front of me. He then tried to rape me! So much for your perfect Richard and the evil evil Y/N!", you rage.

Shocked, she looks at you before regaining her composure. "Liar!" she hisses, then looks at Mouse. "Have fun with that bitch. Make sure she doesn't end up cheating on you with your best friend."

You gasp in indignation and shock at her impudence. Your former best friend turns around and disappears again.

One more time you have to take a deep breath.

"Wow... that was intense," you hear Mouse suddenly standing behind you. You notice how you immediately become calmer as soon as you feel him behind you.

"Welcome to the young high society of Chicago," you murmur and turn to him. "I'm sorry you overheard that."

"Hev. I want you to know that I don't believe a word she says."

You smile sadly. "Then you're the first. Even Johnny thinks I'm the evil whore in the story."

"Well. I think you're just lost and need someone to believe in you again."

"And you're saying that someone is you?"

"Maybe," Mouse replies with a grin.

You have to laugh and gently bite your lower lip, slightly swollen from your kiss, as you look up at him.

"Are you coming?"

"Where?"

"Get some fresh air, go to the other side of the world, or go to a diner and eat something. Just get away from here."

He takes your hand in his again and intertwines his fingers with yours.

"Where are you going?" he just asks.

You feel a tingle in your stomach as he smiles at you and you have to swallow.

You say goodbye to Johnny with a simple wave before leaving the house with Mouse by the hand.

A car on the other side of the road flashes its lights as soon as you are out of the front gate and you roll your eyes, while you mumble, "Margarita…”

Nevertheless, you walk with Mouse towards the black car with the tinted windows.

"Wow... are you super rich or something?" asks Mouse wryly.

"Please don't remind me,” you only reply, as Peter, your family's long-time driver, gets out and holds the door open.

"Miss Y/L/N," he greets you with a nod as you tell Mouse to get in. "Hey Pete," you say back and get into the car as well.

"Where to, Miss Y/L/N?"

"Hannah's Diner," you reply and Peter nods before pulling out of the parking space.

Next to you, you sense that Mouse would like to bombard you with a thousand questions, but he refrains.

You sigh and lean your head against his shoulder.

"I hate it," you admit.

In response, Mouse squeezes your hand.

You never wanted your family's money. Even though you got a lot of pocket money, you never touched it. Since you were 16 and allowed to work, you worked in a diner and earned your few bucks. Everything you bought since then, you always bought with your own money.

Until the incident three months ago, you worked at Hannah's Diner. But since then you have hardly left your flat. Hannah, who has become a friend over time, has been there for you and said that you can take as much time off as you want and when you are ready and willing, you can start working for her again.

Together with Mouse, you sit down at one of the tables and wait for Hannah to come

It was already late, but the diner was open 24/7. "Okay. What do you want?" you ask, "it's on me." Seeing the look on his face, you add, "Do me a favour and let me pay." After another look into your eyes, he nods. "Okay."

You are suddenly absolutely exhausted. The encounter with Genevieve has robbed you of all the strength you had today.

"Y/N. Good to see you again," you are finally greeted by Hannah with a smile. You return it and stand up to be pulled into a hug.

"How are you?" she asks, looking at you with concern.

You shrug your shoulders. "I'm still alive..."

Hannah's smile turns sad and compassionate. "Well, that's a start." She puts a hand on your shoulder as you sit back down across from Mouse. "What can I get you two?"

Once your milkshakes and fries are brought, Mouse begins to tell. "I was in the army, 3rd Battalion 75th Ranger Regiment. I did two tours in Afghanistan. When I came back, my best friend who I met on deployment and I were a total mess. There are things I don't want to think about anymore, there are things that are constantly in my head. You learn to live with it. The images eventually become less deterrent."

"What happened?" you ask cautiously.

"During my last tour... there was a convoy... Jay and I were in the first Humvee and then..." You can see him bobbing his leg restlessly as he tells the story, his fingers drumming on the table. "I thought that was it for me. Jay and I are about the only ones who got out of there alive."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." You are silent for a moment and take a deep sip of your Strawberry milkshake before you decide to tell him about you.

"My family is... was...", you correct yourself, "actually super rich. The company my dad started after he invented something for computers or something that's now in pretty much every mobile device is incredibly huge. I honestly have no idea about the whole… thing" you run your fingers through your hair. It's still unfamiliar that it's now so short and, more importantly, so light. "He produces it himself, sells it himself. At least he did... He was tinkering with something newer, better, when he got mugged." You start to stir your milkshake with the straw, totally captured in your thoughts. "Someone tried to steal his designs. When he didn't hand them over, they shot and kidnapped my Ma and siblings. They blackmailed them to get the designs. But they knew nothing about it. Dad had never said anything about it." Tears burn in your eyes again. "I’ve found them...” Mouse carefully reaches across the table for your hand and brings you back from the memory.

You lift your gaze and meet his bright blue eyes. "Now I've inherited everything and have no idea where to go or what to do," you admit quietly. "The police never found the… offenders”

Mouse said nothing. He didn't have to say anything. Because nothing he could have said would have made you feel better. So you both remained silent for a moment while he still held your hand and gently caressed your skin with his thumb.

"Thank you for telling me," he finally says and you can't help but smile sadly at him.

"Okay. Let's talk about something else. Something nice..", you finally change the subject and force a liberated smile on your lips. "Tell me about your friend you mentioned, Jay. He seems important to you."

Mouse's expression brightens and he begins to smile honestly.

"Jay... we met in the army. Now he's with the CPD. He's managed to land on his feet. I.. well.."

"You can do it too. You just need someone who believes in you and gives you a chance."

"Yes. Maybe..."

"Okay. Crazy idea: we help each other get back on our feet." "And how do you imagine that?" He looks at you with interest.

"I don't know yet. But you can try, can't you?" "Okay. Let's try.”

After you have eaten and paid, you leave the diner again. "Do you want Pete to take you home? Or you can come upstairs. Then Pete can call it a night..”.

"Would be interested to see what an artist's flat looks like."

You snort in amusement. "Yes, don't expect too much. The artist hasn't moved in yet."

You get into the lift.

"Okay. All expectations are at zero. I promise," Mouse replies now and you have to laugh.

It's the first time in three months that you've really had an honest laugh.

"You have a very nice laugh," Mouse now says quietly.

"Thank you. I think that was the first time I laughed since the incident."

"Then I am honoured to be the first to hear it."

Again you giggle at his silliness.

The lift has arrived at the floor with your flat and you pull Mouse behind you down the corridor.

Once in your flat, Mouse looks around a bit. There is not much to see.

"I... haven't gotten around to decorating the flat yet," you now admit a little uncertainly and disappear into the kitchen.

"Since I don't drink beer, I only have wine in the fridge. But you get to decide which wine we head." You list a few varieties and as you look up, you meet Mouse's puzzled gaze, which makes you grin in amusement again.

"Just take any."

With a bottle of lovely white wine and two glasses in your hand, you go back into the living room and flop down on the couch.

"Sit down. I honestly have no idea what it is, Margarita got it for me...", you admit, and hand Mouse a glass with the alcohol.

Instead of sitting down, Mouse looks at the canvases that are standing around. Still lifes, landscapes. Chicago's skyline, portraits.

"That looks incredible. You should definitely exhibit it."

"Sometime, maybe. My parents were organising something when... well…”

Mouse nods in understanding.

"Hey, you want to try painting something?", you ask

"Oh no. I'd rather stick to my computer stuff."

"Come on. I'll help you." You direct him to the small stool that stands in front of your easel. "This is what I'm working on right now."

"Woah, no, I'm not touching that."

"No really. It didn't turn out so well anyway. I'll probably paint it over later."

"What?"

"Yeah, go on. What would you say is missing from this picture?"

You had painted an avenue where people were walking.

"Maybe make flowers out of the greenery? Then it doesn't look quite so gloomy.

"Okay." You stand behind Mouse, prepare the mixing palette and select a brush. "You do the flowers with dabs on the side."

You put the brush in his hand, put yours over it and guide it. Dab, dab, dab.

After a few dabs, you look at it and say with satisfaction: "Here. Now you try it on your own”

When Mouse did it alone, it didn't look as good as when you did it. But it wasn't a complete disaster either, which you consider a victory.

At some point, he taps his finger in the pink colour and taps you on the nose with it.

Outraged and surprised, you look at him before doing the same to him until you are both full of colour and end up laughing on the floor.

Over the next few weeks you and Mouse meet more often, regularly, sometimes he just sits on your couch and watches you paint, intently sticking your tongue out slightly, sometimes you watch him hacking in with ease somewhere to do something for Johnny's friends.

One day, your family's lawyer is at your door.

"Miss Y/L/N. It is time for you to attend to your duties. There are legal matters that we need to clarify." Mouse puts on his jacket and wants to leave, but you grab his hand. "Please stay." A look into your eyes is enough for him to nod and hang his jacket back up on the coat rack.

"Y/N. Once again, I would like to express my fullest condolences for your loss and for having to burden you with the legal stuff now."

"Thank you."

First he addresses the fact that you have still not accepted or renounced the inheritance. He lists all the things that are involved.

The house, the flats, the business, all the money of your parents and siblings. Mouse's ears almost fell off when he heard the buzzing.

"We can of course sell the house as well as the flats and the business."

"No. The company was Dad's life's work. It should continue to bear the name Y/L/N. Just hire someone competent to handle everything so far."

"I'II take care of it," promises Felix, the lawyer. "Then the properties." "Let's rent them out to people with little money..." Felix also makes a note of this.

"I want to donate most of the money..."

"Where?"

"'I’ll think about it.”

"Alright. Then I have everything for now. I'll get back to you." "Okay."

"You really are super rich”, Mouse said as soon as Felix was out the door.

"I don't want the money... What am I supposed to do with it? I can't spend as much as the company takes in. I probably donate monthly to women's shelters and children's homes or something.”

Mouse gently reaches for your hand and finally pulls you into a hug before the tears start running again.

Carefully he pulls you with him to the couch and onto his lap.

Shortly after your tears have dried up, Mouse feels you fall asleep and he smiles slightly.

In the last few weeks you have become so important to each other and you feel you have never told Mouse what it actually means to you that he is with you.

"Mouse... thank you..."

"For what?"

"That you're here. I... I was lost. Lost my footing and then I met you and... you became my anchor. I'm... I'm starting to be me again. Finding myself again."

He looks at you for a moment before he takes your hand and pulls you to him. The next moment his lips are on yours.

It doesn't take you long to recover from the surprise and you return the kiss. You open your lips slightly and receive his tongue, just like the night you met. But this time, when his tongue touches yours, a soft moan escapes you. You feel his little smirk against your lips. But at this moment you don't care.

Your hands run over his upper body and finally disappear under his T-shirt. You explore his chest and trace the contours of his muscles along his stomach. You tug lightly and he takes the hint and takes off his T-shirt before kissing you again without hesitation. His hands now roam over your body as well. Exploring every inch with such attentiveness to your reactions that you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Finally, you take off your T-shirt and Mouse takes a few seconds to admire your body. Your breasts are still hidden in your favourite bra.

Mouse lifts his gaze to your eyes. "May I?"

Your heart does a somersault. Mouse is not the first man you have slept with, but he is the first to ask you if he can do something. Unable to speak, you nod and bring his hands to your breasts and behind your back. Even though he can't look you in the eye for long, he watches your reaction very closely and as he slips the straps off your shoulders, goose bumps spread over your arms as his fingers touch you.

Kissing you again, still so lovingly, as if he were afraid you would break if he were too forceful, his hands wrap around your breasts and he begins to massage them.

His thumb strokes your hard nipples and you let out another moan as you begin to explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your excited moan shoots straight between his loins.

God, he wants you, so much, but even more he wants you to feel good, which is why he ignores the pulsing in his pants and continues to focus on you.

His hands go under your thighs and he looks at you briefly, the sign that you should jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and feel his hardness pressing against your middle.

The next moment, Mouse holds you between him and the wall, his lips now exploring your neck. With your eyes closed, you put your head to the side a little to give him more space.

He sucks a little on your skin, and leaves a little hickey.

An excited gasp escapes your throat and in response, he presses his hips a little harder against yours, only to have you moan lustily this time. "Fuck, Mouse..." you breathe as his lips reach your breast and cup your hard nipple.

Your head is swept clean as he begins to gently nibble, suck and lick over it.

Your hands are in his hair again, already you are searching for support in the storm of lust that threatens to take you in and you haven't even really started yet.

Each of his touches sends flashes of pleasure through your body, gathering in your centre and making you so fucking wet.

Finally, he sets you back down on the floor and his lips continue to travel down your body, over your belly to the waistband of your pants.

A loud shrill sound snaps you out of your frenzy of lust as a mobile phone begins to ring and you make a soft, agonised sound.

You want to ignore it, but it won't stop ringing.

Finally, Mouse, visibly annoyed about the interruption, breaks away from you and reaches for the phone on the table. "You've picked possibly the worst possible time, Halstead. I hope it's urgent."

You have to stifle a laugh as you hand him his shirt and put yours back on as well.

"Yes, in ten minutes, l'lI be there," you hear him say before he hangs up and looks at you apologetically. "Jay has some problem I need to help him with urgently, which of course couldn't wait." You nod in understanding and give him a breathtaking kiss goodbye.

The more time you spend with Mouse, the more you become yourself again. Margarita notices this too and confronts him when she happens to be in the flat while you and Mouse are there.

"Child, don't you want to start making your flat a home so that you no longer have to sleep in a storeroom?" she asks you, pointing to the boxes still standing around.

"Yeah, maybe I should start doing that, shouldn't I?"

When you then go to the kitchen to get something to drink, Margarita confronts Mouse: "If you hurt her, I'll make your life hell. She likes you and you are good for her, so don't ever let her go."

Then she turns to you as you re-enter the living room and says: "A nice young man you've caught yourself. I'II leave you to it then. Food is in the fridge, have a nice day." With a frown, you watch the woman scurry out of the front door.

"What was that?"

"I don't know what you mean," Mouse replies.

You shrug it off and change the subject. "Hey, about the flat furnishings...maybe you'd like to come with me?" You look at him with begging puppy eyes, which you know by now he cannot resist.

Your parents always had designer furniture everywhere and everything was made of very expensive material. You don't care, if you're honest, which is why you just decide according to what looks nicest to you. You notice how you think of your parents and don't immediately lose your grip. A small smile comes to your lips. Of course you still grieve and miss your family, that probably won't change, but it no longer paralyses you. You learn to live with it.

And Mouse has contributed a great deal to your healing, you are very sure of that, which is why you now take his hand and intertwine your fingers

A small smile also appears on his lips.

When you arrive in the bed department, you stand in front of a model and bite your lower lip, an idea forming in your head before you look at Mouse

"You know, you can't really try out the beds here. Just imagine, when you get home you realise that it's totally uncomfortable or impractical? If only you could try it out...." You look up at him meaningfully and he begins to laugh softly.

He understands what you are implying and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, before suggesting, "What do you say we come back later?"

"I think that's a great idea," you reply, stealing a small kiss from his lips.

…to be continued

back to masterlist

[tapiokauwu]

ok guys...

sorry, I disappeared yesterday because I realized that I'm splitting on my best friend and now I want to kms because my mind won't stop telling me that I should isolate myself and disappear and leave everyone alone...

I also hate that my best friend is busy but I feel guilty because damn I should be happy that she has dreams and goals... like, I know most people are not like me lol

I have nothing I can actually look forward to, I just survive, I exist on this planet, I stay at home all day and most of the time I don't even get dressed and just wear my pajamas.

I know it, I've always known that she was different from me... she always has that light in her eyes when she talks about art and she loves drawing and painting and I enjoy seeing her happy doing something that she likes...

but I don't have anything like that. I spend my days playing videogames and reading comics, fighting against mood swings and the urge to die. My whole life is just trying to escape reality and distract myself from everything. I'm always bored to death so I have to do something that keeps my mind in another world so I don't see this reality I live in.

She used to play Genshin with me but now she's busy with art school and spends most of her time drawing, she doesn't play much anymore and logins like once every month... I rarely go outside even tho we hang out once in a while, but every time we do I feel like I'm a burden and I wish I was a better person so she could feel proud of me.

I'm so fucking useless. I dropped out of highschool because it didn't matter how smart I was and how hard I tried, everything just kept falling down. Everything I try fails miserably, whether it's my fault or not. I don't feel capable of finding a job and working because I always end up having a derealization episode that lasts hours and/or feeling very physically and mentally tired after only a couple of hours (even if it's not a tiring job) and at that point I feel sick and I become inefficient. And I have to mask. I constantly have to mask. Which is VERY DRAINING.

I've always been the "weird one" and the "psycho", but there are still people like my father who say shit like that my sh is "stupid" or strangers who tell me I should stop because "it hurts"... there's nothing in between, it's always "exaggerated" and "a phase" or "toxic" and "ew stay away from me". Like, I'm sorry man, I just want to live and be loved and do what everyone else does, but I just can't. It's like watching people do something fun and be happy and laughing together from behind a blurred window, and even tho I keep looking for a way to go outside and join them I can't find it. Thinking about it, even if I managed to escape and approach those people, they would just run away with a disgusted face like I did something wrong.

Idk what to do with this life anymore...

[chiarrara]

new itfskg based on a hc post i saw on here in my fugue state rbing last night i'll add a screenshot or link or smth later maybe idk. okay so baskially how it goes:

megumi and nobara both have a crush on yuuji. this is especially hard for nobara bc she spent the whole first let's say year of their friendship being extremely vocal about how she'd never be into either of them but oops! she got too comfy and caught feelings

nobara eventually breaks down and goes to fushiguro to lament her plight and ask for advice. she's dramatically revealing the source of her suffering when his face gives him away (a big ol "oh no" written on his forehead) (N: what's that face? M: what face... N: oh my god... do you like him too???) (Megumi doesn't say shit cause he's a repressed loser embarrassed of having feelings)

Turns out meg's had a crush on yuuji basically since he met him. he didn't realize it at first of course cause he's way too good at lying to himself. not that good though. he's been silently fostering a deep deep crush for months.

having learned all this, for the next few weeks, nobara starts visiting fushiguro in his dorm anytime she's too overwhelmed by annoying feelings, or pulling him aside during downtime to let off steam, sharing knowing glances and silent communications across rooms. megu's surprisingly glad to have someone to confide in, especially in a way where he's not the center of attention. Since they're both pathetic losers with a crush, he finds it's easier to talk about his feelings than with anything before.

regularly commiserating about how down bad they both are leads nobara and megumi to spend more time separated from yuuji. it's really good for their friendship actually. previously they were both a bit closer to yuuji than to each other, but having a crush to bond over gives them a lot to talk about. yuuji does notice they're spending more time together. and without him. wonder how he feels about that..

one night, nobara barges into megumi's room to complain about yuuji being way too cute and funny at dinner or something while megumi's laying in bed reading. she just plops down half on top of him and starts in. He reluctantly puts his book down but he doesn't object. they've gotten pretty used to each other. so she's going off, grumbling into his shoulder, gripping his sweatshirt out of frustration, and when she looks up, fushiguro looks down at her. their faces less than a foot apart as she's leaning into him, lying together in his bed and...

N: what's that face

M: what face?

he looks away. nobara turns his face back to hers

N: that face

M: (without breaking *very intense* eye contact) I dont' know what you're talking about

they make out

it's very much teenagers with a lot of pent up energy that needs to go somewhere fooling around like teenagers with pent up energy that needs to go somewhere. they kind of crash together, they're grabbing at arms and shoulders and faces, pulling each other as close as they can without ever breaking the kiss. At one point, nobara in readjusting to keep from falling off the bed ends up on top of megumi, knees on either side of his hips, one hand propping herself up and one gripped in the fabric of his sweatshirt. he pulls her into him and rolls them over so they're chest to chest with him on top. he's pushes his hands into her hair, she wraps her arms around his back and twists her leg around h--

two knocks and the door opens

"Hey Fushiguro, I wanted to see if you..."

Yuuji's halfway through the doorway and his face is morphing into the picture of absolute despair

megumi and nobara are...like this

(they're not naked, they're just microsoft paint stick people)

"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I'll just..." Yuuji sputters and stumbles out the door.

(simultaneously) M: Shit.. N: Fuck!

so the mood's kiiinda dead.... megumi ends up leaned up against the wall with his head in his hands. nobara's staring blankly at the ceiling. Eventually, nobara says, "did you see his face?" M: "mm" N: "so...which one of us do you think he likes?"

---END OF PART ONE---

(I'll continue it in like... 5 minutes probably)

[romanticatheartt]

Rereading ACOTAR

Note: Before I start, this is not an anti post (well... maybe for Tam/in... definitely for him!) and if you think talking about the literal canon and call these unreal characters out on their flaws means that I hate these characters (which I do but that's my personal beef with Tamtam), then idk what to tell you lol

So 3 months ago after I read hofas I decided to reread acotar for the first time because I miss Feyre (and Rhysand... and the whole IC) like crazy. And I thought it be a good idea to read the original trilogy but since I'm a very mood reader I only read the first book lol. I had this post on my draft for 3 months now and I think I was scared to share them but now I don't really care.

I normally don't do rereads at all, my mind gets bored (I read my favorite scenes but never the whole book) so I decided to try something else and listen to the audiobook instead. And now I have thoughts!

This became longer than I intended but also I'm not going to add anything crazy that someone hadn't already pointed out so I'm just sharing some of my random notes (50 to be exact... it's long post) and thoughts of mine while reading this time around :)

This is definitely NOT a friendly-Tam/in post. If stating fact is considered as not friendly that is...

anyway ->

1. We have 2 chapter of the sisters in the beginning of the book and jeez both Nesta and Elain are the worst and as older sisters it pained me to read it for the first time. 2. I don't understand Elain, so I rather not talk about her and wait till her book comes out but she acts as a damsel in distress or be ignorant to the point Feyre questioning if she understand they're poor 💀 3. Although I have to admit, knowing Nesta now it was easier to go through it this time and not curse her in every page lol. But while reading the book I noticed that every time Feyre is thinking negatively of herself the voice in her head is the voice of Nesta. or whenever she wants to scolds herself, she call herself the names Nesta had called her. and it breaks my heart:

"and the part of me that spoke with Nesta’s voice had laughed at the idea of an ignorant human trying to admire faerie art."

"A half-wild beast, Nesta had called me." (2 times)

"Illiterate, ignorant, unremarkable, proud, cold—all spoken from Nesta’s mouth, all echoing in my head with her sneering voice."

4. Later on we see her actually coming after Feyre to saves her but this doesn't changes the fact that she verbally abused Feyre (and she acknowledge it!! trauma or not she abused Feyre to the point it left a mark on her so please don't turn her into a saint after one act of kindness lol) 5. There isn't much to say about papa Archeron except that he wasn't a great father. I understand depression have different effects on different people, but trauma is no excuse for how he was as a father (I genuinely believe a true parent would do anything for their children but some people are not cut out to be one and it's alright. but once you bring them into this world you have to guarantee that you can provide for them because they didn't choose to be in this life) 6. I know for a fact that if Feyre hadn't promised her mother to protect her family and didn't have a purpose to live her life, she would've been worse than Nesta. Because when she was in Spring Court, for at least 5 times she was guilt-ridden, thinking her family doesn't care about her at all (specially Nesta) or thinking about her shortcomings… (and like I said Nesta had a big role in these kind of thinking) 7. The first Feysand foreshadow was her painting night sky on her drawer<3 8. Lucien and Tam/in (specially Lucien) were so dramatic on their hate toward Feyre? she triggered a 48 years curse. It was always suppose to be this way. Andres knew what he was doing and accepted the fact that he might die. yes you can grieve but It's not really her fault now is it?

9. “You go somewhere new—and you make a name for yourself.”

^: well she definitely did that… 10. One of the things I noticed is that Tam/in was never NEVER Lucien's friend. he was Lucien's High Lord first then his friend and it's obvious from their very first scenes.

11. “We’re not going to bite.” Lucien’s white teeth gleamed in a way that suggested otherwise.

^: him and Cassian will get along well... 12. Feyre hates hunting... she says that to both Lucien and Tam/in. she does that out of necessity, if it's provoked. and not for the first time I realized Feyre is a mix of both Nesta and Elain. 13. Did we all got the vibe that Timtam was mad at Lucien spending time with Feyre because he knew he didn't have a chance once Lucien opens his mouth? 14. Feyre had real fear for Tam/in. in so many occasion we have her being genuinely scared of him. he even said it himself:

"But I could smell the fear on you, more than anything."

And in acomaf we have Rhysand saying he never felt fear of him from Feyre. and when they were UTM Feyre question herself that why she was always so quiet and submissive (not excatly the word she uses) toward Tam/in but with Rhysand she doesn't have that instinct. 15. This ship is the definition of Someone who doesn't know how to love x Someone who has never been loved and that's never a good pairing in any world. it takes one to be in a relationship with someone like Tam/in to understand that... 16. She always felt little, weak, stupid and so very human with Tam/in and Lucien and they never hide their feeling on the matter. 17. Feyre is such baddie istg... she killed a faerie, then went for a stroll and captured a suriel, THEN killed 2 nagas and a fkn wyrm while being a human... GURL- 18. Okay apparently every one says mature age in acotar world was retcon but Alis was talking about lesser fae not high fae? or specially their kind? idk I read that scene and all she was talking about was their kind and not high fae. 19. Timtam was never in control of his power... his power and anger had him on a leash not the other way around. 20. Feyre is always honry (LMAO)... but the sad part is Tam/in never matched her passion. he was always afraid that he's going to hurt her with his claws and bla bla bla BUT MY GIRL wanted him to claw at her💀 savage lol. all I'm saying is that he never gave all of himself to Feyre. 21. It always piss me off that Tam/in never taught her how to write and read. (and ig we all know why) 22. In chapter 19 we have Feyre asking if Fae can be mated to humans and in the next chapter we have Calamnai and something in her chest was pulling her to go and see and next thing we know she met Rhysand (aka her mate)

23. "There you are. I've been looking for you,"

^: PEOPLE DIED! 24. Imagine reading Feyre saying before her was the most beautiful man she has ever seen and not to think that it's fkn over for Tam/in lmao (point to this post of mine) It's also hilarious when she saw Tam/in after his mask was removed, she was like "handsome👍🏼" 25. Rhysand is such Theater kid istg (specially after hofas, the way he was just showing off)... he's like let me show her some tricks *walk around her and stars ripple from him* *blinking to show off the stars in his eye* *PURR* OK PEACOCK! 26. May I ask why on earth we never had a sex party like Calamnai in Night Court? I'm actually so mad because we lost the greatest opportunity WTF? Feyre was so hot and bothered about it and the reason they told her to stay at the manor was because Tam/in knew he will choose her and Feyre was like "oMg hE wOuLd chOoHe mE?" *tuck her hair behind her ear* girl- IT WOULD'VE FIT FEYSAND SO FKN WELL... maybe not on acomaf (even if it could be so healing) or acowar... BUT ACOFAS WAS RIGHT THERE!!! 27. One of the things I hate about the events after Calamnai is Lucien and Tam/in laughing at Feyre... ok... you weren't yourself, but the least you could do was to apologize for hurting and scaring her. it give off the vibe when people say "why was she out so late at night? what was she wearing?" it genuinely made me uncomfortable like the first time. 27. Something I noticed when I read the book for the first and I went 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩:

“No, I don’t want you to live somewhere else. I want you here, where I can look after you—where I can come home and know you’re here, painting and safe.”

"But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge."

Damn I was right... 28. Tam/in always kept the truth from her, even the truth that wasn't a part of the curse :) 29. When Feyre drank that faerie wine she saw through Lucien's glamour... does he always have that glamour?:

interesting... 30. Tam/in is fkn coward! in more than 2 occasions Feyre was like why he's not attacking Rhys? why he's not kicking him out? and mf never once tried to stop Rhysand. NOT ONCE. yknow... sometimes in romance novels when you see your loved one in danger you don't care if he's the most powerful being in the world you just act and try to save the ones you love even if you don't win (and we know someone does exactly that at the end of the book)... it's effort that matters!!! and this doesn't stop here either it's even worse at UTM... 31. it's funny that Feyre is "in love" with Tam/in but doesn't stop to appreciate the beauty (Rhysand), even if he's in his villain era and making the love of her life beg on his knee and breaching her own mind... 32. Why Rhysand never called Feyre "love" anymore? the first time I read it I had put away my phone and take a deep breath lol. just like that "good girl" he called her at UTM... sjm knew I would've died if she used it more. 33. Never say never... Lucien:

“Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm.”

The Mother humbled him real quick lmao. 34. ELAIN IS NOT AN INTROVERT FFS I'm so tried at everyone calling Elain an introvert while she's a social butterfly and we see that in this book!! and it pains me to see Elain stans are like "I'm a introvert myself so I understand Elain..." no you don't. she's traumatized, she's at her lowest in acosf. just because, like Nesta, she doesn't throw tantrums and drown herself in alcohol and sex means she's fine? you should be more worried for the person who looks fine!! 35. I adored the scene where Feyre teaches Nesta how to paint🥹 it just warms my heart<3 and now that Feyre has a art studio I want to see them paint together again or read Nesta's smutty books together at HoW!! (I read a fanfic that Nesta teaches Feyre how to read with a stick on the snow pre-canon and it just warmed my heart<3 don't get me wrong I love how Rhys taught her lol but there's something else in sisterhood...)

36. “There is a better world, Nesta. There is a better world out there, waiting for you to find it. And if I ever get the chance, if things are ever better, safer … I will find you again.”

^: Stop...😭

37. “Amarantha is High Queen of this land. The High Queen of Prythian,” Alis breathed, her eyes wide with some memory of horror.

^: That's why the whole high king and high queen will never work. people will never accept one even if they're a just person. they had the worst experience for 49 years. they can never trust a person to rule for all like that again. and honestly I hate the whole thing bye... 38. To me Amarantha and Tam/in are mates... for obvious reasons and it's fitting! idc what anyone else says 39. The whole chapter where she kills that wyrm is so hot!! and the fact that she's human and she's so calculated and plans in the span of few minutes to kill it and doesn't just attack and uses her brain instead is so hot!! I understand why Rhys fell in love!! *HOFAS spoiler* and it's funny to me how an Illyrian, a Starborn and a Valkyrie with a deadly mask struggled to kill the wyrm 😭💀 40. The only person, THE ONLY ONE who bet on her that she'll survive? who would that be? THE LOVE HER LIFE? no... and that's not something to just move on from! there's only two assumption we can make. one, he never believed in her to begin with, two, he's a fkn coward... which I think it's both. Rhysand was r*ped and tortured for 49 years and he never stopped helping Feyre and believing in her. and knowing Amarantha wouldn't be pleased with betting on Feyre, he still did it... 41. UTM Rhys supremacy... That's it. don't ask me anything... 42. How Feyre remembered the riddle for 2.5 months is beyond me... 43. Feyre appreciating Rhysand's beauty so randomly like... GIRL FOCUS!! 44. When Feyre questions her reason for why she's doing all these, for "just a few decades", should've been the sign... 45. How Tam/in finding a way to get Feyre alone right before the night of her last trial pissed me off the first time I read it… the fact that this was a goodbye to him. That in the past 3 months he didn't try to even react to her but the night before her last trial decided to fuck her instead of helping her to get out… he can find a way now, he can get out of Amarantha sight for more than 5 minutes to fuck her, but he couldn't have done that in the past 2.5 months… yeah sure this is true love. like I said it's the effort that matters not whether you succeeded in it... Tam/in disgusts me for a better word. 46. no note... *sound of my heart breaking*:

“When you healed my arm … You didn’t need to bargain with me. You could have demanded every single week of the year. Every single week, and I would have said yes.”

"And if you had any stomach for cruelty, you’d go to Amarantha and tell her the truth about her whore. Perhaps she’d give you Tamlin for it.”

“I know,”

47. This MF sat there until he got healed while every bone in Feyre's body was breaking and when he somewhat healed he began kneeling and begging?... KNEELING AND BEGGING!! JUST FKN KILL HER! (the way Feyre kept saying that) I don't want to hear one single word about how he was injured, bla bla bla he's a fkn high lord and a warrior I'm sure he experienced worse. the least he could do, was his fkn best to stop Amarantha. and this time around reading it piss me off so bad that I wanted to throw my phone out of the window... but you know who got up even when he didn't have his full powers? to save her, to kill Amarantha, to die with her because he didn't want her to be alone while she died? yeah... The fact that the first time I read it I thought this was the reason Feyre was going to leave him and what did she do?... my girl has no self-respect istg... Love blinds people I suppose... 48. Whenever Tam/in touched Feyre after this whole thing I wanted to throw up... when he cradled her dead body? oh I wanted Rhysand to mist him so fkn bad. he doesn't deserve to touch her, he didn't deserved Feyre's love, not once... 49. In my language we have an expression "whoever does the final task, they are the one who finished the job" obviously in my language it has more rhyme to it lol but it's a silly idiom and a stupid one at that; and When people start thanking Tam/in I was like: FOR WHAT EXACTLY? he just killed Amarantha at the last minute while he watch Feyre getting tortured? he just sat for 2.5 months while Feyre and Rhysand (and Lucien) do the works to free not just him but the whole Prythian... all the while he was in his home and you lot were imprisoned UTM, away from your home... who are you thanking to? (at least they thanked Feyre as well...) 50. Feysand's balcony scene has a special place in my heart:

“Why?”

“Because when the legends get written, I didn’t want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn’t do anything useful.”

“Because, I didn’t want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”

“Thank you,”

“You never told me you loved the wings—or the flying.”

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. I tell very few about the wings. Or the flying.”

“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.”

whew... sorry this is so long! if you read this till the end I LOVE YOU. anyway I might do one for acomaf as well whenever I reread it. and I'm pretty sure Tam/in is going to make me see red even more than the first time!!

And I'm glad I was one of those few who saw the red flags in Tam/in even for the first time...

first time read: ⭐⭐⭐

second time read: ⭐⭐⭐.5

I noticed so many foreshadow in this book! and so many other 🚩that I didn't noticed for the first time! for some reason I can't give this book 4 stars because I tired to go easy on Tam/in but it got worse lmao💀

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

The Maystone mangler prolouge

(Yandere slasher blackmore x gender neutral reader)

It had only been two days since you had moved to this small town called Maystone in Nebraska. It seemed like a quaint town with various old buildings and friendly townsfolk around. You hoped you would settle comfortably into this town.

Your move had been on a whim, you'd broken up with your previous partner and the bank chain you'd been employed at for a couple of years was looking for people who could transfer to the new bank in Maystone. You didn't really have much attachment to where you lived and worked, so you decided to start fresh in a new, more communal town.

The town itself had a confusing layout. New infrastructure was being developed around the town. Some places just weren't on the map.

Today you were in town struggling to find the grocery store and walked into a building in hopes of finding someone that could point you in the right direction.

There you stood in an old butchery. The buzz of fluorescent lights is almost deafening. Walls colored in a yellowing paint that used to be white. Tiles a shade of viridian green and old curtains that were maroon.

"Hello… are you alright?" a soft, coy voice asked. You looked to the counter to see a scrawny, blonde-haired male at the counter. He didn't strike you as the kind of person who'd do such a grim and labor-intensive job.

"Yes actually" you replied as you made your way to the counter and pulled out a map from your bag.

"I've been looking for the grocery store, the map says there should be one on this strip, I just moved here so I'm still trying to get my bearings" you explained. The blonde grabbed a pen and circled a blank spot on the map.

"A new supermarket opened up there recently, there used to be the local grocery a few buildings down but the previous owner died a couple of months ago" he replied.

"If I remember correctly… the updated map will be available next week, so maybe check in with town hall to get a copy" he suggested.

"Thank you so much, I'll definitely get a new one as soon as it's out" you thanked him and were about to turn your head before stopping to look at the display. It'd be rude if you left after he helped you, besides the meat here would be a lot fresher than what the supermarket.

You looked intently, there were whole chickens already plucked and the thickest pork knuckles you'd ever seen. However, you were in the mood for something you didn't have to put a lot of effort into. That's when your eyes landed on gravy beef, your parents used to make casserole all the time during winter when you were little. All you'd need to do is cut up a couple of vegetables and throw it all in the casserole dish.

"Could I get a pound of the gravy beef please?" you asked the male that you now got a decent look at. He had the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, they were like the deep, expansive sea. He was very fair-skinned, almost sickly pale.

"Ah- sure thing" he stuttered, seemingly shocked that you were ordering something. He quickly grabbed a bag and put it over his hand and grabbed what he assumed was the right amount before putting it on the scale.

"Is that alright?" He asked you. It was only a few ounces extra.

"Yes, thank you," you told the young man as you grabbed out your purse.

"That'll be 12 dollars," he told you.

You looked back up at the scale to see the displayed price as $13.60

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Yes, I know it's not much but consider it my way of saying welcome to Maystone," he told you.

"Thank you so much, My Name Is (Y/n)" you said.

"My name is Blackmore" he responded with a smile, his cheek the slightest shade of pink.

You returned a smile and made your way to the door and opened it.

"I hope to see you again," he said.

"Same" you replied before leaving.

That night you ate the casserole you made. The meat was unbelievably tender. It was the best you'd ever eaten. It made you feel a little more comfortable in this strange little town and ready to seize whatever your first day at work would bring.

[lyloneliness]

This will have nothing to do with bsd and will be very personal so those who follow me for bsd stuff you can stop reading if you want ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Actually, I don't think many remember, or have even read the tag game (edit: my bad, it was an ask) in which I said I actually have something similar to a Dissociative Identity Disorder.. Well, even if no one reads this I just wanna put my thoughts down so it's okay anyway.

I just realized that now that I'm dissociated, what is 'me' as an alter (alternative personality), or more as a person is supposed to be way more defined... Or restricted in a way. I was always a weird person, with many changes of heart, of moods, of likings and other stuff... Well, in everything really.

Back then, if I was to use only one word to define myself I would always answer "changing", or "inconsistent". One time I even got very upset at my parents and cried because they said it was a bad word, a bad thing, that I shouldn't describe myself as inconsistent... I felt like they rejected the fact that I am like this, or just basically, like they rejected me.

Anyway, now I know that it was because the different parts of 'me' that were supposed to assemble in one identity at the end of early childhood didn't assemble like with most people, those who don't struggle with severe dissociation. And with people with a 'complete' DID, they don't assemble at all, and one becomes the main while the others appear later in life to help the 'whole person'/system navigate in life, adaptating to situations by switching. But for me it was just like a child doesn't knowing how to combine many things to make a proper collage just taped a ripped sheet of paper together to vaguely maintain it, faking it being whole.

That's why I was like that, I was literally different persons stitched together and coexisting throughout my life.

And now that each of us is separated from the others, and well defined, they all know what they like, how they are, who they are. Well, they don't even have to acknowledge it, they just ARE like that.

All but me.

I'm the 'main', the one to whom all this life is attributed to, the base of our existence until now. And all the memories I have are supposed to be mine. My feelings, my likings, my relationships, my behaviors.. But now I know most of them were the other alters', and I don't know anymore what I like. What is 'me' in all of this?

I don't know how to make the distinction. I don't know what I like, how I'm supposed to act like. The person I was supposed to be wasn't really me all this time, so the image I had of myself is crushed.. I always felt like I wasn't properly someone, I never knew who I was, so I made efforts. But turns out all the progress I thought I had made over the years to construct my personality just split at the same time as us, I'm back to before I constructed everything I'm supposed to be. There is nothing left for me..

I can't even say what my favorite colour is.

I don't have an identity.

I feel like a digital painting to which all the layers were took away to make a complete painting out of each, and all is left is the blank canvas. That's indeed a weird comparison but well, I'm supposed to be an artist so I couldn't think of something else.

I feel like I'm a middle schooler in the middle of an existential crisis when I'm supposed to be 19 in a little more than a month. Everyone always said I was a mature one, turns out one of my alters was 4 years older all this time, and now I can't seem to see things from a distance, cool my head and try to understand anymore. Everything is blurry and I'm scared. Honestly, I forgot what it was to be lost and scared. 'I ' almost didn't feel anything in a year and now I'm blending with a big mess of feelings that I don't even know are mine or not, and how I need to react to them.

I don't even know if I'm tired of being in this void, or sad, or disappointed by this loss of self... I drown myself in hypersomnia to avoid existing like this and thinking about what I'm gonna become and how I'm supposed to become it (well, I don't even know what I want to be to begin with.. ), only to have weird dreams that I don't know are whose since I switch even in it, and deciphering it all seems exhausting.

I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I actually want to do anything..

Well, this is all for the rambling! (≡^∇^≡)

I kinda feel sorry for anyone who'd get until here reading all this mess... If you wanna say smth or ask questions I'm all open really. Even if it's quite unlikely.. but yeah, "just in case", yknow (=ㅇ༝ㅇ=)

Oh! And something that made me laugh (bitterly but still) :

*Incoming screenshot of when I was writing*, for those with the blue theme like me

Auto correct didn't even consider this possible 😹😹😹

[carmenlire]

Semantic Error Omegaverse AU

Been back on my Semantic Error bullshit the past week and I can NOT stop thinking about how perfectly these two would fit an omegaverse au like i'm obsessed!! Jaeyoung is obviously an alpha, however, a lot of people assume that Sangwoo is a beta but he is, in fact, an omega! So enjoy 4.5k words of me describing in excruciating detail what I would write if I wrote this fic <3

I can't decide between making this a world where everyone wears scent blockers/is on suppressants or letting Jaeyoung know immediately that Sangwoo's an omega (because betas don't have to wear scent blockers so wearing them would be a dead giveaway but I could make the sleight of hand work with suppressants HOWEVER I think a core part of this au would be that people who look at Sangwoo see a cold, driven man and just assume he's a beta).

Obviously, I would make this au deliciously tropey and fit in ALL of That Good Shit but I am very taken with the idea/exploration that Sangwoo actually enjoys being an omega. I think masking his subgender would be useful to him but when it's just him or his friends/family, he is very comfortable with who he is-- he obviously does not believe in any of the stereotypes/misconceptions that paint omegas as inferior or needing protecting or only good for one thing or whatever cliche you wanna throw in there.

Alright, we'll say unmated people are expected to be on suppressants so that solves that issue-- this comes with the caveat that omegas/alphas still have two cycles a year in order to keep everything properly maintained (compared to idk the regular 4 cycles a year). I'll hc that it's like a daily pill and it wears off toward the end of the day and that's when individuals may choose scent blockers if they're going to be out longer but obviously in this au, like going to a club with a scent on display would be like The Whole Point in trying to attract someone so i'll digress.

ANYWAY like I said, Sangwoo is very driven and still comes off as very cold so most people assume he's a beta. That suits Sangwoo just fine. He's in no mood for romance and finds alphas fucking insufferable-- always posturing, acting like they're god's gift to the world (to omegas specifically) and he doesn't have time for distractions. however, and I personally think this is important to tie his personality into this AU– he actively enjoys being an omega. 

His parents knew before he presented that he’d be an omega– he enjoyed nesting with his father and if he cares about someone, has a habit of doting on them. Sangwoo knows and values the importance of biology right so it fits that when he does have free time, then he indulges shamelessly in his nature. So, for this AU, I love to think that his bed is a very warm and inviting nest, that he enjoys baking (like I’ve written in previous fics, it fits his analytical mind AND he was a sweet tooth and for this, it’s a way he cares for people). 

And while he’s never had a partner for his heats, Sangwoo does enjoy them. With an acknowledgement that this could get a little messy re: subgenders/biology, this is first and foremost a pure fluff fic and so–

I think heats, particularly for this verse, can be both sexual (need to procreate) and simply biological (need to bond with mate). Again in keeping with the show, Sangwoo puts an abundance of meaning on biology. So while he doesn’t have a mate to bond or produce offspring with during his heats as an unmated omega, there’s still something about them that is deeply meaningful to him.

I hc that they’re less sexual for him (until Jaeyoung lol) and serves as more of an opportunity to connect with his own inner omega. He spends a few days every six months resting in his nest– or broadly, his apartment, where he allows himself to not think about homework or anything. It’s just him being. He bakes, sleeps, watches tv, reads… it makes him feel incredibly centered. And yes, he does own a knotting toy and it is ONLY during his heats that he begrudgingly admits that maybe alphas do have a use after all lmao.

To bring Jaeyoung into it and get this AU started properly, Jaeyoung figures Sangwoo’s a beta– though, the instant before Sangwoo opens his mouth and flays him alive, Jaeyoung does have the thought that Sangwoo has to be an omega– small (much smaller than Jaeyoung at least even if he’s a tall omega), beautiful, and there’s just something about him that compels Jaeyoung.

Of course, after that first conversation, Jaeyoung is compelled by Sangwoo, alright– to be an absolute menace and get his revenge. Lol.

The two get closer, following canon, and Jaeyoung doesn’t realize that Sangwoo is actually an omega until after he saves him from the Quickst asshole. In this AU, Sangwoo wanted to leave because the guy was being a dick, yes, but also because he was well aware that it was getting late and his suppressants were about to wear off– hence, his scent would start to escape.

He refuses to admit that Jaeyoung stepping in kinda make his omega preen– they’re in tune but Sangwoo still thinks that his omega can be a bit baffling (though, he’s only started to really think so since Jaeyoung stepped into the picture).

That’s also mostly the reason Sangwoo doesn’t want to let Jaeyoung into his apartment. He doesn’t let people into his apartment because he’s private yes but also because he knows his scent is undeniable. Still, he’s not an asshole (and, both he and his omega trust Jaeyoung for…. Some reason) so he does end up letting him in.

Jaeyoung is immediately overwhelmed as soon as he steps inside Sangwoo’s apartment. He’d thought, for a minute when he grabbed Sangwoo’s hand and dragged him out of the bar, that he’d caught the faintest edge of a mouthwatering scent but he’d been preoccupied. It becomes glaringly obvious now, though, that it was Sangwoo. That vague scent from the bar is nothing compared the rich, overwhelming scent he’s confronted with now.

If I lean into the trope, I guess I’d make it something that could be sharp– citrus, maybe, that can be sour and sharp but turns sweet and soft when Sangwoo is comfortable. I think that would fit his personality. For Jaeyoung, definitely something earthy, complimentary to citrus– though I’m not sure what that would necessarily be lmao.

Anyway, Jaeyoung is reeling but Sangwoo is business as usual though Jaeyoung swears he sees the shell of his ear turning red. Jaeyoung is a gentleman, though, despite how he’s acted with Sangwoo and he doesn’t comment on the scent (it would be declasse and Sangwoo is actually helping him, he’s let Jaeyoung in and– especially now that he knows he’s an omega– it’s an incredibly meaningful gesture that Jaeyoung and his alpha appreciate).

He doesn’t bring it up until Sangwoo is tending to the cut on his arm and this is the conversation that turns the tide. Jaeyoung is tentative but undeniably curious, asking Sangwoo why he hides his subgender, letting everyone assume he’s a beta. Jaeyoung is surprised, yet again, when Sangwoo matter-of-factly tells him that he doesn’t hate his subgender, actually enjoys it. It isn’t an inconvenience or whatever. It’s something Sangwoo likes about himself.

They’re both stripped down in the quiet of Sangwoo’s living room and come closer to reaching that middle ground. Through it all, Jaeyoung can’t stop thinking about how delicious Sangwoo’s scent is and how he was right to make that long ago guess. It’s so obvious, especially now that Sangwoo isn’t wearing a hat– his lush mouth, delicate features, making it so clear.

Jaeyoung had a red hoodie and leaves it at Sangwoo’s that night. He might not realize it at the time but it’s, obviously, his alpha’s way of staking a claim on Sangwoo, placing his scent in the omega’s space.

Jaeyoung figures Sangwoo will return it to him the next day and forgets about it when he doesn’t.

Sangwoo for his part, closes the door behind Jaeyoung when Yuna calls and slumps against it. It was so late and Jaeyoung’s own suppressants had started wearing off. Sangwoo had never cared for alpha scents, despite supposed biological compatibility– they were too aggressive, altogether unpleasant and stinging in his nose. 

Jaeyoung’s, however, was different. It wasn’t dark or musky but something lush, deep with just a hint of sweetness that made Sangwoo inexplicably want to bury his nose in Jaeyoung’s neck to tease it out further, until it was all he could smell, surrounding him.

He’d expected Jaeyoung to be an ass about finding out he was an omega. While Sangwoo didn’t hide it, he let people make their assumptions. Jaeyoung had surprised him, though.

When Sangwoo finally straightens, his eyes immediately lock on the red hoodie laying over the arm of his couch. He frowns deeply, glaring at it. He should return it to Jaeyoung tomorrow. 

He doesn’t.

And a few weeks later, when Sangwoo’s preheat starts, he’s heading out the door when his gaze snags on the hoodie, still in the exact same spot. It’s Thursday and he’s glad that his heat won’t disrupt his classes this time around. Thanking the fact that he always has a buffer in his schedule, Sangwoo reaches out for the hoodie and raises it to his nose. Jaeyoung’s scent isn’t nearly as present as it was that night but it’s still detectable when he buries his face in it. Something in him calms, preens a little at the scent of an alpha who Sangwoo can admit he… doesn’t quite despise.

It is fall, the morning chilly, Sangwoo rationalizes as he takes his backpack off to put the hoodie on. Plus, Jaeyoung had told him just yesterday that, unfortunately, he had a meeting with an advisor and wouldn’t be able to annoy him today, so there’s no chance that Jaeyoung will find out that Sangwoo is wearing this monstrosity of a hoodie.

As soon as he slips it on, Sangwoo finds himself letting out the quietest purr. It’s oversized, hanging down to mid-thigh, and feels like it’s wrapping him in pure warmth. Lifting the hood to cover his hair, Sangwoo feels content, like going to class during preheat won’t be so miserable after all (for all he enjoys being an omega, it is sometimes inconvenient– like when he’s just in preheat, hoodie able to hide the scent blockers, and has to go to class because there’s a quiz).

It’s just his luck that he leaves class, hoodie still over his head, to run into a wall– that turns out to be Jang Jaeyoung. Startled, Sangwoo’s head whips up and he immediately stills at the look in Jaeyoung’s eyes.

Jaeyoung, for his part, wrapped his meeting up earlier than expected and found himself on the way to meet Sangwoo almost subconsciously. If he thought his need to bother Sangwoo was bad before he found out he was an omega, it’s been downright awful now that he knows. Jaeyoung finds himself seeking Sangwoo out even more often, anytime he has a free moment and knows where Sangwoo is. Yuna calls him a whipped alpha and Jaeyoung can’t even defend himself. Now, seeing Sangwoo in his glaringly red hoodie– seeing an omega he can’t stop thinking about in his hoodie– Jaeyoung’s alpha wants nothing more than to press Sangwoo against the wall and scent him, cover him completely so that no one can see how cute Sangwoo looks while at the same time wanting to preen that Sangwoo deigned to wear something of his in public, at all really.

Sangwoo stiffly replies that he wore it because it was cold this morning and it was sitting right there on the couch. Jaeyoung has his Sangwoo Smile on his face, the one that’s so wide it has to hurt, eyes crinkled in pure delight. They’ve grown closer the past few weeks, guards/defenses inching down, and so Jaeyoung warns Sangwoo, “I’m going to touch you now,” and lays a surprisingly gentle arm over Sangwoo’s shoulders.

To his surprise, Sangwoo doesn’t shake him off. Instead, he leans into Jaeyoung’s warmth– just a little but Jaeyoung, of course, notices. Something in him growls, protectively, happily, at the action.

Sangwoo doesn’t notice the stares as he and Jaeyoung make their way across campus. He knows he aced his quiz but a headache is building behind his eyes, a dull ache starting up in his middle. Typical preheat symptoms but still annoying. It’s cloudy, wind chilly, and he shivers deeper into Jaeyoung’s side, sleeves covering his hands and arms wrapped around his middle.

Jaeyoung looks down, frowning. Sangwoo looks even smaller like this and it’s adorable but unlike him. Looking closer, he sees a flush on Sangwoo’s cheeks.

“Sangwoo,” he asks, “Are you feeling okay?”

Sangwoo shrugs and explains matter-of-factly that his preheat has started.

Jaeyoung’s eyes widen though Sangwoo doesn’t see his reaction.

Jaeyoung isn’t sure what he’s feeling– there’s surprise, that Sangwoo just admitted his heat was right around the corner. He doesn’t know why, but Jaeyoung thought he’d be shy about it. There’s his baser reaction which he isn’t necessarily proud of but can admit, at least to himself– he has the immediate desire to be Sangwoo’s heat partner. Jaeyoung has a need to see what Sangwoo is like during his heat– is he as demanding as he is regularly or does it turn into neediness, edges softened?

Jaeyoung would like whatever way Sangwoo acts during his heat, he knows, but his curiosity is suddenly ignited like a wildfire. And yes, there’s the sudden visions of Sangwoo under him, eyes blurred with want.

But Jaeyoung’s also driven with a need to protect, to care for– and it’s this that he acts on. He steers Sangwoo off campus after asking when his heat will hit in earnest and Sangwoo replying the morning. It’s lunchtime now and Jaeyoung takes Sangwoo to a nearby restaurant.

Sangwoo doesn’t display his usual stubbornness, prickly exterior melting into something more agreeable as he seems willing enough to let Jaeyoung lead the way. It’s a nice change of pace, Jaeyoung can admit, but he knows he’d miss Sangwoo’s mulishness if this was how it always was lol.

They sit at a small table in the corner and Jaeyoung knows the ahjumma who runs the place. She coos over Sangwoo and Jaeyoung’s surprised, again, when Sangwoo lets her.

She returns with hearty portions and teases them both– something about Jaeyoung finding the cutest omega in Seoul or telling Sangwoo that if Jaeyoung proves to be a useless alpha to let her know and she’ll straighten him up.

The food is hot and smells delicious and Jaeyoung doesn’t even think before he reaches for the first mandu and lifts it up to Sangwoo’s mouth. Sangwoo, for his part, does spare a moment to think about shoving Jaeyoung away. 

He rolls his eyes internally, thinks of Jaeyoung as an overzealous alpha– just because he knows he’s in preheat doesn’t mean he has to feed him what is this, the joseon era– but Sangwoo’s omega is closer to the surface than usual and all he really feels after a pinprick of annoyance is warmth. He feels a little miserable and he trusts this alpha– like him too, he can admit to himself if not aloud yet– and he accepts the bite of food from Jaeyoung’s chopsticks.

Jaeyoung’s lips part in surprise at Sangwoo’s easy acquiescence. His alpha and him watch Sangwoo chew carefully, pride and satisfaction in his eyes. The meal continues like that– Jaeyoung feeding Sangwoo the best pieces of chicken, the crispest bites of vegetables– until Sangwoo finally waves him away, full.

Jaeyoung swiftly finishes the meal off and it’s only when the check comes that a hint of Sangwoo’s usual snappishness reappears. He insists on paying, then at least paying half, but Jaeyoung doesn’t have any of it.

Sangwoo rolls his eyes at Jaeyoung being an annoying alpha but Jaeyoung doesn’t pay it any attention, just returning his arm to where it was resting over Sangwoo’s shoulders as he guides them out of the restaurant with a cheery wave to the ahjumma.

They makes small talk on the way back to their apartment building about a new movie or the upcoming deadline for Veggie Venturer. Sangwoo doesn’t even notice until they’re at his door that Jaeyoung had carried his backpack from the restaurant.

At Sangwoo’s door, Jaeyoung finds it even more difficult than usual to turn to his own door and leave Sangwoo. Sangwoo’s leaning against his door and Jaeyoung stands just in front of him.

They watch each other for a moment and Sangwoo has an urge to ask Jaeyoung something but it’s foolish, too much he knows. But still he wants it and so does his omega. His usual defenses are softened by preheat and by Jang Jaeyoung. He’s already learned that’s a devastating combination.

“Hyung,” he asks voice quiet and unsure.

Jaeyoung hums, eyes flitting from the fullness of Jaeyoung’s cheeks, to the way his hoodie sleeves completely cover Sangwoo’s hands. It’s too soon, Jaeyoung thinks, to look at Sangwoo and see him as mine.

“Will you scent me?”

That was not what Jaeyoung was expecting and his gaze snaps up to meet Sangwoo’s even as his alpha preens.

It’s not even a question and Jaeyoung hates the way Sangwoo’s gaze is shadowed with uncertainty, a hint of insecurity. It’s the first time he’s ever seen that look on Sangwoo and he never wants to see it again– displeased that it’s this question that would bring it out, like Jaeyoung wouldn’t love to, like he isn’t fighting the urge to immediately bury his face in Sangwoo’s neck.

He leans down and watches enraptured as the flush on Sangwoo’s cheek grows deeper. “Are you sure, Sangwoo? If this is the preheat talking, if you wouldn’t ask otherwise–”

“I’m sure,” comes Sangwoo’s voice, quiet but sure. He bites his lip, looking away. “I don’t know what it’s like for other omegas but I don’t– I’m still in possession of all my faculties. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want it.”

Jaeyoung is still for a moment before exhaling. He smiles, something softer than his usual smirking grin. “Then I’d love to, Sangwoo-ah.”

He goes to lean down just to be stopped by Sangwoo’s hand on his chest. Confused, Sangwoo just shakes his head and gestures to his door. “Not out here, hyung. It isn’t decent.”

Jaeyoung’s nodding along distractedly before the words catch up and he steels himself.

Because seeing a Sangwoo in preheat is a lot. Being asked to scent Sangwoo makes his head spin. But getting to scent Sangwoo in Sangwoo’s apartment– did he mention he’s in preheat? Omegas are notoriously protective of their spaces when they’re in heat and Jaeyoung knows the simple fact of Sangwoo asking him to scent him should have been clue enough but Sangwoo inviting him in, sends his heart skyrocketing.

As soon as the door opens, Jaeyoung inhales sharply. It isn’t overwhelming but it’s present– Sangwoo’s scent is deeper. Nothing like it will be during actual heat but the hint is there, something headier in the usual mouthwatering scent that Jaeyoung has only caught once.

Sangwoo closes the door, leaning against it again, this time inside the apartment. He peels the scent blocker off with little fuss, stuffing it in his pocket. He then reaches out, wraps careful fingers in the soft material of Jaeyoung’s sweater and pulls him closer, gently, like he’s afraid Jaeyoung doesn’t really want to come.

How preposterous, Jaeyoung thinks.

Before he can even open his mouth, Sangwoo is offering, “You can touch me, hyung,” and Jaeyoung spares a moment to wonder how he’s going to survive this.

Slowly, Jaeyoung wraps an arm low around Sangwoo’s back, stepping closer. He leans down and Sangwoo’s scent makes him dizzy already. It’s sweet, calm, and Jaeyoung has the overwhelming need to let it soak into him, wants to cover it with his own scent and see how they mingle. It’s made all the better by the fact that Sangwoo clearly wants this, too, that he asked Jaeyoung for his scent– that he wants Jaeyoung’s scent on him, at all but during his heat.

He can’t help the quiet grumble as his nose makes contact with Sangwoo’s neck. He takes his time, carefully presses against Sangwoo’s scent gland, and thanks to how close they are, Jaeyoung can feel Sangwoo melt into him.

Sangwoo tilts his neck to give him easier access and Jaeyoung lets loose a little more, touch firming up, incessant. He can smell the way his own scent intertwines with Sangwoo’s– something fresh and bright.

It takes him a moment to clue in but Sangwoo’s started purring, a hand lifted into Jaeyoung hair to keep him in place like Jaeyoung would want to be anywhere except right here, mind clouding over with Sangwoo’s scent.

They lose track of time but eventually Jaeyoung pulls back, dazed, just to see Sangwoo looking like he’s about to melt into the floor, pliant and soft.

“Thank you, hyung.”

Jaeyoung’s voice is low, hoarse. “Anytime, Sangwoo.”

Jaeyoung leaves just a few minutes later, taken aback but not at all unhappy when Sangwoo suddenly calls out and darts up to kiss his cheek before slamming the door in his face.

The weekend is torturous knowing Sangwoo’s in heat on the other side of the wall they share. He leaves food for him outside and tries to focus on a project he’s working on with Yuna.

It’s early the next week before he sees Sangwoo, who comes bearing a tray of brownies he made to thank Jaeyoung. And Jaeyoung doesn’t know it yet but Sangwoo baked them at the tail-end of his heat, still clearheaded but mind a little gooey at the edges. His focus at the time– the entire duration of his heat, really– had been Jaeyoung. He’d wanted to give Jaeyoung something, made with his own hands. He watches, more anxious than he lets on, as Jaeyoung’s obviously delighted by the unexpected treat. He immediately tries one and moans at how good it is, his usual goofball self. Sangwoo scoffs at his dramatic reaction but inside, his omega is deeply satisfied.

Jaeyoung starts courting Sangwoo a bit more overtly– really, he’d been doing it since the beginning, though he hadn’t realized. Again, this is pure fluff so a lot of his “revenge” was him backwards courting Sangwoo lmao.

Moving on, the first time Sangwoo lets Jaeyoung into his nest has got to be A Moment. Maybe it’s late at night and they just finished working on Veggie Venturer. They’re a couple in all but name only– Sangwoo has accepted all of Jaeyoung’s courting, though he might not necessarily realize it!! He wears Jaeyoung’s clothes, accepts his gifts, enjoys their time together in the same bone-deep way Jaeyoung does. Jaeyoung, for his part, is just content to take it at Sangwoo’s pace and take what he’s given. He knows the path they’re on and he’s in no particular rush as long as they heading the right way.

So it’s late at night and Sangwoo is tired and leaning against Jaeyoung from where they’re sitting on his couch. He says it’s time to rest and Jaeyoung rouses himself to head home but Sangwoo stops him, asks if he wants to spend the night.

Exhausted, Jaeyoung says sure, assuming he’ll be on the couch but then Sangwoo takes his hand and starts leading him into his bedroom and Jaeyoung can’t believe it. Suddenly wide awake, Sangwoo turns him toward the bathroom to get ready and he does in a daze. When he comes out, Sangwoo’s in bed– no, in his nest, and Jaeyoung’s heart simultaneously turns over and goes into overdrive.

The nest is surprisingly full, though maybe Jaeyoung should finally stop being so surprised at evidence that Sangwoo indulges happily in his omega nature.

Just in a tshirt and boxers, Jaeyoung stands next to the bed, unsure. It’s wellknown that absolutely no one is to enter an omega’s nest without their permission and sure, Sangwoo said he could sleep in his bed but what if he’s changed his mind–

His thoughts splinter when Sangwoo looks over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for, hyung?”

And, well, okay.

Gently, Jaeyoung climbs into Sangwoo’s nest. And fuck, if he thought Sangwoo’s scent was overwhelming before, it’s nothing to this. Sangwoo’s scent is concentrated deep into the blankets, surrounding them, and Jaeyoung feels lightheaded.

He lays down, breath shuddering as Sangwoo wiggles back into him, as he takes Jaeyoung’s arm and lays it over his waist.

Jaeyoung’s overwhelmed but still so exhausted and he falls asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, Sangwoo wakes up with his head on Jaeyoung’s chest and, still mostly asleep, finds himself searching for Jaeyoung’s scent gland. Jaeyoung’s scent mingled with his, in his nest, makes Sangwoo purr with satisfaction.

He never really understood when omegas talked about how satisfying it was to find a partner and figured it was just biological compatibility. Sangwoo feels that it’s more than that, though, that he does get it now. It makes his omega feel safe and warm. It makes Sangwoo happy. And it’s illogical and too fast but Sangwoo knows that his omega and him are starting to consider Jaeyoung his mate. Not now, but eventually.

Still half asleep, Sangwoo shifts until he can bury his nose in Jaeyoung’s scent and Jaeyoung wakes up to his omega, his Sangwoo, scenting him. He’s happy, giddy with the thought that Sangwoo is staking a claim on him, finally. That might not be his goal or even on his radar but it is undeniably a fact.

I might imagine that this is their first kiss– or first time depending on how the relationship has progressed to this point.

Then we get into Sangwoo’s heat (so this fic takes place over maybe 8 months?) and I’ll HC that this time around, Sangwoo asks Jaeyoung to be his partner and Jaeyoung absolutely melts. It turns out that Sangwoo is very soft and needy– not demanding at all, just very pliant. It’s also, like I said in the beginning, not just sexual. The sex they do have is very slow and gentle and overwhelming but they spend just as much time just being together– they cook dinner together, watch a movie with Jaeyoung’s head resting on Sangwoo’s stomach, making out with Sangwoo in Jaeyoung’s lap. Jaeyoung has a thing for marking Sangwoo and when they’re knotted together, they’re both so happy and giggling as they talk, Sangwoo surprisingly rambling about some silly topic and Jaeyoung so, so found as he listens.

And then, of course, there’s an epilogue with them mating and Sangwoo pregnant and them having kids <3 literally just all the fun fluff parts of an omegaverse AU I literally think it would fit them so, so well!!!!