#that would take. god that would take forever

[thoughtsofagremlin]

Before you were anything, you were a mother.

When the universe began it was you, and the earth was the first of your children. The seas, the skies, everything that walked the earth was your precious offspring. Humanity, however, were the children you were closest with, made in your own image.

The earth could not remain young forever, and as it grew it began to become too much for you to handle on your own. And so, like every god must, you collected followers. Humans who would take responsibility to do your work. In exchange you promised to reward them, giving them whatever they desired.

Children, however, are imperfect, and humanity is no exception. When promised whatever they want selfishness begins to take over, and time and time again that selfishness has stung. For every three steps forward your followers took to helping you maintain the earth, they took one step back with their selfish wishes. Eventually it felt like a chore, to reward them. It no longer felt like a gift to your children but a betrayal of them. Still, a promise is a promise.

When your next follower came forth to receive their gift, you were already prepared for the worst. They had suffered greatly, and those who suffer greatly have the most pain to inflict back on the world. It comes as a surprise, however, when they instead ask for the warmth of a parent’s embrace.

When you wrap your arms around your follower, this broken child whose only desire is to be loved, you begin to remember. You begin to remember that while humans can be selfish and broken they are still your children who wish for guidance and love. You remember that your followers are still young in the eyes of the universe, and do not know how to not be creatures focused on themselves. You remember and you forgive, and you remind yourself and the earth that you are the mother of everything.

Before you were anything, you were a mother, and a mother you shall stay until the end of time.

You are a patron deity that physically appears before your followers in order to reward them for loyal service. Usually, they like to fulfill their darkest desires, so you’re completely caught off guard when one of them asks to feel "the embrace of a parent."

[sv3t1ana]

SYNOPSIS ᯓ Satoru Gojo was the worst kind of DJ, the kind who knows he's hot, rich, and talented. You were the only girl in the club not impressed. So, of course, he makes you his problem, escorting you to a backroom when his set was over to fuck you absolutely senseless.

PAIRING ᯓ DJ! Gojo x fem! reader

WARNINGS ᯓ club AU, smut MDNI, fingering (f receiving), spanking, cowgirl, he's ROUGH, pussydrunk, he fucks you SILLY, lots of dirty talk, biting, he makes a mess of you, choking, cervix kissing, multiple orgasms, he wants to impregnate you, it's a damn marathon

WORD COUNT ᯓ 5.0k

You stretched your arms over your head, the pillow slipping from your grasp and falling to the floor with a dull thud. You groaned, eyes squinting against the harsh light streaming in through the blinds, and glanced at the digital clock by your bed. 9:00 AM. God damn it. You were hoping to sleep the day away again, just like last night. But here you were, wide awake, tangled in a mess of blankets, wondering why you spent so much of the last year wrapped up in a guy who didn’t deserve you.

It had only been a week since you broke up with him, and yet at the same time, it felt like a lifetime. You couldn’t help but feel stupid. He was boring, so boring. A drone of empty words spewing nonsense about work and finances, an endless parade of rules and restrictions. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d felt truly alive in the entire year you’d been together. He’d keep you tight on your leash, his idea of a relationship was control. Only one day a week for your friends? No late nights, no spontaneous plans. No freedom. The constant anxiety of wondering if you’d been enough, if you’d pass his test of demands. But now, all you felt was this gnawing frustration. Why had you settled for that?

Sighing, you rolled out of bed and padded your way to the bathroom, tugging at the oversized t-shirt that hung loosely over your body. Your hair was a mess, no surprise there, and you hadn’t bothered to touch a drop of mascara in what felt like forever. You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection a reminder of just how much you’d let yourself go. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe it was just what you needed.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, snapping you from your daze. A text message from Shoko flashed on the screen.

Shoko: “Get out of the house for once, it’s been a week. You need to get back out there.”

You frowned, staring at the screen. The last thing you wanted was to be out there, mingling, pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. But you knew Shoko. She wouldn’t stop until you were back out in the world.

Before you could even type a reply, another text message came through in the group chat.

Utahime: “Get over that fucking loser already. We’re taking you out tonight. And we’re making some bad fucking decisions, just like the old days.”

Your lips twitched in amusement, they were both your best friends since college. Reckless, unhinged, unrelenting.

You looked at yourself in the mirror again. The bags under your eyes from last night’s sleeplessness stared back at you, your reflection a stark reminder of the wreckage your relationship left behind. You rolled your eyes, exhaling. Maybe you didn’t want to go out, but if you didn’t, Shoko and Utahime would make your life miserable. You grabbed your phone, typing out the only response you could.

You: “Yeah, whatever. Fine.”

After hitting send, you tossed your phone and moved toward the shower.

Later that day, you hurriedly rushed through your apartment, heels clicking against the wooden floor as you paced around. Your closet was a mess, clothes strewn about from the mess of getting dressed. You hadn’t worn heels in so long, you had to physically wipe dust off of them before even thinking about putting them on. So much for getting back out there.

You laughed at yourself as you walked into the living room in oversized sweatpants and an old shirt with holes in it, paired with heels that didn’t belong. You looked ridiculous, but at least you weren’t a complete mess, right? You’d forgotten how to feel sexy with all the stress of the breakup, but tonight, you were going to remind yourself of who the fuck you were.

You walked over to the closet, pulling out a soft, black, mini-dress that clung to your curves like it was designed specifically with you in mind. The fabric accentuated your soft, natural shape. Nothing too tight, but it was enough to make your hips sway and bust stand out in the best way. Maybe you could make this night a little more about you than the mess of your past.

You sat on the floor in front of your mirror, makeup scattered around you like some kind of artistic chaos. Your hands moved with their usual precision, applying mascara to your lashes with practiced ease. A little light eyeliner, subtle eyeshadow that made the color of your eyes pop, and a slick of lip gloss to finish it off.

You took one last look at yourself, almost not recognizing the person staring back at you. You couldn’t help but blush, just a little self-confidence wouldn’t hurt.

Suddenly a horn honked outside your window. You heard it again, this time for longer, and you knew it was Shoko and Utahime. You grabbed your bag and slipped out the door, heels clicking once more as you made your way down the stairs.

The midnight air outside was a mix of cool and sticky, but the moment you stepped out of the car it was like walking into a furnace. The club loomed ahead, neon lights dancing in every direction as you trailed behind Shoko and Utahime toward the entrance. The bass hit first, a deep, pulsing thud that rattled your chest before even reaching the door. You could hear the muffled roar of the crowd even from the street, the sounds of bodies pressed against one another, strobe lights flashing through the glass windows. The club was already packed, every inch of the place overflowing with heat, energy, and chaos.

You took a deep breath as the bouncer let you in. The smell hit you instantly, sweat, perfume, and a sharp tang of alcohol mixing with the faint remnants of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air. It was almost intoxicating, the flashing lights making you feel like you’d stepped into another world, the kind where nobody knew you and nobody cared to. You could be whoever you wanted to be here.

The layout of it was pretty simple, sleek. The bar stretched across the back wall, glowing under harsh white lights, bartenders moving swiftly and expertly mixing drinks while the crowd leaned in, shouting to be heard over the blaring music. Small seating areas lined the edges of the floor, tucked in alcoves with low leather chairs and intimate tables, though no one was sitting tonight. Everyone was on the dance floor, and ahead, towering above everything else was the DJ booth.

You squinted past the crowd, eyes catching on the huge, flashing screen behind the booth. The letters “DJ GOJO” blinked in bold blues, glaring lights, and then you saw him.

Gojo.

He was wearing signature sunglasses, black ones with silver arms. His white hair pushed around messily, gleaming in the neon lights surrounding him. His black shirt hung loose, just the right kind of cool without trying too hard. It clung to his broad shoulders, and when he leaned over adjusting his mixer you caught a glimpse of the silver chains around his neck. His whole presence screamed confidence, arrogance. His effortless smirk and the way his hands moved to the beat without even thinking about it, yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

The crowd around him was a mixture of giddy girls, learning toward the booth, lifting their tops to flash him. Lingering glances, too-big smiles, begging for his acknowledgment. He brushed them all off like it was second nature to him, an effortless wave of the hand. It wasn’t new. Not to Gojo. He was used to all this.

Shoko leaned into your ear, voice barely audible over the chaos of the music. “I’m out, girl. You know the deal.��� She winked before grabbing Utahime’s arm. “Let’s find some trouble tonight, yeah?”

Utahime shot you a look, already following Shoko to the bar. “You coming, or do you need a moment to find your own trouble?” she teased, flashing you a toothy grin.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m good, thanks.” You weren’t here to find someone tonight. You were here to let loose, shake of the weight of everything that happened in the last week. Maybe get a little drunk. Tomorrow would be the same, except you’d be back in your own comfy bed, regretting every bad decision tonight.

But of course, that didn’t stop Utahime from dragging you to the dance floor with her.

The music was pounding, a deep house beat that made your ribcage rattle as it filtered through the speakers. The lights flashed in time with the rhythm, neon hues splashing across your face, your shoulders, around your waist. You and Utahime fall into step together, giggling as you lost yourself in the music. Your body moved instinctively, the beat pulsing in your veins, bass vibrating your bones. You felt like you were floating, the world blurring around you. The crowd was packed, too packed, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t focused on anyone but Utahime, letting her laughter bubble up in your chest.

It was easy to get lost in the music like this, how it wrapped around you, making your body hum. You weren’t thinking about anything but the moment, being here and forgetting everything else. The people around you were just a blur, faces, bodies, movements that didn’t matter.

But from the corner of your eye, you could feel it. Feel him.

Gojo.

He was still up there, brushing off more girls, moving between the controls and the mic with a practiced ease, his presence commanding the room. Though something was different now, his gaze was on you.

He noticed.

Not because you were dancing for him, no, that would’ve been too simple. He noticed because you weren’t looking at him at all. Everyone else was, but you? Lost in your own world, dancing for yourself, not for the attention. Your body moved to the beat so unaware, unbothered by the crowd or eyes on you. Something about that made Gojo shift.

Damn, he thought. Should I mix something just for her?

For the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn’t dancing for him. The idea alone got under his skin in the best way. It made him want to do something just for you, just to see if you’d react.

He adjusted the controls, beat shifting in a more sultry direction as he slid his hands across the mixer. The tempo dropped, music growing deeper, heavier, and sexier. A low baseline hummed in your chest, pulling you closer to the beat, the kind of rhythm that made your hips move without thinking. You didn’t notice, not yet, but Gojo was playing just for you.

“Yo, even the too-cool-for-this crowd is feelin’ it now,” Gojo’s voice echoed through the mic between songs, and you froze for a second. Was that…? You turned your head, a flicker of curiosity making its way through the haze of the club.

Was he talking about you?

The music eventually shifted to a low hum as Gojo’s set hit intermission. The crowed groaned in disappointment, but he didn’t care. He was lounging behind the DJ booth, a break from the pulsing beats, but it didn’t stop his presence from lingering. The strobe lights still flashed in random intervals, lighting up the bar area with bursts of neon greens and pinks, everything looking like a half-dreamed, blurred haze. You found yourself on the edge of the crowd, perched on a stool at the bar, absently scrolling through your phone.

You hadn’t really planned on being here for more than just the music, but the thought of leaving hadn’t even crossed your mind. You weren’t here to pick anyone up. Hell, you were barely even looking at anyone. Just waiting out the night.

But then you felt the prickling sensation of being watched and slowly, your fingers stilled on your phone screen, the rhythm of the crowd fading into the background as you became hyper-aware of the eyes on you. It was Gojo’s, his penetrating blue eyes that seemed to burn a hole straight through you, eyes locked on yours from across the room.

He was leaning over the bar now, sunglasses perched on his forehead as he whispered something to the bartender. His gaze slid back to you, smirk slowly tugging at the corner of his lips, like he’d been waiting for this.

“You’re the only girl in this club not in love with me. Should I be concerned?” His words were smooth, effortless like he’d said them a million times before.

You didn’t flinch, not even looking up from your phone at first. Lights flickered from above, wild shadows casting his face, but you could still make out the sharpness in his jaw, the casualness with which he moves. Every inch of him oozing that effortless confidence.

“Gojo, huh? Never heard of you,” you quipped with a nonchalance that surprised even you. You leaned back, crossing your arms, watching as the faintest trace of annoyance flashed across his face.

That little response, it was like flicking a switch in him. His smirk grew, just a little more adverse now.

“Is that so?” he leaned in closer, voice dropping lower, a hint of mockery in his tone. “You keep looking at me like you’ve got something to say. I’m all ears, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help it, the words were right there, on the tip of your tongue just itching to be said. And when you spoke your voice was dry, biting.

“I bet you’re only good at DJing because you’re hot. If you were ugly, no one would care.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a brief silence flicking between you two, and you could feel the tension in the palpable air around you. It was like you’d just thrown a match into a gasoline-drenched room. But then his lips parted again, and he leaned in close enough you felt his hot breath on your neck.

“You talk a big game,” he said, sending goosebumps to prickle your entire body. “Wonder how you’ll sound when I make you moan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could almost feel your pulse spike at the implications of what he just said.

He was, without a doubt, testing your limits. And damn, you were so close to snapping.

In a smooth motion he turned to the bartender, exchanging words briefly as if he were completely unaffected by the stirring uncertainty between you two. That nonchalant ease of his, how he seemed to move through the world with such assertiveness, like he could have any woman he wanted with just a look.

He turned back to you with a grin that was all too self-assured. “How ‘bout a drink, then? Only if you promise to actually enjoy yourself tonight, though. Can’t have you looking miserable in my club.”

You watched as his fingers brushed along the edge of the bar before calling the bartender over.

You almost didn’t know how to respond. His cocky attitude being what made him so infuriatingly attractive. But there was just something else about him drawing you in, something more risky under his charm.

You looked at his hand, still brushing the surface of the bar, fingers lingering too long on the counter.

You could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t directly touching you, the weight of him next to you having its own gravitational pull. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end with him standing just a little too close, practically hovering over you as he leaned in to speak, his voice muffled by the music but still able to send a ripple of awareness through you.

He was such a stark contrast between your ex, who barely ever liked to dance, preferring to sit in silence and sip his drink than let loose to the music. He never understood what it felt like to be this free, he didn’t know how to make your heart race, how to turn a simple night into an experience.

Gojo on the other hand was the complete opposite. He was alive in the moment, radiating an energy you couldn’t look away from, magnetic presence impossible to ignore.

And just then as he leaned back against the bar you couldn’t help but notice him again, really notice him.

His tall frame, the way he loomed, all long limbs with casual grace, moving like a king in his own kingdom.

Light flashing across his face highlighting those white lashes, sharp jaw, blue eyes that cut through the dimness of the club

Something snapped and you could audibly hear it.

Electricity coursing through your veins at a primal level now, a blatant burning desire. You were tired of playing this cool, thinking this might just be what you needed.

Fuck it, I’ll fuck this DJ.

Before you could make your move he stood up straight, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. He shot you one last look, a challenge, before returning to the DJ booth.

The last bit of his set went on for about fifteen minutes, having you on the edge of your seat each time you locked eyes across the room.

Smug bastard grinning like he already knew what you decided.

His smirk was maddening. He had nothing to say as he made his way to you, he could tell from the way your body shifts, in the way you stopped pretending to be indifferent.

He stepped close to you, a hand brushing your waist as he leans into your ear in a low teasing tone you were already getting way too familiar with. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here.”

The words are simple, but the implication is charged. He slung an arm over your back, palm resting on your hip as he pulled you through the crowd like he owns the entire place. And for all intents and purposes, he might as well.

Security barely looks up as you two pass, him leading you down a hallway no regular guests are allowed in. It’s quiet, but you could feel your pulse picking up like you didn’t belong here. And yet, Gojo made you feel like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The backroom door opens and you step into a space so different from the club. Bass muffled, neon lights just a faint glow under the crack of the door, all dim lights and leather furniture. It smelled like expensive cologne and straight up lust.

He didn’t waste any time, the door shutting behind him as the weight of everything building up until this point splitting apart.

You stepped back, hitting the wall behind you as he towered over you, body pressed so close his warm and spicy cologne filling the depths of your lungs, breath hitching as he looked at you with pure, raw, unadulterated lust.

“You were so tough earlier. Got nothing to say now?” he taunts, voice playful but laced with an edge of control. You already knew he loved this game, and now you’re stuck playing it.

He didn’t waist a second in grabbing your leg and pulling it around his waist. You felt his hardness press against you making you hold in a desperate whimper. His hands were greedy, feeling every part of your body his long limbs could reach. He had no hesitation, just rough, urgent hands that wanted all of you.

And you looked so pretty like this, hair framing your face perfectly while your lips shone in the dim lighting, looking at him with big, craving eyes that had him so weak. And maybe this is what it was about you that he felt so drawn to, your willingness to cave to desire while maintaining tranquility. You were so alluring, your own volition taking precedence over anything else, the way you looked at him straight, saw him for what he was. You weren’t just some clout-hungry woman that paraded the fact she fucked the DJ Gojo, rather a woman standing firm in the face of zeal.

His fingers trailed up and down your thigh as your hands linked behind his neck, when you didn’t respond to his question, he pressed his knee between your legs, watching you squirm beneath him.

“If you want it, you gotta say it.” His breath ghosting your skin, inhaling your scent as he did everything but press his lips to yours, he wanted to watch you break first.

You huffed, smiling slightly before bringing your lips to his in a frenzied kiss, darting his tongue out making you suck it, drips of your mixed saliva staining his top as he utterly devoured you with his lips.

Taking your bottom lip in his mouth and biting down hard, his length twitching against your middle as you let out a gripe yelp, which only made him do it again and again.

He kissed you sloppy, mouth devouring yours while his hands traveled your body thoroughly, wildly clawing at the rotund tissue your body offered, and making no effort to hide the moans escaping his lips.

It was filthy, desperate, and unapologetic the way he had you bent over his lap, stuffing three fingers knuckle deep into your lamenting pussy, panties pushed aside and forgotten, giving you absolutely no time to adjust to him, hitting the deepest parts of you as you cried out.

“Let ‘em hear,” he smirked, whispering in your ear as he worked you with his fingers, your pussy battered repeatedly by his long digits.

“Mmm, need to feel you cum,” he instructed, and almost immediately you did. It might’ve been the drink you had or the heat of this all. Either way you were entirely blissed out, sweaty when your mouth dropped open letting out the most guttural wail when the reeling halted, spasming while draped over his lap as he talked you through it.

“That’s right, don’t hold back for me.” He rewards you with a loud slap! to your left cheek, leaving behind a large, red handprint. “S’good for me.”

Your dress was nearly in shreds, breasts popping out the top as the straps stretched and strained under the tension, the hem of it riding up your middle as you straddled him, panties long discarded at some point.

He was fumbling to remove his dick from its confines, your thighs trembling over him eyeing his flushed tip spilling clear liquid, coating his length as he pumped himself a couple times.

“Sit up,” he instructed, teeth clacking with his as he brought your lips together in a swift motion, positioning himself at your soppy entrance.

In one swift motion he grabbed your hips, engulfing himself balls deep as he drove your hips down. His fingerpads were clammy as they gripped you, squeezing like his life depended on it.

He fucked you deeply, driving his hips upward to meet your descent as you just sat there and took it, feeling his girth breach your tight walls, an insane force driving you absolutely mad at the way he fucked you so frantically.

His strangled moans caught somewhere between your lips and his, the ragged movements of his hips as slaps of skin and muffled grunts filled the air. And he looked so delicate like this, drenched white locks disheveled and sticking to his skin like gum, muscles flexing under his shirt.

Oh god, how you wished to see it. So you attempted to grab the hem of his shirt, but the ardent thrust of his hips making it impossible.

He mumbled something unintelligible before almost ripping it at the seams, tossing it over his head and letting it fall across the room.

He was so chiseled despite his tall frame, looking like a sculpture carved from the gods as you scratched your nails deep across his chest. His skin usually a wispy white now dusted in a blushed pink, his striking cerulean eyes with blown out pupils a stark contrast to his pale eyelashes accompanied with heavy lids.

His brows furrowed, corner of his mouth twitching as he somehow fucked you harder, with more abandon.

It was so erotic, just two bodies glossed in a sheen of sweat where he used you like a personal fuck toy. Your pussy squelching! and splashing! with every drive, your walls beating around him erratically.

“fuck- Gojo ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna-”

He crashed his lips into yours, drawing out all of your moans while you melted into him, savoring the smoky taste of whiskey on his lips, mumbling something unintelligible when he reached his peak shortly after you, sparing no excuse to slow down.

You were sitting on your hands and knees, his erection still planted deep inside you as he gripped your jaw, turning your head to meet him. “Call me Satoru.”

You just nodded, your sparkly, glossed lipstick staining his face and makeup running down your cheeks in salty tears you didn’t even know fell.

He manhandled you how he wanted, pushing on your back so you fell forward flat, he cradled you in a prone bone position, using a hand to move the hair off the back of your neck.

In this position the tip of his dick hit deep inside you in a way that made you indisputably pliant. He fucked his own cum deeper and deeper, “Ya’ like it when I’m rough- ngh- don’t ya’.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, relishing the sweet pain as your pussy poured out, a mix of your arousal and his cum staining, and probably, ruining the leather beneath you. It was filthy, sloppy in the way he made such a mess of you and liked it.

Your makeup only streaming further down your face to curve under your jaw and pool before he lifted you by the neck, his long digits spanning more than half the circumference of it and tightening his hold, feeling the way your pulse restricted in his palm, how you let out choked sobs and let your face contort as he repeatedly pounded your cervix, no doubt bruising it.

He only let go to begin leaving bite marks at your neck, leaving long, wet stripes with his tongue over the back of your neck only to clamp your skin between his teeth and clench his jaw, marking you in any way he could think of.

And he didn’t let up, not for a second when he felt your body stutter below him as his body smashed into yours, using the head of his cock to hammer into your g-spot, dragging over it repeatedly and leaving you a gasping mess, pleading your lungs for more air as his pace only quickened, relaxing his pace for a fraction of a second, parting with your salacious body as he lifted your hips, setting you on your knees and letting himself slide in and out of you so effortlessly.

He used his thumbs to grip you, opening you up to view the pornographic way your pussy let out globules of his seed, your entire thighs and his abdomen drenched from the way your pussy wept for him.

Having to physically hold your frail, fucked-out body up, he drunkenly wallowed in how you rasped for him. You looked the most beautiful to him now, body basically jelly.

Oh he was so smitten with you. He was so lust-driven, becoming pussy-drunk long ago as neither his stamina nor erection wavered. He wanted to fuck you filthy, filthy in the kind of way you couldn’t walk tomorrow, filthy in the way you’d have to take multiple showers at home, filthy in the way you’d have to avoid going in public for at least a week because of his marks on you.

His brain was shattered, short-circuiting as his thrusts left the couch below you two creak! and splinter the wood legs holding it up, leather absolutely drenched in a mix of bodily fluids.

He didn’t care at all about replacing it, no matter how expensive it was.

He wanted you to never think about another dick besides his, he wanted you to know no one could make you this breathless besides him.

“Ah- fuck- she’s takin’ me so well,” he panted between breaths. Absolutely enamored by the indecent sounds your pussy was making for him. “She’s so vulgar- fuuck-”

To say he was addicted was downplaying it, no, he was devoted to your body.

A crazed smirk playing on his lips, lapping his teeth as he gripped your cheeks roughly, watching bright red spots appear before gripping you again and again, watching you struggle to take him, your entrance swelling around his length, drudging in attempt to adapt to his volatile pace. He only seemed to get bigger, balls tighter and tighter as time went on.

Cumming over and over on him you lost count, head buzzing in pleasure, eyes fuzzy as your body jolted with each smack of his hips, losing your touch on reality right when you felt Gojo bend, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

“Gonna fuckin’- ngh- impregnate you,” all while you felt a sharp sting at your shoulder, the curve of your back sweating under his form as he emptied everything he had inside, heaps of cum spilling out of you in sticky, white streams, slowing his pace to a stop for the first time in hours to grunt in your ear, the tips of his stringy white locks cold on your back.

“Damn sweetheart,” he drawls, pushing your hair out of your face, smoothing the bite marks he left. “Didn’t know you could sound that pretty.”

He laughs, pleased with himself watching how your body still trembled, grinning like he didn’t just fuck you senseless, like he didn’t just erase the memories you had of mistakenly having sex with anyone else.

You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted at best.

“What?” he teases, tilting his head. “Cat got your tongue? ‘Cause she was real chatty-” pointing to your pussy, still a steady stream leaking out of your entrance.

You could only look at him through clouded vision, feeling as he lifted off to you, retrieving a water bottle from the mini-fridge and handing it to you, “stay hydrated, babe.”

Like he didn’t just fuck you so good you forgot your own damn name.

[potatoplace]

Forever

The Afterthought: Chapter 7 | series masterlist

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

chapter 6 | chapter 8 | ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Summary: The day after your first date is spent gossiping with Mor, being gently harassed by your coworkers over your new relationship, and with the male you want to spend your future with.

Warnings: slightly shitty Rhys mention, I honestly don't think there's anything else!

Words: ~5.5k

Author's Note: god DAMN did it take me forever to get this one out 😭 I'm glad I can finally deliver some good fackin food! (Not that I haven't loved working on all my other fics lol) Loooots of cute fluffiness in this chapter, I hope you guys like it!! 🫶 Title from the Chelsea Cutler song

18+ only pls

🤍💙💘💙🤍

You’d just taken off you makeup and cleansed your skin when a letter from Mor showed up with a soft pop on your kitchen table.

You managed to decipher it after a minute on your own, something that you were immensely proud of. Her perfect handwriting read:

How did the date go?? Where did you go for dinner? What did you talk about? Did he kiss you?? Tell me everything, write back on this paper and once you fold it, it will send itself back to me! - Love, Mor

Your nose wrinkled as you thought about writing her back, your own penmanship far more clumsy, even with how much you had been practicing. But you did anyways, not wanting to disappoint your friend.

It was perfect, we went to an Illyrian restaurant for dinner. HE KISSED ME!! Can you come over at 7 to talk? - Love you, Y/N

Your fingers carefully folded the paper along the crease once more, and watched with amazement as it vanished from your hands immediately.

Less than a minute later the paper returned, Mor having written: YES! I’ll bring breakfast and YOU can tell me everything!

You giggled to yourself, so unbelievably happy to have not only a friend who cared about your romantic life, but also having a romantic life! With Azriel no less!

At the sound of your laughter, M’aiq ran over and brushed against your leg, meowing loudly for food. You’d fed her dinner before you left for your date, but here she was, screaming at you like she was starved. “Silly girly, you have to wait until morning,” you said as you bent down to pick her up, her tiny claws catching slightly on your nightgown. She meowed at you with all her might as you cradled her in your arms, her tiny paws resting on your hand as you pet her tummy. “You’re very cute and very mighty, and I’m tempted to feed you more because of that. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” You nuzzled your nose against her cheek, listening to her purr. “Or are you asking me how the date was?” She purred louder at that suggestions, and you giggled again. “Okay, I’ll tell you about it,” You said as you sat in your armchair, letting the roaring fire keep you warm as you gushed to M’aiq about the date, petting her tiny head and tummy all the while.

Eventually, though, you forced yourself from the chair and into your bed, carefully setting a sleeping M’aiq onto the pillow next to yours that had become quickly become hers.

You fell asleep snuggled into the blankets, one hand still placed on M’aiq.

🤍❤️🤍💙🤍

“Wake UP!”

That was your only warning before Mor flung herself on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs in one go.

“Oh my gods, Mor!”

Mor’s maniacal giggling was the answer you got as Mor flopped to the other side of the bed and off of you, your eyes flying open in panic.

“Did you squish M’aiq?!” You asked frantically as you turned to see Mor inspecting her nails.

“No, I didn’t squish M’aiq,” she reassured you. “She bolted straight under the bed the moment I winnowed in, otherwise I wouldn’t have squished you like that.”

You shook your head, even as a smile crept onto your face. “Oh, you won’t squish M’aiq but you’ll squish me?” You asked, letting fake offence seep into your tone.

“Uh, yes, you would cry if I squished M’aiq, but you? You have information that I want! Tell me all about the date while we do our skincare, yeah?” Mor asked as she stood up from your bed, looking expectantly at you.

You nodded and flung the covers back, scrunching your nose at the cold air. Your slippers and dressing gown fixed that easily, and you followed Mor into your bathroom.

“So, how was it?” Mor asked excitedly as she patted her face dry.

“It was…” You sighed dreamily. “It was everything I could have hoped for, honestly. We went to this small Illyrian restaurant in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, the food was amazing, We talked a lot about when we were younger, he told me a few funny stories about Cassian and Rhysand,” you giggled. “And we realized that we both thought we had been extremely obvious with our affections, but neither of us noticed.”

“Well, I noticed,” Mor laughed. “I swear, when Azriel can’t see you at least once a week, he becomes the crankiest little Spymaster. And you get so blushy and shy around him, it’s so cute!”

Color dusted your cheeks at her words. “…Does he really get upset?”

Mor burst into laughter. “He does! He went off on Keir so many times, it was amazing! How was the rest of the date? Did you do anything else?” She asked as the two of you moved from the bathroom to the dining table, settling down in front of the pastries and tea that Mor had brought.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of how the date ended. “Well, he walked me home along the Sidra, but while we were I heard this lovely music, and in the dim lights and with the snow it was…” You let out a breath. “It was perfect. We danced to the music-”

“Azriel danced?” Mor asked incredulously, and you blinked at her, confused.

“Yes? Is that… Does he not normally dance?”

Mor shook her head. “He knows how to, he’s just… Always avoided it, whenever he could. I’m not sure exactly why, I think he might just be shy. Or… Maybe he just didn’t have the right partner!” Mor squealed, and you blushed again.

“Well either way, we danced for a bit, and then when we got to my door he kissed me,” You whispered. “It was… I’ve never been kissed before but I can’t imagine any other kiss ever measuring up.”

Mor was holding her hands to her cheeks, a huge grin splitting her face. “Oh mother, you are in love!” You smacked her lightly, your cheeks cherry red now.

“Shut up!”

“No, I can’t! My best friend is in love with my other best friend! Do you know how cute the two of you are together?”

You rolled your eyes at her and took a sip of your tea. “You haven’t even seen us together since we’ve been dating, Mor.”

“I don’t need to see you two together to know that you’re the cutest couple in Velaris! That is, until I finally get a chance to ask out the adorable Illyrian that Nesta is friends with,” Mor sighed. “Any other details about the night that you want to share with me?” She asked, waggling her brows at you suggestively.

"Mor. We kissed, and that’s all!” You insisted, placing the back of your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to cool them. “And that’s all that will happen, unless we get married.”

“See! You’re in looove, already thinking about getting married to Azriel,” Mor giggled.

You shot her a glare, but the smile that forced its way onto your face ruined the effect. “Mor,” you groaned.

Mor snickered at you, but relented. “Fine, fine. Do you know when you’re seeing him next?”

You nodded, your smile growing. “He’s picking me up after I get off work tonight.”

“Cute! I have a feeling it’s going to be tough keeping Azriel in the Hewn City through the elections.” Mor glanced to the clock, sighing when she saw the time. “I have to get going, I’ve got a meeting with Rhys in ten minutes and he’ll be pissed if I show up late again.”

“How many times have you been late?” You asked as you walked her to the door, Mor waving excitedly at M’aiq, whose head poking out from under the bed.

“I’ve lost track,” Mor laughed. “Especially recently, if he’s going to keep me in the Hewn City most of the time, I’m entitled to being late, I think.”

“I think you’re right, Mor. Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I should be in town a bit after you usually get off of work. But…” Mor fished something out of her pockets: two blank pieces of paper. “I wanted you to have these! They’re both spelled to be sent after being folded like the letter I sent to you yesterday, and all messages are erased ten minutes after being opened. One of them is spelled to go to me, and the other is spelled to go to Azriel. I thought it would be nice for you to have a way to communicate with us, without needing magic.”

You grinned at the blonde standing in your doorway. “Thank you, Mor, this is amazing! And I’m sure you have no ulterior motives, like getting information on my and Azriel’s dates?”

“Oh, of course not, I just thought you might like to have someone to gush about him to,” Mor said with a wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“I’ll see you then, Mor. Have a good day!”

“You as well!” Mor called out from halfway down the staircase.

You shut your front door and giggled when M’aiq came trotting over, meowing insistently at you. “Yeah, you could have been fed earlier if you’d been a little braver, Eeky. Let’s get your breakfast started,” you said after setting the papers down on your kitchen table, trading them for your soft, fluffy child. “Do you want to watch me cook it today?”

Her loud meow was enough of an answer for you, so you set her on the counter next to the stove while you pulled a bit of beef out of the cold box. The rest of your morning passed by quickly, between cutting the meat and making sure M’aiq stayed out of the heating pan, and later keeping her from eating straight out of it. Soon enough, she was munching away after you’d set her and her food bowl on the ground.

You went about the rest of your routine, applying a light layer of pink eyeshadow and a bit of blush before getting dressed, choosing a pale purple dress, its sleeves reaching just past your elbow and the hem reaching your ankles. The matching sash around your waist was tied into a bow at your lower back, showing more of your figure than you usually did, especially at work.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t chose it knowing that Azriel would be picking you up from work later that day, your mind already stuck on how he might react to it. The whole walk to work you thought about it, nearly slipping on two separate patches of ice, you were so distracted. Somehow, you managed to safely make it to Sevenda’s on time, your outerwear hung up in the tiny breakroom just as the clock hit nine.

“Oh, someone looks nice today,” Josi remarked as you slid on your apron, her hands already chopping onions.

“Thank you, Josi,” you said with a smile, tying off your apron and moving to the sink to clean your hands.

“You have a hot date later, Y/N?” Torma asked, making heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh! You do! Who is it, tell us who it is!”

You laughed nervously as you finished drying your hands, facing your coworkers with your flushed cheeks. “It’s no one, really,” you said quietly, readying your workstation for the day. You would be handling the preparation of the meats today, a task you’d only just recently earned enough trust to do on your own.

“It’s not no one, just tell us who it is,” Josi begged from your left. “Please?”

You shook your head, pulling out a large piece of beef that you’d be carving up. “I don’t want to talk about it yet, we’ve only been on one date.”

“Ah, new love,” Torma sighed. “Whoever it is, they better treat you right, Y/N.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that slid onto your face. “He treats me perfectly,” you said softly.

Josi and Torma continued to ask questions about your mystery suitor, determined to guess who it is through your answers by the end of the day. The two of them never failed to make your day fly by, their cheery attitudes and kind words always making your day better.

As your shift drew to a close, though, your eyes kept flicking up to the clock, wishing for once that the minutes would pass by more quickly.

If Josi or Torma noticed, neither of them mentioned it. Either way, you were glad no one had pointed out how antsy you were, waiting to leave.

Five minutes before five o’clock, Sevenda popped her head into the kitchen, locking eyes with you. “Y/N, you have a guest out front when you’re done,” she said with a knowing smile and a wink before disappearing back into the front of house.

“Oh, would that guest happen to be your male?” Josi giggled, her and Torma’s eyes following you as you cleaned up your space and washed up quickly.

“I think it is, look at how fast she’s moving! Normally you never want to leave us, Y/N, is that going to change?” Torma asked with a pout.

“No, that won’t change,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “I just happen to be meeting him right after work today.” You went into the breakroom and put on your cloak and scarf, sliding your mittens on as you walked into the front of house, your eyes instantly drawn to the Illyrian lingering near the doorway.

He noticed you in the same moment, his hazel eyes softening when they landed on you. A few of his shadows slunk over to you, wrapping themselves around your legs and ankles, and judging by his expression he hadn’t asked them to do so. You walked up to him, your eyes finally registering that he was holding a lovely bouquet of red camellias and azaleas.

He had picked such romantic flowers for you, both today and last night, it was making your head spin.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted, pressing a soft kiss to each of your cheeks, your face flaming when he pulled away. Azriel pressed the bouquet into your hands gently. “I brought you these, I thought you might like them.”

“I love them, thank you Az,” you said, a grin on your face as you smelled them. “Should we go?”

“Yes, I was think-”

“No way!” Josi squealed from behind you. “Torma, you owe me twenty marks!”

“Nice, Y/N, you got the Shadowsinger!” Torma cheered from the back of the restaurant. “You two are so cute together!”

You smiled apologetically up at Azriel, your cheeks now red from embarrassment. “Goodbye,” you said loudly to the two of them, noticing that even Wren was peeking out from the kitchen, shaking your head at their antics.

The two of you left the restaurant, the chill of winter sinking into your skin a bit. “You were saying something before my coworkers interrupted you?”

“Ah.” Azriel rubbed the back of his head, and in the remaining sunlight you could see his cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. “I thought that we could go to the markets to get ingredients for dinner, and I could cook for you at your apartment.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed at his suggestion, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “That sounds lovely, Az. Though I’d like to insist on helping you cook.”

“And I would like to insist that you allow me to cook for you myself, just this once,” he requested softly. Azriel smiled down at you as he grabbed your hand, a few of his shadows floating over to your other and disappearing with your bouquet, presumably taking it to your apartment. He slowly led you to the Palace of Bone and Salt, his grip being the only thing keeping you upright on more than one occasion.

Shopping went by quickly with Azriel at your side, your heart racing and cheeks flushed at all times from his presence. When the streets grew crowded, Azriel guided you through the groups of people with a considerate hand on your lower back, his other arm managing to carry everything he’d purchased for dinner.

He still had yet to tell you what he was making, or agree that you could help.

By the time you returned to your apartment, the sun had thrown lovely oranges and pinks into the sky, matching the lovestruck mood you were in from Azriel’s mere presence. You led Azriel up to your apartment, opening your front door slowly to be certain that M’aiq was unable to make an escape - not that you expected her to, with how frightened she seemed to be of anything and anyone new.

“M’aiq, we’re home!” You called out into the room, spying her green eyes glinting in the light from under your bed, a smile gracing your lips. “You know him, cutie pie,” you giggled as you watched her eyes lock onto Azriel’s form, her body slinking just a bit further into the shadows. You rolled your eyes and turned your gaze to Azriel, who had taken off his boots and was already entering the kitchen with the groceries.

Your own winter gear came off quickly, shoes replaced with fuzzy slippers. It took you mere seconds to be by his side, curiously taking note of everything he’d bought - you could hardly remember what you’d stopped for, with your head and heart buzzing from getting to spend so much time with Azriel, even if it was only grocery shopping.

“So, what are we making?” You asked, letting your right hand brush against his left ever so slightly.

“I am making a chicken stir-fry for us,” Azriel responded, a gentle kiss placed to the crown of your head right after. “And you, my dear, will be sitting either at the table or on the couch.”

Your lips slid into a pout - that just wouldn’t do.

“But I want to help,” you whined, laying your head against his shoulder. “Please?”

Azriel sighed. “You can help next time, Y/N. But I would love if you would give me the chance to make you a meal, all on my own.”

Your heart soared at his offer - he would love to cook for you - and you couldn’t help but smile, especially when you saw his lips tilted a the corners, his eyes hopeful as he looked down at you.

“Fine,” you gave in.  “Do you need help finding anything?”

“No, love, I’ve got it covered. You just go take a seat, and I’ll bring you a pot of tea in a moment.”

You took a seat, a playful pout on your lips. You appreciated the gesture, but you really would enjoy cooking with him again.

You’ll have as many times as you want to cook with him after this, you reminded yourself, a smile coming to your lips at the thought.

You could cook with him whenever youwantednow that you were dating, so long as he was in the city.

That train of thought had you so entangled that you only realized Azriel had brought you a pot of tea when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft look in his eyes when he pulled away. “What are you thinking about, love?”

Your cheeks flamed from the nickname - how could something so simple be so perfect? “Just… How we can do this all the time, now,” you admitted shyly.

Azriel nodded. “Yes we can, Y/N. And we will, whenever we have the time,” he promised before bending down to kiss you gently, leaving you breathless.

“Good,” you managed to say, grinning up at him before watching him turn back to the stove. “How was your day?”

“Oh, not too bad,” Azriel replied as he began cutting the chicken, having already prepared all of the vegetables while you had been fantasizing about your future with him. “Most of my day will happen when I go back to the Hewn City, so I’m incredibly grateful to spend the beginning of it with you. You are much preferred company to any of the citizens I have to interact with there, love.”

Would your cheeks always be pink around him?

“I’m glad you get to spend it with me too,” you said as you took a sip of your tea, which his shadows had kindly poured out for you - one of your favorites, a pink rose green tea. “Do you know when you’ll stop having to be there as much?”

Azriel hummed thoughtfully as he transferred the chicken to the pan. “I believe in three weeks things will be a bit more settled, and I won’t have to spend every night there.”

Three weeks. You could handle that.

You stood from your chair and made your way over to him, watching as he moved the chicken around the pan. “Three weeks? That isn’t too bad.”

Azriel turned to look at you, a wing curling slightly around your back to touch your arm. “Three weeks will be torture, knowing that I could have been spending every day with you,” he admitted quietly, your heart fluttering at the sincerity of his tone, the truth in his hazel eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve almost caused a problem with Keir when he was holding me up from leaving,” Azriel sighed.

“I think only Keir would mind if he got hit in the face,” you giggled, knowing how awful he was, even to his own daughter. One of your hands was slowly creeping over to the spoon he was using to stir.

Azriel let out a soft snort. “That may be true, but I’d prefer to spend time with you over teaching him a lesson.” Hazel eyes darted down, catching you in the act and using a scarred hand to pick yours up and bring the back of it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss there. “Now, go sit down and enjoy your tea love.”

You stuck your lips out into a pout. “But I want to help,” you whined.

“And you agreed that you wouldn’t help this time. So, will you sit down? Or do my shadows need to help you?” Azriel asked, and your cheeks flushed bright red.

“I can sit down,” you sighed before turning back to the table and reluctantly taking a seat. You took a deep sip of tea, aware of the shadows that had stretched away from Azriel slightly. You almost felt like they were staring at you, making sure you didn’t leave your seat.

It was likely, you supposed, since Azriel was able to spy on people with them. Then again, you weren’t really sure.

“How do the shadows work?” you blurted out, hoping it wasn’t a rude question.

Azriel turned around, a surprised look on his face. “You… You want to know about them?” he asked neutrally.

"I... Yes. They’re a part of you, right?”

His lips tilted up, just a tiny bit, at the corners. “Yes, and no. They’ve been with me so long that we feel like one, but they have minds of their own. That’s why one has been following you around secretly without my permission for over a year.” His eyes locked onto a place by your feet, where a small shadow slunk out from underneath the hem of your dress.

“I- What?” you asked, worried about what that meant.

Azriel shook his head quickly, and his words dispelled any notions your brain had been creating. “I have received absolutely no information from them, when they follow you, I swear. They just… Wanted to keep an eye on you,” he said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, turning quickly to the pan to keep the chicken from burning. “I hope that you aren’t offended by it, I truly did attempt to make them stop.”

You pursed your lips together, trying to keep a giggle in. “They can… They can disobey you?”

“I don’t normally let people know that, but yes,” Azriel sighed. “They’re very stubborn, when they think I’m wrong.” He began stirring in the vegetables he’d cut, pouring a delicious smelling sauce over them as he did.

“They thought you were wrong? About what?” You asked with a furrowed brow.

You just barely noticed the way Azriel’s wings stiffened at the question, barely heard the quiet answer he gave to your question.

“About me… Giving you space.”

Giving me space? Space from what?

“Rhys…” Azriel groaned, stepping away from the stove. “Mother, it’s so stupid! Rhys told me not to approach you romantically, after he told me off for having feelings for Elain-” he seemed to have noticed his mistake the moment he said it, turning to look at you with horror in his eyes. “Oh gods, Y/N, I never had feelings for your sister, Rhys just had it in his head that I did because I was helping her recover as he and Feyre had asked of me,” he rushed out quickly, your brain struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of information. “Truly, since I’ve met you, I’ve had no interest in anyone else romantically, Y/N, you have to believe me,” Azriel begged when you were silent for a moment, getting on his knees in front of you, his wings folded behind him.

You had never felt that Azriel cared for Elain, beyond that of a friend. But, knowing that someone else had thought he had…

“I believe you, Az. I do,” you said quietly. “But… What changed your mind? About giving me space, I mean.”

Azriel let out a relieved sigh, giving you a gentle, reassuring hug before returning to the stove reluctantly. “Well… You. I had thought you were adjusting well to life in Velaris, but on Bounty Day… I realized that your support system wasn’t giving you the proper support, and I could have been contributing all along.” The shadow that was still at the hem of your dress rushed up to his face, poking him on the ear, almost scoldingly before he let out an amused huff. “Yes, also you, little one,” he said with an affectionate eyeroll, smiling when the shadow brushed against his cheek before returning to you, this time settling around your wrist.

“Well… I’m glad that you had someone to talk some sense into you,” you giggled before standing from your chair and going behind him, placing your face between his wings and wrapping your arms as far around him as you could, almost getting your fingers to touch. He stiffened in your hold for a brief moment before relaxing, a hand coming to rest over yours.

“Me too,” he whispered.

He let you stand behind him, arms wrapped around him tightly the rest of the time he was cooking, his shadows happily encircling the two of you.

The meal he made you was perfect, made with just the right amount of spice for you and oh so filling. Az even insisted on washing up while you sat on the couch in front of a blazing fire, attempting to lure M’aiq out from under your bed.

“Will you come out for food?” you begged, grinning when her ears perked up, eyes locking onto yours instead of where Azriel was standing in the kitchen. “Please, little noodle?” She let out a tiny meow and took a few brave steps towards you, and you took the opportunity to stand and scoop her up. “Thank you, now let’s get you some food!”

A few of Azriel’s shadows darted over to you and M’aiq, hovering curiously around her before backing away after she hissed, making her displeasure very known. You set her on the counter before pulling some steak from the fridge for her - her newest favorite.

You set to preparing her dinner, hyper-aware of Azriel standing near you at the sink, the very edges of his wing brushing you every now and then, his shadows lazily floating between the two of you. You’d just gotten the meat in a pan when Azriel finished at the sink, stepping aside a bit to let you wash your hands. He still had your hand towel when you finished, wrapping your hands in it softly and drying them for you.

In a moment of bravery you stood on your tip-toes, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away, only for Az to pull you back, his mouth covering yours sweetly until you heard metal rattling.

You turned to see M’aiq, one paw on the steak in the pan as she tried, and failed, to grab a slice from the pan. “M’aiq!” you yelped, moving out of Azriel’s hold to pull her away from possible danger. “You impatient little girl! You can wait five more minutes,” you said as you held her up to your face, shaking your head at her behavior. She was set on the counter to your left, away from the hot pan and thankfully staying put, now that your eyes were on her again.

You had just started to stir the meat when Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before resting his chin on it. For the next four minutes, you were sure that you looked an idiot, smiling so widely at a mere hug.

But you didn’t care.

Because it was Azriel.

And if you could spend every moment with him? You were sure that you would.

For now, though, you could settle for any amount of time with the perfect, caring male behind you.

Once M’aiq was fed, you couldn’t help but feel your time with him drawing to a close for the night, your heart aching already at the prospect. But you let him lead you back over to the couch, sitting down first and pulling you down and into his side, a warm throw blanket pulled over you in the next moment. His wings draped over the side of the couch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders and his free hand holding one of yours. He swiped his thumb over the back of it rhythmically as you basked in each other’s presence.

“So,” Azriel started a while later, after M’aiq had joined you. “I won’t be able to come to town until Friday night next week, and I was wondering if you would be free for another date?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, meeting his softened hazel eyes. “I most definitely am,” you confirmed with a smile, it broadening when he placed a tender kiss to your lips. “Do I get a hint on what it is?”

Azriel grinned at you, his face looking so boyish and free that your heart skipped a beat. “Wear something you can move comfortably in.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s not much of a hint…” you half-heartedly grumbled.

“The hint was meant to be vague, love,” Az chuckled. He leaned down to kiss you once more, still soft and tender, but you could sense the hunger lying deep underneath the calm façade he was wearing. “I should be going, as much as I would rather stay with you,” he groaned, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Then stay…” you whispered against his lips, drawing another long kiss from him.

He sighed when he pulled away this time, a finality in his expression. “I wish I could,” he murmured before carefully moving the blanket on his lap in an effort to not disturb M’aiq. Once he was standing, he bent down for another kiss, your eyes fluttering closed until he pulled away, your cheeks pink. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“On Friday,” you nodded. “Oh, wait! Mor gave me these papers that will let us write to each other,” you said. “So… Expect a letter from me, probably tomorrow,” you giggled.

Azriel beamed at you, a dimple showing on his left cheek when he did so, your heart absolutely melting at the sight. “I’ll look forward to it, Y/N. Have a good rest of your night,” he said before pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips.

“You too, Az,” you said, watching as he left through your front, door, the shadow that apparently stays with you locking the door behind him before lazily floating back over to you.

What a night, you thought to yourself.

There had been a brief moment of panic, with the reveal of Rhysand not wanting Azriel to approach you, but… You knew that Azriel was telling you the truth, that he had never harbored feelings for your second eldest sister.

And that was all the reassurance that you needed.

🤍💙💘💙🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

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[scribblesofagoonerr]

𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓎 Our Girl: Growing Up | 𝐼𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓀𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒲𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒰𝓅𝑜𝓃, 𝒮𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒯𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁

summary: the new house move is overshadowed by monkey's first supervised visit with mark

our girl: growing up masterlist

“Looks like that was the last box in the van,” Jordan cheerfully announced, stepping into the house with a cardboard box in hand, “Now it’s the fun part of unpacking everything.”

Leah mock-wiped her brow with an exaggerated sigh, “Phew, thank God. That felt endless.”

Jacob snorted, smirking at her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You barely carried half of them–Dad and I did all the hard work.”

“Shush, you,” Leah shot back with a playful grin, “I’ll have you know I’m carrying precious cargo.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that then?”

“Your future niece or nephew,” Leah smirked, motioning to her stomach.

Jacob blinked before letting out a low whistle, “Touché. I’ll let you off this time.”

“Le, I’m just sorting out everything in the kitchen,” Amanda called from inside the house, already beginning her work in the kitchen, “Is there anything you guys want in a specific place?”

“No, it should be fine wherever. We can always rearrange it if needs be,” Leah responded, shrugging her shoulders, taking the moment to glance around the spacious three-bedroomed house, her expression shifting to something more contemplative, “Well, I guess this is it–home sweet home.”

You stood beside her, silent, your eyes wide scanning the unfamiliar space.

Leah had never expected to move out so soon—sure there was countless talks of it with Jordan, but the plan had always been to stay in her family home until she was at least done with her accountancy degree, but life had a way of throwing unexpected changes her way.

The biggest one? You.

You needed a safe place to stay, and Leah’s childhood home simply wasn’t big enough. So here you were–standing in the hallway of what Leah called your new home.

And then there was the baby. Leah and Jordan were only ten weeks along, but their future had already shifted in ways they hadn’t fully processed yet. You weren’t sure what that meant for you. Did this change things? Did they still want you here? Did you even belong?

“We’ll make it perfect for our kids–Monkey and our little one, whatever gender they turn out to be,” Jordan swooped behind Leah, wrapping her free arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

“My money’s still on it being a boy,” Jacob teased.

Leah huffed, rolling her eyes, “You just want a nephew to support the same team that you do.”

“Of course I do!” Jacob puffed out his chest, “I can guide him down the right path. Ain’t that right, Dad?” He asked, turning round to look at the older man who had just walked into the room.

“Absolutely,” David agreed.

“As if,” Leah scoffed, waggling her fingers in mock threat, “There’s no way my future child will support anyone but Arsenal.”

Jordan laughed in agreement, moving to crouch down to unpack a box that she’d recently brought into the house, “She’s serious about that one. If you even brought a Spurs shirt into this house, she’d probably set it on fire.”

“Correct,” Leah said, nodding firmly.

Jacob scoffed, “You can’t just expect them to pick Arsenal. What if they want to support Spurs?”

Leah shuddered dramatically, “Over my dead body.”

“Jacob does have a point though,” Jordan began, grinning at her girlfriend, “A boy would be nice–one of each then, yeah?”

“Mhm, maybe,” Leah mused, “But a girl would be nice too, wouldn’t it? Only ten more weeks until we find out.”

“Ten weeks feels like forever,” Jordan sighed.

The conversation drifted around you, the room buzzing with movement–The banter continued about which team the new baby would support, while Amanda unpacked in the kitchen and Jordan sorted through things in the living room. You stood still in the hallway, watching it all but unsure where you fit into the chaos.

Your fingers twitched at your sides before, slowly, your thumb found its way into your mouth. It was instinct, comfort–something familiar when everything else felt too new, too uncertain.

Leah must have noticed because before long, she was crouching in front of you, “Hey, my girl,” She began in a gentle tone of voice, “This is your new home now. You have your own bedroom here, and we can make it however you like–it’s entirely yours.”

“Mine?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Leah smiled, reaching out to tuck a lose strand of your hair behind your ear, “Yes, it’s yours–”

“Oi, Leah!” Jacob called, interrupting the moment the two of you had, “Where do you want this box labeled ‘kitchen’?”

“My guess would be in the kitchen there, J,” Leah laughed, her younger brothers’ question making her smile, but she barely paid him any mind with her attention still on you, “What do you think about it, my girl?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to. Talking felt too big, too hard–you felt it was safer to remain quiet at this time. 

Leah reached out, rubbing slow, circles on your arm. Then, with a small smile, she gently tapped your hand, “Hey, let’s try to keep your thumb out of your mouth, yeah? We don’t want you getting poorly from the yucky germs, do we?”

You hesitated but, after a few seconds, pulled your thumb away, rubbing it against your sleeve instead. Leah nodded approvingly and stood up, holding her hand out, “Come on, let’s go see your room.”

“It… It’s mine?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, it is,” Leah agreed, squeezing her hand reassuringly as you began to climb the stairs, walking into your new bedroom, “Do you like it? We can decorate it however you want.”

Your brows furrowed, “But… But I thought this was only temporary.”

“This is your home now, Monkey,” Leah reassured you, crouching to meet your eye level, “You’re here, and you don’t have to worry about going anywhere, alright?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight, “I… I guess so.”

“Plenty of room for all those Lego bricks you love to leave everywhere,” Leah added, nudging you lightly.

“How do you like it, little one?” Jordan poked her head around your bedroom door, “Think there’s enough space on the walls to put up all those Shrek posters–hey, we can even paint it green if you want, or yellow, like Spongebob?” She grinned playfully.

Leah laughed, squeezing your hand again, “This is your home now, Monkey. With us. We want you to feel safe here. To be happy.”

“H… Happy?” You echoed uncertainly.

“That’s right, my girl,” Leah’s voice was warm, “Your happiness is what matters most to us.”

Before you could respond, a loud crash from downstairs made you jump.

“Jacob!” Amanda’s voice rang out.

“That wasn’t me!” Jacob not-so-innocently replied.

Leah chuckled before turning back to you, “We should probably go and see what’s going on. Do you want to come with us, or do you want to explore your new room?”

You hesitated for a beat, then whispered, “I… I want to come.”

Leah didn’t waste time holding out her hand again, “Come on then, cheeky Monkey. Let’s go see what chaos awaits downstairs.”

As you walked together, you heard Jordan murmur behind you.

“Home sweet home, eh?”

Leah hummed in agreement, “Home sweet home. It’s going to be perfect–for us and our kid."

“Come on my girl, you need to eat more than that,” Leah noted the untouched plate of food that was set in front of you on the table, “I know you like it, and you even have baked beans instead of spaghetti hoops this time, so what’s the problem, hm?”

The following night in your new home should have been the start of a new and exciting new adventure, a new chapter with them–however, that was overshadowed by the planned court-ordered supervised visit with your dad that had been mentioned to you in passing conversation the next day.

That set your mood for the rest of the evening.

You hadn’t even bothered to lift your fork to take a bite of your food, “I… I don’t want to.”

“You’ve hardly touched it,” Jordan added.

You scrunched your face up in protest, “I don’t care! I don’t want it–I’m not eating it!”

“Well you can’t not eat anything, can you?” Leah remained calm and patient, fixing you with a knowing look, “If you don’t eat your dinner then you won’t get any pudding, and I know how much you like that, don’t you?”

“I don’t care!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest as you scowled at your dinner, “It’s dumb and stupid! I… I don’t want it!”

“Right, okay then…” Leah exhaled a sigh, rubbing her temples–she wasn’t angry at you, not really. But she hated seeing you like this, torn between giving in and holding her ground, “If you don’t want to eat your dinner then that’s fine, but you will not be eating anything else–no cake, no biscuits, no chocolate.”

“That’s not fair!” You growled aloud, getting angry at the idea of not being allowed any nice treats, “I… I want them!”

“Neither is wasting dinner that Jordan has cooked,” Leah wasn’t budging on her own decision, “You know the rules. If you’re not going to eat your dinner then you’re not getting any nice things.”

You continued to scowl at Leah, keeping your arms crossed over your chest, “Don’t wanna eat stupid dinner…”

“I know you don’t want to, Monkey,” Leah remained patient the entire time, “But you need to eat. It’s important.”

“No, don’t wanna,” Your hands clenched into fists under the table, nails digging into your palms as you glared at the plate. A lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the tightness in your chest that you didn’t know how to explain. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but you were trying so hard to keep them back.

Leah furrowed her brow, sensing this was something bigger than you being stubborn and not wanting to eat your dinner, “What is this about, madam?”

“Nuffin’ I just am not hungry!” You exclaimed.

Leah didn’t automatically believe that. She knew it was something deeper than just not being hungry, “Monkey, come on. Talk to me, my girl. What’s going on inside that head of yours, hm?”

“I… I don’t want to,” Your voice faltered, afraid to admit what was the actual source of your upset.

“Don’t want to, what?” Leah repeated in a gentle tone of voice, “You can trust me, Monkey. If something is upsetting you then I would like to know, please.”

“I don’t want to go,” You mumbled so quietly that you were barely even heard, “I… I don’t want to see him.”

“Oh,” Leah’s realisation was immediate as she exhaled a sigh, “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll be okay. Hannah will be there with you the whole time, won’t she?” She reassured you the best that she could.

That did nothing to ease the sour mood you were in, “NO! I don’t want to go, Le!”

“I know you don’t, but it’s not our decision on this… I’m sorry, my girl,” Leah hated the idea of the courts being able to give your dad a second chance, but there wasn’t a lot that she could do about it to make them think differently–it wasn’t her decision.

You huffed, sitting slouched at the dinner table while continuing to glare at your untouched dinner like you had a personal vendetta against it, “I… I don’t want to go.”

“Hey, it’s only going to be for a couple of hours, and then you’ll be back here, won’t you?” Leah reminded you with a kind smile.

You still weren’t keen on the idea regardless, “I don’t want to go!”

Leah frowned, pursing her lips, “I’m sorry, Monkey, but it’s out of our hands.”

“NO!” You shot up from the table so fast that your chair scraped across the floor. Without another word, you bolted up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door so hard the walls rattled.

“Monkey–” Leah stood up, frustration written all over her face, ready to go after you.

“Hey, just let her calm down, Le,” Jordan interrupted, placing a steady hand on her girlfriend’s arm, “Let’s just give her a minute to calm down.”

“You’re right,” Leah relented, exhaling a sigh.

Jordan sympathsised with her girlfriend’s frustration, “It’s a lot for her to deal with, remember? We’ll talk to her when she’s ready.”

“How could the court even consider giving him a second chance?” Leah’s voice cracked slightly as she muttered the words, disbelief and anger mingling in her tone, “Those photos… the bruises… it’s not enough for them?”

Jordan moved closer to Leah, placing a gentle hand on her back, “I know, but it’s been agreed and there’s nothing we can do about it,” She explained, “Let’s just hope… Well for now, let’s just hope that it goes well tomorrow.”

“Thank God Hannah will be there to supervise it,” Leah murmured quietly.

“Come on, come sit down and finish eating,” Jordan gestured Leah to sit back down at the table and finish her own dinner, “It’s not good for you to be getting so worked up. You have the baby to think about, remember?”

“I know… I just…” Leah’s hands balled into fists as she leaned against the kitchen counter, “I feel so helpless, Jord. We can’t protect her from this… We can’t protect her from him.”

“Le,” Jordan began to speak before the sound of furniture crashing echoed through the house, followed by a drawer being yanked open and your muffled shout, “What on earth was that?”

Leah’s shoulders slumped in resignation, “That would be Monkey destroying everything in her room… again.”

“Wakey, wakey, Monkey,” Leah gently nudged you, her voice soft and warm. Your bedroom was still a mess from the meltdown last night–clothes scattered, stuffed animals thrown across the room, blankets half-hanging off the bed. But Leah didn’t say anything about it. She just carried on with the morning routine, the same one she’d followed every day this past month, like you hadn’t spent the night crying into her chest until you finally wore yourself out.

You’d wake up, and then you’d have breakfast while watching morning cartoons–Coco Pops and Spongebob, always the same. Your routine was solid, it was safe. Change was bad. You hated it when things changed.

Leah was always the one to wake you up. You’d learned that Jordan preferred her lie-ins–though Leah joked that wouldn’t be happening much longer when the new baby arrived.

You weren’t sure how to feel about that. Would you still get your morning cartoons? Would they steal all the cereal?

“I know you’re awake, madam. You can’t fool me,” A smile tugged at Leah’s lips as she reached out to tickle your foot, the one spot she knew would always make you giggle, “See? I knew it.”

“Not fair,” You muttered, scrunching your face up in protest.

“Did you sleep well, my girl?” Leah’s voice was soft, but of course she already knew the answer–it was a definite no. She’d woken up with you several times throughout the night, but then, Leah wasn’t sure there had been a single night in the last month that you had actually slept through the night.

“M’ still sleepy,” You mumbled, pulling the duvet over your head in an attempt to hide.

“I know. But come on, we’ve got a busy day ahead,” Leah’s tone stayed gentle, but there was an edge of something else in her voice–something that made you tense up, “Do you remember what’s happening today?”

Of course you remembered. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since yesterday. Your heart started to race just at the thought of it.

You didn’t want to see your dad, let alone sit in the same room as him. The idea made your stomach churn.

Maybe if you just pretended to be asleep long enough, then you wouldn’t have to go?

“I don’t want to go, Le,” Your voice was small, almost a whisper.

“I know, Monkey, I know,” Leah’s hand brushed your hair back gently, as if she was trying to soothe the anxiety bubbling up inside you, “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t make you go either. But…”

“Then make it happen,” You whispered desperately.

Leah hesitated, her fingers pausing on your hair for a moment before she sighed, “It’s just not that simple, Monkey. This… This is out of my hands.”

You didn’t like that answer.

You curled in on yourself, gripping the duvet tighter. It wasn’t fair. Leah was the grown up–if she really wanted to, she could stop this, couldn’t she?

She could fix it.

“Come on,” Leah coaxed after a moment, “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? You didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“M’ not,” You protested against the idea.

Leah hummed like she didn’t quite believe you, “Well, if we go downstairs now, I’m pretty sure we’ll make it in time for another episode of Spongebob.”

You turned your face deeper into the pillow, “Don’t wanna watch it.”

“You don’t?” Leah sounded amused, “Now that is something new.”

“I just wanna go back to bed,” You huffed, your voice growing thick with frustration, “I don’t wanna go to the stupid visit!”

The words exploded out of you before you could stop them, your hands balling up into fists against the mattress.

Leah didn’t react right away. She didn’t scold you or tell you off. She just sighed, shifting so she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know you don’t want to do this, Monkey,” She said quietly, “And believe me, if I could change it, I would. But you know I can’t. It’s out of my control.  And I know you’re scared about this, but it’s going to be fine. Okay? You’re not going to go through this on your own.”

Her words sat heavy in the air between you.

You hated this. You hated everything about it.

“It’s not fair,” You muttered.

Leah nodded in understanding, “I know it’s not.”

She didn’t try to force you out of bed. She just stayed there, waiting, letting you feel what you needed to feel.

And then, after a while, she spoke again, but softer this time.

“Tell you what. How about we go downstairs, yeah? You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. We can just sit together. We can watch Spongebob, or something else entirely different if you want. I just want you to be happy.”

You hesitated.

You didn’t want to go downstairs. You didn’t want to do anything. But… Leah was waiting. She wasn’t going to leave.

You peeked out from under the duvet, “Anything?”

Leah smiled, “Anything.”

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. But still, slowly, you pushed the duvet back.

Leah held out her hand, patient as ever.

After a moment, you took it.

But it was never going to be that easy.

If you’d have asked Leah and Jordan, then the entire morning leading up to the visit was a gruelling task–everything was a struggle, and you weren’t shy about making it clear that you didn’t want to go to the contact centre.

“Monkey, you have to get dressed,” Leah’s voice was tired and her patience fraying after hours of battling with you over even the smallest tasks.

“No I don’t!” You argued, shaking your head and refusing to follow instructions–in your head, if you didn’t get dressed then you wouldn’t have to go.

Simple. Or so you thought it would be.

“Yes you do,” Leah’s tone was firm, but she wasn’t without empathy. The frustration was growing on her side, but she tried to keep her voice steady, ”Come on, let’s get dressed, okay?”

“NO!” You kicked out, your fists clenching as you tried to make your point clear. It wasn’t just about the clothes. It was everything–the whole day that felt impossible.

“Well unless you want to go out wearing your pyjamas then you have to get changed,” Leah tried to reason with you, her voice quieter, like you were much younger than you were, seemingly the only approach that would have any hope of working, “Come on, let’s go and find something for you to wear.”

“I don’t wanna wear that!” You pushed the shirt she offered away, shaking your head furiously as the tears welled in your eyes.

“Okay,” Leah said gently, holding up another shirt, her hands already trembling a little from the pressure, “What about this one instead?”

“NO!” You were beyond reasoning now, your body tense with defiance, face scrunched up in frustration. The more she tried, the more you pushed back. The tension was growing, and Leah could feel it too.

“Hey, hey, less of the shouting please,” Leah sighed, massaging her temple as the beginnings of a headache crept in. She could already feel the strain of your resistance, “Right, how about… how about this one?” She asked, holding up yet another option.

You scrunched your face up in further protest, “No–I’m not going!” Your voice cracked, raw emotion slipping through despite your best attempts to stay in control.

“How’s it going in here?” Jordan gingerly popped her head around the door, more than aware of the answer–she’d heard the full high-pitched screaming from downstairs.

“Well every outfit so far is out of the question,” Leah muttered sarcastically, “How about your Arsenal top? You love that one, don’t you.”

You couldn’t wear that top–your dad was dead against your team. Arsenal– it wouldn’t go well if you wore it, “NO! I’m not wearin’ that–I’m not goin’ there. I’m not doing it!”

Leah’s heart hurt hearing the plea in your voice. This was the crux of it. You didn’t want to go to the contact centre–the one place where you were expected to interact with your dad, and the thought of that terrified you. The idea of being forced to see him–of being near him at all–filled you with dread.

Leah knew it. Jordan knew it. But the court had decided that your dad deserved a second chance, and that was something neither of them could change.

“We’ve been through this, Monkey,” Leah said, her voice softening with sympathy, “I know you don’t want to go, but it’s not my decision. The court decided it, so we have to… we just have to follow their rules, alright?”

“The court is dumb,” You muttered, the words bitter and resentful. The fear was still there, swirling just beneath the surface, but it was now tinged with anger, too.

“The court might be dumb,” Leah said with a small, tired smile, “But I am still going to need you to get dressed for me, please?”

“Nuh-uh. You’re a meanie making me go! I don’t want to go!” Your voice trembled, thick with the frustration and terror you were feeling. You weren’t just refusing to–you were desperately trying to convince Leah to take control, to make the decision that you so badly wanted her to make, “I don’t wanna–you can’t make me!”

“I’m sorry, I really wish that it was up to me to decide,” Leah said softly, her voice breaking just a little at the edges, “I love you so much, I’m sorry that you have to do this. It’s only for an hour and a half and then you’ll be back here, and you’ll be safe, yeah? It won’t be that long, my girl,” She told you, biting her bottom lip, knowing she had to remain calm and sensible in this current situation.

Leah absolutely hated this.

She hated seeing you like this–the raw fear that ran so deep.

But the rules were the rules, and they had to be followed.

“No,” You whined, stomping your foot in protest, “Tell them not to allow it, Le,” You pleaded again, your voice weak and full of exhaustion.

Leah’s heart cracked just a little more, “I wish I could, Monkey,” She said, her voice steady but soft, “But we have to follow the rules, even if it’s unfair.”

“I would rather go to school than this,” You blurted out, desperate for anything to change the situation, even if it meant facing a classroom full of uncomfortable lessons and unwanted classmates.

“Wow? School? That must say a lot then, huh,” Leah replied with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her heart ached for you. She could see how desperate you were to avoid what was coming–she couldn’t blame you for not wanting to go.

“Why can’t I just stay here?” You turned to her, your big eyes pleading.

“You are staying here, we’re not going anywhere,” Leah said, her voice gentle now, trying to comfort you as best as she could, “But this… this visit needs to happen, okay? It’s not going to be like before, I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.”

You looked at her, your face scrunching with fear, and the tears started to fall freely now, “I… I don’t want to see him. And I… I don’t want to talk to him.”

“I know,” Leah whispered, her hand moving to your hair as she gently stroked it, trying to calm you down, “I know you’re scared. You don’t have to talk to him until you’re ready. But it’s really important that we follow the rules, Monkey.”

“Please… Please don’t make me go, Le,” Your hands were trembling now, and the tears blurred your vision as you struggled to catch your breath. You could feel the tightness in your chest again–the same tightness that you always felt when things felt out of control.

Leah didn’t push you to stop crying. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around you protectively, letting you feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. You clutched at her tightly, your hands still trembling in fear as you buried your face into her chest. 

Leah’s hug felt tight… and safe.

You didn’t want to let go.

“It’s going to be okay,” Leah whispered into your hair, gently rocked you back and forth, her voice soothing and steady, “I’m right here, I’m right here with you.”

The knock at the door broke the conversation, and you flinched in sheer panic.

That meant time was ticking, and you would have to face your dad soon.

“That’ll be Hannah at the door. I’ll go let her in,” Jordan straightened up, making her way out of your bedroom, “I’ll let her know that we’re having a bit of a wobble at the minute.”

Leah looked over from where she held you tight against her and nodded, “Thanks, Jord.”

You continued to tremble in fear. You didn’t want to go, but you had no say in the matter.

Leah continued to hold you tight in her arms, “Hey, hey, I’m here. Listen, I know you’re scared, my girl,” She cooed, “And I know it’s a scary thing to go through, but you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, you’ve got Jordy, and there’s this new Bubba as well kicking away in my belly. We’re a family now, my girl, okay? And no one can take that away from us.”

“I don’t want to see him, Le. I… I don’t want to see him. He scares me, Le,” You admitted, your bottom lip wobbling as the fear continued to pool in.

Leah swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, using one hand to keep a protective hold on you and the other hand to run through her hair, “I know, my girl. I know you’re scared. It’s just an hour. It’s one hour and then it’ll be over and done with. I promise, it’s not going to be for long.”

“Hi, Hannah. Come in,” Jordan’s voice was tired as she answered the door, her concern evident as she stepped aside to let the social worker in, “Things are… a bit tough at the minute. Monkey’s not exactly coping well.”

“Hi, Jordan,” Hannah  offered a small, sympathetic smile as she stepped inside, “I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling, but we’ll go at her pace. No rush.”

“Thank you,” Jordan sighed, running a hand through her hair, “This morning has been rough. Leah’s upstairs trying to get her dressed, but she’s fighting it every step of the way.”

Hannah nodded, understanding, “I imagine this isn’t easy for her. How long has she been like this? It’s hard to stick to a routine when everything feels so uncertain.”

“Since last night, when we told her,” Jordan exhaled sharply, “She had a meltdown. Trashed her room again. She’s scared. And honestly? I don’t blame her. None of this is fair.”

Hannah’s lips pressed in a thin line as she nodded, “I agree. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t allow this. But the court believes in second chances, unfortunately.”

Jordan scoffed, shaking her head, “Yeah? Well, I think she deserves a second chance more than he does. We’ve worked so hard to build some kind of stability for her, and now… it feels like all of that progress is just unravelling.”

“I understand why you might feel like that,” Hannah placed a reassuring hand on Jordan’s arm, “But I promise, it’s obvious that she feels safe here with you both.”

Jordan swallowed, nodding, “I hope so. I just hate that she has to go through this. She was finally settling in–she had her routine, she had stability… and now this just throws everything off.”

“I know,” Hannah’s voice was soft, “Consistency is so important for her, and having this looming over her must make it even harder. Has she been sleeping any better?”

Jordan hesitated before shaking her head, “Not really. She’s been waking up a lot. Leah and I take turns getting up with her, but she’s so unsettled. Nightmares, accidents, the whole thing. I think she’s just terrified all of this is going to be taken away from her.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Hannah sighed, “She’s been through so much already. She’s probably scared this isn’t permanent. That any second, she’ll be back with Mark.”

Jordan rubbed at her face, then hesitated before murmuring, “We, um… we just actually found out we’re pregnant. It’s still early, but… we’re excited.”

Hannah’s face lit up, “Oh, that’s amazing news! Congratulations!”

Jordan smiles softly, “Thank you. We haven’t told many people yet. Monkey knows–we’re just not sure how she feels about it.”

“I think it might take her some time to process, but I think she’ll love being a big sister,” Hannah gave a thoughtful nod, “It’s clear she adores you both–I can see her being fiercely protective.”

“Yeah, I can picture that too,” Jordan chuckled, “I just want her to know that no matter what, she’s ours. That’s never going to change.”

Hannah’s expression was warm, “She knows, Jordan. Even when she’s scared, even when she’s struggling–she knows.”

“I really hope so,” Jordan exhaled a sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly.

Back upstairs, Leah finally managed to tug a jumper over your head, exhaling heavily as she braced herself for the next battle–brushing your hair, cleaning your teeth. Every little task felt like an uphill struggle.

She hated this. Hated seeing you this upset. None of this was fair.

“One task down, several more to go,” Leah muttered to herself, grabbing your hairbrush and a loose bobble, “Come here, Monkey–no, don’t start jumping on the bed. Sit down so I can do your hair.”

You ignored her, too busy bouncing on your bed with a renewed energy, “I don’t wanna sit down–I wanna watch Scooby Doo!”

Leah sighed, trying to wrangle you down, “I know, but we need to get ready first. When you come home, you can watch it. Okay?”

“No! I want to watch it now!” You kicked out defiantly.

“Monkey, not now,” Leah said firmly, running a hand through her hair, “We need to get ready for today.”

You shook your head in defiance, “No! I want to watch Scooby Doo!”

Leah inhaled deeply, keeping her patience, “Listen, my girl, I know you want to, but you can’t right now. You have to go out, remember? The contact centre, with Hannah like we talked about, remember?”

“Nuh uh, I don’t wanna go,” You mumbled in protest.

Leah’s heart clenched, “I know, my girl. But this isn’t our decision to make. When you come home, we can watch whatever you want. Scooby Doo, The Lion King–whatever you’d like, yeah?”

Your face scrunched up and your whole body tensed, “No! No, no, no! I’m not going!”

“Monkey, I… I know this is really hard,” Leah crouched in front of you, keeping her voice soft but steady, “I know you don’t want to go, but Hannah’s here now. We have to try, okay?”

“I… I’m scared,” Your bottom lip trembled.

Leah’s expression softened, “I know, my girl. I know that you’re scared but Hannah will be there with you the whole time. She won’t let anything bad happen.”

You hesitated to agree to the idea of this, “You… You promise?”

Leah swallowed past the lump in her throat, then held out her pinky, “When have I ever broken a promise, eh?”

After a moment, you hooked your pinky around hers, sniffling.

“I promise you, Monkey. I know you’re scared, but Hannah won’t let anything bad happen to you, will she?” Leah reminded you gently.

“N… No,” You replied, biting your bottom lip.

“Exactly,” Leah ruffled your hair, “So… can we finish getting ready?” She held up the hairbrush, “And when we get home, we’ll do something nice. A movie, hot chocolate, proper snuggles–how does that sound?”

You hesitated, eyes darting to the floor. Then, with a reluctant nod, you jumped off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud bang that made Leah wince.

“That’s my good girl,” Leah praised, pressing a light kiss to your temple before working quickly to brush through your tangled hair, knowing full well your patience wouldn’t last long.

“I’ll see you when you’re home, my girl,” Leah forced a smile as she crouched to your level, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Just an hour, okay? That’s all.”

“We love you,” Jordan added, her voice steady, reassuring.

You huffed in response, crossing your arms. It felt too much like before—like all those times you begged not to go. Like all those times you hadn’t been given a choice.

You didn’t like that.

Leah hated this. She hated watching you step through the door. Hated the way your little fingers gripped Hannah’s hand instead of hers. Even knowing you were coming back didn’t make it easier. It never did.

The door clicked shut.

“She hates me,” Leah murmured, staring at the space you’d just occupied, arms wrapping protectively around herself as if that might hold her together.

Jordan scoffed softly, stepping closer, “She’s a child, Le. it’s not possible for her to hate you.”

“Yeah, but it feels like I sent her away,” Leah’s voice cracked, her arms tightening as if she could still hold onto you.

Jordan’s hand rested against Leah’s back, grounding her, “The difference is, she’s coming back. In less than two hours–”

Leah didn’t waver from the front door, “Right now, an hour feels like forever.”

Jordan sighed, placing a steadying hand on Leah’s back, “I know. But stressing yourself out like this isn’t good for you in your condition. You need to take it easy–”

Leah shot her a look, “In my condition? Wow, Jord, flattery like that will get you nowhere.”

Jordan rolled her eyes but softened, “You know what I mean. I just… I don’t want you worrying yourself sick over this. Just… remember to breathe.”

“How am I supposed to breathe easy when I know she’s in a room with him?” Leah whispered, jaw clenched.

Jordan hesitated before replying, choosing her words carefully, “I know. It’s impossible to wrap my head around, too.”

Leah scoffed bitterly, “It shouldn’t even be allowed. He deserves to be locked up for what he’s put her through.”

“I know,” Jordan’s voice was quiet but firm, “I agree with you, and if I could, I would. You know that.”

Leah exhaled sharply, rubbing her face tiredly, “It’s just… I feel so powerless. We’ve built this for her, Jord. Safety. Stability. And now some judge gets to undo all of it with a flick of a pen? It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Jordan squeezed her shoulder, “But this is where she belongs, Le. No matter what happens in that room, she’s coming home to us. She’s not the same little girl he controlled before—she has us now.”

“But what if he confuses her?” Leah’s voice was barely above a whisper now, “ What if he says all the right things and makes her doubt everything?”

“That isn’t going to happen. Because she’s our girl,” Jordan turned Leah to face her fully, “She’s ours. We’re not going to lose her again. We’ll remind her that she’s loved and that he doesn’t get to hurt her anymore.”

Leah blinked rapidly, swallowing against the tightness in her throat, “I just want her to be happy and I hate the fact that she has to be put through this. It’s just not right, and I hate to think about how this is going to affect her when she comes back.”

“I know,” Jordan murmured, squeezing Leah’s hand, “But right now, we don’t have a choice. And that’s just the hardest part, isn’t it?”

Leah didn’t answer. She just looked at the door again, like she could will you back home.

Jordan rubbed her arm gently, “Come on, sit down for a bit. You need to rest.”

“No,” Leah shook her head in disagreement, “I can’t sit still. Not when she’s there… with him.”

“Standing there won’t make the time go quicker, Le,” Jordan told her in a gentle tone of voice.

“I know,” Leah admitted, her voice dropping lower so it’s barely audible, “I just can’t stop thinking about her. She’s our girl. I’m worried about her. I’ll always be worried about her.”

“At least come and sit down on the sofa, Le. I’ll make us a drink and we can talk to pass the time, yeah?”

Leah hesitated but eventually nodded in agreement, “Alright, fine.”

You stared ahead at the building in front of you, sitting in the back seat of Hannah’s car. The sight of it made your stomach twist in knots. You could feel the weight around you, thick with dread.

“Do I… Do I have to go in there?” Your voice was small, fragile. You couldn’t hide how terrified you felt.

“I’m afraid so, Monkey. I’m sorry,” Hannah responded, her voice soft and apologetic. She glanced back at you, offering a sympathetic smile, “But I’ll be right there with you the whole time. We can take this slow, okay? You don’t have to say anything, not unless you want to.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You didn’t want to be here–you didn’t want to face him. Mark. The man who made your skin crawl just thinking about him.

Your stomach churned painfully at the thought of seeing him, let alone sitting in a room with him.

The moment you stepped inside the contact centre, everything felt wrong. It was as though you were walking straight into a trap. Your hands tightened around Hannah’s, your feet feeling like they were stuck to the floor. You tried to push down the rising panic in your chest, but it didn’t work.

You spotted Mark before he even saw you. His posture was slouched, knees bouncing too fast. His clothes were wrinkled, and the air around him smelled stale–like the alcohol from the night before.

Surely, he hadn’t come here still smelling like that, had he?

Then he looked up, and his face lit up in a way that sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t a warm, welcome smile–it was a predatory kind of grin.

“Kiddo! Kiddo, over here!” Mark waved, his voice too loud, too enthusiastic.

Your body stiffened at the word–it felt cruel, like he didn’t care about how that word twisted your insides. You wanted to shrink into the floor and disappear.

“I don’t want to be here,” You mumbled, your feet still rooted to the floor, your body frozen in place.

Hannah’s hand gently pressed on your shoulder, a soft comfort against the rising fear inside of you, “I know, sweetheart. Let’s just take it one step at a time, okay? We don’t have to rush.”

But Mark’s voice sliced through the air again, you felt like you were trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Hey, kiddo,” He greeted again, his tone flat and too casual.

Hannah took a step forward, standing firm between you and Mark, “We’re not rushing this today, Mark. This is just a stepping stone, and we’re doing this at her pace. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Mark didn’t seem to care much about that. His eyes gleamed with an eager sort of energy like he was too excited about something he didn’t fully understand, “I brought you something, kiddo. I hope you like it.”

He dug into his khaki green jacket, pulling out a stuffed animal–a Chelsea bear.

Your heart sank. Chelsea? You didn’t care about Chelsea. You didn’t even want it. He knew you were an Arsenal fan–you played for the team. Arsenal is in your blood. It’s your home. He knew that, right? Why would he give you a Chelsea bear? Your stomach flipped in disgust. It wasn’t just the team–it was the fact that he thought this would make everything better.

He held out the bear to you, but you didn’t move. Your breath caught in your throat as panic surged through you, hot and suffocating.

“I–no–” You tried to speak, but the words were stuck in your throat. Your body started to tremble, your hands shaking as your mind screamed at you to run.

Hannah immediately noticed, stepping between you and Mark, her voice gentle but firm, “Mark, I don’t think that’s appropriate,” She glanced down at you, noticing the distress in your face, “We’re not doing this today.”

Mark shrugged, like he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, “Right, course, but the thought counts, I guess,” He tossed the bear on the small table in front, too careless, too unconcerned.

It was too much. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on you. Your vision blurred, and tears welled up, hot and fast. Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way, and the burning shame flooded your chest as warmth spread through your clothes. You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t control it. All you could do was crumble in place, the weight of it overwhelming.

Hannah was at your side in an instant, her hand warm and reassuring on your back, “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay,” She whispered, her voice gentle, but it couldn’t undo the flood of panic that had taken hold of you.

“I… I’m sorry,” You choked out, the words barely escaping your lips through the tears.

Then, Mark’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.

“Seriously, kid, are you a fucking retard or something?” He sneered, his tone laced with disgust, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t even control yourself like a normal kid.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you flinched, your face burning in humiliation. Your tears came faster, the shame washed over you in waves. It felt like everything was falling apart.

Hannah stood frozen beside you, her mouth slightly open, but no words came out. Shock flickered across her face–disbelief, anger, something else–but she was too stunned to react in the moment. For a second, it seemed like it might say something, but instead, she just reached for your hand and pulled you toward the door, her grip firm yet careful.

As she reached for the handle, her gaze landed on the Chelsea bear sitting on the table. Without thinking, she scooped it up and tucked it under her arm as if it was something you’d want. 

But you didn’t. Not now. Not when it felt tainted.

The woman didn’t say anything as she led you outside, didn’t even look back at Mark, but Hannah made a mental note of it to add to the report later down the line when she came to write it–his words were there, haunting her. She would make sure to note the vile comment he made, making it known to the court that this man was not capable of ever being given custody of his daughter again.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” You mumbled again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Hannah said softly, guiding you toward the car, “It’s going to be okay. Let’s get you home so you can clean up, alright?”

Hannah’s hand stayed firmly on your back, as if she could shield you from everything with just that touch. But as you climbed into the back seat, the dampness clinging to your clothes was unbearable, but there was nothing you could do--you had no spare clothes, no way to escape the lingering humiliation.

All you could do was sit there, staring out of the window, as the weight of it all pressed down on you.

The car ride back to Leah and Jordan’s house was silent. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the thick, suffocating kind that pressed against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

Hannah kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, her face etched with worry, but she didn’t push. She didn’t ask you to talk. She just drove, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

You stared out the window, numb. Mark’s words echoed in your head, rattling around like they were trying to carve themselves into your bones.

“Seriously, kid, are you a fucking retard or something?”

Your throat felt tight. Your chest ached.

By the time Hannah had pulled into the driveway, you couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

“Hi, my girl. How was it…” Leah’s words were cut off as you bolted past her and up the stairs.

You didn’t stop running until you were in your bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you.

Your skin burned with humiliation. The damp fabric of your clothes clung to you like a second skin, suffocating, a disgusting reminder of what had happened. You yanked at them, stripping them off as fast as you could, your fingers trembling with rage and shame.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Mark’s words cut through you, sharper than any knife.

You dug your nails into your arms, pressing hard and trying to ground yourself–an attempt to drown out his voice. But it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Stop, stop, stop.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t help. His voice–mocking, cruel–kept coming back, over and over, like a relentless wave.

“Are you a fucking retard?”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Leah and Jordan stood frozen, exchanging worried glances as the sound of your bedroom slamming echoed through the house.

Hannah exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah… so that went about as well as you’d expected.”

Jordan folded her arms, “That bad?”

Hannah hesitated, then nodded, “She… had an accident,” She kept her voice gentle, careful, but it didn’t stop the way Leah’s brows furrowed with concern, “And Mark… he–” She sighed, shaking her head, “Well, his words weren’t exactly pleasant.”

Leah’s jaw tightened, “What did he say?”

Hannah hesitated again, but there was no way to sugarcoat it, “He called for a ‘fucking retard’ for it.”

Silence.

Jordan inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the back of the sofa tightening until her knuckles turned white.

Leah’s entire body stiffened, something dangerous flickering behind her eyes, “He did what!?”

Hannah held up a hand, a silent plea for them to stay calm, “She’s going to be spiralling. It’s going to be tense for a bit, and I think it’d be smart to be prepared for any future visits–”

Leah’s temper snapped, cutting Hannah off, “You mean he’s getting to see her again?! After he called her such vulgar things!” Her words were sharp, loaded with unstrained anger.

“It’s not up to me to decide that, Leah,” Hannah’s shoulders tightened, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Leah’s, “I’ll note it in my report, but ultimately…” Her voice trailed off, the weight of the situation settling in.

“It’s the court that makes that decision,” Jordan finished her thought, her tone grim.

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a slow breath, “I’m going to go and talk to her,” She muttered, already turning toward the hallway.

Jordan didn’t stop her. She knew better than to get in Leah’s way when it came to you. Instead, she turned back to Hannah, voice low and controlled, “What else happened?”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Jordan. He was… He was horrible to her,” Hannah admitted.

Jordan exhaled sharply, running a hand down her face as she tried to steady her anger bubbling under her skin, “That fucking bastard,” She muttered, pacing the living room.

Hannah nodded grimly, “Yeah, it was bad, Jordan,” She hesitated, her voice softening, “She was doing okay at first. I mean, she was nervous, but she was handling it. And then Mark just–” She let out a frustrated breath, “The second the accident happened, he flipped. You could see it in her face, the way she just… shut down.”

“I swear to God,” Jordan clenched her jaw, eyes dark with fury, “If the courts ever make her go back there, I’ll–”

“I know,” Hannah’s voice was gentle, but firm, “But right now, she’s here. She’s safe. And she needs you both to remember that.”

Jordan swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a deep breath, “She’s gonna spiral,” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Hannah nodded, “She already is.”

Jordan rubbed at her temple, “We should’ve known something like this would happen. We should’ve–”

“Stop,” Hannah placed a hand on Jordan’s arm, “You couldn’t have stopped this. You couldn’t have prevented it. All you do now is be there to help her through it.”

“Yeah,” Jordan exhaled through her nose, shoulders slumped slightly, “Yeah, you’re right,” She murmured.

“I usually am,” Hannah smirked, then sobered, “You should pack that bag for the next visit, just in case. Even if it doesn’t happen again. It’ll be good to have it to stop her going through that embarrassment again.”

Jordan sighed, nodding, “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of and ready for next time.”

Leah was furious. How could she not be? Hearing the venom in Mark’s words, knowing how deeply they cut–you–it made her blood boil. The fact he still had any access to you at all was unfathomable. She hated it. 

Every. Single. Bit of it.

Her footsteps were quiet as she ascended the stairs, but the weight of what had just happened pressed down on her like a heavy fog. The air felt thick, charged with emotions too overwhelming to name.

You were so fragile, and Mark’s words had carved through you like a blade. Leah knew that, knew the way you carried wounds that no one could see.

At the top of the stairs, Leah hesitated. A muffled scraping noise reached her ears, followed by the sound of something heavy shifting across the floor.

Her stomach dropped.

What is she doing?

Leah moved quickly, her grip tightening on the railing as she reached your door. Then came another sound–wood dragging, a soft grunt of frustration.

“Monkey?” Leah called out, worriedly as she felt her heart tighten.

Leah pushed open the door, just enough to see you struggling, your small frame straining as you tried to shift the chest of drawers across the floor. Your breathing was shallow, your movements frantic, desperate.

Leah’s pulse kicked up. Instinct took over as she stepped inside, “Hey, hey, what’re you doing?” She asked frantically, “You’re going to hurt yourself, Monkey!”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide and panicked. For a split second, you froze–a deer caught in headlights–before quickly looking away, biting your lip. You didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, my girl,” Leah repeated her words, softening her tone, “Come on, let’s go sit down on the bed and talk, yeah?”

You didn’t listen. You clenched your fists and pushed harder, your whole body shaking with effort.

Leah’s heart clenched. She knew you were spiralling. She had seen it before, the way you tried to make yourself small, tried to block out the world. But barricading yourself in your room–was this the only way you thought you could stay safe?

Then, in one final shove, the chest of drawers teetered precariously. The furniture wobbled, tilting at a dangerous angle. Leah’s heart lurched.

“Monkey, no!” Leah lunged forward, her reflexes kicking in and she reached and caught it before it could fall on top of you. Her hands gripped the edge, holding it steady, and for a brief moment, everything felt like it was frozen in place.

You stared up at her, your breathing coming in shallow gasps, eyes wide with something Leah couldn’t quite name–fear, shock, something deeper.

Then, like a switch had flipped, you whimpered and scrambled backwards, retreating into the farthest corner of the room.

You curled into yourself, knees drawn to your chest, hands shaking as they flew over your head, “I… I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Leah’s heart clenched.

“Hey,” She crouched down in front of you, slow and careful. She knew better than to move quickly, knew that right now, any wrong step could send you further into yourself, “It’s okay. You’re alright. Lucky I came in here just in time, eh?” She asked in a gentle tone of voice.

But the moment that Leah lowered herself, you let out an ear-piercing scream, raw and filled with something that Leah could only describe as terror.

Leah winced at the sheer volume, barely processing the frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs before Jordan’s panicked voice rang out, “Le?! What’s going on?!”

“Easy, Jord,” Leah called back, keeping her focus on you.

Jordan appeared in the doorway, her face tight with concern, “Are you alright?”

Leah didn’t move, she didn’t break her gaze from you, “I’m fine. Monkey is… she just needs a minute. It’s fine, Jord. Just go back downstairs. I can handle it.”

Jordan hesitated, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” Leah’s voice was steady, controlled, “Why don’t you start on dinner? We’ll be down soon.”

Jordan still didn’t look convinced, but after a long pause, she relented, “Okay. Just.. call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Leah murmured in agreement, turning to face her girlfriend, “Pop the nuggets and smiley faces in and we will be down in a bit, yeah?”

Once Jordan disappeared, Leah turned back to you–still curled up in the corner, still trembling.

Leah exhaled slowly, making herself as non-threatening as possible, “It’s okay, my girl. I know you’re scared. You’re safe here. I promise.”

She didn’t reach for you. She just stayed there, patient and waiting.

Because she wasn’t going anywhere.

And neither were you.

Leah lowered herself onto the floor, careful and deliberate, but not too close. Just near enough that you could feel her presence without it overwhelming you. She sat cross-legged, hands resting loosely on her knees, making no move to touch you or close the space between you.

You stayed where you were–huddled in the farthest corner, knees drawn to your chest, eyes flitting between her and the door like a trapped animal searching for an escape.

Leah didn’t push. She didn’t call your name again or try to coax you out of your fear. She just sat. Quiet. Waiting.

Minutes passed, stretching endlessly, the only sounds in the room were your shaky breaths and the faint creak of the house settling.

Your fingers twitched against the fabric of your sleeves, fists clenching and unclenching. The panic hadn’t fully faded, but the longer Leah stayed–unmoving, unwavering, safe–the more the sharp edges of it dulled.

Your breathing was still too quick, too shallow, but your muscles ached from holding yourself so tight. The weight of the exhaustion pressed down on you, creeping in slowly, making it harder and harder to stay curled up so small.

You shifted–just barely. Your toes inched forward, the tiniest movement but Leah noticed. She didn’t react. Didn’t even glance up. She just kept sitting there, steady as ever, as if she had all the time in the world.

A few more seconds passed. Then another tiny shift.

Another.

And another.

You weren’t even aware of how it happened, how little by little, you edged forward, drawn in by the quiet safety of her presence.

Then, finally–hesitantly–you reached out. Your fingers ghosted over the fabric of Leah’s hoodie, barely touching, like you were testing if she was really there.

Leah still didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

She just let you come to her.

Your breathing hitched as you closed the last bit of space between you, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. But when Leah still didn’t do anything, when she just stayed solid and quiet and safe, you finally let go.

Wordlessly, you climbed into her lap.

Your body was stiff at first, curled in tight like you were bracing for something, but Leah just adjusted slightly to give you all the space you needed to settle.

And then–without a word–she wrapped her arms around you.

Soft. Steady. Warm.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t shush you or tell you it was okay. She just held you in her arms.

Leah’s hands moved in slow, absentminded strokes over your back, grounding you with nothing more than the steady rhythm of her touch.

You let out a tiny, shaky breath against her shoulder, your body slowly unwinding from its tightly coiled state.

Leah still didn’t speak. Didn’t ask for the words you couldn’t give. She just sat there, holding you, until the fear wasn’t quite so sharp.

Until the tension melted away, leaving only the quiet, unspoken comfort of her arms around you.

And for the first time since the call with Mark, you felt safe.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Cuddle Buddy - Will Smith

Summary: Will hates leaving Y/n alone when he goes away. So, he surprises her with a puppy.

Words: 645

Y/n had never been good at goodbyes, especially when it came to Will. Hockey season meant long road trips, nights spent tossing and turning alone in their bed, and FaceTime calls that never lasted long enough. She supported him completely, God, she was so proud of him but that didn’t make missing him any easier.

The apartment felt empty without him.

Y/n curled up on Will’s side of the bed, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the pillow. She hugged it tighter, as if that would somehow make the distance feel smaller. It didn’t.

She hated this part of hockey season - the nights when he was miles away, stuck in a different city, while she lay alone in their lonely apartment. She had tried to distract herself, watching a movie, scrolling through her phone, even FaceTiming Will before his game, but nothing could fill the space he left behind.

She sighed, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. The bed felt too big and was too cold, the room too still. The only sound was the occasional hum of the heater and the ticking of the clock on the nightstand. She glanced at her phone, seeing the time: 1:52 am.

Another sleepless night.

She knew it was silly, he wasn’t gone forever, just a few days at a time but that didn’t change the ache in her chest. Will had warned her about this when they first started dating, how hard the travel schedule could be, but she hadn’t expected the loneliness to settle in so deeply.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to force herself to sleep. But even as exhaustion crept in, all she could think about was how much she missed him.

The next evening, Y/n heard the front door open earlier than expected.

Her heart skipped a beat. Will wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

She padded down the hallway, confusion stretched on her face, only to freeze in place at the sight before her.

Will stood in the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and something wiggling in his arms. Something small. Something golden.

A puppy.

“Surprise,” he grinned, carefully lowering the tiny golden retriever onto the floor. The puppy stumbled forward on clumsy paws, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook. His ears flopped with every step as it sniffed the air curiously, little nose twitching.

Y/n’s hands flew to her mouth. “Will…” Her voice cracked, emotion thick in her throat as she dropped to her knees. The puppy immediately crawled into her lap, his warm little body pressing against her. Tiny paws clambered at her hoodie, and before she could blink, she was being showered in enthusiastic, slobbery kisses.

Will laughed, watching her melt. “Figured you needed someone to keep you company while I’m on the road.”

Y/n looked up at him, eyes glossy. “Are you serious? You got me a puppy?”

He nodded, kneeling beside her. “I hate leaving you alone. And I know it’s tough when I’m gone. So… I thought maybe this little guy could help.” He reached out, rubbing behind the pup’s floppy ears. “You’ll always have someone to cuddle with now.”

Her heart swelled, warmth spreading through her chest. “Will…” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re the best. I don’t even know what to say.”

He smirked, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “You could start with giving me a kiss.”

Y/n chuckled and before she could move Will pulled her into his arms and gave her a deep kiss.

The puppy let out a tiny yawn, then nuzzled further into Y/n’s arms. Will wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “He’s gonna take over my spot, isn’t he?”

Y/n smirked, leaning into him. “Mmm… maybe.”

Will scoffed playfully. “Wow. Replaced already.”

She turned, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Never.”

[technofeudalism]

This feels to me like a really typical example of taking a few examples of people saying stupid shit online and extrapolating those bad takes to "all X believe Y" then slapping around the strawman.

the only way that you can believe this is if you don't interact with people with a broad set of political opinions or if you just don't see it as a pervasive problem. my complaint is not based on isolated examples but on an observable, documented trend across multiple platforms and real-life interactions. i've documented a lot of them on this blog. the words "Face Eating Leopards" and "Fuck Around and Find Out" are two phrases that everyone has heard at least once in the last 6 months regarding Palestine, immigration, and a lot of other things. "Face Eating Leopards" was actually specifically meant for this purpose.

Or are we pretending that people associated with every American political faction going back to the nation's founding (and every faction going back forever in every nation) haven't taken joy in the perceived suffering of the "other" for their perceived "misdeeds."

yeah. it's called tribalism and it's bad. you should discourage it when you see it and condemn it out loud. and i see a lot of it every single day and i have heard it repeatedly, over and over from people online and offline about Gaza and deportations in particular. it's how we got to where we are and it's how a lot of nations collapse. like ours is right now.

Just because shitty right-wing pastors have identified every natural disaster to hit a non-conservative population or location as "God's punishment" doesn't mean those are mainstream political views even within the party associated with those people.

that actually kind of is the mainstream political view of a lot of people within the party associated with those people. that's the problem. it starts as a minority opinion and when unchecked, it grows and you wind up with sitting members of Congress who think that California wildfires are started by Jewish space lasers. i still don't want the people who voted for her to suffer and lose everything they have. i think they're terrible people, but i want them to get help. not for their conditions to worsen. they're already irrational. losing everything isn't gonna help that.

And if we grade by action, rather than just powerless talk, there's a whole lot more examples of conservatives denying aid/funding for those reasons than there is for liberals.

i don't care about whataboutisms. yeah, they say awful shit. i expect them to say awful shit. i expect people that are supposed to oppose people saying awful shit to focus their attention on the people in power who seek to radicalize more people like this. because they aren't evil. they are, at best, brainwashed.

That doesn't mean that everyone who agrees "it would be good if folks stopped voting for a political party that continues to do stuff directly detrimental to their actual well-being based on media disinformation and false depictions of reality" is guilty of a "having no empathy" or "classism"

you're right. and you should talk to them about that. maybe after they bury their kids or figure out if they're homeless now or not.

one of the dead is in St. Louis, where i live, which went 81-17 to Kamala in the city and 61-37 in the more conservative county. two kids in North Carolina 11 and 13 were killed in their bed. what you're suggesting would be accurate if exclusively Trump voters were hurt by this. but that's not the way "red states" and "blue states" work. it's depraved behavior.

liberals are dunking on the 40 people who died in the tornadoes this weekend because Trump was golfing and cut NOAA and their states voted for him. great stuff. it's a good thing to them when children get crushed by a tree falling on their house while they're asleep in their beds because the State of Missouri voted for Donald Trump. i'm glad that people like you are forming the resistance by popping bottles when my neighbors die. what the fuck is this kind of discourse?

[cypresswood3]

You know what. Lemme share my opinions on Malevolent shippers. Not the ships themselves. The people.

Starting off strong, Dollins shippers are somehow the nicest and coziest people out there. You guys sometimes come up with the craziest stuff but. You know the perfect balance between treating these characters and their traumas seriously AND writing them like an old classic Tom-and-Jerry-like cartoon. They are goofy and cute and smell like home. One's a killer for hire and the other is a tortured-by-eldrich-beings detective and you manage to make it into a romcom. I have nothing but respect for Dollins shippers. You are so good to your characters. Like an opposite of Kayne. You smell of fresh pie.

Parkthur shippers are like... the adults of the fandom? I'm not sure how to put it. Yall are mature. You explore parkthur to hell and back. The way you write their relationship is always full comradery and love in its purest form. Not traumabonded like Noel and Arthur, not dependant like blind faith, not brought together by trials like jarthur, but not quite as domestic as dollins. Parkthur is always very real and very human. I'm honestly a big fan of parkthur myself. Arthur's backstory was always the more interesting part of the lore for me (breaking my silence I've always loved Arthur more than John and it'll remain so). So you guys. You guys are the big siblings of the fandom.

Arthur and Noel shippers... I've honestly only seen it done as Arthur x Noel x John. And I love that. You guys hold so much love for Noel it almost makes me tear up. The way you write your stuff feels more of a Noel's good ending then jarthur's. And it's not a complaint in the slightest. You take jarthur and you fit Noel in so well and smooth he actually fixes them. You make Noel jarthur's home and family, and you make them his anchors. You guys are full of hope. When it comes to John x Noel (Arthur is there third wheeling or smth)... You guys are like dollins shippers witht their comfy domestic vibes, but you have an additional sprinkle of... healing. You love your John and Noel and treat them so so well, but it's less of a silly cartoony thing (like dollins) and more of a... story of rediscovery and, again, healing. You have a domestic vibe of a comfort book. Also you create the most insane things when you're horny /very pos.

Blind faith aka Arthur and Oscar shippers. Guys are you okay. It's a banger ship but guys. Guys how are we feeling. Have you tasted anything but tears in the last... forever? You create the most touching and soul crushing pieces of fan-creations but it takes you all your happiness to do so. You embrace the sad the same way Arkayne-ists embrace the horny. Even when you make them happy they're still engulfed in an aura of melancholy. You can write them in a good ending au and it still tastes bitter. And I don't mean it as a bad thing. You guys write Oscar and Arthur like they're doomed Sea and Moon yuri and I fuck with it. So hard. Yall are insanely talented. But also insanely sad. Do you guys want a cookie.

Arkayne. I'm convinced that all Arkayne shippers are actually Kayne's alternative accounts. Yall are ruthless but in the best way possible. Going through Malevolent you either defaultly ship jarthur or arkayne and I have nothing but awe for those whose heart calls for arkayne. I love your fics, guys. Having them in my browser history is incriminating but god. You really look at everyone else and cackle maniacally because you can do anything. Yall can go as crazy as humanly possible and that would still be Kayne. I love arkayne shippers because yall are genuinely so so fun. Yall are the type of people wh didn't drown their sims in pools. Because it was old and boring. Your ghosts were all colors of the rainbow because yall went overboard with your stuff. Honestly same.

Larson and Yellow shippers are quiet and almost unnoticeable but they make the most jaw-dropping gut-wrenching fanfiction known to man. They take Yellow and sink their teeth into him ruthlessly. Where John fans dissect him with care and patience, Yellow enjoyers tear him apart and drag the raw still-beating heart out of him. Whereas other shippers make stuff with hope, your works are embraced in a stench of doom. And it's sweet but in a way rotten flesh is sweet. You take Larson and Yellow and ask the question, can they see salvation and become better together? Then you make them try through blood and sweat and tears and tell them NO. And it leaves them both in agony. And it leaves me in agony. "Raw" is really the best word that comes to mind to describe you. I love you but please stop hurting me.

Larthur idk never saw anyone ship it but if someone does delete your account lmao. Freaks.

There is like a dozen more ships you can make but I've only yapped about the most prominent ones. Will make a part two if there's stuff I genuinely forgot or can yap about. It's 4 am please don't be hard on me if I missed something ultra obvious. It'll come to me.

And jarthur shippers. You think I forgot that don't you. I didn't. It's a fully conscious decision.

[cuteandhughesy]

“Always, Forever Running Back To You” | Joseph Woll

summary: joseph sees you preforming in a small, cozy bar in toronto and he's immediately enamoured with you and your voice. joseph knows he needs to know you.

[word count] 2.2k

warnings: SFW! drinking + bars | fluff | mention of sexual ideas but only if you squint | joseph being a cutie

a/n: based off this request! yay! my first wolly piece. ims so obsessed and in love with him, and please feel free to ask for more and more of this smol goalie 💌

🎵 spring into summer by lizzy mcalpine

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the perfect raspy sound laced with sweet honey. if joseph woll had to describe the sound of your voice it would be that. your singing is perfectly executed—words wrapped in a beautiful soft ribbon that has his heart pitter pattering against his chest, and joseph finds himself unwilling to look away.

the dingy downtown bar is completely encapsulated by your presence up on the small corner stage at the front of the room. the way you're so confident with the microphone, guitar slung over your exposed shoulder as you tell a story—a beautiful song joseph's never heard before but is already his new favourite.

who he presumes is your band are stationed around you deliberately—as if framing you to be the star of the show. which you are. you're truly captivating. from your voice to your aura. from your lips all the way down to your boots.

and to think joseph wasn't going to come out tonight. he was so close—so close—to declining the invite from max and estelle. some celebration for something joseph didn't really feel the need to remember. but something had nagged at him, way deep down in his stomach, that had him pushing himself to come.

thank god for that.

the sound of the microphone going fuzzy has joseph blinking back to reality. you're smiling at the crowd as you talk about some sort of break. joseph’s not too sure what that means—he's too busy looking at the jewelry decorating your fingers and wrists to properly hear you.

but then you're on the move, weaving through the rather busy bar, smiling politely at people you pass as they inevitably give you their praise. eventually you get to the small bar top at the other end of the room—joseph notes it takes you almost 3 minutes to get there. everyone was stopping you. but like he said, you truly had the crowd encapsulated so he can’t even blame them.

he watches gently as you push onto the toes of your laced up boots, leaning over the sticky bar top. your arms are crossed casually—not defensively. the bar tender, a burly man with a groomed beard, takes the order you spew at him; four beers, one for you and the others for your band.

the glowing lights hit you perfectly—highlighting you and your body like the perfect painting. your outfit is dark. the perfect mixture of folk and alternative—black and some sage shade of green. and your hair. joseph thinks it's truly the perfect style. it suits you.

the bar tender slides the four glass bottles towards you, and you smile. the man mutters something that looks like 'on the house'—but joseph can't be too sure. your smile brightens in thanks as you slowly begin gathering the beer bottles off the counter. you're going to walk away.

before he knows it, joseph is mumbling some excuse to knies and matthews—both of which had been lowly discussing how hot you are—which joseph has to stop himself from correcting them (because you're not hot, you're beautiful), and begins making his way through the bar.

towards you.

he catches you just as the bar tender walks away, ready to attend to another waiting customer. you've got two bottles in your grip, one between your arm and boob and the other in your hand as joseph smoothly slides up next to you.

at first you don't notice him, but the smell of clean laundry mixed with a little bit of spice and a faint hint of beer catches your attention. you've never smelt anything more enticing than the man next to you.

you look over at him and find him already looking at you. it's not a predatory or cocky gaze though, and if anything he looks almost flustered. shy perhaps. his brown hair is perfectly fluffy, falling in a way that girls could only dream of. his cheeks are rosy, and you're not sure if it's from alcohol or because he's actually nervous.

either way, you're curious.

your hands freeze over the rounded bottle, a small smile pulling at your face. "hi."

"hey," the man greets, voice surprisingly deep—laced with a little smoothness. he clears his throat, hand rubbing at the back of his neck, blue eyes darting between you and the stage you were just preforming on. "you're like ridiculously good up there," he tells you.

"eh, we're working on it," you answer playfully, shrugging your covered shoulder suggestively. that has him breathing a laugh—a sound that's just as rumbly as the level of his voice.

"i'm serious," he continues, warm grin never wavering, "i've never heard anything more beautiful."

the sincerity of his voice makes you pause. doing what you do, there's a never ending waterfall of compliments, but they never feel like the one you were just told. and the way he's looking at you now—so full of tenderness and marvelling—you know he means it.

"oh wow," you swallow gently, "that’s a big praise."

"and I mean it," he replies curtly before sticking his hand out, palm warm and inviting as he properly introduces himself, "i'm joseph."

you take his hand, your much smaller palm almost disappearing in his as you shake, "y/n."

"oh, that suits you," joseph says, voice light. as soon as your hands separate—which takes longer than the normal handshake—he’s immediately fidgety. joseph’s thick, long fingers absentmindedly trace over a crack in the wood bar top—feeling the rough grooves underneath his fingertips like he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

you quirk a brow quizzically, a small smile pulling at your lips, "does it?"

"yeah," he nods surely. a moment passes, joseph letting his eyes wander back throughout the room. there's casual music playing in the background while you and your band take a halftime, adding to the already chatty atmosphere of the bar. eventually—because he can't stay away—he looks back at you.

you're smiling, a mixture of curiosity and amusement pulling at your lips—un phased by his flickering and unsure gaze. joseph clears his throat, a deep blush covering his cheeks and the tips of his ears. it only makes your grin deepen knowing he's nervous. it's cute—he's cute.

"so is this your full time job?" he asks, "music?"

your lips part as you laugh breathlessly, "not right now but..." you trail off, fingers stilling where they previously traced the drips on condensation down the glass. "that's the dream, isn't it?" joseph can tell you're trying to appear casual, but your eyes twinkle with whimsy and truth.

of course it’s your dream. as it should be, he thinks. joseph has no doubt that you'll achieve your dream, and that's what makes him say, "if i was a music producer i'd sign you right now."

your smile twitches, a small hum of dismissal following. joseph can't help but grin as well as he watches as you eye over his broad shoulder—into the section of tables—mostly taken by old grouchy men sipping beer and middle aged regulars. the bar was kind of a hole in the wall, but they loved you and your band.

but then you see it. a group of younger men, all thick with muscle—most likely athletes. they're all looking at joseph and you, eye curious and all knowing while they grin at one another. suddenly your gaze turns pointed, eyes darting back to the man in front of you.

joseph eyes flicker with confusion, but your sharp voice cuts him off before he has the chance to speak. "okay. you're either really fucking nice or this is some sort of dare. you know, chat up the musician and stroke her ego while you're secretly trying not to laugh," you lean in closer, elbows sliding across the bar and putting yourself right up in his personal space.

you're actually asking—that much is sure. joseph swallows, throat moving and adam’s apple bobbing under the pressure, "why would you think that?"

"mostly because your group of friends keep looking over here and giggling."

jospeh's eyes widen almost comically before he spins back in his tables direction—only to find that, yes, his teammates are watching the both of you with laughter. auston even winks at him. he turns back towards you, mouth falling open before snapping closed again.

"oh, yeah there's just umm..." joseph stutters, "they think you're pretty."

your lip twitches, but you don't truly smile. not yet. one of your perfectly plucked eyebrows raise, "oh?”

joseph nods dumbly, swallowing again. "yeah but like I can tell them to stop of you're uncomfortable. or I can just leave you be-"

"what about you?" you interrupt his ramble promptly.

he blinks in surprise—surprise from your abrupt interruption and how he's now just realizing that you've inched closer.  "huh?" joseph hums stupidly. it's hard to focus properly when he can't smell your sweet perfume and feel your body heat. you’ve truly turned his brain to mush.

this time you do smile, "do you think i'm pretty?"

joseph almost chokes. which he's not sure why you're abruptness has caught him off guard—because in the time he's been talking with you he's learned that you're definitely not shy. sarcastic yes, and sure maybe a little humble. not shy though. but something about the way you're blinking up at him, so sure and tempting has him taken back.

finally he nods—once and a little choppy. "I do."

"okay," you smile brightly. much to his dismay you push off the bar, sliding away from him. he watched curiously—and anxiously—as you grab onto one of the shitty brown napkins pilled high at the base of the pillar next to you, scribbling something onto the front with a pen you lean over the counter and steal.

"okay?" he repeats.

you nod, "yeah. here. my number." you hand joseph the napkin, which he can now see what you were writing down was your seven digit number. his thumb swipes over the messy ink, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"you know…in case you ever decide to became a music producer," you add on playfully.

joseph looks away from your phone number and back to you. he laughs once, the sound breathy and light—a contrast to his deep voice that you've grown to appreciate. "you'll be the first person I call."

you grin, "hope so."

he carefully folds the napkin—fingers working smoothly and with such timed precision. it makes you wonder if he works with his hands. joseph puts your number in his front jean pocket, his plump lips parting as if he's going to say something.

but your guitarist, johnathan, taps the top of the microphone—the squeaky fuzzy sound echoing throughout the room and reaching your ears. a wordless reminder to get back on stage and bring them their beers. you can understand his urgency—you get paid for an hour of work. any performance time that runs over the 60 minute mark isn't worth anything.

so although a small break is needed for your own sanity, your bank account disagrees. your eyes find joseph's again, and you send him an apologetic grin. "I have to get back to my band," you collect all the beer bottles, tucking them in your arms, "but I’ll see you around joseph."

he nods, a soft smirk pulling at his face. "i'll see you around, y/n."

you send him another flirty look over your shoulder—which makes joseph's dick twitch and harden against his zipper like he's a teenager—before making your way back through the room.

"beers for you," you tell your band once you step onto the stage, your boots clicking the tile rhythmically. the guys all thank you and grab bottle, taking hearty sips as they prepare for the next set.

you take a small sip of your own beer as you move off to the side of the stage, next to the equipment bags. you place your bottle on top of a milk crate turned stool, its cherry red colour a beautiful contrast to the scuffed wooden floor—but the sudden buzzing of your phone in your back pocket has you blinking.

you shoot a curious glance towards the band, only to find them still setting up. with that in mind, you take out your cell—a state number staring back at you. curiosity gets the best of you, thumb sliding along the answer bar before promptly bringing the phone up to your jewelry decorated ear.

"hello?" you question.

"not a producer yet, but maybe you want to get a coffee tomorrow morning?" joseph's deep voice instantly has your shoulders relaxing. you laugh into the speaker, turning to look out into the crowd.

you spot him still at the bar, casually leaning against the counter with his phone held up to his ear. but his eyes? his deep blue eyes are solely trained on you.

you don't break eye contact as you say, "i'd love too."

[akanemnon]

I was bored, so I decided to create Dark World versions of DR!Asriel and DR!Chara! (Even though they’ll never actually go to the Dark World in Twins Runes… but details).

Of course, since I love making my life more complicated, instead of just showing them to you, I’ve decided to write out my entire "creative process" as well.

Brace yourself, because this is gonna be loooong.

---

• Asriel

At first, I thought about making him look similar to Asriel from Deltarune Chapter Rewritten, adding a few details from an old Dark World design of Asriel you made a while back. It would have been simple, effective, and overall made perfect sense...

But obviously, NOPE.

Taking the easy way out? Couldn't be me.

So instead, I went for something a bit more "colorful", still taking inspiration from Asriel’s "God of Hyperdeath" version in Undertale.

For his class, I went with bard. Something like this:

[Bard for D&D]

I don’t know why, but the idea of a bard in Deltarune has always cracked me up. Plus, I think it fits his personality as a "fake tough guy with a heart of gold."

Now, onto his weapon. I took Asriel's Chaos Buster from his "God of Hyperdeath" form and turned it into… a lyre.

I know, not exactly a groundbreaking idea, but I can’t stop laughing at the thought of a lyre that, every time it hits someone, plays a dramatic music note… or maybe an electric guitar riff. I haven’t decided yet.

---

• Chara

If I had a lot of inspiration for Asriel, Chara was a whole different struggle. There aren’t many reference images (and no, UT!Chara doesn’t count, because from what you told me, they should have a completely different outfit).

The only real starting point was this drawing, which was super helpful:

[By @Unabashedconnoisseurtwitt / @UCNSFW (One of these should be fine...)]

Aside from that, I had to improvise, taking inspiration from Deltaswap Kris’ outfit:

[By @panpan]

For their class, I went with thief/assassin (kinda like UT!Chara). Something like this:

[D&D Assassin]

Now, let’s talk about their weapon.

This part was easy: a knife.

But not just any knife.

A knife shaped like the Delta Rune. (No clue why, but I thought it looked awesome.)

I picture them having a dynamic similar to Susie and Ralsei in Chapter 1: Asriel happily playing music to spare enemies, while Chara… just stabs them repeatedly.

---

And that’s it! After months of pure artistic nothingness, I finally managed to draw something Twins Runes-related!

I really hope you like the drawings and that my endless explanation didn’t bore you too much.

Now, after this sudden burst of creativity, it’s time for me to disappear for another 3-4 months, just for consistency.

BYEEEEEE!

(PS: Thank you again for creating Twins Runes! It’s been forever since I worked on something this detailed, but your art really inspired me!)

These are really nice! I like the thought process that went into these! Really like the idea of turning Asriel's blaster into a lyre!

Funnily enough, I HAVE already created Dark World designs for these two, but never showed them off. Maybe some other day and definitely not under this ask. Don't wanna take away from your lovely fanart!

[deans-queen]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 🫶🏻

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Dean comes home from an exhausting hunt and falls asleep while laying on your chest.

Warnings: none this is all fluff.

Pre- AN: this fills the “You’re my new pillow” square for my @jacklesversebingo card.

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The door creaked open, and I barely had the energy to push it shut behind me. Every muscle in my body ached, each step heavier than the last. Sam, just as wrecked, muttered something about taking the first shower before disappearing upstairs. Fine by me. I wasn’t planning on moving much anyway.

I just wanted to collapse.

But then I saw her.

Y/N sat curled up on the couch, her golden-brown eyes lifting to meet mine the second I stepped into the living room. That soft smile—the one she always saved just for me—chased away some of the exhaustion clawing at my bones.

“Welcome home,” she murmured, her voice warm, like honey on a sore throat.

I grunted, the best response I could manage, as I kicked off my boots and shrugged off my jacket, tossing it over a chair. I wasn’t much for words right now. Not after everything Sam and I had been through on this hunt. Blood, fire, death—we barely made it out.

But Y/N… she didn’t need words from me.

She just patted the spot beside her, an invitation. One I didn’t even hesitate to accept.

I sank onto the couch, immediately leaning into her warmth. She was soft, comforting, everything I didn’t deserve but couldn’t help craving. Without thinking, I let my head drop onto her chest, exhaling a deep, bone-weary sigh.

“Dean,” she said softly, a laugh hidden in her voice. “There’s a pillow right next to me, you know.”

I barely cracked one eye open. “No, sweetheart… you’re my new pillow.”

She let out a small chuckle, the sound vibrating against my cheek. God, I loved that sound.

Her fingers found their way into my hair, threading through it gently, scratching lightly at my scalp. I closed my eyes, releasing another low hum, melting into her like she was the only thing keeping me together. Maybe she was.

I tightened my arm around her waist, pulling her closer, needing her warmth, her presence, the quiet way she always put me back together without ever being asked.

“You’re exhausted,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

I sighed, already halfway asleep. “Stay here with me?”

Her hand slid down my back in a soothing stroke, her nails tracing absentminded patterns. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her promise settled over me like a warm blanket, sinking into the deepest parts of me, the parts that had seen too much darkness.

I buried my face against her, breathing her in—vanilla, lavender, something purely Y/N. The tension in my body finally eased, my grip on her loosening just enough to let sleep pull me under.

She was my safe place. My comfort.

And wrapped in her arms, for the first time in what felt like forever, I finally felt at peace.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Hope you enjoyed this story! I’m sorry I’ve been so inactive lately — I promise to be better at posting more. 🫶🏻

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

Master list 📝

Bingo Masterlist 💚

Check out a playlist I made on Spotify for all of the Dean girlies out there ! — including me. Listen here 💚🎶

Tag list

@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 / @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy / @suckitands33 / @spnaquakindgdom / @malindacath

If you would like to be added on my Taglist for stories please send me a message or comment on this post. P.S if you are on my tag list make sure you are liking my stories so I know you are active — if not I will have to remove you

[emmiesoverthemoon]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s so boyfriend: two

Pairings: choi seunghyun x reader / kwon jiyong x reader / kang daesung x reader

Word Count: 7,899

Summary: just cute little scenarios between u and each guy, the second edition! i got a little carried away this time,,, enjoy!!! part one here !

note: again, i purposely didnt include taeyang because he’s married and it felt weird to me so sorry about that! pls forgive me🙏🏻

you get stuck in the rain without an umbrella

jiyong: cheesy cliché

The first cold droplets splatter against your skin, a slow drizzle turning into a full-on downpour as Jiyong tugs you by the wrist, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Come on," he grins, "what kind of lovers would we be if we didn’t have a dramatic rain moment?"

"You’re ridiculous," you laugh, half-heartedly resisting, but he's already dragging you into the open, past the overhang of the café where you’d been taking shelter. The rain hits instantly, cool and shocking, drenching through your clothes in seconds.

Jiyong doesn’t care. His arms spread out like he’s drinking in the sky itself, hair slicked to his forehead, his white shirt clinging to his frame, becoming slightly see through—which did not go unnoticed by you. He looks like he belongs in a movie—some reckless, lovestruck fool dancing in the middle of a storm, eyes twinkling as he turns to you.

You shake your head, exasperated but grinning. "You're actually crazy."

"And yet," he steps closer, looping his arms around your waist, "you love me."

You roll your eyes, but it’s true.

The world fades into soft, grey static, the rain a gentle rhythm on pavement, against your skin, the chill soaking through to your bones. Jiyong sways you, humming some old love song you don’t recognize, his laughter mixing with the music of the storm. He spins you once, then twice, and you go along with it, both of you slipping and sliding on wet pavement, giggling like idiots.

Then, he stops. Looks at you like you're the only thing worth seeing. His hands cup your face, fingers damp and chilled, but his lips—when he finally presses them against yours—are warm, sweet, lingering like he wants to stay in this moment forever.

It’s perfect.

At least, until reality smacks you both in the face.

Jiyong pulls back, blinking through the rain. “Wait—how are we getting home?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, your car—”

The two of you whip around to stare at his sleek, very dry sports vehicle parked under the streetlamp. As if on cue, a fat droplet slides off the tip of your nose.

Jiyong curses. “We’re gonna soak the seats.”

You groan. “We should’ve thought this through.”

But then he’s laughing—loud, carefree, absolutely unapologetic—and you can’t help but join in. The two of you bolt for the car, jumping into the seats with a wet splat. Jiyong winces as he grips the wheel, his soaked clothes sticking to the leather.

You glance at him, half-scolding, half-amused. "You and your movie moments."

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “Worth it.”

And as the car fills with the scent of rain and the sound of your shared, breathless laughter, you think—yeah. Maybe it was.

daesung: the noble sacrifice

The afternoon rain had started softly, a gentle pitter-patter against the windows of the café. But the moment you and Daesung stepped outside, it was like the sky couldn’t hold back anymore. The downpour began, soaking everything in an instant, and you squealed, pulling your jacket closer around yourself.

Daesung, ever the charmer, paused and dramatically looked at you, his eyes widening. “You’re cold,” he stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, no kidding, Daesung. It's raining cats and dogs out here,” you quipped, pulling your collar higher to shield yourself from the storm.

Without a second thought, Daesung grinned, took off his hoodie, and threw it over your head. "Here, wear this. It'll keep you warm!"

You blinked in surprise. "You’re giving me your hoodie?"

“Yes!” he said with such conviction, as if he had just solved all your problems. “It’s the most romantic thing I could do for you right now.” He puffed his chest out proudly, clearly thinking he had pulled off something dramatic and sweet.

You looked at him, blinking in confusion. “Daesung, it’s a little too big for me. I’m literally drowning in this thing…”

“Exactly! It’s cozy!” He smiled, oblivious to the fact that you were now swimming in fabric, practically a human tent.

“I can barely see through this thing,” you chuckled, your arms struggling to keep the oversized hoodie from dragging you down. But Daesung was so proud of his “romantic gesture” that you didn’t want to crush his excitement.

The rain continued to pour harder, soaking your hair, your shoes, and his hoodie, which was now weighed down with water. "Okay, Daesung, let’s be honest here," you said, laughing as you started to walk, “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the most practical choice…”

He looked down at the way the hoodie dripped water and then back up at you with the most earnest expression on his face. “No… no it wasn’t.”

And then, like a lightbulb moment, he grinned widely. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun!”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Daesung skipped into a nearby puddle, splashing water up to your knees. You gasped, stepping back. “Daesung!”

He threw his hands up in victory. “Splash fight, right now!”

You didn’t need another invitation. With a laugh, you jumped into the next puddle you saw, sending water flying in all directions. Daesung mirrored your moves, and soon, the two of you were splashing around like children, laughing at how ridiculous everything was.

“Who’s winning, huh?!” Daesung shouted between fits of laughter, his hoodie now thoroughly soaked and stuck to his body.

“You’re about to get drenched even more, Daesung!” you warned, trying to dodge his next splash.

“Not if I beat you to it!” He lunged, catching you by surprise with a gentle splash straight to your face.

You gasped dramatically, wiping your face, and then, grinning like a mischievous child, threw a full splash back at him. “Take that!”

By the time you both had thoroughly soaked each other, you could hardly keep up with the laughter, dripping wet and barely able to stand up straight from all the giggling.

“I swear,” you said between laughs, “this has to be the most ridiculous thing we’ve done.”

Daesung wiped water from his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the fun. “We’re pretty amazing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, amazing,” you chuckled, now fully drenched but not caring one bit. “Just a bit impractical, though.”

“Well,” Daesung grinned, “the hoodie still looks cute on you. Even if it’s a bit too big.”

You nodded, still laughing. “That’s because I’m wearing your impractical hoodie, genius.”

He just smiled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close despite the water soaking into both of you. “Worth it.”

seunghyun: nice and 'prepared'

The rain had caught you both off guard. You had barely made it out of the café before the skies opened up, and now you were both caught in a downpour with no umbrella in sight. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, shivering from the sudden chill.

Seunghyun, with his usual cool demeanor, looked over at you, eyes scanning the weather. Then, with a small sigh, he glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "I... may have left the umbrella in the car," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But hey, we’re here now."

You shot him a playful look. "Did you think this rain was going to hold off until we got back?" you teased, your voice full of amusement despite the situation.

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Hey, I was the one who checked the forecast this morning, okay? You can't blame me for forgetting one small detail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, both laughing at the irony of it all. Without missing a beat, Seunghyun grabbed your hand and started to jog in the direction of the car. "Alright, let's just make a run for it. We'll beat the rain."

You both ran, your feet splashing through puddles as the water soaked you from head to toe. Seunghyun stayed close, but in that classic Seunghyun way, he was still trying to stay cool about it—one hand casually holding yours, the other wiping his wet hair out of his face.

Halfway to the car, you started to laugh, the situation completely ridiculous but somehow perfect. “I can't believe we’re doing this," you said, breathless from both the running and the laughter.

“I can’t believe I forgot the umbrella,” Seunghyun responded, his voice tinged with mock annoyance, but the playful glint in his eye told you everything. "But hey, look on the bright side. It’ll be a great story to tell later."

As you both reached the car, laughing and dripping wet, Seunghyun opened the door for you, then paused to look at your soaked state. “Well,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and smirking, “at least we’re in this together.”

You couldn't help but smile, the day’s misadventures only making him more endearing. "Next time," you said with a grin, "you better bring the umbrella."

“Deal,” he said with a wink, pulling you into the car. "Next time, we’ll be dry. Hopefully."

locked in a small space

jiyong: seven minutes

You and Jiyong had somehow ended up stuck in a small, cramped pantry together. It wasn’t intentional, of course. Just a random series of events that had led to both of you being trapped in the tiny space, the door somehow locking behind you.

You leaned back against the only wall without shelving units, arms crossed, trying to make the best of the situation. "Well, this is... great," you said, laughing a little despite the light awkwardness. "Guess we’re stuck here for a bit."

Jiyong, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, the small, confined space seemed to only amuse him. He flashed that playful smirk of his, leaning in closer, and with a teasing glint in his eye, he gave you a seductive once-over.

"You know," he started, voice low and smooth, taking a step toward you, "this is like a movie 7 minutes in heaven situation, isn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden change in attitude. “Jiyong, really?”

He took a step closer, his body pressed against yours now, and he leaned in even more. "I mean," he said, his voice practically a whisper, "you know what I can do in 7 minutes?" His eyes glinted with mischief as his hands brushed lightly against the edge of your sleeve.

You froze for a second, a little caught off guard by how close he suddenly was. The small space made everything feel just a bit more intimate, and Jiyong’s teasing, flirtatious energy only amplified the tension.

“Stop it,” you said, trying to sound serious, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Jiyong chuckled softly, his hands now flush to your waist, holding you against him. “What?” he asked innocently, though there was nothing innocent about the way his eyes were locked onto yours. “I’m just making the most of the situation.”

You shook your head, but an embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "You really know how to make the best of being in a tight spot, huh?"

Jiyong grinned mischeviously, his lips just inches from yours now, his teasing energy completely undeniable. “Tight spots are my specialty.”

seunghyun: closeness is most comfortable

You and Seunghyun had been in a rush earlier that day, trying to get everything done before the storm hit. But now, here you were—stuck in an elevator, and it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere anytime soon. The storm raged outside, the rain hammering against the metal walls, but inside the elevator, it was just the two of you.

Seunghyun, as usual, didn’t seem phased by the situation. He gave you a smile that was part mischievous, part carefree, as if this was just another little hiccup in your day. And, to be fair, it was.

“Well, since we’re stuck, might as well get comfortable,” he said, his tone entirely too casual, and before you could even respond, he lowered himself to sit against the back wall of the elevator with a sigh of contentment. Without missing a beat, he pulled you into his lap, settling you there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked in surprise, but as always with Seunghyun, it didn’t take long to adjust. You were already used to his easy, affectionate nature, and the small space didn’t even faze him. He simply wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close with a lazy grin on his face.

“Seunghyun,” you started, trying to keep your voice serious, but it was hard when you could feel the warmth of his body, and he looked so comfortable already. “Is this really necessary?”

He shrugged as if it were the most logical thing. “Of course. We’re stuck in here. No point in standing around being all stiff and uncomfortable.” His hands casually rested on your waist, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against the fabric of your shirt. “I like being close to you anyway. Plus, I’m not going anywhere. Might as well make the best of it.”

You tried not to laugh, but the way he was acting so nonchalant about it made it impossible. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Seunghyun only chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before letting his hand rest there. “I’m just making the most of our time together. No point in being grumpy when I get to hang out with my favorite person, right?”

You smiled, shaking your head at his antics. Of course, he would make something so normal feel like an adventure. But that was Seunghyun for you—easygoing and always making the best of everything, even a stuck elevator.

And before you knew it, the moment had become comfortable. You let yourself settle into his embrace, leaning your head on his shoulder as the sounds of the storm outside became a distant hum. “You’re right,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess this isn’t so bad after all.”

“See?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, still holding you close. “Stuck in a small space with you, just the two of us? Could be worse. Plus, this is the best kind of company.”

And just like that, the storm outside seemed far away, and all that mattered was being there, in that small, quiet space with Seunghyun. It was something that had long since become normal for the two of you—the comfort of being close, no matter where you were.

daesung: an attempt of an icebreaker

You and Daesung had found yourselves trapped in the cramped supply closet after a series of unfortunate events. The door had somehow swung shut behind you, and now you were both stuck in the small space, with barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

As you shifted, trying to make yourself a little more comfortable, you suddenly became acutely aware of how close Daesung was. His shoulder brushed against yours, and the proximity between you both seemed to magnify everything. The air felt heavier, and even the tiniest movements felt like they were echoing in the tiny room.

Daesung, usually so confident and easygoing, froze. His body went completely still, as though he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you two, or rather, the lack of it. His eyes darted to the side, then quickly down, and then up again—clearly avoiding your gaze. A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he scratched the back of his neck.

“So...” Daesung mumbled, his voice suddenly much quieter than usual, a touch of awkwardness in his tone. “You come here often?”

You blinked, unsure if he was joking or genuinely trying to break the tension. His face was slightly flushed, and the nervous energy radiating from him was almost tangible. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at how awkward his attempt to break the silence sounded.

Daesung immediately went redder, his eyes widening as he realized what he'd just said. “Wait, no! That—ugh, forget I said that.” He quickly flailed a hand in the air, clearly embarrassed by his choice of words.

You smirked, enjoying the rare moment of seeing him flustered. “Oh my god, Daesung. Really? 'You come here often'?" You teased, trying to keep your voice light. “That’s your icebreaker?”

He fidgeted, clearly not knowing how to recover from his awkwardness. "I—I mean, I don’t really have a backup line, okay? I was just trying to say something to—y'know—ease the tension." He chuckled nervously, his fingers still anxiously twitching as he tried to regain some composure.

You were absolutely charmed by how flustered he was. There was something so endearing about seeing Daesung, the confident and carefree guy everyone knew, suddenly so unsure of himself. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you said, teasing him gently.

Daesung looked at you, eyes wide, as his face turned even redder. “Stop, I can’t take this,” he muttered, trying to hide his face in his hands, but the small space made it impossible for him to escape from the situation. His fingers rubbed the back of his neck in nervous habit, as if he could distract himself from how awkward it was. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

"Well," you said, leaning a little closer, still amused by the situation, "you’re stuck with me now. You might as well make the best of it."

Daesung exhaled sharply, trying to seem nonchalant, but the way his eyes flicked down at your hand brushing against his arm gave him away. "Right... I guess I could get used to the whole... 'stuck in a closet' thing," he said with a sheepish grin, though he still couldn't seem to make eye contact.

You chuckled, the tension slowly fading as you both stood there, practically shoulder to shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. The awkwardness was still lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was... sweet. Daesung wasn’t perfect, and it was moments like this—vulnerable and unsure—that made him even more endearing.

"You know," you said with a playful grin, "you could have at least said, 'Nice weather we're having' if you really wanted to be awkward."

Daesung gave you a mock glare, but his smile was already returning. "You’re just full of great ideas, huh? I’ll keep that one in my back pocket next time."

You laughed softly. "Well, it’s always a good one for the next awkward situation."

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the silence was comfortable now. You were close enough to feel the warmth from Daesung’s body, but the situation didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic anymore. The rain outside had picked up a little, and all you could hear was the soft pitter-patter on the windows.

“You still think we’re gonna get out of here soon?” Daesung asked, his voice quieter now, the playful edge replaced with a bit of genuine curiosity.

You smiled, brushing your hand against his arm gently. “Honestly, I have no idea. But if we’re stuck here longer... at least we’ve got each other, right?”

Daesung’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, his usual carefree energy returned, the shy awkwardness melting away. “Yeah,” he said with a quiet smile, "at least we’ve got that."

And somehow, in that tiny, awkward space, everything felt just right.

absentmindedly playing with hands or hair

seunghyun: perfect balance of collected and confident

Publicly, Seunghyun doesn’t even give the slightest indication that your touch is having any effect on him. On the outside, he’s the same calm, collected presence he always is—quiet, reserved, and effortlessly cool. But the moment your fingers slip into his hair, gently running through the strands, there’s a subtle shift. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, and his eyes soften, though he doesn’t dare to look at you fully. The corners of his mouth twitch just enough to show his enjoyment, but it’s so fleeting, most wouldn’t notice. He’s melting inside, completely at ease, as if the world around him has slowed to a halt. Your touch has this uncanny way of unwinding every bit of tension from his body. He feels a warmth spread through him that’s more soothing than anything else. He’s swooning, mentally, but there’s not a word spoken, no public display—just a quiet relaxation that only you can bring. In fact, he makes sure to keep his composure outwardly, so no one can ever guess just how much your simple touch is affecting him. His hand might twitch, ready to grab yours and pull you a little closer, but in the end, he just lets the moment pass, silently appreciating it.

But as soon as you're in private, everything changes. The calm and collected Seunghyun you know in public is nowhere to be found. Instead, he becomes a little more smug, a little more self-assured. He knows exactly what effect you have on him, and now it’s your turn to feel that same effect. He watches you with a teasing grin, leaning in just close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. His eyes flicker down to where your hands are—already making their way to him, unable to resist touching him, even just for a moment. “Can’t keep your hands off me, hm, princess?” he says, his voice low and smooth, dripping with playful confidence. The words are casual, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story—one that says he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can even answer, he grabs your hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles with a flourish, like he’s making some grand gesture. “Are my hands that interesting?” he teases, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes growing.

You nod far too eagerly, your excitement spilling over, and Seunghyun’s grin only widens, enjoying the fact that he has this power over you. “A bit too excited, aren’t we?” he comments, amusement dancing on his features as he brings your hand back down. Then, with a soft but unmistakable shift, he pulls you closer by the waist, his arms settling around you possessively. “You’re so easy to read, you know that?” he adds, the teasing in his tone laced with something a little deeper—something soft, though wrapped in all the cocky confidence that makes him him.

His lips hover near your ear for just a moment, his breath warm against your skin. “But I don’t mind it,” he whispers, his smile turning a little softer. “I like knowing you’re mine.”

You can't help the way your heart flutters at his words, the warmth of his hands, and the complete shift from teasing to affection. He’s playful, but in moments like this, you can feel how completely he’s wrapped around you—and you around him, just as much.

daesung: return to sender

Publicly or privately, Daesung simply does not care—he is absolutely devoted to making sure you feel loved and appreciated at all times. It’s like a natural instinct for him, no matter where you are or who’s around. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing as too much affection, too many thoughtful gestures, or too many ways to show you how much he cherishes you. If you softly touch his hand, his first reaction is to kiss it. Not just a quick peck, but a tender, lingering kiss, as if he’s holding your hand for the first time all over again. He makes sure it’s clear that your touch is the most precious thing in the world to him. Then, after pulling away, he will massage your hand, gently rubbing each knuckle and the palm as if he’s trying to give you all the warmth and love he has to offer, a soft, soothing rhythm that mirrors the way his heart beats when you’re near.

If you fix his hair, Daesung is positively glowing with happiness. Instead of just saying thank you and leaving it at that, he wants to return the favor, and he does so in his own, playful, and sweet way. "Well, if you're fixing my hair, I guess it’s only fair that I try doing yours," he’ll say, his grin making his eyes sparkle. He’ll carefully take your hair between his fingers, running them through the strands with such tenderness it feels almost reverent. His fingers move gently, as though he’s trying to memorize the feeling of caring for you in this way. It’s a simple act, yet there’s so much love behind it, and you can feel the warmth of his affection in every delicate stroke. The moment is intimate, calming, and grounding—one where you can feel how much he treasures being this close to you.

And if you touch his arm, well, that’s when Daesung completely takes over. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Without hesitation, he’s right behind you, his hands moving to your shoulders in an instant. His touch is light but strong, as his fingers knead the tension out of your muscles. He massages slowly, with so much care, making sure every inch of stress is melted away. You might have touched his arm, but now he’s the one caring for you, taking that moment to pamper you instead of being pampered. The way his hands move is almost instinctual—he’s so gentle, so considerate, it feels as if he’s giving you the world with just a simple massage. What was meant to be a brief act of tenderness towards him turns into a quiet, loving act of service from him to you.

Daesung isn’t just about the grand gestures; he knows that love is often shown through the small, everyday moments—these tiny, thoughtful acts that say everything without needing a word. And he makes sure you know, every single day, just how much you mean to him, through all the little things he does to make you feel cherished, adored, and completely cared for. To him, it’s the small moments that truly matter, the ones that prove just how deeply he loves you, because he knows that love is in the details.

jiyong: inked stories

Jiyong, always effortlessly calm and composed, never questions when you begin tracing over his hands or arms, just allowing you to do whatever you wish. It’s as if there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a quiet rhythm that feels so natural. He finds solace in it, as if your touch grounds him in a way words never could. Every movement you make is met with patience and a soft smile, and he’s absolutely enchanted by the way you seem to get lost in these moments—tracing the lines of his palms, following the curves of his arms. It’s intimate in its simplicity, and it’s something he looks forward to without even realizing it.

What truly makes his heart swell, though, is when your fingers trace over his tattoos. He knows you adore them. He’s aware of how your eyes light up when your fingers skim the ink, the designs he’s carried with him through his journey. They’re more than just tattoos to him; they’re pieces of his past, each one telling a story. But seeing you trace them so reverently, with such love and appreciation, makes him feel something deeper—like those tattoos are even more meaningful because you’re the one noticing them, the one paying attention to these parts of him that aren’t immediately obvious. He treasures that you take the time to appreciate the things that define him, to make him feel seen in such a personal way.

“You always make my tattoos look so much better,” he says with a teasing grin, though there’s an underlying sincerity in his words. He catches your gaze as your fingers hover over one of the designs on his arm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think you’re the only one who sees them the way I do.”

You glance up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you continue tracing the intricate patterns. “I just think they’re beautiful. You’ve got stories etched on your skin, and I love hearing them without words.”

His heart skips a beat at that, and he watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “I’ve got all these tattoos, but none of them mean as much as the way you look at them,” he admits quietly, his thumb brushing over your wrist.

When you’re satisfied, when you finally pull your hands away, Jiyong doesn’t rush. His fingers gently close around yours, his thumb softly running over the back of your hand, his touch warm and steady. He intertwines your fingers together without a second thought, his hand enveloping yours like it was always meant to be. There’s something tender, something almost reverent about the way he holds you, like he’s holding onto something precious. His eyes meet yours, soft and full of affection, the quiet intimacy between you both speaking volumes. He doesn’t need to say anything—he already knows. The connection is there, woven into the smallest gestures, the ones that speak the loudest, and he treasures every second of it.

he walks in on you singing (you're amazing)

daesung: harmonies and vocal training

You’re mid-song, completely lost in the melody, when a second voice slips in seamlessly with yours. At first, you don’t think much of it—just an echo in your head, maybe a trick of the music. But then it grows stronger, harmonizing perfectly, the warmth of familiarity making your stomach flip.

You freeze.

Daesung.

Before you can react, he’s no longer just harmonizing—he’s belting at full power like he’s center stage at the biggest concert of his career. The walls practically vibrate with his voice, and you let out an involuntary yelp, startled out of your skin.

He yells back, louder, eyes wide, like he’s the one who’s been caught.

There’s a split second of stunned silence where you just stare at each other, and then, as if on cue, you both burst into laughter.

“I—Why did you scream?!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, barely able to get the words out between giggles.

“Why did YOU scream?!” you shoot back, still trying to process the sheer volume of what just happened.

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes a step closer. “Okay, but seriously,” he says, nudging you. “You’ve been hiding that voice from me? From me? I literally sing for a living, and you didn’t think to mention this?”

You groan, face heating. “It’s not like I was hiding it—”

Daesung cuts you off with a dramatic gasp. “So you mean you just forgot to tell me you’re secretly amazing? Wow. Betrayal.”

You shove him lightly, rolling your eyes, but he’s already launching into another playful over-the-top vocal run, still grinning ear to ear. Then, before you can protest, he throws an arm around you and sways dramatically, humming the melody you were just singing.

“You know,” he says, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I think I should become your vocal coach. We’ll train every day—warm-ups in the morning, practice in the afternoon. We can do duets! Matching stage outfits! A unit name! Oh, this is happening.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines, giving you a gentle shake. “I’m Daesung! It’s literally my job to make people sing. And now that I know you have this secret talent, I have to help you unleash your full potential.”

“I don’t need to unleash anything—”

“Too late. You’ve been discovered.” He gasps again, eyes gleaming with fake betrayal. ���Unless… unless you hate my singing! Oh no. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? You’re tired of hearing my voice.”

You snort. “You are so dramatic.”

“I have to be. For the industry.” He puffs out his chest, then nudges you again. “So? When’s our first rehearsal?”

You sigh, shaking your head, but you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

"Tomorrow morning? Great! I'll see you in the morning baby!" He excitedly ran out of the room, causing you to laugh aloud—you live together you will see him as soon as you exit the room as well. Oh, Daesung.

seunghyun: totally starstruck

You don’t notice him at first.

You’re too lost in the song, letting the melody spill effortlessly from your lips, the way it wraps around the air like something tangible, something alive. It’s just you, your voice, and the quiet room—until the weight of a gaze suddenly makes you falter.

You glance up, startled, and there he is.

Seunghyun stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted slightly as if he had something to say but forgot how to speak. His entire posture—still, rigid, like he’s afraid to move—tells you everything before he even opens his mouth.

“…Do that again.”

His voice is hushed, reverent, but there’s an intensity beneath it, like this moment is something sacred.

You blink, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”

“Sing again.” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. “Please.”

You let out a flustered laugh, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. “Seunghyun, it’s really not—”

“It is,” he interrupts, shaking his head, still looking at you like he’s seeing something unreal. “Why aren’t you doing this as a career?”

You scoff, shifting awkwardly under his unwavering gaze. “Because I couldn't get up on stage in front of people! I got anxious when I found out only you were listening—”

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “That’s ridiculous.” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s trying to process something huge. “You sound better than—” he hesitates, eyes flickering over your face as if searching for the right words. When he finds them, his voice is almost breathless. “Better than anyone I’ve ever heard. Ever.”

Your face warms under the intensity of his words, but he isn’t done.

Suddenly, he’s closer—so close that you barely register the moment his hands find yours, his grip firm but gentle, grounding. “Let me record you,” he says, almost pleading. “Sample your voice. Something. Anything.”

You laugh, flustered, shaking your head. “Seunghyun, no—”

He ignores your protest, his thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles, his gaze still holding that same quiet, devastating awe. “I need to hear you like that again.” A pause. “Do you know what you just did to me?”

You swallow hard, unsure how to respond, because you’re the one who feels undone under the weight of his devotion.

To him, it’s like he’s falling in love all over again. And he has no intention of getting back up.

jiyong: your first fanboy

You’re lost in the music again, wrapped in your own little world, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and instinctively, you turn—only to find Jiyong standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smug grin plastered across his face. His eyes gleam with mischief, and you can already tell that he's about to make this moment so much more than it needs to be.

“You really didn’t think to tell me about this?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I mean, I knew you were talented, but this?” He shakes his head as if he’s genuinely offended. “I’m hurt, baby.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling nervously. “It’s not a big deal, Jiyong.”

“Not a big deal?” he scoffs, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You’re basically a superstar and you never even mentioned it? Unbelievable. Well, if you won’t tell me, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Before you can protest, he taps his phone screen and a playlist of your favorite songs starts playing. He uses his phone as a makeshift lightstick, dramatically waving it in the air as he steps forward, his smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, let’s do this properly,” he announces, as though he’s about to manage a full-scale performance.

You laugh, feeling completely exposed now, but Jiyong’s energy is infectious. He steps into the middle of the room, sets his phone down on a nearby table, and hits play on the next song. He starts dancing around you, pretending to be the most enthusiastic fan, fully immersing himself in the “show.” Every so often, he pulls exaggerated, overly dramatic dance moves—his “fanboy” act is too much, and you can’t help but giggle.

“You’re so cheesy,” you say, trying to hide your embarrassment, but also thoroughly entertained.

“You love it,” he grins, spinning you around like you're both part of some spontaneous duet. “You’re welcome. This is the kind of spotlight you deserve.”

As the song comes to a close, he steps back, using his phone to “judge” your performance like a panelist on some reality show. “And a perfect ten! Unbelievable! You’re incredible, but I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time,” he teases, dramatically wiping away a fake tear.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is full of affection. “I wasn’t hiding it, Jiyong. I just—”

“Nope!” he interrupts, cutting you off with a hand up. “You’re a star. And I knew it.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. “I think you were just trying to keep all the attention for yourself, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jiyong just winks, sweeping you into his arms. “I’m just the best manager ever. Now, go on, show me the next song, superstar.”

returning home after a tour and finding out you missed him

seunghyun: human charger

The second you opened the door, Seunghyun was standing there, looking composed as ever—hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly, that unreadable expression on his face. But his eyes. His eyes gave him away.

“You’re back,” you breathed, a little stunned even though you knew he was coming home today. It still felt surreal after all those weeks apart. “I missed you so much Seunghyun.”

For a fraction of a second, his lips twitched—like he was fighting back the urge to actually react. Then, with the smoothest, most indifferent tone, he said, “Oh? You missed me?” He let out a soft scoff, looking off to the side. “That’s funny. I didn’t even notice you weren't with me.”

Before you could even pretend to be offended, he had already closed the space between you, wrapping his arms around you tight. No hesitation, no delay. Like he had been holding himself back for far too long, and now that you were in front of him, he wasn’t wasting another second.

You melted into him, letting yourself be enveloped in his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his chin resting on your shoulder. “Liar,” you murmured, smiling against the fabric of his jacket.

His arms only tightened around you in response.

It wasn’t until later that you noticed the real extent of how much he had actually missed you.

The next morning, when you asked about his schedule, he just shrugged, sitting comfortably on the couch with you wrapped up in his hold. “Cleared it,” he said simply, scrolling through his phone.

“…Cleared it?” You blinked. “Like—what do you mean, cleared it?”

“I mean exactly that.” He didn’t even look up. “No meetings. No interviews. No rehearsals. Nothing. I’m busy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Busy doing what?”

At that, he finally glanced at you, expression unreadable for just a moment before he spoke, voice completely steady—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Being here. Need to recharge. You're my charger,” His words were so matter-of-factly that you had no case if you were to deny what he said—you would be crazy to do that.

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and endeared. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.” He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he tugged you closer.

You sighed, defeated, and let yourself melt into him. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I really do.”

He hummed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

And sure enough, for the next few days, he refused to let you go anywhere without him. If you had errands? He was coming with you. If you had plans? He adjusted them so you could stay in instead. If you so much as moved from the couch, his arm would subtly tighten around you, an unbreakable vise grip that you welcomed warmly.

daesung: everything is a reminder of you

The moment Daesung stepped through the front door, his suitcase rolling behind him, his face lit up the second he saw you. He barely had a chance to say anything before you blurted it out.

“I missed you.”

For a brief second, he just stared at you, his eyes widening as if those words had flipped some switch inside him. Then, suddenly, his whole expression softened into the warmest, most radiant smile.

“You missed me?” His voice was filled with so much genuine happiness, like he couldn’t believe it even though he had been hoping to hear it. Then, before you could even answer, he closed the space between you in a heartbeat, wrapping you up in his arms. “Oh my god, I missed you too! You know that, I told you every day by text, but it wasn’t the same.”

You laughed against his shoulder, feeling how tightly he was holding you, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire tour. He smelled like airport air and faded cologne, but underneath it was something distinctly him, something that made you want to stay right there forever.

Then, just as suddenly as he had hugged you, he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Oh! Wait! I got you something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Something?”

Daesung grinned. “Okay... maybe a few things.”

And then he grabbed his suitcase, unzipped it with so much enthusiasm that you swore he almost broke the zipper, and started pulling out item after item after item.

“This reminded me of you.” He placed a small trinket in your hands—a keychain shaped like a little cartoon animal, one of your favorites.

“And this one too. Oh, and this! I saw this and immediately thought of you.” A little stuffed animal, then a handmade bracelet, then a snack from one of the local markets.

You watched in awe as the pile kept growing. “Daesung, how much stuff did you buy?”

He looked sheepish but only for a second before laughing. “A lot… but I couldn’t not get them! Everywhere I went, something reminded me of you, and I kept thinking, ‘Oh, she would love this!’ And I couldn’t just choose one thing, so I got everything.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of souvenirs but also by the sentiment behind them. He had spent all that time away, traveling from city to city, but he had still been thinking of you the entire time.

Your chest felt warm, overflowing with affection. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head, but you were smiling, and he knew you weren’t mad in the slightest.

Daesung beamed. “Ridiculously in love with you.” Then he held up one more thing—his arms, wide open. “Now come here and let me make up for all that lost time.”

And, of course, you didn’t hesitate to fall right back into his embrace.

jiyong: planning and eavesdropping

The moment you sighed out the words—“I missed you.”—Jiyong stilled. His lips parted slightly, eyes glinting with something smug. Then, his expression shifted into full dramatic mode.

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “Say it again.”

You blinked. “What?”

He leaned in, grinning now. “One more time. Just for me.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to protest, but then he was already pulling you forward, locking you in his arms with a delighted sigh. “Actually, forget that. You’re not going anywhere, little lady. You belong right here for at least the next hour.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, but you didn’t try to pull away. There was no point—Jiyong had latched onto you like a koala, his arms wound tight around your waist, legs tangled with yours as if to physically make up for all the lost time.

The two cats, clearly attuned to the energy in the room, jumped up onto the couch beside you both. One curled into the space between you, the other settled by your legs, their purring blending seamlessly with the warmth of Jiyong’s body against yours.

“You’re acting like I was gone for a year,” you teased, running a hand through his hair.

“Felt like it,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning every inch of your face like he was committing it to memory again. “Next time, I’m bringing you with me.”

“You always say that,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, and one day it’s actually gonna happen.” He pulled you even closer, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I already planned, like… seven different dates for us in different cities, by the way.”

You let out a short laugh. “Seven?”

“Obviously. Do you know how much time I spent thinking about you?” He pulled back slightly, just enough to kiss your temple. “A lot, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

Before you could retort, he suddenly gasped, his entire body tensing with excitement. “Oh my god, I almost forgot. You will not believe the gossip I heard.”

You blinked at the abrupt shift. “What?”

Jiyong leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to tell you the biggest secret in the world. “So, you know how the hairstylists and makeup artists talk to each other while they’re working?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” His lips curled into a devilish grin. “They think I’m not listening. But I am.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He practically vibrated with excitement. “Okay, listen to this—so apparently, one of the stylists is secretly dating this one idol but no one is supposed to know, but—”

And just like that, the next hour disappeared into a flurry of hushed whispers, gasped reactions, and Jiyong acting out dramatic reenactments of everything he overheard. The cats dozed beside you, entirely unbothered, as he spilled every single secret he had collected like a gremlin hoarding forbidden knowledge.

It wasn’t until much later, when you had both completely melted into each other, his voice softer now as he murmured about places he wanted to take you, that you realized just how much he had missed you.

And how much, without even realizing it, you had missed this.

thanks for reading!

i love making these so like if u want part 3 do lmk!

part one here !

[calypso-apologist]

More yan Poseidon and Zeus? Pretty please 🥺👉👈

I'M ALIVE

Odysseus's sibling offering themself to Yandere!Zeus and Poseidon ♡

CW: mdni. violence on reader. permanent disfigurement (eyes gouged out in poseidon's, body changed in zeus's) of reader. objectification of reader. implied non-con/dub-con.

Poseidon

Because I like music, we're going to go with their songs.

So, why don't we get started with good old Ruthlessness?

You see, you care for your brother deeply. And Penelope. And above anything, your precious nephew, Telemachus. So the very risk of them getting hurt... the risk of Ithaca getting destroyed...

You couldn't just let it happen. But, on the other hand, you understood Poseidon. His son was blinded, and then the man who hurt him boasted about him, going as far as to give him his name.

And so, you decided to risk it all and speak up, calling out the God's name. You ignored your bother's protest as you walked to the railing and spoke up with a shaky tone.

"Lord Poseidon, I beg you to spare my brother and his crew. I understand your loss, the suffering Odysseus caused to your son. Allow me to offer you a way to make it even. Family for family. I will offer myself to you as payment for the harm that came to your child."

And as skeptical as Poseidon was, seeing the pure anguish and the desperation in Odysseus's face as he tried to stop you did convince the god to take you up on your offer.

And so, by his order, you took a deep breath and let yourself fall into the water, losing consciousness almost instantly. You felt yourself drown, but you didn't die, somehow.

You awaken in Poseidon's underwater palace, his servants gushing over you, helping to change your clothes and mess around with your hair from the very second your eyes opened. You didn't really even realize what happened until they were done with you... and when he entered the room, looking at your body, blue material draped on your body in a mockery of a dress or a robe, with seashells and pearls made into jewelry.

You expected him to hurt you. And he will, but he also wanted you to be a nice, pretty little trophy... Once he makes it even.

And eye for an eye, right? Or in this case... Two eyes for one eye. It only seemed fair to him, to make his cold grin the last thing you saw before he pressed his thumbs into your eyes, blinding you.

And as tempted as he was to leave you to die somewhere, he decided to continue the punishment. Just like his son, you would live.

Forever his slave, stuck near him, forced to listen to the god who took away your sight, like your brother took his son's. A precious little toy, just for him.

A toy, just for him. One that he grows dangerously fond of, over time.

And what's the harm of having such a precious, dependent toy warm his bed? Not like you had a choice, after all...

Zeus

And since I'm still feeling musical, this one's gonna happen during Thunder Bringer. Also because we don't really have any other good point for this to happen with him but SHUSH-

Either way, Zeus is pulling his very questionable moves with the Cloud Maiden he created. And while it's clear his words are meant for your brother, you notice the god glancing at you every once in a while, when his hands were on a particularly intimate region of the faux-woman. And you could've sworn his grin would get just a little bit wider.

And so, as he gave Odysseus the ultimatum, you decided to take the risk and attempt to protect your brother and what little men there were left of the crew. And so you stepped forward, calling out to the god before your brother got to say a word.

"King Zeus, my brother and his crew have committed a horrible crime, but I'm sure there is some way to convince you to spare them, in all your wisdom."

You could see just how amused your plea made him. He was clearly messing with you as he dramatically pretends to think it through. But finally, he declared that just this once, he'll show mercy, as long as you go with him, as a sacrifice of sorts.

Despite your brother's protests, you go with the king of gods. In order to hide you from Hera, he leaves you on a small island and steals a trick from Poseidon, surrounding it with a storm to keep you out of Hera's sight. At least for now.

At first, he only visits you occasionally, just so he can have some fun with you. And with each meeting, you felt... different. Your body would feel... light.

And you only realized when it was too late, hearing Zeus throw an off-handed comment about clouds to you as he gets dressed after one of his visits.

The last thing you remember before passing out is the God's shit eating grin.

As you awoke, if it could even be called that, you couldn't feel your body. It felt as if... you were just... there. With no way to move or speak.

Until your body moved on its own. Far too lightly, far too smoothly, as if you were a puppet. And in a way, you were.

No longer human, just a puppet made from clouds, now forever stuck by his side, alongside all the other conquests he turned into clouds, just like you.

Except you were special. Very special. Glued to his side, pretty much, forced to sit on his wide shoulder or his lap... even being kept as a third in the bed he shared with Hera, much to her displeasure.

Let her be displeased. It's not like she could do anything without evoking Zeus's fury.

And nobody wants the Thunder Bringer furious.

[junedenim]

the shutterbugs

because it lasts forever

part 1

warnings: very smutty, very fluffy, slight slapping, chow town, blowie vill, piv palace, flash warning, recording warning

word count: 4k

You're standing in front of the produce, strawberries to be specific. One hand on the small shopping cart, the other on your chin. You're contemplating the strawberries. They aren't in season but they look perfectly sculpted, painted in a daunting red, designed to grab your eyes.

Then you hear the click. There he is. Alex. His tiny camera sitting in his hand. His brown leather jacket crinkles as he drops the camera down from his eyes, revealing his face. He plays the shy innocent card—bashful smile with those enamored brown eyes staring straight at you.

You giggle at the familiar sight. "God, you're like glorified paparazzi. You never leave me alone with that thing." You swat your hand at him and gaze back upon the strawberries.

He comes closer to you, one of his hands landing on your shoulder. "How could I?" He lands a kiss upon your cheek, gentle and soft.

You lift a carton, examining it. "Should I get strawberries?"

He pulls back, landing a hand on the small of your back. "Get whatever you want, love."

"I don't know if it'll be a waste of money." You tilt them in your hand trying to decide. It's easy for him to get lost in you in moments like this. That's why he takes pictures of all these little things. You make everything seem fun. The idea of the grocery store is a joy to you and something that was such a pain in his day, you make an adventure out of it, not only with his photography but with your behavior. 

"All eat 'em if you don't like 'em, so get 'em," Alex insists.

You hum, tapping your chin before exclaiming your decision, "Okay!"  You place them in the cart and start your stroll again. He lags behind to capture a picture. "Alex," you whine, "don't make me do all the work."

He snaps a shot of your frustrated face—nose wrinkled up, hand on your hip—before putting the camera away and taking over for you by pushing the cart. 

Things came easily in your relationship. He felt it was something you both just relaxed into the inevitability. In other relationships, this would have caused him trouble. He’s been called uncommunicative and taciturn for a time or twenty—something inherited from being a natural perceiver hidden behind the camera.

But this time was different. It was like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. Part of him slotted into part of you and that missing gap was no more. Maybe he’s becoming soppy, he’s been accused of that by some, including you—though that is more a teasing flirt than ridicule. 

He doesn’t mind. He takes it all with a shrug of his shoulders like yeah, no shit, how can you not be in love with her? 

*

Alex finds it weird that you, as a model, think having pictures of yourself is egotistical. He won’t pride himself and say he’s the greatest photographer of all time and he doesn’t have an altar dedicated to his work but he thinks homes are supposed to have pictures of loved ones. He reasons you’re a loved one so he should have pictures of you. He tries to convince you of this when you’re moving in.

You refuse every picture. He scrolls through each one trying to get you on his side. You shake your head at each one. There are the grocery shopping photos. There are the photos of you by the ocean wearing only bottoms (fair enough, if your parents ever visit). There’s one of you doing laundry, pissed off he was getting in your way. There’s the one when you painted his bedroom walls. 

You told him no person should have stark white walls. It makes you insane and the walls get super dirty. So, you painted them yellow with a bandana tying your hair back and a sunshine smile on your face. He asked you to move in that day.

“I’d like to have you around more often,” he said, standing on the ladder, perfecting the lines between the wall and the ceiling.

You giggled. “But I’m here all the time already.”

“Maybe you could live here all the time,” he offered plainly.

So, now there’s your clothes next to his clothes and way too many shoes on the rack and you have this weird powder you put in all your drinks that makes the water green. He had a taste of it once and almost vomited. But he sees that shade of green everywhere now because he thinks of you everywhere now. He likes the sight of your body next to his body.

The bed is warmer now and his house is starting to gain personality now, covered in colour and books and artwork, no longer looking like an asylum’s padded room. The world just seems to brighten up. He always found that to be cheesy, the way those people who aren’t in love roll their eyes when someone gushes, but he gets it now. As if the world was blurry and you’ve shifted it into focus.

Sometimes he feels crazy. He desires you violently. It’s kind of his every waking thought and he knows that’s crazy because it makes his heart beat really quickly and he’s aroused by just the thought of you. That’s certifiable. 

But then one time you straddled him in the morning. He had just woken up, barely had enough time to open his eyes before you were all over him. He never considered that he may want him this intensely too. Enough to crawl all over him during your first wink of the day. You’re uncontrollable. You’re licking up his body and you’re making him feel like he’s dead and you are the gates of heaven, slowly opening to him.

He reaches down in between the two front gates, runs his fingers through you. He brings it back up to his mouth just to taste it because he’s never tasted something quite so sweet. “They should make that into a lollipop,” he says.

“Shut up.” You hit his chest and he can tell you’re hungry for it. You would usually laugh at something like that but you’re horny, rubbing your cunt along his thigh, soaking your wetness on him. 

He puts his hands on your hips and stops your movement. He has you groaning and writhing against his hold. He’s hungry too but it’s nice to see you starve. “I was gonna give you a blowjob,” you say, “now I’m not so sure.”

Alex pouts. “You don’t behave well enough to give me a blowjob.”

You lean over him, your hair making a curtain around the two of you. “What do I behave well enough for?” Fuck. You’re whispering seductively, your breathing making love to his breathing, and it’s unfair when you have a voice like that. “What? Are you going to spank me?”

No, he doesn’t have the nerve for that. He doesn’t ever want you to hurt, even if you ask for it. Also, he thinks he’d be bad at it. Like it would be too soft or too half-hearted or he would rather fuck you within an inch of your life than smack you around. Fucking you sounds really fucking nice.

“Do you want to spank me?” He counters.

You straighten and laugh at him. It’s ruthless but he likes the feeling. You sober when you see his face. “Wait. Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Hit me.”

You giggle nervously. “Like on the ass?”

“Wherever you want.” He does mind pain if it gives you pleasure.

You scoot down so you’re sitting on his thighs. “What if I kick you in the balls?”

He blushes and chuckles. “If you want, I would like to still have working function of my dick and I think you would too.”

You put your hand on his cock over his boxers. You press down on it placing pressure but not hurting him. “I wouldn’t kick you that hard.”

“I’ve seen you work out. I think I’d have to get a new set.”

You tilt your head back in laughter. Then, you pounce, laying your mouth on him, covering yourself over him. You kiss his bare chest, a straight line down from his Adam’s apple to his pubic mound. You bite into the waistband of his boxers, teething on them. Then, you drag until he pops out. 

You sit up again. “Should you roll over now so I can smack you?” You’re touching your lips together to reduce giggles.

“Don’t make fun of me. It’s natural sexual desire.”

“I’m not making fun of you.” Despite the insistence, your laughter bubbles up. “Swear.”

“Uh-huh,” he sounds. He can barely be heard over you losing it.

To hell with this, he thinks. He lifts his hips and rolls until you’re on your back and unable to breathe because of the shock. “I could blow air on you and you’d fall over,” he says.

You smirk. “I’m already laying down.”

He groans and ground his head into your stomach. It would be annoying if you weren’t so cute. 

His mouth is right there, kissing just above your clit. He would tease you if he wasn’t voracious. He sticks his tongue in and you crack almost instantly. Hands to the roots of his hair, yanking as if to scalp him. It hurts and he loves it because it’s a sign of your uncontrollable gratification.

“Higher,” you command, so he goes higher. He sucks right on the clit, pucker his lips out to tweak it, to put his tongue on it, to turn it in his mouth. He goes harder with each of your moans.

Alex traces his fingers up your leg until he reaches the middle of you. He runs his fingers through and then pushes in, fucks you with his fingers because he wants to be soaked by you. He wants his fingers to prune with the taste of you. 

You wanted more and now you think you asked for too much. It’s overwhelming and you’re beat red and you just woke up but you’ve never felt more exhausted in your life. But you don’t want him to stop. You want to dissolve into his hands.

You weren’t inexperienced when you met him but you were young and you had never felt lovemaking like this before. Sex was something to make guys like you. Sex was to make babies. Sex was something to fake your way through in the hopes of maybe, one day, that boyfriend will figure out how to make a girl cum.

Men are more appealing when Alex is included with them. Before men were gross, stuffy, stuck-up beings with only a handful of good ones that were either taken or related. You wake up smiling every day because you realize you’re one of the people you used to be jealous of. You’re consumed by the idea people look at you guys together and are green with envy. He’s one of the taken ones now and he’s taken by you.

And then you cum and it all goes white, those thoughts in your head. It’s the only time in your life when you don’t think it all. And then you spend the rest of your day replaying it in your head. You knew orgasms were good but you understand now why all guys think about is sex because it feels like that’s all you think about now too.

When you can see again, he’s lying on top of you, brushing your hair off of your face. He’s smiling and not in the pride way, but in the plain old happy way. Because making a woman cum isn’t an achievement for him. He’s never struggled with you and you doubt he’s ever struggled much since he figured out where a woman’s clitoris is. 

The urge suddenly possesses you because the thought has been ticking in your head since he mentioned it. You slap him. Clearly across the face. It barely makes a noise but it puts a red mark on his face. He squints his eyes and shakes his head before he’s able to process everything.

You’re laughing below him, clearly sheepish by the action and waiting for his response. He can’t think of anything to say. He didn’t think you’d actually do it and he’s kind of stunned, but, you know, incredibly turned on.

“Do you still want that blowjob?” You ask, a slight blush on your cheeks like you’re a schoolgirl with a crush. He lets out a breathy laugh. You feel the way his stomach rubbles, tickling up against your skin. Sometimes you’d like to rip him limb from limb, other times, you’d like to just stare at his softness.

He rubs his nose against yours, his mouth hovering over yours. “You can if you like. I won’t object.” He’s kissing you gently like a cushion for your soul to rest on.

You nudge him to signal him to roll off of you. When he’s on his back, you assume your previous position straddling his legs. You take him in your hand, squeezing him slightly before putting him in your mouth. He’s half-hard. You like the way he feels when he’s soft like you have to work for it. Sometimes you like to feel him when his dick is in its resting position. The slight window into his natural body.

For better or worse, he arouses quickly. You take the compliment and suck him off. You lick his shaft because it always gets him kicking his legs and he’s fighting against your body resting on top of his legs, unintentionally brushing against your pussy. 

You kiss his tip, treating him delicately after the harshness inflicted on his face. You want to treat him right and make him squirm from the lightest touch. You mouth your way down his cock and begin to stroke him with one of your hands.

He curls his toes and squeezes his eyes shut, despite how much he wants to look at this. He wants to capture every moment of this. He wants someone to transmit the whole scene into his brain to replay over and over again. He sees why people become sex addicts and he might even be one because he wants to stay buried in this. He pets your hair back before fisting it, cumming, jerking up, and shaking his legs. He can’t help but mutter, “Fuck.”

He opens his eyes and sees you wipe your mouth after taking every drop of him. He tosses his head back. “Fuck.”

*

You like watching him take pictures. You don’t often get to center in on him because you’re usually the one he’s taking photos of, but every once in a while he’s able to take you with him. You fake being an assistant and sit in his chair and watch him work. You’ll get him a bottle of water to play into the act but other than that you simply watch him.

He leans a certain way depending on how good of a photo he thinks it’ll be. If he’s standing straight up, he hates it. If he’s all the way forward, willing to get on the ground for the photo, he’s completely in love, swooning for the photo (you know from experience that he likes getting on his knees, at least for you).

It’s probably not the smartest thing for you to be on set with him because he’s easily distracted. It’s hard to pull his attention away from the camera but he’s beginning to understand the beauty of his own eyes. It’s much sweeter to look at you than whatever person is before him.

People used to ask him how he didn't fall in love with all these beautiful models. Before you, he had always viewed this as work. He keeps work and pleasure separate. What a fool he was because mixing pleasure with work was the best decision of his life. But nobody else has had that ability. You drive your personality into the photo. Your gaze only turns any picture into art. He thinks whoever said eyes are the windows to the soul was only referring to you. Everyone else is just a model, nothing else.

This doesn’t do well when he’s on a professional photoshoot and he’s distracted every two seconds by you—your laugh, your eyes, your smile, the way you leave to talk to Jerry (because nobody else ever wants to talk to Jerry).

He has two models yell at him for getting distracted but he doesn’t understand how they can blame him. How are they not staring at you? 

He’s a fool who should never bring you to work again but can’t bear to leave your side. He has an attachment issue.

*

Alex gets an idea. This can either be the smartest idea ever or the dumbest one. This one might be the first to lie somewhere in the middle.

“You want to make a sex tape?”

“An artistic film,” he says because he’s a pretentious prick who claims everything you do is art. It’s flattering but sometimes you want to brush your teeth in peace.

“A porno.”

He purses his lips. “An erotic film.”

You furrow your brows. “Do you jerk off to photos of me?”

He stands up and collects your plates from dinner, silently.

You gasp. “You totally do. You perv. I never gave you permission to do that!”

Alex chuckles. “What did you think I was doing with nude photos of you?”

You follow him to the kitchen sink. “Admiring their aesthetic quality.”

“Believe me, your tits are very aesthetically pleasing.”

You smack his arm and walk down the hall.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You don’t bother to turn back and walk straight to the bedroom. “To prepare for my porno debut.”

*

The sex tape, or whatever you want to call it, doesn’t happen until the weekend. Alex wants to shoot it on film because he’s a weirdo (he admits it) and you want to get cute lingerie because you're self-absorbed (you admit it). You’re two peas in a pod.

“Are you rolling?” You ask him as he sets up. “Oh, god, that was the most pornographic thing I could have said.”

“Relax,” he commands. You’re on edge, he can tell. 

In an effort to put you at ease, he walks over and lies on top of you. He wraps his arms around you and holds you to him. He digs his nose into your neck and breathes you in. He told you once that you smelled like what he imagines clouds smell like and cherries. It puts him at ease and his body in this position calms you. It’s familiar and there’s no reason to be performative.

“Do you ever wish that film could capture smell?” He asks into your skin.

“When there’s cookies on screen, yeah, but what if someone farts or just smells bad?”

He chuckles and looks up at you. His smile is joyous and there’s something about this being for only you—the smile and this film. It makes this idea of his even more interesting because it’s not about sex, it’s about these little in-between moments.

Each move is delicate. He’s always been a smooth lover, even when he’s harsh and raw, his touch is always soft. He parts your legs and drags your underwear down. He takes his shirt off and you unclip your bra. He stands off the bed to take his pants off. 

“Film is expensive so we’re gonna have to go quick,” he says. It leaves you cackling and already out of breath.

“That’s up to you. You’re the one who drags things out for so long.”

Alex joins you back in bed. “I can’t help it if I last long.”

You squint. “I didn’t say that. It takes you a long time to make me cum.”

He leans over you, pushing you down against the mattress. “I know that isn’t true.” He moves closer and closer. It would be threatening if his eyes weren’t so swoon-worthy. You want to kiss every inch of his face. You’d give butterfly kisses to his eyelashes. You’d make love to every last inch of him.

He’s fast, but in a controlled manner. His hips meet yours and he lines himself up with your core. He eases in slowly as you engulf his cock. He hums at the wetness and you moan at being open. Sometimes it feels like the first time all over again. Sometimes it feels like you’ve been doing this all your life and you’ll do it for another hundred years. Either way, you don’t mind, both feel this good.

“Should we be loud?” You ask.

Alex smirks. “You’re already loud.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean so the camera can hear us.”

He’s moving in and out of you now. “I don’t think it’ll have a problem hearing us.” He thrusts straight into, knocking your head against the wooden headboard, eliciting a moan from you. He knows every move in the book. He could write a manual on you to fuck you.

You push against his shoulders. “Should we do a sexier position?”

His grin is shit-eating. “Like what?” You’d slap him again if you didn’t think he’d enjoy it so much.

“I don’t know. Should I ride you? Or doggy? What way do you want it?”

“Whatever way you want it.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows. He’s still moving, albeit slowly, but still pleasantly. “I don’t know that’s why I asked you.”

“Alright.” He pulls out of you and it aches. It isn’t right, he should always be there. It feels like a part of you slipped out. He flops onto his back beside you. “Go to work.”

“Facing you or the camera?”

“Me.”

“But the camera won’t be able to see my boobs.”

“But I’ll be able to see your boobs.”

“But does future you want to see my boobs?”

“Every me wants to see your boobs.”

“So, I should face the camera.”

“No, I still want to have sex with you, not the camera.”

You giggle and don’t say anything else. You want to give yourself over to him. The whole point of this was to commit your sex to film not have sex for the film. You sink down onto him and rock against him. It’s quick because you want it to be, not because the amount of film calls for it.

It’s the perfect sight for him. Some people like sunsets or the ocean, he likes your body. He doesn’t care if it’s naked, clothed, or covered by bubbles in the bath, every part of it is poetic. He’s a bit self-conscious about him being on film. He isn’t used to being in front of the camera. But he so desperately wants you committed to filmic memory. He’s terrified one day you’ll leave or he’ll get dementia or amnesia. He wants to remember every second of this. 

You arch your back and throw your head back. You’re shaking. His hips buck up, slamming into you, finishing you both off. You land on top of him and this is his favourite part, other than the incomparable act of coming for a man, this is his second favourite. He wraps his arms around you, still inside you, and holds this moment in his arms. 

The physical thing will always be better than any photography or piece of film. Only here can he feel your laughter and see your smile and smell that cloudy scent and feel the touch of your delicate, little hands. Only here can he kiss every bit of you while resting inside you. He feels you as you slowly fall asleep. He whispers, “I love you,” only for himself to hear, but you know it just as well as he does.

*

The film cuts off right around when you straddle him. Something is better than nothing. You can always do it again. Neither of you mind.

*

a/n: sigh, the long-awaited part 2. is it as good? probably not. but it's the most smut i've written in a while i feel like (two scenes in a fic, very impressive for me as of late, i am no longer a prude). i wrote the first part of this fic back in september and now here we are in march with 3.3k words more. anyway, take a picture, it'll last longer. and someone please take more pictures of alex. please & thank you!

[katcoin]

ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪʟʟꜱ

(TW: none)

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Long ago before the city thrived on steam and metal.

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Long before you or I came to be 

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A child born of the Harbinger, the ruler of all the Heavenly court entered these lands. 

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Though rare, the child was set aside and forgotten 

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Cruely, the Gods gave them the title of the lost and wanderers. 

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That child was Areti, the Deity of the lost, wanderers, and finally the youth. 

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But bestowing titles was a small thing to the Gods, so the heavenly court still neglected the child.

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So one day. Before the rise of the sun and set start of the setting of the moon. They ran. 

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 Over the hills, the child escaped. Vowing to never be a part of the heavenly court. 

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But there, my children, I would say the story ends, but each story has its side—its own flip of a coin. And that's where my tale starts.

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When the Gods woke from their slumber, they did not notice the absence of Areti and continued on with their heavenly duties. 

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But this soon will later bite them back.

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Years after the child ran to the hills away from the Heavens, chaos struck. 

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All beings young started to die off.

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First, the children were struck with sickness, 

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seedlings perished from the scorching sun

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Animals' young perished. 

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Then starvation came.

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Parents were unable to conceive children. So out of despair and hopelessness, they went to the Gods. 

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"What did we do to anger you so?!" The public pleaded bringing offerings to maybe coax the Gods out of their anger towards them. 

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"We? Foolish mortals, we have nothing to do with your famine!" Declared the Harbinger, confused about the humans' cries. 

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"Then who would hurt and curse our young?!" The humans pleaded. The Harbinger thought the gods could only tarnish the subjects that they had the title of... Areti..

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"ARETI!?" Called out the Harbinger, expecting the child to be summoned right next to him with their tale between their legs. But nothing, only a bright light from the summon but nothing came up. "ARETI?! COME TO ME AT ONCE!" He called out again, another white flash, still nothing. that means they aren't in the heavenly court. When was the last time he or the other Gods have seen Areti? 

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"Why must you call after the deity that you have banished?" Called out a young man. He was a storyteller, he stood up from his kneeling position like everyone else. "Have you not heard the tale of the child over the hills?" The storyteller asked. The Harbinger, hesitant but willing to know the whereabouts of the little diety beckoned the storyteller to speak. 

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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY LEFT?!" An hour has passed since the humans away from the court to reassure them that he will take care of the task at hand. For the first time in forever, The Harbinger felt regret. 

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"My Love, what worries you so?" Anris placed her hand on her husband's shoulder. Anris, oh great Goddess of unity and peace. The way they met was interesting speaking of how they were polar opposites, but that is a story for another time friends. 

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"What happened to Areti?" Pleaded the Harbinger. But his wife didn't know either. He asked every God, Goddess, Diety he could find up in the heavenly court. Still nothing. 

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The harbinger declared a search for the little deity. The rest of the heavenly court followed. But nothing...

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Out of desperation, to find his child and to end the famine, he jumped down from the heavens, grabbed an anchor and pulled it down to the earths land. Now the Gods live among us in hope of searching for their child.

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But that Idea soon curroded with humans evolving and cities changing, humans once independent creatures thriving without the Gods help now live at the bottom. Each living in the slums of cities begging for basic necessities. While the Gods live in luxury only getting the best. But once a year on the day that Areti fled, the Gods hold a festival hoping for one day that the child would return. And this is where you were born into the world. 

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And that is where a new story begins...

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𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝐼 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒮𝒰𝒢𝒜𝑅 𝒞𝒰𝐵𝐸!

[bloo-the-dragon]

So...I have just red mer solarstone's story... (Just found it and had the time to read it)

How dare you make me cry 4-5 times/silly

And it is amazing!

I love it so much! And oh my god poor sols

And I got a couple of questions! :D

1. You mentioned Earth there, so I'm understanding she is a mer as well? (Mermaid 🌺 ;3) Who was the "darker" mer with her? Under the boat

2. Where did moonstones egg go? I notyit wasn't mentioned after the attack (rest in peace sunstone, we will miss you ❤️‍🩹)

3. Who was moonstone fighting at the end of his life? (Was it someone random or a specific character that you chose)

Once again,

It is so cute, and sad and good and Amazing!!! 💖😍❤️

I love it 💕

So to start with the fic was written by my good friend @erenevune who also made Sols! (I drew his design based on their description) and so i've allowed them to answer 2 and 3 of your questions which i have copy pasted from discord :D (If anyone hasn't read the fic yet, you can find it here!)

I can answer the first question though!

1. Earth is indeed a mer in the au as well yes! She and the 'mystery darker mer' with her have been in development for a while now and are going to be background characters for the au - i'll be posting art of them very soon so stay tuned ;)

2. Moonstone's egg was killed during the attack that killed Sunstone, despite their best efforts to protect both eggs Sunstone wasn't able to completely block off the attack and Moonstone's egg was the casualty. Though, thankfully, Sunstone died believing he had protected both eggs. Solstone barely survived, it was honestly pure luck Sunstone managed to save even one of them. It was likely either crushed or knocked so hard the baby mer inside was too injured to survive, and by the time Moonstone was able to find his egg it would have been too late to do anything. Very preoccupied with feeling part of him die when Sunstone died, since as twins their life force was connected and Moonstone had to feel every moment of him fading then his sudden absence. The only reason Moonstone survived is because both he and Sunstone had bonded to another mer as mates for their little family pod

3. Moonstone attacked his mate. The mate is unnamed (though I have nicknamed them as "Slate" in my head). After the death of his twin and loss of his own pup, his sanity was degrading rapidly over the years as he was in constant pain from missing half of his soul and greif. He had already been attacking other mers for some time and some cannibalsm had been starting as well. Which, definitely didn't help his steadily shattering mind.

At the end, he completely lost whatever sanity he had left and attacked his mate, killing them and consequently killing himself. Slate let it happen without a fight because they knew all of them would be better off, and that Moonstone had already been gone for a very long time. If not when Sunstone died, then sometime when Sols was still a very young pup. And so had they, just not as badly as Moonstone. They also knew neither of them were fit to care for Sols anymore and hadnt been for years, and while it wasn't a great choice, the mate figured Sols would be better off taking his chances alone.

Was it selfish? Yes. But by this point they were already an absent parent and were looking forward to neither of them constantly suffering just by being alive anymore. In a way, Slate's final act was to protect Sols by making sure Moonstone was focused only on them and would end up killing them, so he couldn't then turn on Sols and kill him too. Sols doesnt look much like Slate, but he does share the same tail fin shape as them.

Sols looks most like Sunstone in terms of colour, but has Moonstones eyes. Physically he looks very much like both Sunstone and Moonstone as they're twins. Though to Moonstone, who was forever grieving, Sols looked more like a mini Sunstone which added to his mental decline towards the end. Sols was a constant reminder of what he lost and why he had to stay, when he would have much rathered to join his twin and pup in death.

[leighsartworks216]

Period filth thoughts hit different (smutty thoughts below the cut)

Thinking about Sylus, laid back on the bed with an arm behind his head, eyes lidded and breath heavy even as he smirks. Sitting on his lap with his cock impaled as deep inside as possible. Cum dribbling out onto his pelvis, sticky and warm. You're already so worn - sweaty, legs shaking, ready to collapse. But he's so warm and firm inside of you, and you're just so fucking desperate to have him fill you again and again and again. Your hands pressing down on his abs and chest as you lift yourself back up and slam back down on him

Sylus groaning all pretty like as he reaches out to hold your hip and steady you. "Just like that. Fuck - such a good girl. You're perfect. My perfect little slut." He can't stop talking, so overwhelmingly adoring of you

When he starts getting close, his hand slides from your hip to your belly, his thumb stroking your clit in quick circles as he measures just how deep he is inside of you. You're in tears, an absolute mess, spurred on knowing he's close to move faster, harder, chasing his high as he beckons you to finish with him

That gorgeous, breathless, choked moan he lets out as he cums, spilling himself into you as he rubs frantic circles into your clit. He won't stop until you cum around him, clench down on him and cry out, your whole body jerking and twitching with overstimulation

The panting silence as he watches even more cum spill out. His fascination as he thrusts his hips up to fuck it back into you. Your whimpers as you feel him twitching back to life inside you. You would go on forever, no matter how tired, just to have him keep filling you over and over and over again

But he knows your body is well past its limit. He reaches up to hold your face, wiping away your tears as he coaxes you down to him, down into laying on his sweaty chest. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged full of his cum and cock, but he tells you to rest, to get your strength back up so you can keep taking everything you want from him. Because everything he can give is already yours, you just need to take it, and gods how much he wants to watch you do just that