#this has been the only thing on my mind for well over a day now

[lexirosewrites]

Day One: Courting Rituals

for @stmarchmm

Before Eddie officially starts courting Steve, they’re together nearly every day.

Steve tends to hang at the trailer and watch movies with the alpha. Sometimes they go to the arcade with the kids or they host a DnD night at Steve’s place.

Everyone can see that they’re inseparable.

Robin even lightheartedly complains about how Robin and Steve time became Robin and Steve and Eddie time.

Steve wants to be around his new friend constantly and Eddie seems to want the same thing.

So they’re always together.

The funny thing is that Steve doesn’t even recall it becoming more than a friendship.

One day, they’re goofing off, cracking jokes, and getting high on Eddie’s rooftop.

The next, they’re holding hands at the movies and sharing milkshakes at the diner.

It’s an easy transition.

When people start asking about labels (Joyce keeps prodding Steve, reminding him that dating an alpha without clear intentions is a dangerous affair), Eddie beats him to the punch with a traditional bouquet of flowers.

Wildflowers. Hand-picked, colorful, and unique just like Eddie.

He’s received many attempted courting presents before, but these are Steve’s favorites.

Of course he agrees immediately to the unspoken request and that makes things between them official.

They can spend all the time in the world together now without speculation or judgement!

Only… now Eddie is barely around.

It makes no sense to Steve (or the other half of his brain, Robin). They’d been attached at the hip when it was casual and now that it’s serious, Eddie just up and disappears?

Steve is more than a little hurt, but he tries to be reasonable.

Maybe Eddie saw their official courting as a victory and he no longer has to work so hard to get Steve’s attention. Now he can put some space between them.

Or…

Maybe Eddie changed his mind.

Maybe Steve isn’t what he wants anymore and he’s delaying the pain of breaking it off by avoiding him entirely.

The uncertainty eats away at Steve. It’s one too many cancelled plans, dropped calls, and flimsy excuses.

Steve storms into the Munson trailer at 9PM, beyond panicking when Eddie didn’t answer his phone call they’d agreed to have at 8:30.

Eddie’s van is in the driveway.

In his rush to check for Eddie’s vehicle, he’d apparently missed Wayne’s truck.

“Evenin’, Steve. Eddie expectin’ ya?”

Steve’s anger deflates slightly in the face of the man he assumed would be as good as family soon.

Wayne has always been kind to him.

“No, I guess not. He was supposed to call me half an hour ago. I even tried ringing, but nobody picked up. I got—”

Paranoid. Angry. Hurt. Devastated.

“Worried. I was worried about him,” Steve explains truthfully.

Wayne pats the free spot on the couch next to him.

He hesitates.

If Eddie’s in his bedroom and willfully ignoring his calls, Steve would rather get this break-up over with.

The quicker his hearts breaks, the quicker he can start repairing it.

He sits anyway.

“I’m sure he lost track of the day again. Been happenin’ more and more lately.”

Wayne’s never lied to Steve before. It’s hard to imagine he’d start now.

“I just thought Eddie would want to be with me more since we started courting. It feels like he’s too busy to even see me anymore,” Steve confesses, a little shocked at his own honesty.

Wayne has that effect on people.

The old man hums thoughtfully, not outright agreeing or disagreeing.

“If there’s one thing I know about my boy, it’s that he’d give anything to spend every moment of every day with you, kid. He may not always do it perfectly, but Eddie loves you, Steve. Trust that much.”

He snorts.

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it these days. He used to at least make time for me, Wayne. Now, he’s practically avoiding me entirely. How else am I supposed to interpret that?”

The wrinkles of Wayne’s brow furrow deeper.

“Have you… really talked to him recently?”

Steve shakes his head briefly, trying not to let the tears fall.

“That would require him to pick up the phone for anything other than cancelling our plans.”

“Ah. I see.”

Wayne lets out a hearty laugh and Steve has to wonder whether Eddie’s uncle has lost his mind entirely.

“You should go see your alpha,” Wayne advises him with a smile. “Ease your troubled mind, omega.”

“What?”

“Go on, Steve. Just try not to startle him. That silly boy hardly sleeps as it is… I’ve got the night shift, but I trust you two won’t start on grandpups if I leave ya alone here?”

Steve nods frantically. His face is more than flushed at the idea of starting a family right now.

He’s not sure Eddie likes him anymore, let alone loves him enough to do that with him.

“Yes, sir.”

Wayne stands with a reassuring pat on Steve’s back, heading for the door after a pitstop for his keys.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Wayne.”

He stays on the couch by himself a little longer, working up the nerve to go confront whatever is waiting for him in Eddie’s silent bedroom.

Steve would rather face another demogorgon than deal with Eddie’s incoming rejection.

Still, he promised Wayne.

He treads lightly on the creaky floors until he reaches Eddie’s bedroom.

It used to be a place Steve loved being. Full of Eddie’s personality and warmth. Smelling strongly of his loving alpha. Music always playing on the radio or turntable.

He turns the handle slowly, heeding Wayne’s advice to not startle Eddie.

It ends up not being an issue since his boyfriend is completely dead to the world, deep in sleep.

Weirdly enough, he’s still dressed. On top of the covers and wrapped around a box that Steve’s never seen.

Steve doesn’t flip the lights on, but he leaves the door open enough to light his way so he can come further into the room.

His hands move of their own accord, reaching for Eddie despite his brain saying it’s a bad idea.

Instead of a t-shirt, he touches a collared button down.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie in anything so formal.

It’s a short sleeve shirt, but looks like nothing the alpha would ever choose to wear.

His fingers continue to wander until he finds a patch on Eddie’s chest. It’s ironed haphazardly.

He gets close enough to read.

‘Eddie.’ A name tag?

Steve continues to search Eddie’s shirt silently. He finds more words. Embroidering on the pocket states ‘Dan’s Auto.’

Dan’s Auto Shop is a garage in the next town over. Steve’s taken his own car there before. It’s decent, if a little rundown.

Does Eddie… work there?

Eddie has never held an honest to god job. Selling drugs to locals? Sure. But never a 9-5 blue collar hourly rate.

Why would he get a job and hide it from Steve?

Steve’s heart can’t take the suspense. He reaches for the strange box without care.

What’s inside makes him freeze.

A handcrafted brown leather collar with Steve’s name burned into it. And a ring. Simple, beautiful, elegant.

It matches Steve’s tastes exactly.

It has to be for him.

Steve lets out a shriek of surprise when an arm appears around his waist.

He’s pulled down onto the bed, Eddie’s strong hold tucking Steve right back against the alpha and keeping him in place there.

“Hi there, sweetheart.”

“Hi alpha.”

Steve doesn’t mention the missed phone call. Or the cancelled dates.

He’s missed his alpha too much to hold a grudge over such silly things.

In the morning, they’ll have a long and important conversation about proper communication and how Eddie doesn’t need to buy Steve any more fancy courting presents in order to impress him because he’s already in love.

Tonight, they just sleep peacefully in each other’s arms as (almost) mates.

[true-blue-sonic]

I finished the fanfic ^-^ I'm still not over Silver's utterly unamused facial expression, I love it so much <3 XD I hope you like the fic!💙🤍

☆☆☆☆☆

Only Fair

With a grin Sonic sneaks closer to his unsuspecting upcoming victim of mischief.

One day, when Tails had been a few weeks shy of turning five, he’d didactically insisted to Sonic that foxes were Predators who Hunted, and he thusly was also Very Skilled at Hunting. Sonic had laughed and urged him to show off his best hunting tactics… and he’d promptly ended up with a fox cub flinging himself right at his face before getting two fluffy namesakes stuck in his quills.

Sonic doesn’t have any large tails to get snagged in Silver’s, but that is only beneficial for the cheeky idea forming in his mind at the unexpected sight of the psychic.

It’d been a while since they’d last seen each other, a few days of Silver being in the past but not being around. Sonic thus also had had little opportunity to talk to him, and even less to tease and play coy. But that all will change imminently: Silver’s eyes are trained on the horizon above, the psychic sitting sprawled against a tree trunk with his legs crossed and arms sprawled out next to his sides. Enjoying the sky and the warmth of the afternoon sun, Sonic knows. Silver is plenty focal about his enjoyment of little things like that.

But it does mean he’s distracted entirely too. Silver already is a perfect participant for the silly ideas Sonic has sometimes to amuse them both, but his current lack of attention spared for the surroundings only work in Sonic’s favour. And thus, the speedster crouches… presses his feet into the ground and shifts them minutely to check if it won’t make any sounds…

In one fell swoop he shoots over, and Silver has been snagged off the ground and hoisted into his arms in the blink of an eye.

Grey quills spike right up, the hedgehog’s body tensing in Sonic’s arms and a sharp breath drawn. But Sonic grins his most coy, suave smirk, giving Silver the smallest of jostles. “Heh. Gotcha! Long time no see, Silver.”

Golden eyes blink. Then move up and down and up to regard Sonic all over, one of Silver’s eyebrow raising in a manner perhaps best described as unamused. The silent seconds stretch out between them as Sonic gets beheld, the speedster wriggling his own brow in turn all smugly…

Before a grin forms on Silver’s face as well.

And Sonic blinks, his whole body enveloped in a liquid-like cool before he can so much as react.  

“Heh. Is this a joke?” Silver smirks back… and Sonic squeaks as he gets yoinked away from his pal, off the ground and into the sky as well, and he’s left floundering his arms and legs to get a grip on nothing.

“Awwww, Silver!” he protests at his companion, who is also floating; but where Sonic is forced into an undignified struggle, Silver’s one hand moves casually behind his head and the other twists its fingers to make Sonic spin slow, teasing circles. “That’s not fair! That's cheating.”

Silver leans back a bit into the air, looking altogether smug. “Is not. And why are you trying to get the jump on me?”

“Just testing out my hunting skills,” Sonic’s grinned response comes. It earns him a curious look and a shrug, those fingers curling back towards Silver and the speedster bobbing over to him anew.

“But I captured you now,” the psychic remarks. “So you failed."

With crossing arms Sonic huffs. “I did get you first.”

“Yeah, for like ten seconds.” Carefully Sonic gets lowered onto Silver’s chest, psychokinesis dissipating around him. “So that makes my hunting skills better.”

“I’d love to see you try out your hunting skills without your powers next time,” Sonic grins back, leaning closer so their noses brush together. A challenge and a loving nuzzle combined, though for Silver it seems to be the latter, considering the happy rumble that reverberates in his chest as he smushes their foreheads together.

“After I’m done enjoying the sunset. Wanna join me?”

Shyly Sonic’s head falls in the crook of Silver’s shoulder; he’s no stranger to being held by the psychic, but his cheeks always grow red at how easily those touches and actions come to the other. But the speedster smiles all the same, shifting until he’s found a comfortable way to lie. Who cares that it’s in the air and on Silver, and not on the ground? “Anytime,” he assures his pal, enjoying the gentle bopping in the air and the way Silver’s chest rises and falls and the sunbeams that caress his fur, until the sky has long turned dark and Silver gently deposits the both of them onto the ground anew.

And very suspiciously keeps dilly-dallying beside the tree despite Sonic’s statement he’s gonna go away now, the speedster barely able to stifle his chuckles as he pads into a random direction.

Mercifully Silver does not have two long tails either: the way Sonic goes from walking with fake carelessness to crashing right into the ground from the weight slamming into his back with a triumphant cry is enough to mess up his quills anyway. “Gotcha!!” Silver croons from atop of him as Sonic spits out a handful of grass. “I am the best hunter!”

“You are,” Sonic agrees, a tad muffled… before huffing in amusement as the weight dissipates and he gets picked up by psychokinesis once more. Though, instead of being made to float slow, teasing circles, now it places him most snugly in Silver’s arms instead, bundled right into that downy white mane of his.

“That’s only fair,” the psychic grins as Sonic raises an amused eyebrow, before getting off the ground and flying into the night. With a laugh Sonic slings an arm around the other’s neck to keep him steady, comfortably dangling his feet and thanking the cover of the night for hiding his blushes every time Silver’s breath caresses his cheek.

Even if it’s flustering, he can accept becoming an unsuspected victim of mischief himself if it’s from Silver, after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

carry

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

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[phoenixiaxia]

Shopping Surprise

I'm like, a few months way too late, but I finally wrote a fic for @jinwoosbabyboo open fic night. I'm sorry it took so long, writer's block and IRL responsibilities had me by the neck.

BUT ANYWAYS! Have this.

Sylus x notMC!Reader, gn!reader written in mind, MC is named Em in this fic, implied Zayne x MC in the fic, possibly OOC, fluff, Zayne and reader are friends

Grocery shopping can be stressful on a normal day. But when you’re shopping for ingredients to surprise your boyfriend to a meal you grew up with, it’s downright mind-breaking. Especially since both Linkon and Bloomshore markets don’t have all the ingredients you need. When you vented your frustration to Zayne, he offered to drive you to a market an hour outside the city that should have everything you needed. Which brings you to now, standing over your shopping cart in the produce section.

“Onions… lemongrass… banana shoots… collection of mints and herbs… am I missing anything?”

Zayne places the bag of limes into the shopping cart, glancing over everything in the basket. “Unless you plan on giving him watery broth, I would recommend getting some beef bullion,” He gently intones.

“What, talking from experience, Mr. Ice man?”

Zayne lifts his head, a deadpan look on his face. The only indication of his amusement is a light quirk of his lips as he shakes his head. It’s no secret that Em is not the greatest cook. You still remember her “attempt” to cook live crab, or at least two separate retellings of the event from both Em and Zayne. It’s something you lord over her whenever you can.

Regardless, he is right. You quickly look over the list in your hand before handing it over to him. “Can you head to the butcher counter and get the meats on the list? I’ll head over to the spice aisle and grab stuff for the broth.”

Zyne nods, taking the list from your hand and walking towards the back of the market. At the same time, you push the cart, navigating the crowds towards the spice aisle. You stop in front of a shelf, looking through the bullion choices. Delightfully, they have choices for specific dishes, which makes your life easier. You find the ones for the soup you need, though the boxes are not close to the front. You reach up to try and grab one of the boxes, but a large hand reaches over you, grasping a few boxes and holding them in front of you.

You turn around, jumping slightly when you come face to face with a familiar set of ruby eyes. “Sy! What are you doing here?”

Sylus smirks, his trademark smirk still on his face. “I just happened to be in the area, sweetie. But I should be asking you that question. This is outside your normal territory, kitten.”

You can’t help the pout on your lips as you take the bouillon cubes from him. It’s practically confirmed that the surprise has been spoiled, but you try to at least keep up the illusion of a secret. “Well I needed groceries that I couldn’t get in the city.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at your reason. “Right. And that’s why you didn’t call me to drive you out here, but your doctor friend.”

As if on cue, Zayne steps up to the cart, placing a few bags of meat into the basket. He makes a point to stand at the front end of the cart, looking between you and Sylus. Lifting the list in his hand, he looks back and forth between the cart and the paper before coming to a decision.

“I assume my assistance is not needed anymore,” He places the list on top of the bags in the cart, ignoring your glare of betrayal. “I do have a few things I want to buy here, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

Without another word, Zayne heads towards the front of the market, ignoring your silent pleas for assistance. Sylus takes the moment to pick up the list from the cart, reading through the contents. A long pause settles between you two as his eyes scan the paper.

The silence finally breaks when he looks back at you. “Is this the soup that you’ve been telling me about?”

You let out a long sigh, finally accepting that you can’t keep this a surprise anymore. “Yes it is. I wanted to make this as a surprise for our next date. But clearly, I can’t even do that without your jealous ass getting his feathers ruffled.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at that, leaning down to gently poke your forehead. “I don’t get jealous, sweetie.” He still has a smirk on his face as he straightens up, but his eyes are softer as he looks at you. “But I do appreciate you trying to do something nice for me. Next time, just let me know when you want to do something. It’s already hard enough to convince you to use my card.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head before pushing your cart towards the checkout. You can hear him follow behind you. “Fine. I can’t do surprises around you. I’ll run all my surprise ideas through you for prior approval.”

He chuckles at your sarcasm, resting a hand on your waist as you both wait in line at the cashiers. “I’ll make sure to prioritize your requests before any other business I have to attend to.”

The payment for the groceries goes uneventful, with Sylus paying before you could even pull out your wallet. You make a point to ignore the cashier’s look of bewilderment as you both leave the supermarket. As he loads his car with your groceries, he pauses for a bit before turning to you.

“Make the chiffon cake as well.”

“Excuse me?”

“Luke and Kieran have been asking for your cake at the base. Make the chiffon cake as well.”

Epilogue

[tsunodaradio]

not what it looks like ⛐ 𝐆𝐑𝟔𝟑

george has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where the media goes crazy because george is... snacking?)

ꔮ starring: george russell x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 0.6k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. mentions of food. established relationship. ꔮ commentary box: i suppose this is a thing now </3 part of my soft spot mini-series! inspired by george in this video. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It’s been a while since the paddock has been this intrigued. 

A rather big feat, considering the nature of the sport. F1 thrived on drama and excitement, preyed on moments of humanity and weakness. Today, though, it’s not anything on-track that has everyone buzzing. 

No. It’s just— George Russell with a bag of chips. 

Cameras click away. Reporters rush to pull up receipts. They’re all thinking of an interview from way back, where the driver had answered a slambook question of What’s your top three snacks? In typical George fashion. 

I’ll go with fruit, he had declared. I’m an athlete. I don’t snack on chocolate, no. Like… would an athlete snack on chocolate? 

No one had bat an eye, then, because of course the Briton would say something along those lines. Today, though, the clickbait headlines write themselves. 

George is snacking. Not only on chips, an eagle-eyed journo notes. He’s got a whole plastic bag in hand, presumably from the 7-Eleven down the road. 

Kimi is understandably confused when a reporter tries to interview him about it. 

“It’s just a snack, no?” the rookie stammers. “Are we— are the Pringles banned on the track?” 

George is unsurprisingly questioned as well. It comes as he’s heading out of the garage home; some nosy columnist calling out, “Russell! Bit hypocritical, innit?” 

The driver doesn’t stop walking, forcing the media personnel to keep up with his quick pace. He’s mastered the art of keeping his expression checked, so his expression is mostly neutral— dry, even— as he responds. 

“What is it this time?” George huffs. 

In his head, he’s already running through the day’s practice session. Did he make some comment on the radio? Was it something about track limits? Or—

“You’ve got crisps,” a journalist accuses, “and chocolate.” 

It’s so stupid. So unbelievably minor in the grand scheme of the impending race weekend. If he hadn’t been caught so off-guard, George might have sniped at the reporters to try and ask better questions. Surely there was something more interesting than his grocery list. 

George is jolted, though. Enough to falter in his steps and stare incredulously at the wolf pack of journalists, all clamoring for a soundbite. 

He ends up giving them one. “It’s—” He breathes a disbelieving laugh. “It’s not what it looks like.” 

The surrounding reporters erupt into a flurry of pointless follow-ups. “What happened to your body being a temple, George?” “Bit of a cheat day, innit?” “How do you like your chocolate? Dark, milk, white?” 

Another laugh bubbles out of George. He ignores all the questions and heads for his car, already weaving the story in his mind.

That’s why the tale is just a little bit dramatized, by the time he gets to you. He had an entire ride to come up with it after all. 

“They were brutal out there,” he bemoans as he tosses the offending plastic bag of goods onto the coffee table. “Calling me a hypocrite. Claiming that I’m not an athlete because I was caught with this!” 

You let out a sound between a scoff and a giggle. It doesn’t matter which, really, when the underlying affection is all the same. 

“My poor baby,” you coo, “and the lengths you go through for little ol’ me.” 

George plops down on to the couch as you lean over to survey his purchases. It’s everything you would’ve asked for; all your cravings that you’ve been too busy to indulge. 

Your boyfriend pulls your legs on to his lap. Absent-mindedly, he rubs circles into your ankle as you happily tear open one of the chocolate bars. 

“The lengths I go through,” he repeats, aiming to sound annoyed and valiant. Instead, he comes off as smitten. Whipped. 

George still doesn’t like to eat much chocolate. 

He gets his fair share of it whenever you lean in to kiss him, your lips sweet as the guilty pleasure that you liked to indulge. 

“Thank you,” you murmur against his mouth, and he hums in response before going in for another kiss. 

Just for a taste, he swears. ⛐

[pineconepie]

Platonic yandere doctor? Like he’s had his little for a while but he’s just fed up with them trying to leave so he uses a more permanent solution to the problem of them trying to run away (take that as you will)

I hope this is good!! Its slightly different than what you asked, but if people want I cand make a part two of them trying to escape!

TW: Platonic/parental yandere, drugging, gaslighting, kidnapping, infantilization, slight ableism(?), psychiatric wards

...

You've been seeing Dr. Warren as your doctor for... wow, how long has it been? Several years now. He's always been a kind guy, and sometimes he'd break past that overly polite, professional demeanor and let his soft spot for you shine through.

You liked that about him.

Sometimes, when there wasn't anybody in the waiting room but you two, he would kneel down to give you a little toy while you waited, usually one of those plastic eggs filled with surprise toys or jingling keys or something like that.

You always thought it was a little strange how the doctor was giving you children's toys, but you tried not to overthink it.

There were some other weird things you tried to overlook, but recently it was getting harder to do so.

Warren would always prescribe you medications for all kinds of things, and every single one of them made your mind feel numb. Like static, almost.

Your appointments became very regular, as well. At least once a week, even if nothing felt wrong.

And he'd give you a little plastic medicine bottle filled with gummy vitamins every time you went in.

You started to notice how instead of actually checking your health, he'd cuddle by your side and just ask how your day went, almost acting more like an over-caring therapist... which, he did technically have his degree in both psychology and medicine, but still, the lack of any medical care was suspicious, especially coming from the usually very professional doctor.

"Um, Doctor Warren?" you nervously ask, fiddling with the toy he gave you today, a little green caterpillar with bright colors on its back.

"Hm? What is it?" he asks while marking a few things off on his clipboard.

"Well, uh..." you swallow down a lump in your throat as you work up the courage to ask this. "I've noticed that our sessions lately haven't been productive. And the medications you give me make me worse. I wasn't even having a lot of issues until I started taking them. It's like they just make my mind foggy... and I always feel so sleepy, and my coordination is off..."

"Those are just the side effects," he reassures. "That's why I wanted you to come see me regularly; to track any changes or side effects."

"But I don't think the side effects are worth it. And these constant check-ups are annoying, no offense," you mutter.

"None taken," he says calmly. "The check-ups are for your benefit."

"Yeah, but..." You rub the nape of your neck. "I think I want to see a different doctor... if that's okay."

Suddenly, the warm aura radiating from him grows cold as the man glares at you, dark eyes sending a chill down your spine.

"Do you trust other doctors more than me?" His voice comes out icy, stinging you like cold water.

Your heart pounds. You open your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted again.

"(Y/n). You're mentally and physically ill. Your judgement is too clouded by your conditions that you can't recognize proper care. I'm trying to help you get better. Can't you see that?" He runs a hand through his hair. "You need constant monitoring, love. I'd consider yourself lucky I haven't put you in inpatient care." His expression changes, like a light bulb goes off in his head. "Actually, would you prefer that?"

"No, of course not!" you cry out. "Please don't-"

"Why shouldn't I? It's for your own safety," he says matter-of-factly. "You can't even tell what's good or bad for you. Your condition is worsening."

"Because of the medication," you retort.

"That's just the side effects. I explained this already."

"Why would medicine that's supposed to cure me make me worse?!" you yell. Tears well up in your eyes. "Why won't you listen to me?!"

He looks like a parent dealing with their crying toddler; confused yet confident they'll get over it eventually. "Hmm... I think you need a nap."

"A nap? What, am I in timeout now?" You fold your arms across your chest like a pouting child, realizing a little too late how funny the doctor probably finds the gesture.

Warren gets out some medical supplies: a needle and a vial. Filling the syringe with a clear liquid from the small container, he turns towards you and grins menacingly. "This'll only take a moment..."

Before you can stand up and try to run away, he plunges the needle into your arm.

You cry out and flinch away, but not before all of the syringe's contents empty inside you. He holds you against him, shushing softly in your ear as you sob until suddenly your eyelids grow heavy.

He keeps you firmly tucked in his grip, and you find that you're unable to move, paralyzed by whatever substance he injected into you.

As soon as he sees you drifting off, he lies you on the bed and rushes out, yelling something that sounds too far away to hear.

...

When you wake up, you see white walls all around you. Blinking your eyes, you look down at your clothes to see an outfit totally different from what you had been wearing when you were in Warren's office. This looks more like hospital garb.

Speaking of which, where was Warren?

Turning your head weakly to the right, you notice you're attached to a heart monitor, the wires running to sensors on your chest and fingers.

You struggle to prop yourself up and sit properly on the bed.

Warren walks into the room. "Good morning! Or, should I say good afternoon?" he smiles teasingly, closing the door behind him. "How are we feeling?"

"I'm feeling like you drugged me! What am I doing here?!" Your throat feels like its on fire, but you continue trying to speak regardless. "Can't you talk to me without having me admitted to a hospital?! Oh god- please don't tell me I'm in the psychiatric ward..."

"You are in the psychiatric ward, yes," he confirms smoothly. "But don't worry. I pulled a few strings to make sure you got the best care." His voice dips into something softer, almost affectionate. "I even had them set up a private room for you. No noisy roommates, no prying eyes—just me, looking out for you."

A chill runs down your spine. This isn't normal. This is too far.

"For what? Telling you I wanted to see a different doctor? For wanting to get off my meds?!" You glare.

He doesn't seem too bothered, pulling out a clipboard. "Well, it says on your chart you attacked me with scissors during our last meeting when I wouldn't give you prescription opioids. That's pretty serious."

"WHAT?!" Your jaw drops. "You liar! That never happened!"

Warren feigns worry. "Oh, sweetheart..." He caresses the side of your face. "You poor thing. Those delusions have you again, huh?" He shakes his head. "I don't know how to tell you this... but you have a problem. A very, very severe one. Which is why you need constant surveillance from someone trained to handle people with your particular condition."

You blink away tears blurring your vision. "This is crazy. You can't do this to me."

"Baby, I'm not 'doing' anything. This was all in your best interests." Warren moves closer to you, rubbing circles into your skin. "You're sick, (Y/n). I've been your doctor for multiple years now. Why would I lie about this?"

You sob harder. You want to believe him so bad.

You trust him, and it's always been easier to follow along with his suggestions rather than try to fight or argue back, but...

"You like treating me as if I'm a baby. Does that have anything to do with this? Or why the medications you've given me make me feel like I'm regressing into a toddler every day?" you spit out bitterly.

He sighs. "That's because you have the obvious mentality of one. The regression isn't a result of the drugs, (Y/n). It's your disorder acting up." He pushes some strands of hair out of your face. "If it helps any, I like taking care of you. Really, I do. I've never considered myself a parental person until I met you. You need me, just as much as I need to be needed by someone else. Like you."

"I'll tell everyone you basically kidnapped me," you threaten. "They can look on the security cameras for proof I didn't do anything!"

He clicks his tongue, chuckling. "I might have accidentally deleted the security footage from the day. Oops," he adds innocently. He kisses your forehead. "Now, get some rest, kiddo. Papa will check on you in an hour. And please don't try anything bad while I'm gone; otherwise, we'd have to add assaulting an orderly or nurse onto your file... We really don't want that, do we?"

All you can do is stare dumbly up at him as the words sink in.

Yes, Warren could definitely get in trouble for this... but who's going to believe you when you've been labeled a danger to yourself and others with a laundry list of mental health disorders, prescribed enough pills to tranquilize an elephant daily?

No one.

He leaves with a final, "Be good," shutting the door with a soft thump, leaving you alone, staring after him long after he's gone.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚎𝚜 & 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎 - 𝙿𝚝. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】 ⦂ Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＧＥＮＲＥ】 ⦂ Fluff, romance, & slight!tragedy

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】 ⦂ None

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】 ⦂ “Forrest Gump” by Frank Ocean

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ This is love, I know it’s true… ♫♪

Mornings had always been hard for you.  Most days you struggled to even open your eyes, let alone get out of bed.  As a young teenager you mother had told you this was a sign of depression.  You of course, being a teenager, brushed off her concern.  It took several years for you to come to the same conclusion on your own.

Mornings with Mark were different.

The sun seemed softer, warmer, dripping through the blinds like honey.  The songbirds were a melodious symphony that gave you a sense of peace.  Your mind was blank as you slowly blinked into consciousness.  Mark’s sleeping form was the first thing you clearly saw as your vision came to focus.  He was laid on his side turned towards you, lips slightly parted, and his face completely relaxed.  He was beautiful, and you were in love.  Unable to help yourself, and perhaps even unaware of your own actions, your fingers reached out to trace slowly over his shirtless chest.  They moved gingerly over the plains of his abdomen, dipping into the valley between his pecks, and skirting along his defined collarbones.  In synch with your fingers finding his jaw, you leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips.

Mark’s arms snaked around you in response, pulling you into a languid yet strong embrace.  His mouth moved against yours, melting you into a puddle on his bed.  “I hope I didn’t wake you up,” you murmured against his lips.

“No, no,” he assured between quick, soft kisses.  Then he paused and added, “Well, maybe.”  You rolled your eyes and pushed playfully away from him.  Chuckling he and pulled you back in, keeping you close. “Wait no I’m kidding, come back.”  You immediately gave up the fight and settled comfortably back into his arms.  He placed a kiss to the top of your head, and in that quiet moment you wished it could last forever.  That was until you felt a pang of hunger curdle in your stomach.  Knowing that an embarrassing growl was just around the corner, you asked,

“Would you want to go get breakfast?”

“That sounds good,” he responded, burying another kiss into your messy bedhead. “Get ready.  I know the perfect place.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Konnichiwa!” A woman of small frame and jet black hair stood at your table side, a toothy grin painting her face.

“Konnichiwa,” you greet back with a small awkward chuckle.

“Are you Americans?” the woman asked, head slightly cocked to the side. 

“We are—sorry, we don’t know Japanese.”  You threw a quick glance to Mark whose eyes were fixed on you. 

“That’s okay~” the waitress responded promptly in a singsong tone. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the pancakes.”

“I’ll do the tamagoyaki [a/n: this is a “sweet and savory omelette” that is a traditional breakfast option in Japan], please,” Mark added, his stare only now moving to look at the waitress. 

“Hai!” She gave a slight bow before heading off to presumably ring in your order.  Waiting to be sure the waitress was out of earshot you finally looked to Mark with an incredulous expression.

“Y’know, this is definitely not what I had in mind when I suggested breakfast.”  He flashed his pearly whites at you, apparently pleased with his choice.

“Trust me, Japan really has breakfast figured out.”  You chuckled before taking a sip of your water. “My mom and I come here sometimes.”  The unspoken question on your mind: did your father come too?  Instead, you say,

“Debbie makes some of the best pancakes, I’ll have to see if this place can stack up.”

“Pun intended?” Mark laughed.

“In all seriousness, I’ve never been to Japan before.  Tokyo is gorgeous!”  He hummed in agreeance.

“You should see the countryside.”

“If it’s anything like it is in anime’s I can only imagine.” 

“Honestly? It’s pretty close.” Your foot bounced under the table, still shaking off the jitters from the flight here.  You took another sip of water, dehydrated from the adrenaline rush.  Mark’s broken face came into view as you put the glass back down.  He tried to hide it, but you knew him well, and his pain spoke to you even in the silence.  Uncrossing your legs you slipped your foot from the sandal you were wearing and reached out to rub your toes over calf.  This seemed to bring him back to you, his body tensing for a moment then relaxing.  “I’m excited for you to try these hotcakes.  I’m telling you they are kind of ridiculously fluffy.  It’s like eating a cloud.”

You laughed, eliciting a grin from him. “Well now I’m really excited.”  Your morning continued on in this fashion, conversation staying to lighthearted subjects and an obvious all together avoidance of what happened yesterday.  A part of you wondered if he chose to eat on the opposite side of the planet in an attempt to avoid hearing any news stories or strangers’ conversations relating to the matter.  The thought alone left your heart burning in your chest.  As desperately as you wanted to talk to him and find out the details of the event, you would leave the ball in his court and wait patiently for him to be ready to open up.

Instead, you offered him wordless comfort in the small gestures of connection as you sat there together.  Rubbing your foot against his leg under the table, reaching over with your hand to rest on top of his, placing a kiss to the top of his head when coming back from the restroom.  It was the best you could give him, and though they seemed insignificant to you, they meant the world to Mark.  They were all he needed in that moment.

“Okay, don’t tell Debbie, but that might have been the best pancake I’ve ever had,” you confessed, leaning back in your seat with your hands placed on your stomach in dramatic effect.  Mark’s face lit up.

“I told you!  It doesn’t even make sense how good they are.”  You laughed at his excitement.

“Speaking of Debbie, is she working today?”  The joy melted quickly from his face, and yours mirrored the same emotion.

“I doubt it.  I should probably go see how she’s doing…”  You stayed silent but nodded your head in agreement.  Having paid the tab a few minutes prior, you both stood from the table and headed back to the small alley you’d landed in.  “Ready?” he asked, you now cradled in his arms with your arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Mhmm.”  You both move in synch towards each other, kissing slowly and deeply.  The feeling of his lips against yours never ceased to put butterflies in your chest, your toes coming to a point in pure bliss.  Your mouths moved together, complimenting one another effortlessly.  His tongue skimmed along your bottom lip but then pulled away shyly, sending chills down your spin.  By the time you broke away for air you were already high above the ground and moving just below the clouds.  You buried your face into the crook of his neck, still unable to handle the height after all this time.

Instead of thinking of how far up you were, you focused on the feeling of weightlessness you had when held in his arms.  For all his strength and otherworldly capabilities, he treated you like a delicate flower.  Doing his best to offer you the world while forever being mindful of your fragility.  He always kept you so secure, and flying like this in his arms left you with a feeling of almost ethereality.

Unknown to you, this feeling was requited in Mark – only he felt the weightlessness in his mind and heart.  He could never let you go, and had resolved long ago that you would be apart of his life forever.  Even in the centuries to come where you were dead and gone, you would live on eternally in his heart.

♫♪ I won’t forget you. ♫♪

[one-green-frog]

Hi hi!! I saw your requests were open, this might be long I'm so sorry TvT

I was wondering if you could do a platonic male reader x batfam based on the song Bloody! bloody! By Junie & TheHutFriends ?? Like, were the reader has these bone deep compulsions to kill and eat people. (If you know about it then something like the hunt from tma) And after disappearing for a while and the batfam hearing about the "man in red" they find out it's the reader?? So they take him home????

If that makes sense??? I'm sorry it's so long 😞

The Man In Red

I really tried my best, but i realized that i don't do well with song fics 😫 i hope you still like it and thank you for requesting.

The first sighting was in Gotham’s East End. A man, drenched in crimson, standing over a body. Then another. And another. The news called him a serial killer, but whispers among the underworld painted a different picture. The victims weren’t innocent—they were monsters in their own right. Rapists, traffickers, killers. People the Bats had marked but never managed to remove. Someone else was doing the dirty work now, and they were doing it brutally.

You had always known something was wrong with you. The hunger had been there for as long as you could remember—an insatiable need clawing at your ribs, whispering in the back of your mind. It was torture for you, knowing that there was something ill, something sick inside of you, yet you had no way of escaping it's grasp. It wasn’t just the desire to kill, it was the need to consume, to tear flesh from bone and feel the warmth of the bloody flesh. You tried to burry the hunger, tried to hide it, doing everything to not let it escape, bur thoughts about the disappointed looks of your family plagued your mind. What would they think when they found about about these urges you had. They may be family but who could ever accept this monster?

And so you left.

It hadn’t been dramatic. There had been no grand argument, no moment of revelation. One day, you were there. The next, you were gone.

Gotham had a way of swallowing people whole, and your family had long since learned that not everyone could be saved. But they didn't stop looking, they never will. They hoped that some day you might appear in front of the manor, they would welcome you with open arms, and if you didn't want to talk about what happened, then so be it. At least they're family would be whole again. They dreamed about that day.

But you simply didn't want to be found.

The hunger was easier to manage alone. Without the constant judgment, without the fear of disappointing them. You tried to direct it, to channel it toward those who deserved it. The city was full of filth, full of sinners and you became the natural predator.

The first time had been messy. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself, hadn’t been able to hold back. You grabbed ahold of their neck, squeezing with all your might as you watched them helplessly squirm around. The way their pulse had quickened under your grip, the way their last breath had shuddered past their lips, it was all so intoxicating.

And the taste…

It was never about the flavor really, the act itself, the raw, primal satisfaction of claiming something so completely. You were the wolf among sheep, the thing lurking in the dark that even criminals feared. They whispered about you in hushed voices.

The Man in Red.

You lost yourself in it for a while. Days blurred together, marked only by the gnawing hunger and the momentary satisfaction of sating it. But the Batfamily had always been good at uncovering Gotham’s mysteries. It was only a matter of time before they found you.

It started with Jason. He knew the language of violence better than anyone, could read the pattern in your work. The others followed—Tim, always analyzing; Damian, already preparing for confrontation; Dick, trying to convince himself this was a misunderstanding. Bruce, silent, waiting.

Then, they found you.

You had been mid-hunt, the scent of fear thick in the air, muscles coiled to strike. But then they were there—shadows against the neon glow of Gotham’s skyline, familiar in ways that made something deep inside you recoil.

They saw the blood.

They saw what you had become.

And yet, they didn’t fight. They didn't look at you with hatred or fear, like so many others had.

Jason was the first to move, stepping forward with a slow, measured gait. His voice, rough and quiet, reached you through the haze. "Come home."

You should have run. Should have fought. But something inside you cracked. The hunger had ruled you for so long, guiding your every move, but for the first time in months, it was quiet.

Then Dick was there, his hand on your shoulder, gripping tightly as if you might disappear again, desperately clinging on. Tim and Damian flanked you, not as enemies, but as something else. As family.

Bruce said nothing, but his gaze was steady. Unshaken. Not afraid.

And so, you went home.

It wasn’t easy.

The hunger didn’t fade just because they took you in. It clawed at you, restless and impatient, curling around your ribs like a living thing. It wanted to escape, to roam the streets again and claim victims. You really tried your hardest to keep it locked up, now that your back with your family, you didn't want to disappoint them and disappear again.

Jason understood best. The way blood called to him, the way anger sat just beneath the surface, waiting to be set free. He didn’t judge when your hands shook, when your breathing turned shallow with restraint. He sat with you in silence, grounding you in the weight of his presence.

Tim found ways to help. Chemical suppressants, neurological blockers—nothing perfect, but enough to give you moments of peace. He worked tirelessly, sifting through research, determined to find an answer, always working to find a way to help you.

Dick didn’t flinch. He smiled, he talked, he touched—a hand on your back, a ruffle of your hair, small reminders that you weren’t something to be feared. That you were still you. Still his brother, part of the family and someone he held deeply in his heart.

Damian trained with you. Pushed you to exhaustion, forced you to focus, to control. There was no pity in his eyes, only expectation. "You will master this", he said, "because you are my brother."

Duke stayed close. Light in the dark. A reminder that there was still something human in you, still something worth saving. He alway spoke words of encouragement.

Bruce watched. Always watching. But not with fear. Not with disappointment.

With patience.

With understanding.

He grounded you like no other, a calming presence, always ready to catch you if you should fall.

They built safeguards. Created plans. And when the hunger grew stronger and you felt like you would break, they were there, ready to put you back together.

That was all you could ever ask for.

Everything you needed.

Your family

[bulgingforbucky]

When You Don't Push, He Pulls

NSFW Warning: Car sex, Comfort sex, Crying, Unprotected sex Summary: You've been stressed for days and Bucky wants to help you. Uhh well, this was gonna be a more... rough fic but I was listening to the neighborhood (alleyways specifically) and it got me into my feelings 🧍🏾‍♀️I shouldn't have taken this much time to write this.

Opening the door to the car you put your things in the back seat before closing the door and opening the front door. You get in the car closing the door before your eyes meet with Bucky's soft ones before it turns into concern. A raspy soft "Hi," comes from you greeting him while his fingers drum on the steering wheel. "Hey," he responded hearing the tone along with your nibbling on your lip as soft music plays in the background. Bucky knows you've been having a rough couple of days, you're a strong woman you can take a lot of things but it is constant, anyone could break under the stress.

Thinking to himself, he could either stay quiet and act like everything is alright. Eventually, time will only know when your feelings will start to unfold on their own. The other option is he could talk to you now asking how your day was and if you are ok. Ninety percent of the time if he asks if you're ok knowing that you're not will cause you to cry right there. He doesn't want to see you cry, but he has told you countless of times to stop bottling everything up. That's rich coming from him. His hand meets your back as he slowly comforts you hearing a sigh emerge from you.

"I didn't have a good day," you admit as your eyes become glossy looking down. Bucky looks at you before he grabs your hand squeezing it, "It's ok to have a bad day." You nod, "I guess," your voice strains as you resist crying, but tears roll down your face regardless. "Hey c'mere," Bucky whispers pulling you over to him and sitting you onto his lap adjusting his seat back. His arms embrace you hearing your sniffles, he rocks you side to side slowly while staying silent.

"I'm tired and my heart hurts," you whisper to him sniffling softly feeling defeated. Your body and mind are tired; everything is making you tired. A tingle is felt underneath your hot skin from Bucky's hand rubbing your back tugging on your shirt feeling the heat come from you. "Everything is fine you're ok, don't think about anything, it's only you and me." He whispers to you turning on the air to cool you down as well as turning up the music just a little.

"Just listen to the music," he suggests as he holds you against him. Listening to his advice, you listen to the music breaking it down from the tempo to the vocals and beat. You tend to not focus on your breathing as it'll just make your heartbeat faster, so instead you listen to Bucky's. Your eyes blink slowly as a tear falls from your eye traveling over your nose to your other cheek. The ache in your heart grows slightly causing you to cling to Bucky while he constantly rubs and pats your back to help you.

It's just us. It always is.

Bucky's voice is low as he hums the lyrics to the song causing your mind to relax. This isn't the first time this has happened; he has done this plenty of times for you. The last time he did this was a week ago. Bucky has a calming voice, it's smooth and raspy but it can be soothing to anyone. Leaning forward towards you, his expression is soft as you look into his blue eyes. Reaching out to you he slowly wiped the tears off your cheek before placing soft kisses on your wet skin. A sigh escapes you at his caring actions leaning into his touch yearning for more of what he has to offer. And what does Bucky Barnes have to offer you?

Everything.

Pulling away from you he takes in your tear-stained face before you hesitate to lean in brushing your lips against his. He kisses you softly feeling you relax against him; his metal hand holds the back of your neck in a soft firm grip. A soft whimper comes from you getting overwhelmed by your boyfriend's touch and just him in general. You feel his tongue swipe the bottom of your lip making you slightly part your lips for him. The feeling of his warm wet tongue enters your mouth, and you can't help but moan at the feeling.

The heat in your bodies start to rise as the seconds go by. You pull away from him panting softly feeling him place a kiss on your chin. "Want more?" He asks slowly in a whispered tone just as he analyzes your expression before he presses a kiss to your nose. Fear immediately strikes you making you look around at your surroundings, "Buck someone is going to see us." The possibility of getting caught is something you do not feel like dealing with right now. "No one is going to see us," Bucky tells you confidently reassuring you to soothe your worries.

"And how do you know that?" you scoff at his comment.

"Look around," he says somewhat bluntly as you look at your surroundings.

The windows are tinted, and it's dark outside.

"Oh," you mumble hearing a chuckle coming from him. "So, do you want me to continue, or do you want me to drive us back home, and when we get to our room, I can give you a bubble bath. We can relax and I can give you a massage, whatever you want," He caresses your thigh as he throws out that suggestion. "Well, why can't we continue and then do what you said after?" You ask softly before turning your attention from outside to him. He smiles before giving you a nod wanting to boost your mood any way he knows how, "Whatever you want baby."

The dark-haired man presses kisses to your forehead, his big arms that's shown by his rolled-up sleeves wrap around your waist giving you a small squeeze. The kisses transfer to your cheek traveling towards your jaw before he sucks gently. You bite your lip feeling his stubble pressed up onto you in which you grip his shirt. His soft kisses look travels to your neck also making dark marks on your skin. "You smell good doll," his voice muffled as he kissed your neck.

The hem of your shirt gets tugged on causing you to pull away giving him space to take it off. "You sure?" He asks to make sure you're certain about your decision. A nod is given in response as you quickly wipe your tears. He starts to take off your shirt pulling it over your head and putting it in the passenger seat. Small kisses are placed along your chest while his hands find the clasp of your bra unhooking it. The hand of the veteran starts to slide the straps down your shoulder placing a kiss on it as your breasts are revealed to him.

Bucky's thumbs make contact with your nipples rubbing them slowly and making them harden under his touch. He gives your breasts a soft squeeze before leaning down as his mouth slowly latches on one of your nipples. The feeling of the suction from his mouth makes you moan gripping his hair. "Bucky, c'mon please," you arch into his touch desperately wanting more of him. Bucky gives your sensitive nipple a tug with his mouth before he pulls off you, "What do you want baby?"

"I need more, please?" You beg desperately squirming a little in your lap. He chuckles at your tone, "Don't worry, I got you," his fingers fiddle with the button of your pants following the action by unzipping them. You lift your hips while his hands pull down the waistband of your pants and underwear as he pulls them off your legs one by one. Your pants are thrown to the side before he grips your thighs spreading them slowly making your cheeks get warm. "Don't get all shy on me doll you wanted this," he tenderly exclaims giving you a soft kiss.

Your hand reaches for his flesh one guiding him in between your legs to your clit shyly. He starts to rub your clit making you moan softly feeling the instant tingles planting kisses on your forehead. Your cunt starts to pulse under his touch eager for more making your body temperature rise. His middle finger teases your slit feeling it clench against his finger making him smirk slightly, "I know what you need doll we'll get there I promise." The finger that's pressed against you starts to push against you as your body almost immediately invites him in. Your body starts to get invaded as the motions on your bundle of nerves is continued. A whimper escapes your throat as his finger proceeds to get deeper making your body squeeze around his finger.

Bucky starts to move his hand pumping his digit slowly in and out of your pussy. The feeling of his finger filling you makes your mouth drop open as moans start to escape from you. Your thighs quiver from the feeling, "That's my girl, look at how well you're doing. Such a good girl." Your eyes roll back as he curls his finger pressing it up against your g-spot. Soft mewls are coming from you as he continues his ministrations on your clit and pussy. "I-I can't-" Your breath gets caught in your throat as the feeling of his finger and your clit starts to get overwhelming.

You whine trying to wiggle your hips away from his touch making him stop. His metal hand holds down your hips keeping them in place, "Where are you going huh? If you're acting like this now, how do you expect to take my cock hm?" You rock your hips trying to chase the pleasure he was giving him before you receive a slap on your thigh. "Answer me doll," Bucky demands firmly. "I'll be able to take it, I can take it now. I want it now," you beg for him making him smirk in satisfaction.

He pulls his hand away giving you small kisses on your nose. You get pushed back a little so Bucky can tug down his sweatpants to his thighs revealing his dark grey briefs. A large tent is revealed causing you to lick your lips before you see him palming himself. Soft groans come from him as he touches his aching bulge, you reach down hooking your fingers around his waistband as you tug on them. He chuckles softly before he stops touching himself reaching down in his underwear and pulling his cock out. Your eyes widen slightly seeing his thick veiny cock with a bead of precum seen spurting a little out his tip.

No matter how many times you seen him like this you're amazed every time.

"See what you do to me, sweet girl? You got me all hard and aching for you," he breathes heavily. His cock is held in his hand stroking it slowly as you bite your lip watching the veins pop out. "Bucky, c'mon," you whine impatiently making him laugh at your behavior. You reach out grabbing his hand wanting him to touch you, "I need it." Bucky leans forward connecting his lips to yours kissing you softly, "I know." He grabs your hips lifting you up before positioning his cock in between your folds. He teases you rubbing his tip against you, the slickness of your arousal coats his shaft causing it to twitch.

He pushes his tip in, and your body slowly accepts him as his hands hold your hips still. He continues pushing into you, the stretch makes you gasp slightly feeling the sting as he keeps going. Once he's fully sheathed in you, his flesh hand rests on the back of your head gently, "It's okay, I'm here." Your nails dig into his shoulder blades feeling his lips on your neck, "I can feel you," you whisper to him feeling his length twitch inside of you. Bucky pulls out halfway before thrusting into you making your mouth drop open in a silent moan.

"Fuck," you whimper feeling the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you. His lips trail kisses along your collarbone and jaw, "Feels good doesn't it." You nod in response, and the hand on the back of your head moves to the front of your neck squeezing lightly. Your cunt squeezes him as you're already getting emotional. "I got you, you know I do," he whispers to you placing a kiss on your chin and rubbing you're back. You start to grind down on his cock as your mind starts to daze, the pleasure of his cock fills your mind. His hand on your hip is gripping you hard, and the other remains wrapped around your neck.

You sniffle softly; tears start to pool in your eyes. His metal hand reaches up wiping them away, "I know," Bucky knows everything, he knows what you're feeling. His hands slither down to your ass gripping it softly moving you on your cock. "Bucky," a mewl comes from you as he moves you back and forth on his cock sending a shiver down your spine from the pleasure. He moves a little faster hitting deeper in you making you gasp as he presses his lips onto yours. "Bucky," his name falls from your lips in a whisper once more as he presses his forehead onto yours.

His fingers dig into your hips as you know it will be a bruise there later, "Sweet girl you're stressed I know." Bucky coos giving you kisses on your temple feeling you clench around him. You grip the seat as you whimper feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of you. Moans emerge from you as you grip his dark blue shirt with your other hand your tears staining it leaning more into his chest as if it's your safe place. "Breathe doll," his tone is deep and low as you nod. He pumps his hips slowly enjoying the feeling of being inside of you, "You're my good girl. Taking my cock like this, hm? Such a good girl, my sweet girl I love you so much."

Your moans become louder at his praise, the feeling of his cock filling you up and the words coming out of his mouth has your body melting. Tears fall down your face once again making him wipe them away before he starts to pick up his pace. Your eyes widen as you gasp softly at his faster pace. He grunts lowly, "You feel so good." You start to pant at the new speed he's going, and the sounds of skin slapping and wetness echo through the car as it rocks. The heat in the car rises as both of your bodies are getting hotter. Your hand that's gripping the seat moves to grip the door handle; the window is fogging up due to the heat of the situation. You moan as your body squeezes his cock making him groan.

Everything around you is hazy as your feeling sensitive and vulnerable right now. Bucky's hands touching, caressing, squeezing you all over. You cry out softly as his tip rubs against your sweet spot repeatedly, your breasts bounce with every thrust of his hips as he watches them hungrily. He dives forward sucking on one of your nipples making you let out a high-pitched whine, his teeth graze over it causing the coil in your stomach to tighten.

His metal arm tightens around you as he keeps pumping into you giving you what you need. "Bucky, I'm going to come," you cry out softly, the heat in your abdomen getting too hot for you to handle. "I know, I can feel you. Come for me," his deep voice says against your tit as he pumps his hips making his abs flex. The rush of pleasure goes through your body making you let out a sob as tears fall down your face. Bucky grunts feeling you clench and unclench around him as your release coats his cock; he lets go of your breast and presses his forehead against yours.

You feel his cock twitching inside of you as he continues pumping into you. A growl rumbles from his throat, his metal arm squeezes you as he pushes deep into you as his cock spurts ropes of cum inside of you. Your legs shake from the pleasure, and the sound of his soft groans in your ear has goosebumps appearing on your arms. You lean into him giving him a kiss as he kisses you back holding you to him. He pulls his hips back and slowly his softening cock slides out of you. The sound of a low grunt comes from him as he places his hand on your back giving you one last kiss on your forehead.

[coffeeaddictbluebird]

Limbo - Charles Leclerc

Summary: Charles invites her to dinner, and she doesn't know how to feel about it. WC: 0.85K Warning: None. Genre: Angst + Fluff

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“Next time, instead of feeding me, answer me. Tell me whether we are breaking up.”  Her words kept repeating in his head. If he was being honest, the possibility that what they were going through was a break up, had never hit him. He had thought maybe some space was what they needed. Even though he didn’t seem to want or need it.

It was not the first time they had fought, after all. But as he stared at the message on his phone, he could not shake off the profound realisation that maybe this time was different. What was he thinking? They hadn’t been on talking terms for well over two weeks. Well, that was only if you counted the non-work related talking. Professionally, they couldn't avoid each other. After all, she is his race engineer. Maybe that was why he took her for granted. He realises his mistake now. As he pays the bill, he just hopes it’s not too late.

He finds her not too far from the restaurant. It always annoys him that she walks for miles in those heels of hers without realising sometimes. But today, just for today, he is thankful for it. As he catches up to her, he does not take a second to think about the fact that their relationship has always been private. He just does what his heart tells him to do. And at that moment, the only thing it wanted, was her in his arms.

So he embraces her. His arms encircle her abdomen as he gently rests his head in the crook of her neck. It catches her off-guard for a moment, but she lets him, and he is hit with yet another realisation. It has been too long. Too fucking long. How had he ever managed to live this long without her touch, he did not know. After all, he was barely surviving these days. So he says everything that has been on his mind ever since he sat her down to eat in that restaurant.

“I will never tell you that. How can you even be so cruel as to demand that from me?” He mumbles in her neck. “All this while, not once had I thought about the possibility that this was a break up, nor do I want to.”

He can hear her sigh. He can feel it in the palms that rest on her abdomen. She is frantically looking around, trying to see whether people are paying attention to them. But the advantage of working late hours is that it’s way too late in the night, and way too dark for people to possibly care about who’s embracing who.

“I never said I wanted to break up, honey.” She doesn’t want to cry, but her tear glands betray her as a traitorous drop slips, falling on to the back of his palm. If he notices the wetness, he doesn’t say it.

“But you implied it.” If it was possible to get drunk in just her scent, he would have been drunk by now. Every perfume she applied, she somehow always managed to make it hers. Even his perfumes smelled better on her.

“No, I wasn’t trying to. I’m sorry if you felt that way.” She felt him shake his head, her collarbone starting to feel wet.

“You aren’t the one who should be apologising. I am sorry that we keep fighting. I am not going to blame it on work. If anything, you work way more than I do, and you don’t fuck up.” She could feel his grip tighten, her arms finally wrapping around him, slotting her fingers through his. A few people passed by occasionally. Some of them turned around out of curiosity, but there was no way to see his face with it almost buried in her neck. They simply moved along, unaware of who it was.

“I am sorry that I keep fucking it up. I know I haven’t helped my case these past couple weeks, but there is nothing that I wish more than ending every day in your arms. I don’t want to break up with you. Not today, not tomorrow, and not in a million years. I promise I will try to be better. Just please, come back home.” She chuckled as his sniffles due to the snot in his nose.

“I am home, honey. Right here.” She nuzzles her face in his hair. “And we both know I haven’t been the easiest to be around either. I am sorry for being so difficult.” He shakes his head, as if to convey that it wasn’t her fault.

“Can we stop apologising now?” She nods, letting go of his hand to wipe at his eyes. Turning around, she buries her head in his chest, letting her tears dry. The lights at the restaurant shut off and the man shakes his head at them, locking the front doors. They don’t know how long they stay there, in the middle of the road, letting it get quiet as the moon shines down on them.

“Je t’aime.” He whispers.

“Ti amo.” She replies.

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my work. Please like, reblog and follow for more content. Please click on the link for Chapter 1. Requests are open, so I would love it if you guys drop an ask about what you want.

[disco-cola]

i'm so gonna rant about luigi now but something that has been on my mind for the past few days ever since reading the response letter (def his handwriting so i have no doubt) recently that the receiver has published - and whereas i know he should be granted at least SOME privacy and not every response letter has to be published, i think he himself is aware that this COULD happen when he chooses to respond, and in this case he might have counted on it - when he wrote how hard the solitary confinement was and worded it that he was "picked up at mcdonalds for the heinous crime of ordering a hashbrown." it really had me take a step back and re-evaluate the whole situation. like for one yeah i get it. i've been following the case since hour 0 as well, loved all the memes and tiktoks that came out between december 4 and december 9 of people completely denying their help to authorities and coming together even BEFORE he was arrested as a suspect cause even though i am not american i know about the fucked up healthcare system so i understood the reactions and supported it wholeheartedly. and when i first saw that mugshot i was also on my knees and yeah the looks and specificially the - alleged! - motivations to do something like this definitely played together and also had me thirsting over someone who usually wouldnt be in my realm of interest. but seriously what if it REALLY wasnt him and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? he pleaded not guilty to the charges on december 23. i see why people have doubts about the arrest situation in altoona, pa and think evidence like the "manifesto" and even the gun could have been planted because authorities were under pressure after 5 days of not catching anyone. would my support stop? his disappearance and what he posted on social media like goodreads has totally backfired on him. but like just for my tumblr and instagram posts alone even *I* could be framed in a situation like that and i would have "motives." how horrifying must this entire ordeal be if you're accused and pre-convicted by several politicians and mainstream media and even some of your own supporters by always linking you to the crime and calling you the "patron saint of healthcare" and things like that. like HOW is he supposed to get a fair trial for which the main basis would be the presumption of innocence if even some supporters cant stop linking him to the crime and have made him into the poster boy for vigilante justice?

i get why memes and thirst traps are popular because i also have eyes and see, no matter if he did it or not, that he's conventionally attractive and some really ARE funny but at this point i cant laugh about many others at all anymore because it goes to show some people are so superficial and turn a real life person into a fictional character. like he's part of some viral netflix crime show you can just tune into when it's convenient. but like that man's day still has 24 hours even when he's not being photographed and going viral on social media and he's spending all of them incarcerated in awful conditions at the rathole that is MDC brooklyn for something he might not have even done. like i can only begin to imagine being in that situation and fearing i may never get out of there or get even unalived by the government and it gives me a panic attack just trying to imagine.

anyway what i wanna say is there (sadly) wont be jury nullification on the basis of "justified murder" cause brian thompson was a greedy corporate asshole who made millions as the CEO of a company that denied claims of the suffering and sick, the toxic system we are trapped in only plays in favor of criminals like donald trump who protect the fellow rich, BUT there might be the possibility of jury nullification on the basis of expressing and providing the reasons for REASONABLE DOUBT that he never was the shooter to begin with. and thats my point. if you wanna see luigi go free, give him the benefit of the doubt. YES the U.S. healthcare system is fucked up and we need to keep talking about that. but if you actually wanna see luigi go free start to separate the two topics and stop to inevitably link him to healthcare and in result the crime and start to point out his right to the presumption of innocence for the upcoming trials, federal and state alike. they WILL drag these out IMMENSELY. dont lose focus. and thats all i have to say about that.

[thefrenchydude]

ML chapter 3 - THE PEACH’S RETURN

(Thanks to erosnocturne for this chapter)

Macaque has to wait until Wukong is between visitors before he slinks into the grand room, slipping out of a shadow to walk alongside the king once he leaves his throne.

“You and I both know who that was.”

They have yet to actually speak about it, and of course Macaque is the one to broach the subject.

Of course, it isn’t like they really need to talk about it. Not for clarification reasons. As Macaque said, they both know very well who that was. Who it is. There’s no way not to. What they felt… it was just something that made them know. There’s no possible way to describe that recognition. The way they felt tugged towards him, knowing deep down how intrinsically tied together their fates were.

What a fortune, to be immortal, and have your lover reborn after the tragedy of losing them, so that you may never truly know a day where you do not find each other again.

It can only be for one reason, can’t it?

“Obviously,” the Monkey King replies, his tone flippant.

Wukong does not deny his friend’s claims, nor does he shy away from the topic. Not when he knows him so deeply.

Not when he knows what this conversation is leading into.

It’s easier for both of them this way, anyway. Especially when both feel so impatient to have their hands on their lover again, regardless of their new form.

It’ll be more than pleasant to experience the first time exploring [Name]’s body all over again.

“Then you know I have a way to lead him here?”

As expected of a demon, Macaque worked fast. Especially when he has something he wants and a goal in mind.

“Perfect. We can take him when he arrives.”

… Of course, Wukong is being far too hasty again. It is as though he learned nothing from last time.

The thought is enough to twist Macaque’s expression into a discontent frown.

“... No. We can not just take him this time. Do you remember how well that went for us?”

“Good?”

How a man can be so wise and yet so incredibly daft at the same time will always astonish the dark-furred simian. Really, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven can not be so genuinely oblivious, can he? The monkey has to be playing him for a fool.

With great (aggravated) patience, Macaque responds, his tail curling behind him. “No. It was not ‘good’. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Maybe he isn’t all that patient about it, seeing as how he is so quick to adopt a more sardonic tone. “Peaches did not trust us for a very long time. And even when they did, they were haunted by what happened. Do you know how many nights I had to hold them together on my own?”

It would be a lie, however, to say, to some extent, Macaque did not enjoy it. The love of his life venting to him, relying on him, trusting him with their weakest moments. It is something he wants to experience again and again. To hold them in his arms and listen to them. To comfort them.

But that does not mean he wants to inflict that pain upon them. Even with how much he adores taking care of them in his own way, it would not do to needlessly traumatize them when such a thing can be avoided. There is no reason they have to suffer in this life the same way they had in the previous.

He needs [Name]. Macaque knows that Wukong needs him, too. So he can understand the impatience.

He also understands that he can not turn a blind eye to Wukong’s behaviors, if it means he can prevent things from playing out exactly as they had before.

The Monkey King is silent, a frown matching Macaque’s, brows drawn together in thought. Which, at the very least, means that he is genuinely listening to his darker companion’s words and rolling them over in his mind, contemplating.

Taking this as a good sign, Macaque continues. “We were too careless last time.” Which really meant he thought Wukong had been too careless. But throwing around blame would be counterproductive to his desires right now. He doesn’t need pushback from his friend on this. “We have to be more thoughtful about our approach this time. We shouldn’t risk his peace of mind.”

Wukong sighs, agreeing with his friend’s assessment of the situation. He knows his ways have caused much strife with [Name] in lives past. Over and over and over again.

He wants to change, for them, if for nothing else. Even if it means…. Suffering the idea of that insufferable fool touching the man Wukong knows is truly his. That miserable, weak little human who will not be able to protect him as well as Wukong can.

“... Fine. But you better know what you’re doing.” The words come out more light-hearted than his previous behavior, and Macaque laughs, relaxing as they carry on with their walk.

“When don’t I?”

***

Mr. [Name] [Surname]

諸侯

Auroria Centre, ███████ █████

May this letter find you in good health. Your presence has been requested for the sake of discussing this city’s future in more detail. I enjoyed our previous conversation a great deal. Your insight will be helpful. Perhaps, with your help, we may find ways to make protecting this home of ours more simple.

As you may know, it is exceedingly useful to have someone on the inside. While we are more than capable of protecting you from threats on the outside, it is difficult to know what is going on within the city’s walls when we have no time to frequent it on our own. Please think of anything you have noticed for our meeting. I implore you to hold nothing back. It is imperative that anything important gets brought up so that we may find a way to combat it. This can be anything, from more minor issues to more severe discoveries. Petty theft from specific types of vendors. An uptick in violent activity. Organized crime. Even just squabbles between your most influential figures.

I have my utmost faith that you will know what I mean. I look forward to holding your company once more. Dress as you will. Your compliance and cooperation are greatly appreciated. And I again apologize for my daughter’s behavior at the gathering. Hopefully, this opportunity will more than make up for it. A carriage will arrive on ███ ██████ at █ ██████ ████ ████.

Yours Faithfully,

Liu’er Mihou

***

“Yes, yes. I’ll be careful, love.”

[Name] laughs as Lex fusses over him, feeling quite flattered by all of the attention from his husband.

It isn’t like the man neglects him. Lex is a very busy man, given his position in the city.

One he has worked quite hard to get to. And, now that he has it, it is one that will continue to work him to the bone.

[Name] wonders what the man would do without him.

Sure, he would thrive; he’s an intelligent, compassionate, and ambitious individual. But sometimes, he can’t help but worry about the way he runs himself dogged. It isn’t terribly uncommon for [Name] to have to coax his husband into relaxing and taking some time away from his duties.

“I wish I could go with you.”

[Name]’s heart flutters, as though he is falling in love for the first time all over again.

It is impossible to fall out of your affections for a man who seems to show you time and time again why you adore him so.

“Nonsense. You have so many errands to run around with as it is. It’s nice to do something for you.”

[Name] doesn’t miss the way Lex’s face warms at his words, the attractive man moving around the room to pick up a few furs, holding them up to [Name] and staring really hard, trying to match accessories to the outfit that he also helped [Name] pick out for this upcoming meeting.

It’s so cute how excited he gets when it comes to helping style [Name]’s wardrobe.

“You help me so much just by existing as you are.”

This pulls another laugh out of [Name]. “Charmer.”

He’s met with a cheeky grin in response. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

“You may have to up your game one day, if you flatter me so often.”

Lex holds a hand up to his chest, acting dramatically stricken by this information before turning to toss one of the more clashing necklaces he had in mind to the side, snatching up a simplistic watch instead and returning to [Name]’s side, offering it so that they may put it on.

“Hm… you know. Now that I think about it, he requested you quite quickly, did he not?”

[Name] secures the watch around his wrist. “Perhaps it is urgent for them. I must have been quite the convenient find…”

Lex grins. “You were for me.”

“Oh? So I’m just convenient now?”

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” 

[Name] chuckles, deciding to stop teasing his poor husband, leading the way towards the foyer. “But, really, I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. I’ll make sure to fill you in on everything when I get back.”

“Ohh, giving me something to look forward to when I finish up today’s work, huh?”

They continue to banter as time passes, words coming easily between the lovebirds. Unfortunately, Lex must depart before [Name] does so that he can tend to some important business or other, leaving [Name] alone in their home.

As the time for the meeting draws ever nearer, [Name] makes sure to collect his thoughts, thinking back on the letter and recollecting as much as he can about his grievances and woes as he can. Everything on the inside that needs to be fixed.

Much of what he witnessed being pulled from his own… experiences in the dark underbelly of what lies in this city of theirs.

If this can get them even a single step closer to the future he and Lex envisions, he will do whatever he can for it.

Ah.

It’s time.

Leaving the estate, [Name] looks around, his eyes landing on…

A horse-drawn carriage?

That’s a little inconvenient, isn't it? They have cars. Which would get them wherever they need to go much faster, and with much less uncertainty.

[Name] always found horses to be fickle little creatures.

The romantic implications of such a thing does not even cross [Name]’s mind. Figuring the simian must just be of a more eccentric and less practical sort, he heads on over, allowing the servant to help him on in (even though he feels as though he could have climbed in all on his own quite fine).

He will not make the servant’s job harder, though. Especially not when he struggles to forget the tales of the warriors’ rage others have woven.

On the off chance that they are really so capable of such cruelty, he does not wish to bring another harm simply by being fussy over something so small. He still needs to discover what type of person their protectors are for himself.

When he gets into the carriage, he is met with the sight of the Six-Eared Macaque leaning against the opposite side of the interior, his tail resting in his lap.

The door shuts behind him, and [Name] settles into his seat before opening his mouth to speak.

“Your Highness-”

With a flick of his tail and a wave of his hand, Macaque interrupts him. “Ah, ah. What did I say about all of those formalities, hm?”

With the teasing tone in his voice, the easy grin on his face, and the way his body remains so lax, [Name] can not help but note that it feels as though he is being treated as a long-time friend.

Perhaps those rumors are untrue. He can not imagine such a laid-back demon being the type to lash out so very easily.

“... Right. Macaque-” The grin on the dark-furred demon’s face widens, the monkey pleased at hearing his name on his beloved’s lips once more. It has been less than a month since they last met, and yet it feels like an eternity stretched before them. “-is there anywhere in particular you are planning for us to go?” The letter had said to dress as he would like (he also isn’t quite sure why he had received such a formal letter… Perhaps demons did not enjoy technology quite as much? Or maybe it was some tradition he had yet to learn about), but if they’re going anywhere public, he knows his image does matter quite a bit.

Though being seen with Liu’er Mihou alone is a big social boost in and of itself.

“Hm… not at all. We may stop by the market, but I just find it far more comfortable to have some nice scenery go by as we talk.” When Macaque says that, the carriage begins to move.

[Name] supposes that makes sense. A carriage is always moving, and private enough that other ears can not overhear their conversation.

Nodding along, [Name] responds with a small “I have never done so before”.

“There’s a first time for everything.” And the simian is more than happy to take any of his firsts that he can get. It already eats at him to know that he has a husband in this life. One that is not him.

When the time comes, that will be rectified.

He just has to make sure [Name] will neither hate him for it, nor be all too distraught about it. It would go against what he had spoken with Wukong about if he went ahead and caused their peach so much mental distress.

He does share Sun Wukong’s… feelings towards that other man’s existence, however.

That is only natural. Nobody would be all that pleased about seeing their partner with another.

Even if the partner does not yet know who they are truly meant to spend their life with quite yet.

Knowing he should push the conversation along lest [Name] potentially grow suspicious of his motives, the simian changes the topic. “Have you thought on my letter’s contents?”

Ah. [Name] had been wondering when Macaque would bring that up. He didn’t want to rush into the subject himself and risk offending the demon.

“I have. Is there anywhere you would desire for me to start?”

“Whatever comes to your mind is more than fine. Speak as you will. There’s no need to hold your tongue around me.”

Macaque doesn’t really care for human politics in the first place. It isn’t like he is oblivious to what they are like. The things they squabble over. The nature of humanity itself.

But if it gets him closer to [Name] in this lifetime, he will have to play along. He just needs more reasons to keep up this correspondence…

And helping him with whatever his goals are right now will be more likely to get him to trust Macaque again. Maybe respark some of that love from before.

He’s already found a way in. Now, he just needs to maintain it.

“Well… there is this family who holds quite a bit of political sway-”

Though his husband is the mayor, it would be entirely untrue to say there weren’t still many other influential members of the community. If anything, a lot of individuals could be more so powerful than them. Not because of what they can do themselves, but very much due to the fact that they can sway the groups of people that follow what they say. Their opinions. What they think is best for their own…

It all gets a little tiring. There’s much to look after. People to rub elbows with. Relationships to maintain. Groups to appease. Still, [Name] finds himself in a game of survival. This one may be thoroughly less fatal than the one he had been entwined within before, but still a struggle nonetheless. His skill set had been honed to one thing for so long that solving problems without resorting to the same brutal methods as before is giving him a new learning curve.

He is not alone this time, though. Not in the way that matters. Mother could never supply him with the amount of… genuine love he gets from Lex. The love he feels towards Lex.

He would never go back, or trade it for anything.

In the meanwhile, Macaque is content to listen to [Name] speak. Which, really, feels like falling into an old routine.

He remembers many such times in their previous lives in which he lended [Name] his ears. Let him talk about anything he desired. Sat there to comfort him after he poured his heart out and crumpled afterwards.

Those specific memories could be bittersweet. It’s never pleasant to see the love of your life in so much pain. In those lives, the issues that weighed on [Name]’s heart would chip away at him, haunting his mind when they were least desired.

Listening to him now reminds him of happier moments. Times where [Name] had shown him something he was so genuinely interested in. Hobbies he spent his time partaking in. Moments in time where they were able to exist, as lovers, without anything dampening their spirits. Thinking of nothing but each other’s company.

Those were the moments he lived for the most. The ones he’s so desperate to get right back into. There’s the slightest twitch in his tail, and he notices [Name]’s gaze flit to it. Though it is with an expression he is not quite used to.

Curiosity? It doesn’t look that open… more closed off. Maybe he is just taking note of the movement?

That’d make sense. In this life, unfortunately, he is a stranger to the darling sitting just inches from him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to shower in all of the affections he is so desperate to douse him in.

And yet, he has enough sense not to. He knows very well that this may put [Name] off. Be too forward. Like he has convinced Wukong, they need to take this slow.

Sometimes convincing Wukong is easier than convincing himself.

Trying to shake off his mounting frustrations, the dark-furred simian’s gaze trails along [Name]’s body, looking past the general reverence he feels towards his love, doing his own observations now.

Yes, [Name] looks so very different than he did before. But they have done this enough times that it is to be expected. The first time it happened, it had taken them by surprise — which was putting it mildly. But every time, it shocked them less and less. Though it still hurt whenever they lost him, it was relieving to know that they would show up again.

That they really can spend eternity together.

No matter how many times the body changes, at the core of [Name], he is still theirs. Still the same peach they pampered, adored, and devoted so much of their passion to. The one they spent all of their free time doting on whenever possible. The one they want to spoil rotten.

What he looks for is not purely the physical difference. This time, he is looking for… a similarity. Different enough from the lives before that it is entirely new, and yet familiar enough that he should be able to tell what it is.

The heaviness of something burdening his mind. Macaque can not help but wonder if, even without their intervention here, [Name] has been plagued by something that will never leave him alone. Something that will always take place in the darkest corners of his mind, hoarding it from the monkeys and infecting the rest of his psychological well-being.

Like so many times before…

The thing he wants to avoid afflicting upon [Name]... The idea of someone else already traumatizing him has Macaque feeling waves of aggression rolling up his spine. It is a struggle to keep his fur perfectly in check, not wanting his body language to express any sudden changes. It would be difficult to explain away such a thing.

He has no doubt that he could do it, but it’s still better to be safe than sorry. Always is, when [Name] is in the picture.

As such, a gentle smile crosses the simian’s face instead, and he waits until [Name] has finished filling him in on what they have deemed noteworthy before speaking. “... You’re quite knowledgeable on all of this, aren’t you? I must say, your passion for this is a rather charming trait.”

The tone in this compliment gives [Name] a brief pause. He is unsure if he is interpreting it correctly.

Is the Six-Eared Macaque flirting with him?

He can’t be.

Not only do they have the whole… demon and human compatibility thing going on, but Macaque knows he is a married man. And [Name] is faithful to his husband. There’s no way he’d throw all of that away for…

For what?

He is only here for his husband, anyway. There’s nothing he personally gains from this. Even if there’s a weird twinge in his chest, he imagines it has to be from something else. A physical issue, maybe. Because getting emotional here would not make a lick of sense. As far as he is concerned, he has no reason to be all that emotional about this.

Shaking the nonsense from clouding his head, [Name] puts on a bit of a discomfited smile, his chuckle a weary one that does not escape Macaque’s notice. “Thank you… You are very generous with your praise. I can only hope the information I am giving you is useful?”

“Very.” Macaque doesn’t miss a beat, his response coming naturally. “You’re already such a great help.” He has to work in those seeds of this being a recurring thing. Of them seeing each other again.

Of them spending more and more time together.

Of [Name] spending more and more time away from Lex.

Because that man is the only reason [Name] would toss off his little flirtations.

He glances to the side, and the carriage pulls to a stop. “Ah. We’ve made it to the market!”

The simian is the first to slip out, though he takes his time afterwards to help [Name] exit. His hand is larger than [Name]’s on, and the ex-assassin can’t help but notice another strange feeling pass through him. From the contact? Maybe.

Still, though, this whole thing feels… a little silly, on some level. He is a grown man — and he is not exceptionally dainty whatsoever. He is capable of leaving a cart on his own. He can’t fathom why the simian here is paying so much attention to him. It is nice to know he is keeping the favor of someone in power, but it is all a bit much.

The entire carriage, especially. They really could have just opted for a car…

As they walk, [Name] tosses a glance at the stalls they pass by before his attention returns fully to Macaque. “Anything you’re on the look-out for?”

“Hm?” Macaque realizes [Name] is asking about his desire to actually purchase something here, and he adds a quick amendment to that answer. “A bit of window shopping should be fun, right? We can walk and talk!”

[Name] doesn’t think this is any better than the carriage. Even if it was over-the-top, the carriage had far more privacy. They would be heavily restricted in exactly what they could say out here…

Regardless, he will play along with the simian’s whims, assuming he has a reason for all of this. Maybe it is one he does not know enough to understand. “Anything else you want me to brush you up on, then?”

Macaque makes a show of thinking. There’s a tilt to his head, his furred hand coming up to his chin.

“Hmmm…” While he hasn’t been tuning out the love of his life, exactly, he doesn’t really… care too much for the human politics. Just for the sound of [Name]’s voice. Thinking about it makes him anxious to wrap his tail around the other’s arm. Intwine himself with them. Be closer to him. 

Forcing himself to get back on track before he gets ahead of himself, he knows he needs something to latch onto. Something to use as an excuse. But nothing in particular stands out. It all sounds… about what you might expect from the typical political games. Nothing too outstanding.

Though it isn’t like he didn’t notice that [Name] seems particularly interested in making this place better. Maybe that would provide him a lead.

“I know you said a few times that you’re making an effort to get these people to accept a ‘big change’ here… What exactly is that looking like for you?”

Still, Macaque’s tone is pleasant and laid-back. One might expect a tone more akin to an interview, given that [Name] very much went into this with more… professional thoughts in mind. However, the way Macaque speaks to him, it is still as though they are long-time friends. His voice is warm, and he can tell that the simian is genuinely listening to him. That he is not just asking these questions due to it being the socially acceptable and polite thing to do.

He hesitates, though, unsure of how much he should say in public.

Unsure if they’re still listening. Keeping an eye on him. Waiting for a chance to punish him for getting away.

He would not be surprised, even if he doesn’t feel anyone watching them right now. You can never be too cautious.

He would know, given he was in their shoes before. You overhear plenty of things when people think nobody else is paying any attention.

“Well… there’s a lot of corruption in this city. Really, I just want to take care of it.” He wants to dig into the root of the problem and tear it out. But that is not the most elegant way to speak to one of the warriors protecting your city, now is it?

There’s an indecipherable smile on Macaque’s face when he nods along in response to this, as though he expects no less. “It’s a respectable thing to desire-” Before [Name] can decide whatever the emotions mixing together on Macaque’s face and wriggling their way into his tone are, something has caught the dark-furred simian’s eye, and he turns to a stall.

With the slightest tilt of his head, [Name] trails closer to see what he’s picking up.

A keychain. One with a very delicately crafted and painted peach adornment attached to the end, the chain a beautiful rose gold color.

Tossing money to the vendor, who looks relatively terrified of the warrior (likely because of how much of a ruckus those kids of theirs put up), doesn’t even count it, scrambling to store it away as Macaque begins walking with [Name] again, attention fully returning to him. He pushes the item into [Name]’s palm, as though this is a normal thing to do and their previous conversation hadn’t been cut off right in the middle of the simian speaking. “For you.”

“-?” Taken aback by this, [Name] feels his mind floundering to figure out what the simian’s motives with this can possibly be. It’s such odd behavior… “For what?”

Speaking still as though none of this is unnatural, Macaque gives a little wave of his hand as he responds, elaborating on his sudden gift. “Longevity. Perhaps it will give you some aid in your journey. Make sure your good fortune continues, and nothing bad comes your way.”

This, of course, is bullshit. Macaque just wants to give him a gift that reminds him of their previous lives together, and the newer one that awaits them. It is a way to abate his own ravenous desire for the man before him. A way to make sure he has something he gave him with him at all times.

If [Name] has any troubles, Macaque is plenty sure of his ability to take care of that on his own. [Name] didn’t need to rely on a charm for that.

[Name] takes this explanation, however, and nods. That makes sense. Even though it isn’t like this is a more traditional peach charm… He can understand the symbolism behind such a gift. And perhaps that is what matters, at the end of the day?

He can’t make sense of the confusing flustering in his chest, though.

“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.” He isn’t sure, either, whether he’s just being polite, or if some part of him genuinely believes that, as he slips the keychain into his pocket.

Macaque’s grin tells him that, at the very least, he said the right thing, given that the simian lets that part of the conversation drop there and returns to the previous one. “Though you really should come visit the palace. I can get you an audience with Wukong.” It would be nothing like a formal, traditional audience. Macaque knows that. Flower Fruit Mountain’s king is far more impatient than he, and he feels like he is constantly holding himself back here. He can only imagine how bad it is for Wukong. “You can work something out with him, hm?”

This is great news to [Name], though he falters. While the arrangement is amazing, it is not his job to do such things. This networking is for Lex. And it is Lex who is mayor.

“Well… My husband is the one who will be able to discuss it in more detail with Sun Wukong than I would be able to. It would only be right for him to go instead.”

Something dark passes over Macaque’s face, and his tail curls before lashing about a few times. It doesn’t take long for the warrior to get this in check, though, and his grin is a bit forced this time. Sharp.

The animosity, [Name] can vaguely tell, is not really aimed at him, however…

“... I understand. But you certainly must at least accompany him.”

Well. [Name] can do that. Of course.

This one, he agrees to in a heartbeat. “Absolutely. That’s arrangeable. I’ll just have to discuss it with him first.”

Another lash of the dark tail. “Great!”

It does not seem great. Especially since the rest of the meeting has an odd… tension that was not there before.

———   ———   ———

When Macaque makes it back to the palace, he brings his hands to his face and groans into them, tilting his head up.

Everything had gone so fine… Until that aggravating man was brought up. He knows they have to wait. To get [Name] away from him, bit by bit. To ease him into it, so that he won’t be quite so traumatized, like he had been in some other lives.

That does not make this easier. It keeps him from killing the man right here and now, but that does not mean it is an easy feat for the warrior. It takes a great amount of self-control.

He feels someone in the hall with him, and, as expected, when he looks, an exceptionally smug Sun Wukong greets his vision. “... You struggling over there, bud?” He knows damn well Macaque is struggling. And likely why.

“Shut up.”

[daisy-01-blog]

That ain’t my baby! (FWB! Gojo x fem! reader x Sukuna) 

A/N: Mentions of sex, light angst, fwb! Gojo, smut on chapter 2

Chapter 1.

It has been a week since Gojo replied to your text. You have spent every day wondering if he will text you. But there isn’t any of that familiar chime anytime now.

It’s usually like this; you thought you were already used to it. Turns out you aren’t. Not yet. 

Something like this isn’t healthy—you told yourself you’re only staying because the sex is good. But you know you’re denying yourself. You love him. 

Love is a huge thing for Gojo Satoru, who didn’t even have one for himself. 

He leads you on, but now that you adore him, he said that he didn’t want to put labels on things. 

It kills you, because you knew that you’re not the only person that he kept around. And it stresses you out, but you love his company. 

There isn’t any ‘I love you’ thrown around; you wonder if he didn’t feel it when he caressed your hair; you wonder if he didn’t feel it like you do.

“I’m not ready to commit,” he would say. He would leave you high and dry and then come back like there’s nothing wrong. 

He knows you have no one but him, so he’s certain you will always come back.

Well, what if he’s wrong for once?

You didn’t try calling him today, even though you know he will finally answer your calls and get over to your house to give you a good dicking, treat you like he loves you, and then leave in the morning. 

You can’t have that, not anymore.

You called the number your friend gave you and said she has someone she wants to introduce to you. 

“Hello?” 

***

You met him in the restaurant, and honestly, his appearance is very striking. 

Pink hair and tattoos all over his body. He also looks intimidating. 

His clothes are a simple black shirt with a leather jacket and jeans. You didn’t know whether to be scared or turned on. 

“Hello” he said, with a baritone voice that you knew is not made up. 

“Oh, hello,” you said shyly. You wore a cardigan over a blue dress. 

“You look pretty,” he smiled softly—which surprised you despite his appearance. “I hope I don’t bother you; I basically begged your friend to give my number to you,” he said. 

You blinked. “Wait, you did?” 

His ears redden. “Yeah, I suppose she doesn’t tell you,” he said softly. “Then we should just forget about it.” 

You chuckle, “I think it’s cute.” 

The date was fine, and you enjoyed your time with him. You smile as he asks you if you’d be interested in a second date. 

“Of course,” you said to him, “I would love to,” and you meant it.

You went back to your apartment and saw Gojo sitting on your couch.

“You didn’t call me,” he said, like a pouting kid. But you hate him now.

“Should I?” You said, “I’m a grown-up now; I don’t need to beg for a man’s attention.” 

He frowns; his mind is running. He’s not dumb; he knows you’re sick and tired of this chasing game. You’re wearing something nice, a dress. So a blind date, he reckons. And he can’t do anything about this since he’s the one who set this system up. 

“Wanna fuck?” he asked you.

He’s lucky you’re not that smart.

“Sure,” you shrugged.

Or are you?

[basilbots]

Enough

A ficlet about Bard (Ruin) and Eclipse reflecting on their relationship, takes place after they've settled into the EAPS dimension | Words 629

“I do nothing for you.”

Eclipse paused from where he was typing away on a project, glancing to the side. Bard was lounging in a beanbag chair they had dragged over to be near Eclipse while he worked, staring blankly at the ceiling. They twitched feeling Eclipse’s questioning gaze but did not look up to meet it. 

Eclipse frowned and rolled back from the computer, “What are you talking about?” 

Bard sat up, fierce red and gold eyes now timidly darting away before they could linger on him long, “You do so much for me and for what? I’ve- I told you once before I don’t do friends anymore!”

His words quickened and raised into an incredulous pitch, betraying an anxiousness that was absent the first time Bard cheerfully told him this “fact”. Eclipse wished he could say this was new behavior, but Bard had been more nervous and downtrodden as of late. This was just the first time they’ve actually given words to what they were so bothered about. 

“You’re being an idiot,” Eclipse started, frown deepening when Bard only flinched rather than give an offended glare like usual. Rays slowly spinning in thought he continued with a softer voice, “You do plenty for me.” 

Bard’s rays twitched at that. He stubbornly kept his gaze away from Eclipse, claws now digging into the beanbag. Silence was his response. 

Eclipse kept looking at him, “You invite me to tea parties to take my mind away from work. You talked to this Sun and Moon to prevent me from fucking up yet another relationship. You choose to spend every day close to me to keep me company even though I’m a jackass.” 

Bard couldn’t help but let out a laugh, quick and sharp. “Selfish! It’s all selfish, I was only trying to benefit myself and make my life easier. That’s all I do. Shouldn’t you know this by now, dear? Everyone else has put it together.”

There was no masking the bitterness that laced that last sentence, and Eclipse couldn’t help the wave of anger that washed over him. He tried not to stand up too aggressively and failed as Bard flinched again. But they finally met his eyes with a weary look, giving way to bafflement as Eclipse knelt down in front of him. “Selfish huh? Then I’m selfish as well. How selfish of me to keep you, to want someone around that I can understand, who won’t judge me, where I know in another universe things work out between us. I’m just awful aren't I for wanting a friend.”

Eclipse’s gaze was intense, and Bard squirmed under the attention. He took their hands, which slid into his hold without resistance, and squeezed. Eclipse’s second pair of hands tore into the carpet. He knew the two of them were far from good individuals, but hearing those words from Bard still made him burn. Seeing that his image of himself was so poisoned that simply having a friend was proof of his own awfulness, because stars forbid they do anything that makes them happy without it being twisted as something terribly self-serving. The knowledge that other individuals contributed to- encouraged this mindset had Eclipse holding back a growl. How was Bard supposed to become a better person if every action that isn’t unrelenting self-loathing the wrong one? Closing their eyes, Bard squeezed his hands back, “You make it sound silly when you put it that way… I can’t see it like that, not when it’s me.”

But he will, one day, Eclipse will make sure of it.

“You don’t have to right now just… Believe me when I say that I think you do enough for me. That’s what matters. Okay?”

There was silence, then a resigned sigh.

“Okay.”

[tyrian-witch]

Prologue: Welcome Home

Everything inside feels heavy, and all you wish for is to be in the warm embrace of your mother. The sun’s warmth is a bitter reminder of what you were now missing, and would forever miss.

Now here you are in Hawkins, a place you hadn’t been to in years. You hardly remember it.

Now it’s your new home.

A/N: Heyyy so basically I was inspired and decided to do my own Stranger Things rewrite? Yeah, so anyways! Here's the prologue before we begin the bumpier bumpy ride, I am seriously going to take my time with this fic. In the meantime, hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: brief mentions of loss, tears, use of y/n (is that last one even a warning? Question mark?)

masterlist • series masterlist

~~~

June 20th, 1983, Hawkins, Indiana

Summer nears the town of Hawkins on a gleaming June day.

A car cruises along the entryway of the small town, passing a sign that reads ‘WELCOME TO HAWKINS.' The driver is mindful of the posted speed limit as she makes her way through.

You gaze mindlessly out the window as the sun’s rays reflect against your features, the light illuminating your tired eyes. The flight from Philadelphia was exhausting to say the least, despite it only being an hour long. Not to mention, athe countless goodbyes made it all the more draining, but now here you are.

“Are you all right, honey?” The woman driving asks you. Her hair is short, dark brown and her eyes were green and full of light, a major contrast compared to your own. Her words are gentle enough to lull you out of your disassociation, and when you turn to meet her eyes, she gives you a small smile.

You look back out the window again as you answer, your voice barely above a murmur. “M’fine, Aunt Marsha. Jus’ tired.”

Marsha knows there’s more to it than just that, of course. However, she understands enough not to push it.

She decides to change the subject, which you’re thankful for. “We’re excited to have you,” she says, her excitement evident. “Barb will be so excited to see you again after all this time; we all are.”

All you can muster is a weak smile, the sentiment providing a small comfort to you despite the ache you feel in your heart. “Yeah, s’been a while.”

Your aunt spares you a concerned glance at the sound of your voice, the lack of your usual upbeat tone stirring some kind of worry in her. Knowing very well of your circumstances, she doesn’t push or force you to open up.

All she knows is that the you before her was not at all the same girl she saw last a couple of years ago; talkative, upbeat, and full of joy. Now the girl before her is changed entirely; your eyes have sunken in slightly, the dark circles around them harsh against your sickly pale complexion, the one that was once full of life and colour. And your voice, so quiet and hoarse, not at all boisterous and gleeful.

If someone asked Marsha Holland, she would probably say she doesn’t recognize her niece at all.

Then again, what did she expect after the recent loss of your mother and little brother? You were grieving, one death right after the other.

The rest of the drive to the Holland house was quiet. You curled your legs up against your chest as you rest your head against your knees, staring at the world through the window, the outside a total blur.

Everything inside feels heavy, and all you wish for is to be in the warm embrace of your mother. The sun’s warmth is a bitter reminder of what you were now missing, and would forever miss.

Now here you are in Hawkins, a place you hadn’t been to in years. You hardly remember it.

Now it’s your new home.

Finally, when you arrive, you stay seated for moment and stare ahead at the house in front of you. You were going to adapt to the situation regardless, but no matter, the reality that you’re no longer back home really hit you like a truck. You decide you’ll just have to tough it out.

Marsha has already stepped out of the car and when you finally snap out of your mindless gazing, you follow her and sling your backpack over one shoulder.

Upon exiting the car, you quickly pace over to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk despite your aunt's insistence that she help you. You politely declined and carefully drag it out, thanking her anyways.

You don't want to bother her with such a task, though she claims she doesn't mind whatsoever.

It seems you've grown more stubborn over the years, she thinks to herself.

Marsha unlocks the door and swings it open to reveal her well kept home which is rather fitting; a well kept woman and a well kept house.

"Barb won't be home for another hour and your uncle won't arrive til dinner time," she informs you while you take a look around. She's pleased that she kept it neat upon your arrival.

You acknowledge what she says to you with a nod and a mumbled 'that's okay.'

She gently touches your arm, beckoning you to look at her, and you meet her warm expression with an exhausted one of your own.

"Are you hungry at all, sweetheart? I can fix you something to eat."

You lightly shake your head and manage a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "It's all right, no need to trouble yourself."

"Are you sure?" She double checks anyways, her voice betraying the concern she tries to maintain.

"Yeah, honestly, I just feel tired."

"Oh! Well, let me show you to your room then! I have it all made up for you."

She beams at you with excitement and gives your arm a gentle squeeze. She leads you up the staircase, and for the second time she insists to help you carry your luggage, but you decline once again. She's already done so much for you, you don't want her to exhaust herself on your behalf.

"Here it is!" she sings as she reveals the interior of your room.

It's small but cozy with the carpeted floor and the twin bed that's against the wall near the window. The walls themselves are a gray-ish purple, which makes the room feel a little less small, the curtains, also light gray which gives the atmosphere a feeling of cleanliness. The rest of the room pertains a desk for you to work at which stands opposite from your bed, along with a closet right behind your door, a dresser and of course, a bedside table with a lamp. Just what every bedroom needs.

As you take it all in, you don't know how else to express your gratitude for being received so thoughtfully by your aunt. All you can do is give her a hug, and when you do, you squeeze her just a little tighter before letting go.

She smiles at your sudden display of affection and gladly returns your hug. "I hope you like it, sweetie."

"I do, I love it. Thank you."

"Well, I'll let you rest now." She whispers as she makes her way to your door. Before she closes it completely, she turns back to you and sends another warm smile your way. "Welcome home, Y/N."

The moment she finally closes your door, your shoulders slump and and an exhausted sigh escapes your lips.

Rummaging through your backpack,you pull out the one stuffed animal you brought with you. It's an elephant the size of a newborn baby with black beady eyes and shabby gray fur, dressed in a pink onesie and a bow. Elephants were your mother's favourite animal, so it's the one reminder of her that you carry with you.

You allow yourself to fall onto your bed and curl up in the fetal position, cradling the elephant close to your chest so tightly you're afraid it'll disappear. You lay with your back turned away from the door, leaving you to stare at the wall in front of you until finally the tears begin to fall.

Once you've started, all you can do is weep, the faucet behind your eyes leaking and flooding for a good long while until it becomes too much too handle. It's difficult to stay awake, your eyes burn when they close but you welcome the stinging pain anyways.

The beginning of your new life in Hawkins starts with you crying yourself to sleep.

➢ next part coming soon-ish

~~~

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Sooo i've been listening to necromancin dancing for a while and i suddenly have an idea.

How would the sdv/sve bachelors and bachelorettes react to their spouse used to being a necromancer who summons the dead by dancing around, maybe they could used to be a well known necromancer known as 'Necrodancer' who went into hiding because they had a change of heart about necromancing.

It's like someone looking through someone's else school year book picture and the person in the picture looks and acts completely different from what they are now.

Necrodancer... Haven't heard that word since back in 2016 when I played Crypt of the Necrodancer (fun rhythm game, but reeeealy hard, at least for me). Also this song is awesome btw, thanks for the recommendation!

I had fun with this ask as I couldn't decide whether to write headcanons more comical or more angsty, so it came out mixed, lol. Anyway, thank you so much for the ask! ❤️

SDV/SVE bachelors/ettes react to the fact that their spouse!Farmer is a former necrodancer

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Sam:

Sammy didn't catch the meaning of Farmer's words at first and thought they're confessing to him about their past as a member of a metal-rock band called NecroDancer. Like hey, another musician in town, that's cool, something Farmer had never told him. "Sam, I used to literally summon dead people from their graves with my dancing. Don't do that anymore, but still." Oh... Wait, is that true? Can his spouse prove it? No, Sammy changed his mind, no need to prove anything! Especially, he doesn't want to force his spouse to do something they've disowned. He apologises for asking them to prove anything at all. Even after discovering the truth, Sam's attitude towards Farmer won't change much (and it's kinda cool).

Alex:

Nce try, dear, but Alex doesn't believe in all those scary tales. Maybe if Farmer would have told the athlete this on some other day, not on The Spirit's Eve, he would have believed it. So the only way to prove it is to summon the dead man with a dance, which Farmer is not going to do. Perhaps the conversation will remain unfinished and the young couple will move on. Until Alex discovers notes or something else that proves his spouse's words. "You're a necromancer?!" Farmer admitted that to you from the beginning, Alex, like, seriously? Lots of questions, doubts, but they'll get over it. Farmer doesn't do that sort of thing any more, right? Then everything is fine, he thinks.

Shane:

"Don't know about these modern dances, so it doesn't say much to me, hon." No, Shane, your spouse wasn't just dancing with other members of some youth subculture, this is an actual necro dance. Like, a "fucked up dark magic and summoning the dead" kind of dance. "...What the fuck, Farmer." He didn't mean to be rude to Farmer, those words just came out in a rush. It wouldn't take long for Shane to be stunned at the very concept of being able to summon the living dead from the ground by dancing. But a little later, he would simply accept the fact and with his spouse move on with their lives. They no longer practice necromancy, have repented, and it's time to move on.

Harvey:

What? Ha ha, that's funny, Harvey now thought Farmer had just confessed to him about... What was that about again? "Raising dead people from their graves with dance?" But that's just absurd, right? Right? Why is his spouse now silent and hiding their gaze from him? Please Farmer, tell the doctor that it's just a bad, tasteless joke. Oh, Yoba... How should Harvey react now? It would be a lie if he said that this confession from his spouse doesn't bother him. He loves Farmer, but damn it - a literal necromancy! Building a relationship on lies is not a good start. On the other hand, Harvey understands the reason why they're reluctant to tell. It's- Oh goodness, it's all so complicated!

Elliott:

"I... I don't know what to say, it's... I... I need a moment." Sorry, Farmer, but Elliott needs to go outside for a minute. The writer's head is spinning from the information he's received and he definitely needs a breath of fresh air to gather his thoughts. Who would have guessed - a dark magician who mastered the art of controlling the bodies of the dead in a mad dance.... Sounds like an idea for a horror novel, except this is reality. Naturally, there would be a few uncomfortable questions, but the writer made sure that his partner would in no way practice necromancy again. Farmer that Elliott knows and loves is a completely different person now, not the one who did black magic without remorse in the past. They've changed.

Sebastian:

"Creepy. But kinda cool and hardcore." Seriously, nothing surprising - the famous A.S.S. trio of the Stardew Valley are more or less dabbling with everything mystical and occult. Sebby, though, unlike his friends, reacts more calmly to his spouse's truth, and immediately picks up on the gravity of Farmer's words. Understandably, they are uneasy about talking about their necromancer past, and feel remorse. Because the very concept of raising the living dead by dancing around isn't so much cool as rather disturbing after all. He will listen to whatever Farmer tells him and will try to understand their situation. It's not clear if things will be the same, but they both can try.

Magnus Rasmodius:

"You- What!?" Magnus went through a whole storm of emotions in a couple of moments: confusion, shock, anger, denial, hurt, sadness, anger again. When they- why had his spouse never told him this? Necromancy is strictly forbidden! An immoral use of magic, the desecration of the bodies of the dead... Even he, who knew quite a few branches of dark magic, was not allowed to practice it and would never practice this anyway! He... shouldn't have shouted at Farmer but... Magnus needs to know the truth. And so does the Ministry. Yes, Rasmodius understands everything, but high mages need to know about their 'necrodancer' past, so there are no sudden... surprises later.

Lance:

Lance is shocked, to say the least, and very, very unhappy with this discovery. The pink-haired adventurer doesn't need to tell Farmer that any form of necromancy is forbidden everywhere, his spouse already knows that perfectly well. It's all... *Sigh* Lance realises they've changed, he realises that such things aren't talked about openly, and if someone got wind of their past, the chase/blackmail would begin. But lying to him is no better. He loves Farmer, but there needs to be a serious resolution to this matter. Notifying at least Magnus or Camilla as senior wizard/witch, they should help how to solve such a delicate problem. But no more hiding the truth, okay?

Victor:

"You mean..." Victor owns a whole collection of rare books, featuring about brave adventurers, different kinds of monsters, and even schools of dark magic. He remembers the topic about necromancy perfectly, as the very concept, goals, and description of the spells in general made his blood freeze in his veins while reading it. "I dance, and the dead rise from their graves." Ah, phew, so Victor's spouse a "necrodancer". Well, it's not as bad as those who kill people and then resurrect them. Victor is still confused and worried, because... what if the Ministry starts chasing them if they find out the truth? What will happen to his spouse then?

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

Abigail:

"That's metal as fuck!" Well, that's... not exactly the reaction Farmer expected from his wife Abigail after telling her truth. Though on the other hand, the purple-haired young woman is crazy about all sorts of occult stuff and magic, so necromancy is also something automatically cool to her, so there's nothing to be particularly surprised about. If her spouse starts dancing in a special way, the dead will start following them, right? Coooool! Oh... she noticed Farmer's sadness and immediately stopped. Abby naturally won't tell anyone or mention in conversation with her spouse if it upsets them. Still, inside her the voice will be screaming, because, holy shit, a necrodancer... is so cool!

Penny:

On Penny's face Farmer read the sheer terror, disgust and fear of them when they revealed the truth of their past to her. Considering that the young teacher already believed in magic (their farm was covered with obelisks and her spouse used a magic sceptre almost daily), she believed their words that they used to be a necrodancer right away, without any proof. It's all in the past, yes, but there's no way Penny can get it all out of her head. To the point where their entire marriage may be in question. Desecrating the bodies of the dead for your own purposes... Even after refusing to use magic again and repenting... Penny doesn't know what to do next.

Haley:

Farmer decided that confessing their past sins to Haley wasn't a good idea, since their dearest wife still wouldn't stop screaming, running across the room and throwing magazines at them. "It's not like I was killing people for my necrodancing! I was just raising them up from their graves with my dancing..." As if that makes a complete difference! Haley will calm down after all, but will still be very angry and... afraid of them. Which will make Farmer's heart crack, but they know they deserve it. Doing damn thing with corpses and lying to Haley all this time. Whether they will be able to live their lives the way they used to is unclear to either of them.

Maru:

Maru was shocked and horrified, though the picture after her spouse's words was quite different in her mind. After all, she believes in science, not magic (even living in the Valley with a literal wizard nearby, yes) and doesn't believe in the existence of "necromancy", regardless of what forms. So for the young inventor, saying "I was a necrodancer earlier" = "I dug up corpses and danced around them, believing I was doing dark magic". Farmer can, of course, prove to their wife that they do indeed possess such magic, but honestly, it doesn't get any better - there's corpse desecration involved here and there. Maru and Farmer need to have a serious talk about, well, everything, before making decisions.

Emily:

"Oh, some special dance that 'even the dead will dance'? Darling, you should definitely teach me, we can perform together at the Luau in a week!" Merciful Yoba... Emily, bless your heart... Farmer doesn't know whether to explain to Emily that this isn't what they meant, or to leave his wife in the dark, lest she be disappointed by the mistakes of her chosen partner. If Farmer chooses the truth, Emily will remain silent for about ten minutes, after which she will talk to her spouse about their past as necrodancer. The blue-haired young woman will forgive Farmer for not telling her the truth, and they will move on together. She believes they are truly repentant.

Leah:

"Farmer, what the heck do you mean you were a necrodancer?" Leah is angry, and to be honest, has every right to be - Farmer would be angry too, if their partner had only now claimed to have done this sort of thing in the past. But the artist would just as quickly calm down, and wait for the story to continue. If the revelations have already begun, she wants Farmer to tell her everything. Leah can understand them: even after their refusal to practice necromancy and remorse, there remains a fear of persecution and paranoia. But they had to tell her everything in the beginning of their relationship, no matter how difficult it was to talk about.

Claire:

Huh, Claire thought she was sleep-deprived and tired and couldn't perceive the real world, because the cashier heard her beloved spouse just confess to necromancy in the past. How strange. Well, Farmer was right earlier, she definitely should take a vacation, they could relax for a couple of weeks on Ginger Island, and- "Claire, you heard it right. It's true... I'm sorry." "......." Yup, holiday plans are cancelled. Is that... even possible? A special dance that makes an army of the walking dead follow Farmer around? It's a pretty creepy picture, and the cashier can't understand why Farmer was even involved in such a shady thing. She's scared and anxious, what should she do next? Who should she even ask for advice from?

Olivia:

Surprisingly, Olivia believes in magic (having communicated with Magnus earlier, but that another story...), so she doesn't doubt her spouse's words, whereas the other person in her place thought Farmer was crazy. She doesn't understand... Was Farmer forced to do such immoral actions to corpses, or was it of their own free will? What purpose did they have as a necrodancer? And why- What, inconvenient questions? Well, her spouse will have to answer, because the future of their marriage depends on their answers! They've already lied for a long time ("Didn't lie, just didn't say anything..." "Don't interrupt, Farmer."), it's time to tell the whole truth, and then... then they'll decide what to do next.

Sophia:

"Wait a minute, you're NecroDancer555! So you're the famous cosplayer who hides their face behind incredible video game/anime costumes and comes to Comicon?!" Um, no... Especially since Farmer and Sophia were together at the last comicon where that cosplayer was. "Awww... Wait, hold on-" Yeeeeeeep! Poor Sophia would squeal from the realisation of who her spouse really was, so much so that all the glass in the house would crack from the high notes. Well, at least she didn't pass out, that's good. But the thought of walking corpses and that Farmer had previously controlled them with their dance made the pink-haired girl very much afraid of her spouse.

Scarlett:

"Wow, so you really are-" No, Scarlett, Farmer is not the famous cosplayer NecroDancer555 who hides their identity behind masks and costumes on comicons. ".... Firstly, it wasn't necessary to be rude to me, Farmer, and secondly, again - what the actual heck." This... it's all a little too much for her. Well, not a little - too much for Scarlett to handle. Her spouse desecrated the corpses of the dead with some obscure magic, and now they've realised their mistakes, are genuinely remorseful, and are now just trying to live normally with her. Whether she forgives them or not - depends on the details that Farmer is about to tell her.