#this was supposed to be a drabble :)

[hom3landr]

#2 from the cuddle prompt list please!! 🖤

#2- getting the greatest feeling of safety from cuddling

She looks like you. That’s what burns the most. Looking at her is like looking in a funhouse mirror, the features just distorted enough that the reflection is an imitation instead of a copy. The bright flashes of the cameras do nothing to distinguish some kind of major difference that you could cling to. It was eerie and something you would find interesting if the coincidence wasn’t hanging off your boyfriend's arm.

Her name is Avalanche. She’s a newer supe on the scene, a possible hopeful for the Seven, and Vought’s shiny new toy to parade in front of the masses.  You can tell by the way this premiere is going that Vought has big plans for her. Your stomach sours at the way Ashley seems to push her towards Homelander at every opportunity. The paparazzi keep begging them for pictures together and acid begins to rise in your throat when Homelander wraps his arm around her waist to pull her closer. (You can’t bear to think of him as John right now. Your John wouldn’t do this…would he?)

You know it’s PR bullshit. It’s Vought manufacturing a possible romance that they can cash in on later if the reaction is positive. You aren’t public with Homelander, something you insisted on because you didn’t want Vought’s fingers digging into this beautiful, fragile, precious thing that you’d found. You feel like a fucking idiot now. Of course, it’s not like Vought would care even if they knew.  Whichever relationship made them the most money is the relationship they wanted him to have. Some part of you wonders which he’d choose if he had the option. Would he choose a weak human like you? Or would he choose the supe who looks like you? Why wouldn’t he choose the supe who could keep up with him, who he wouldn’t have to hold back with, who was strong and powerful?

Avalanche raises her hands and the crowd loses their fucking minds when snow begins to gently fall from the sky. The flakes catch in Homelander’s hair and they look so disgustingly romantic in this false winter wonderland. You aren’t a jealous person. You take his fame in stride and when fangirls swarm him for selfies and bat their eyelashes, you just shrug. Sometimes you play up the illusion of jealousy because Homelander enjoys feeling wanted but you know that they aren’t true competition. 

This is different. This feeling burns raw in your chest and your throat stings from the thick black smoke of your misery. They look so picture perfect and the gathered crowd seems to agree. He leans in to kiss her cheek and you can’t take it anymore. Unshed tears sting at the corners of your eyes and you tuck your tail between your legs and run. You don’t want him to smell the salt from your tears. You don’t think you can bear his exasperation when he has to abandon his adoring public to coddle his weak human girlfriend. You push your way through the throng of people until you escape the light and noise. You find a dark alley that is blessedly silent. You pray you are far enough away that you can release the valve of your emotion and scream at the wall without him picking up on the sound over the roar of the crowd.

You don’t blame him honestly. You are upset, there’s no denying that, but you know he can’t help himself when he’s in the spotlight. He loathes it as much as he adores it. He needs it as much as it rips him apart. He’ll play whatever part Vought wants him to play before coming home to you and melting into the soft reality of your touch. It’s never been easy with him but you’ve also never felt so completely and utterly needed. So despite the ache in your soul, you’ll go back to that stupid premiere once your tears are dry.

You let out a few weak sniffles as you attempt to compose yourself. You wipe off your wet cheeks with your thumb. You don’t notice the dark figure that makes its way towards you from the other end of the alley. You aren’t a supe with heightened senses after all. Isn’t that the crux of the problem?

Pain flares throughout your body when you are shoved against the wall, your head knocking sharply against the brick. You try to scream, desperately hoping now that Homelander can hear your cries. A hand clad in black leather clamps itself over your mouth before any noise can escape. You struggle but you aren’t strong enough to pull away. You loathe it. How weak you are. She wouldn’t need anyone to save her. You don’t need super senses to smell the stink of fear coming off your body. The thief’s other hand fumbles with your clothes, searching for any hidden valuables until suddenly there’s a flash of heat and the scent of burnt flesh. In that moment you know you are safe, and you resent the fact that you needed saving as much as you are desperately grateful.

You look at the smoldering corpse behind you and you can’t help but shudder at the carnage. You can already tell that Homelander is furious. He’s angry at the man most of all but also at you for wandering off. This wouldn’t have happened if you had just stayed where he could keep an eye on you. Now, he’s going to have to endure Ashley’s inane chatter about his sudden departure as though she had any control over what he decided to do. You’re still shaking from the encounter and you can already feel your eyes welling up as he points a finger at you as though you are a disobedient child. It’s always a toss up as to whether tears will disarm him. He dislikes crying caused unintentionally, he prefers you soft and happy. However, when he feels that you deserve it, you could weep till you were sick and he would remain unmoved until he felt you had been properly chastised. Then he would sweep in to comfort you and expect you to immediately melt into him. 

You fully expect for this to be one of the latter instances. You expect a lecture, a snide “What did you expect?” Instead he seems to deflate for a second. His stare intensifies and you know he’s scanning for any damage that lowlife may have done to you. While he considers emotional pain to be necessary sometimes to keep you in line, he despises seeing any physical harm done to your body. As much as he delights in the fragility of humans when compared to him, he’s all too aware of how easily that fact could take you away from him. You needed him to protect you. 

“I’m taking you home, darling” His tongue curls around the pet name and it sounds like a threat. You flinch. You haven’t gotten over the sting of jealousy and you can’t help but mentally compare yourself to her once more. Your head throbs but the pain is minuscule compared to the tightness in your chest. You nod and let him gather you firmly against his chest before shooting off into the sky.

Once he’s deposited you at his penthouse and he’s convinced that you are out of harm's way, some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He grabs your chin in his hand firmly and gives a little shake.

“Stay!” He orders, as though you are a dog. He intends to go back to his premiere and the thought of him returning to her makes you see red. You poke his chest sharply with your finger.

“Are you going to run back to your girlfriend?” You hiss, finally releasing some of that pent up emotion that’s been brewing the moment you saw him with her. Homelander stills and his face flits through a variety of microexpressions before it lands on a grin so smug that you want to slap it off his face. 

“Someone’s jealous” He purrs. He hasn’t let go of your chin despite you trying to wiggle away.  He’s looking at you fondly. You can’t help but feel flustered. He thinks it’s funny. His anger and worry evaporated in the wake of his ego swelling to dangerous levels. You’re surprised he doesn’t pop like a balloon. The indestructible Homelander is finally brought down by his own self-satisfaction.  You huff angrily.

“I’m not. Why would I care that your hand was practically on her ass the whole night?” You reply. It may be a bit of an exaggeration, as far as you could tell he had kept his hands to relatively appropriate areas. That isn’t the point though. You had to stand and watch as hundreds of cameras captured Homelander’s lips on her cheek. It was going to be all over the news tomorrow and Homelander thought it was a fucking joke. He thought you were a joke.

“It wasn’t but that’s certainly a suggestion. After all, it’s not like I have anyone better to share the spotlight with. I might as well give the crowd a show.” He bares a bit too much fang with his smile and you know that comment was a punishment for your insistence on secrecy. Homelander didn’t like the implication that you didn’t want to be his and he let you know at every opportunity. 

“Go fuck her if you want her so bad. I’ll just pack my bags and leave you to it” You snarl. Homelander’s grip tightens, his fingers digging in right on the edge of painful. He finds your jealousy cute but the mere suggestion of you leaving has him seething. His eyes glow like hot coals. He’d never use his heat vision on you but he’s not above showing off to make a point.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude, missy.” He all but hisses out. “I’ll fuck whoever I want to fuck and you’re going to stay right here.”

He doesn’t actually mean it. He’s being cruel to hide how vulnerable he feels at the thought of losing you. The only way he knows how to process pain is to transfer to someone else. You’ve grown used to this. You’ve adapted. That doesn’t mean the barb didn’t have the intended effect. It doesn’t mean that it didn’t feel like he dug his fingers right into the center of your pain and squeezed with all of his superhuman strength.

You hadn’t wanted this to turn into a fight. You hadn’t wanted him to find out. If she hadn’t looked so much like you, if she wasn’t a fucking supe, then you could have played along fine. You’d have enjoyed the premiere, stroked Homelander’s ego till he was hard as a rock, and let him fuck you to sleep. It would have been fun. Now, he’s pissed at you and will likely remain pissed at you for who knows how long. You’re going to go to bed alone knowing there’s a possibility that he’ll take the easy choice, that he really will fuck Avalanche just to prove a point. Maybe he’ll fuck her just for the fun of it, because he can, and not even think of you at all. 

You’re scared. You can’t lose him. You just can’t. 

“Listen…not with her. I’m begging” You reply softly. Homelander scoffs, annoyed by your fixation. His eyes fade back to blue but his anger hasn’t lessened. His jaw is still clenched so tight that any normal man would have cracked his teeth from the strain. The jealousy was supposed to be an ego stroke, he didn’t expect it to turn into such a performance. 

“Why do you even care about her? It’s never bothered you before. It’s just bullshit made up for the cameras.” He finally releases you, only to pace around the room like a caged lion. 

“She’s a supe.” You admit shyly. You don’t want to let him know about your insecurities. You don’t want him picking at you, using it as ammunition when he’s angry. But you don’t want to fight anymore. So you open yourself up and admit what’s been tearing you apart.

“So?” Homelander’s bewilderment is apparent. He turns to you, hands on his hips, about ten seconds away from hauling you over his knee and spanking the fight out of you. Then you could fuck after and he’d return to the premiere late, basking in the attention when he apologizes for leaving to stop a robber from assaulting a young woman. He’d be the hero, you’d stop being mad at him, and life could continue on as planned. None of this cryptic bullshit and pointless threats. 

“I’m not” 

“I’m aware” His voice is so thin with annoyance that if it was an actual thread then it would have snapped long ago. He knows what you are. He’s faced with it every damn day. He has to see you mill around with those mewling vermin, as though they were your equals. Homelander considers you in the same category as other humans the way that a swan is technically in the same category as a vulture. So yes, he is aware, but you aren’t like them. So in his mind the point was moot. You were you.  

“What if you decide that you want someone like her who can keep up with you?” You whisper, as though voicing it would make it true. Homelander double takes and the laughter that bursts from his chest is both incredulous and relieved. That’s what you were worried about? He’d be concerned about your intelligence if he didn’t love you so much. 

“Sweetheart, you think I’m on the same level as Frosty the fucking Snowwoman? Her power is useless. Is she going to take down criminals by giving them frostbite? Her nemesis is a sturdy jacket. You might as well be worried that I’m going to fuck The Deep. I mean…it’s cute how flustered you got but seriously?” You listen to his rant and the throbbing ache in your chest finally starts to loosen. He’s telling the truth. The scorn in his voice is unmistakable. He’s being an asshole about it. You’re positive Avalanche doesn’t deserve his vitriol, but you’re still chained by jealousy so every mean-spirited comment serves to sooth you.

“I…I just thought. We look alike” You murmur sheepishly. Homelander laughs again, cupping your cheek and looking down at you indulgently. Humans really could be so pathetic sometimes but with you he finds it endearing. He leans in to nuzzle your nose with his and your cheeks heat with a mixture of fondness and embarrassment. 

“Why would I fuck her because she looks like you when I could just fuck you?” It really seems like the most obvious thing in the world when he states it like that. You let him kiss you, soft and sweet, his words swirling through your head like the very snowflakes that had drifted miraculously from the sky.

Homelander loves you the most when you’re like this. You’re leaning into his touch like it’s the only thing you want in this world. His anger dissolves along with yours. It’s not really your fault. You are a human after all. Sometimes he has to be indulgent with you. Who wouldn’t want to be possessive over him? 

“You’re so cute. I mean…you got a little too mouthy for my taste but I’m honestly flattered.”  He sweeps you off your feet, cradling you against him for the second time tonight. Fuck the premiere, Ashley will spin it in his favor or he’ll have her head. He’d rather soak in your affection than deal with the simpering journalists and flashing bulbs that hurt his sensitive eyes. He craves attention from the masses but oh how he despises the hoops he has to jump through when they should be worshiping him like a God without all this pageantry. You don’t need any of that. He just has to exist and you melt into his arms. 

He gently lays you down on his bed and surprises you when he begins to shed his suit. You’d assumed that once you’d been mollified that he would leave, instead he crawls right in after you. You think it’s cute that he prefers to cuddle you skin to skin. It usually ends with him inside you so honestly it’s a win all around. He manhandles you effortlessly until you are cradled against his chest with your legs entwined. You can hear his heartbeat like this and you wish you could hear it all the time, the way he can hear yours. You’re still dressed so Homelander slips his hand under your shirt to caress the warm skin of your back. 

“She really doesn’t look like you at all” He mumbles into your hair, his fingers tracing random patterns against your skin, huffing happily when he can feel goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. 

“You don’t think so?” You’re not sure if he’s lying for your benefit or if he truly doesn’t see a resemblance. You don’t even care anymore. He’s here with you. He stayed with you. That’s all that matters. You are safe and wanted. 

“Nope…you have nicer tits” He teases slyly, causing you to give him a sharp slap to the arm. He gives you a swat on the ass as a reply and he relishes in the way you squeal. 

“Y’know.” Homelander says casually, “This would have never been an issue if you let me show you off as mine.” 

“I know but Vought…” You try to argue. Homelander doesn’t seem to understand that Vought pulls his strings more than he realizes. He lets Vought pull his strings more than he realizes despite his insistence on control. You’d never tell him this of course, not unless you wanted to deal with his sour mood for days. It does make you wary however. Everything Homelander has ever had has been commodified and turned into a product that Vought could sell. You don’t want to turn into that for him.

“Fuck Vought, I don’t care what they think.” He scoffs. He’d terrorize Ashley if she even breathed in a way that suggested dating you publicly would be a bad idea. If Stan Edgar protested…Homelander would finally show him the true extent of his power

“It’s just…it’s obvious that they are banking on the two of you as a couple. She’s practically a shoe-in for the Seven and if they know about…” You ramble, but before you can finish talking you feel his firm grip on your chin once more. He forces you to meet his gaze which is so brimming with resolve that you know it is pointless to argue. 

“I decide who goes in the Seven.” He insists, frustrated that you would think differently for even a second. He forgives the slip-up but it still takes a moment for him to sheath his claws. He releases you and guides you back down to snuggle against his chest. “If you don’t want her there then she won’t be.”

“I don’t want her there.” You whisper, so quietly  that any average person would not have realized you had spoken at all. It’s a selfish request. Avalanche shouldn’t be punished because of your insecurities. She likely doesn’t even know you exist and you sincerely doubt she’s some sort of boyfriend stealer from your nightmares. Still…you’d feel better if she wasn’t there.  

“That’s it then. You have nothing to worry about.” He softly guides your head away from his chest to nuzzle his nose against yours. He’s content now and ready to bask in the comfort of your presence. He hadn’t really wanted to go back anyway. So you let him kiss you deeply. You let him roll you over and slip inside you. You let him fuck you to sleep. When you wake up in the morning all loose-limbed and lazy, his cock still inside you, you realize that he’s right. You truly have nothing to worry about. She can fuck him…but you can love him.

[eeboshmeebo]

🍭Sweet Tooth🍬

✒️🍭

You tore open a pack of gumdrops that you had stowed away in your jacket earlier that day. Originally, you didn't even like the sticky stuck-in-your-teeth treat, but a few events changed that.

You sauntered over to the loudest voice in the hallway, a gumdrop in hand that you pressed your lips against before firmly holding it in your fingertips.

Quietly as you could, you snuck up behind the familiar back of the boy you loved teasing. Then, you stepped back as he bent over backwards. A mystery on how he could just do that like one of those slapstick wristband rulers, but one you'll find out eventually.

"HRAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you losers went out looking like tha- Eep!"

He jumped and stumbled back upright as you touched his ear and lightly blew into it, looking at you with an outraged and surprised expression that was either red from anger or from embarrassment

"Oh, Bon-bon~! It's me."

"...you. Always ruining my moment right at the peak. Can't you see that I'm busy? Gosh, no wonder you're apa-"

"Boop."

You placed the gumdrop you've been holding into his mouth, placing a finger on his chin to close his open mouth properly.

"Careful now. I heard that if you open your mouth too widely, you might attract flies. Especially now. Those hawkers outside of school always said that honey attracts more flies than vinegar."

The gumdrop was honey flavored. You only noticed that after looking at the packaging of the candies you had brought with you, so you couldn't help yourself.

"Would you stop interrupting me for once? Really."

Monoma crossed his arms over his chest, genuinely annoyed with your antics.

"Alright then. One last thing before I zip shut, I do like honeyed cherries."

"..."

He still seemed a bit suspicious of you, though Rin, who was just about to grab Monoma to stop him from ranting again, facepalmed out of nowhere and turned to leave.

"Ba! I didn't come here to be choked with dog food!"

"I've gone on douyin before with Rin. I'm not gonna tell you what he means, though I've read in romance novels that lips have been compared to cherries before. Heheheheh~!"

Setsuna snuck off after that, snickering to herself as she trailed off after Rin. You ran off too, if only to escape Monoma's voice.

"...WHAAAAAT!?"

Despite him having a really nice voice, he can yell loud enough to cause pain if the groans and curses of the people behind you evidenced to anything.

🔪🍬

Real gelatin was always tastier. It had more depth and retained more flavor, and after your first gummy, you knew you couldn't go back.

Making them yourself always was better. That way, you can put whatever flavor you wanted instead of having a bunch of 'meh' flavors and flavors you didn't like. Plus, they didn't make your mouth taste weird.

"Isn't that right, Raffy-chan? Oops, sorry, I forgot, heheh!"

The girl's head was put in a ziplock bag, currently in the sink. You had already sold her teeth, nose, tongue, and eyes off-campus, leaving only the meaty bits.

"Such a shame that human brains are inedible. I'd have loved a good braised pig's head for dinner, but I guess I'll have to cremate you later."

Humans were also known as 'long pigs'. The girl was actually decently pretty, but she had made one mistake.

She left a love letter to Monoma.

It was like seeing the cake you helped make and ordered get drooled over by another person before having a bite taken out of. You weren't going to risk that bite because Monoma was yours.

Yours. Only yours. Forever. The sea-salt caramel filling to your dark chocolate. The candied flower to your cupcake. The cream to your coffee.

You grinned as you scooped out the scum from the boiling pot. Despite your efforts to clean them, bone marrow and blood was bound to be in the joins somehow.

"Now, to add sugar and remove the rest of the residue and the leftover waste..."

...

After a short while, you were done. You added pineapple, strawberry, cherry, raspberry, apple, mango, and various other fruit flavors to your gummies since there was so much 'base' to use up, putting the decapitated head in the minifridge you had after you were done.

"The gummies should be done in a few hours. In the meanwhile, let's see what other ingredients tried to snatch my beloved."

You popped a gummy into your mouth that you had set aside earlier, savoring the taste while opening the drawer that was originally meant to hold some miscellaneous cooking tools.

Now, it was full of love letters to Monoma. Of course you replaced them with ones you wrote yourself, even if mimicking all that handwriting was a pain.

Monoma was worth the pain and effort. He always was.

"Let's see... I heard that there's a dessert made from chicken breast, right? Let's see if there's any ingredients that have bird features."

Suddenly you heard the door opening behind you. You swiftly closed the drawer after stuffing the letter back inside, turning back to the person that almost caught you.

Monoma.

You couldn't just kill him to get rid of the evidence if that wasn't obvious enough.

"So. What did you mean by liking honeyed cherries yesterday?"

"Hmmm... it's exactly what you think I mean."

You pulled your sleeves over your hands before covering the lower half of your face, putting on some chocolate-flavored lip balm quickly to mask any other possible flavors. And, since only the lower half of your face was covered, you got to see Monoma slowly go from annoyed and huffing to flustered

He's pinker when he's blushing out of embarrassment instead of anger.

"Cherries are sweet by themselves, but with a hint of honey-"

"I don't need any honey, I can be sweet by myself just fine! Hmmph!"

"Oh, really? Then... can I have a taste?"

He stiffened up the moment the thought of what you just said finally was processed in his head. It was kind of like watching a thermometer.

"Just kidding!" You teased, placing a finger on his nose playfully as you watched him rapidly change in demeanor.

"Or am I?"

You pressed your fingertip against his lips and pulled your hand back before licking your fingertip.

"W-wh... you can't just do that! That's... um, unsanitary!"

"Really? There's lots of other unsanitary things that I can do."

"Shut up!"

Monoma covered his lips, gazing at you as if you were going to eat him up.

It was very tempting. That trace taste was sweeter than most, if not all other candies you've eaten before.

However, delicacies like Monoma were meant to be savored in small nibbles for maximum flavor in your experience.

"Hmmm... don't wanna."

You kissed the back of his hand that covered his lips anyways, stealing a taste before he squeaked and ran off.

You licked your own lips. You couldn't recognize what flavor he was, but that was fine. It's your new favorite anyways.

[katherineholmes]

The New Deal

Read on AO3

She inhaled softly as she opened the door, the stench of death filling her soul and making her shiver. A thousand questions raced through her mind, wondering if he had come there for revenge, or if he had found out about Elena being alive. 

“What do you want?” Bonnie had almost killed Klaus just three nights ago, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble in fear. 

“Now, is that any way to greet me witch?” He smirked and she wanted to rip his face off. Wanted to give him an aneurysm so bad his brain would bleed out of his eyes. 

“You killed my best friend.” It was another thing that she had brought Elena back to life, but he couldn’t know that. Not now, or ever. 

“Yes, yes, and you lot plotted my death with my brother,” there was something saccharine about the way Klaus smirked at her, a cold look in his eyes. “You should be lucky that I’m in a good mood, or you all would be dead.” 

Bonnie couldn’t resist it then, if Damon was infuriating, Klaus was seemed to hit where it hurt. Even if Elena was alive, Jenna wasn’t. All the work, all their planning had amounted to nothing, and now Klaus had absolute control, unlimited power. “You should be lucky your brother betrayed us, or you would be dead.” 

For a moment, the look on his face froze, but he recovered quickly. “My brother is a bit of a….sentimental fool.” 

“Where is he?” She asked, wondering why any of them had ever trusted Elijah, but also wondering what Klaus had done with him. 

“Indisposed, I’m afraid,” Klaus’ cheeks dimpled as he smiled, something entirely too superior and pleased in his gaze, “but I’m not here to talk about him. You see, I’m leaving town.”

“Great,” she muttered. Klaus was leaving, and Damon might die. While she wasn’t happy about Damon dying, she wasn’t exactly regretting it either. 

“Without a witch,” Klaus looked down at her significantly then, and she had a bad feeling, “someone killed mine you see.” 

“So what?” 

“I’d like you to accompany me.” 

She grit her teeth, focusing on him as she allowed the magic to flow out of her like water in a dam. Hitting her target with force. She could see the pain in his eyes, the way he clutched his head, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, her body and magic drained from the power she had lost during the sacrifice. 

She was breathing hard by the time she was done, and was pleased to see that some of the amusement had drained from his face. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

For a moment, she thought Klaus would lash out, react in anger, but that was gone fleetingly too. “As I said, I am in a nice mood, given that the curse binding me has broken, but I do still need a witch sweetheart and you would do well not to defy me.”

“I’m sure there are other witches you can find.”

“Perhaps, and yet, you are no ordinary witch, are you?” He stepped closer to the boundary of her house, his footsteps heavy on her porch, “you are a Bennett witch, and you were strong enough to almost kill me. Your ancestor was just as special, perhaps even stronger than you.” His hands were on the doorframe now, and she tilted her head. 

“You knew Emily?” 

“I knew Ayanna, a thousand years ago.” She frowned as she tried to remember grams’ rambles, any mention of a witch like that, “after she died, my brother took possession of all her grimoires. Of course, they lie with me now.” 

“You think I’ll go with you because of a few grimoires? After everything you’ve done?” Anger rolled in her stomach and fire lit up within her throat, the flames of it rushing out through her tongue, hoping futilely to burn him. 

“Well, love,” and then her heart stopped as he crossed over the threshold and entered into her house, “I was thinking the motivation of keeping your father alive would spur you to make the make the right decision. Not to mention all those friends of yours,” he gripped her shoulders and leaned towards her. Her fingers clenched into fists, and she thought of all the spells she knew, of all the things she could do to him. “One bite from me, and it would be the end of Caroline.” 

“How did you-”

“It seems your father only wore vervain, he didn’t consume it.” The fire in her was replaced by shards of ice stabbing her from the inside, cold fear spreading through her veins as she thought of her dad. “Relax love, nothing’s happened to him yet. Although he was kind enough to invite me inside.”

She thought of Elena, the deal she had made with Elijah, despite how badly it had failed, she wasn’t sure there was anything else she could do. The witches’ power had left her, and without it, she wasn’t sure she could take Klaus down permanently. Damon and Stefan maybe, but not Klaus. Not yet. 

“So what? If I leave with you, you won’t hurt them?” 

“If you leave with me, help me,” his hands glided over her shoulders to her neck, warm on her skin, “I won’t have reason to come back to this town. And they’d be safe. You can even speak to your father if you wish.”

“Do you think you’re doing me a favour?”

“Well, this could all be a lot more unpleasant, little witch.” 

She knew that, and she had also known how desperately Luka and Jonas had looked for Greta. How Klaus had seduced her away. She wondered now, if it wasn’t something more like this, like threats and the promise of power that he had used to take her with him. Besides, if he really did have those grimoires, along with others, she could eventually grow strong enough to kill him. 

He’d stay away from here too, away from her father, and her friends. From Elena. 

“Fine. But I have a few conditions too.” 

He seemed pleased as he looked down at her, and she wondered what she had gotten herself into. 

@feralcherry Thanks for encouraging me to write it! @sevensistersofsussex @jennifersminds @amandamonroe

[siickgirlreads]

Cant get him out of my head so here’s this

warnings ig? : mentions reader wearing a bra

convincing xavier to give you your first stick and poke tattoo, he finally gives in on the condition that he gets to pick the tattoo and the placement. you trust xavier not to tattoo anything too crazy on you so you agree and when the time comes he asks you to meet him in his art shed after school.

when you get there you see that he’s cleared off enough table space you to lie down on it, complete with a towel covering it and another one rolled up acting as a pillow. you hop up on the table and look over and see he has a couple needles and mini cups of ink.

“where’d you get needles on such short notice?” you ask curious, “Wednesday. she had extra unused ones left over from her parents birthday gift” he responds “of course she did” you laughed slightly as a comfortable silence, minus the music he has playing in the background, takes over while he finishes getting everything organized. eventually he tells you to lay on your side and lift your shirt slightly. you’re like ??? because first of all the ribs is a moderately painful place to get a first tattoo and secondly that’s a very intimate place to get a tattoo, especially from xavier.

you look at him, eyes widening a bit and he just tells you to trust the process. “what if the pain is to much?” “you’re more than welcome to hold my hand if you need to” he’s such a flirt.

you do as he says and lay on the table, facing away from him obviously because you knew your warm face and neck would’ve been a dead give away to how much his proximity was affecting you. you jump slightly as he places a cool alcohol pad on your side and wipes the area he’s gonna be working on. he sits down on a stool and asks you if you’re ready and you breathe in deeply and nod bracing yourself for the pain.

you gasp as his none dominant hand slides across your stomach making goosebumps rise and he chuckles a bit holding you steady while the hand holding the needle sits in it’s starting place pinky out and rubbing against the underside of your bra to keep his hand from being shaky, so he says. you’re hyper aware of every move he makes and are tempted to break the tension by joking about how he’s not wearing gloves. you’d run the risk of him actually getting up to find gloves though and you quite like the rough feeling of his fingertips sliding over your skin as you breathe in and out. so you settle for closing you eyes and trying not to tremble as he starts poking your skin repeatedly, etching a piece of his art onto you forever.

it’s hard to hold a conversation with xavier when he’s deep into his artistic mode so you just enjoy the chase atlantic playlist he has playing while becoming numb to the feeling of a needle being stabbed into you continuously. he checks in with you often to make sure you’re still okay before he eventually finishes and leans away to grab a mirror so you can see the tattoo fully.

it’s the bud of a flower that has not yet bloomed. you look at him in confusion hundred of questions running through your mind about why he choose this as a tattoo. before you can get a single question out though he raises his hand and the flower bud blooms into a beautiful red spider lily, your favorite. you stare at him on shock as you didn’t know his artwork cold move on anything other that paper. you have the sneaky suspicion he didn’t either seeing as his expression basically mirrors yours.

“Xavier, what would’ve happened if that little trick of yours didn’t work?”

“… i would’ve owed you a very big apology.”

now every time he greets you or says goodbye, he runs his hand up your side to make the flower bloom. it’s a cute little secret you guys share :))

[eddieintheupsidedown]

this was supposed to be a super short draft but i got carried away and now it’s 2k words and cross posted on ao3

————————————

au where vecna didn’t happen and steve and eddie became buddies purely through association with dustin

eventually steve has enough of the kids™️ always talking about dnd without knowing what’s going on, so he joins them just to watch. eddie doesn’t like gawkers at his dnd sessions so he invites steve to hang after the session to come up with a character so he can join the next session and steve happily(?) obliges

he feels weird about steve the hair harrington being in his trailer at night but hey if dustin likes this guy then he must be at least a little bit cool

one night they get together to work on steve’s character and decide to have a few beers. those turn into a lot of beers and before he knows it, steve is passed out on the couch in the trailer, spilling the rest of his beer over his shirt in the process. eddie is asleep right next to him, their legs tangled together

they wake up the next morning to eddie’s alarms, he actually makes an effort to get to school on time now. this is his year after all! both boys jump at the sound of the alarm clock and steve scrambles to grab his stuff, noticing how sticky and gross his shirt is from the beer he spilled

eddie offers him one of his shirts, goes to look for a clean one (he hasn’t done laundry in a while, don’t tell his uncle) and the only clean shirt he finds is one of his 3 hellfire club shirts. because of course he has 3 of those. he throws steve the shirt and picks a semi-clean one off the floor for himself.

steve pulls off his sticky shirt and goes to put on the hellfire club shirt “thanks…does that mean i’m officially in the club?”

eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, as THE steve Harrington is shirtless in his trailer. he’s seen him shirtless before (steve used to love pulling off his shirts after winning games) but never this close up, and he doesn’t know why his stomach feels like that right now. all crazy and excited. oh no, he can’t even reply to steve’s dumb question so he just shrugs and turns away, before changing his own shirt

they take steve’s car to school, eddie doesn’t know how he’s gonna get back home later but that’s not a problem for right now. people very obviously stare at him when he gets out of steve’s car. Harrington and then freak hung out? no one wants to believe it. and then steve steps out of the car. the flannel he’s wearing unbuttoned. showing off the hellfire club shirt that’s obviously not his size. it’s just a little too small for him

people start whispering right away, coming up with all sorts of wild theories because no one wants to believe those two could be friends

they part ways to get to their respective classes, but when steve sits down at the hellfire table at lunch, the whole cafeteria goes silent. no one dares to say anything, not even eddie who usually can’t shut up. steve doesn’t seem to notice though, he sat right next to eddie and after eating a few bites, turns to him and starts talking about his dnd character creation again

this continues for a few weeks. they hang out after school to teach steve dnd, get drinks together sometimes, steve actually starts coming to hellfire weekly and joins the campaign, although not without protest from mike, which is promptly shut down by eddie and will

Eddie’s hellfire club shirt is still sitting in steve’s closet. he wore it a few more times since he got it from eddie. doesn’t mind that it doesn’t really fit him. slowly he notices how nervous he gets around eddie, when he tells robin she slaps the back of his head and calls him an idiot, she was probably the first one to notice the massive crushes the two guys have on each other. but steve refuses to admit it. he can’t.

once wayne comes back from his business trip, they start hanging out at steve’s house instead. they sit in steve’s room just chatting. about movies, dnd, school.. anything really. they both enjoy how comfortable they are in each other’s presence, but neither of them has the balls to admit it. one thing leads to another and eddie decides to sleep over at steve’s house. steve tells him to grab anything from his closet as pajamas if he wants to.

he doesn’t know what he expected to find in steve’s closet, but it sure wasn’t a bunch of shirts just shoved in there and then… the hellfire club shirt, folded carefully and placed on the top shelf. his hellfire club shirt. he should probably take that back and get steve his own shirt that actually fits. but he can’t bring himself to take it. he’s seen steve’s face when he wears it to school. so he just picks a random shirt from the messy pile on the middle shelf

the shirt is too big on him when he puts it on. not awkwardly big, just a little oversized. he doesn’t mind. he also doesn’t mind the way the heat creeps up his neck when he notices steve’s scent on the shirt. at this point he’s admitted his crush on steve to wayne , who encouraged him to go for it. wayne has seen the way the two boys look at each other when the other isn’t looking. he’s not stupid. but eddie is afraid, doesn’t know how to even start a conversation like that or if steve will hate him and kick him out and never speak to him again. he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship they have formed

steve’s bed is huge, his couch isn’t. so they decide to just share the bed. eddie gets his own blanket and pillow and they build a small wall of pillows between them, neither of them know why they did that but they just did. as they both lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, eddie says something. so quietly that steve can hardly make it out.

“i’m gay”

steve thinks he must be imagining it, his half asleep brain conjuring up wild dreams of his crush also being into men, “cool. me too”

Eddie freezes. did steve just say he’s gay too? his heart is racing in his chest and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle, scared that he’s asleep and if he moves he’ll wake up. but both boys are awake and just admitted their biggest secrets to each other. steve slowly turns to eddie, they didn’t put a pillow up between their heads, and looks at him. “did you just say something or did i dream that?”

eddie still doesn’t dare to move, he breathes out a quiet “yeah” and closes his eyes tightly, scared steve will kick him out now. but steve turns back, looks up at the ceiling again “cool cool…”

neither of them speak about this conversation after that moment. eddie stops asking steve to hang out after school, says something about having to help wayne with some work.

the next hellfire meeting is weirdly awkward. everyone in the room can tell but no one knows why.

eddie doesn’t even know why he’s avoiding steve. maybe because he doesn’t want the chance of rejection by his crush feel real. maybe he’s avoiding confronting his feelings about steve.

after their dnd session steve drives the kids home, he offers to take eddie back home too and the other boy shyly accepts. steve drops the kids off first. the trailer park is closer to his house so this makes the most sense. when it’s just the two of them in the car, an awkward silence settles in. neither of them dare to speak, until steve parks infront of eddie’s trailer. they can see the lights on inside, wayne is home. but eddie doesn’t leave the car. he sits in silence and stares out the window.

“i’m gay” he says, playing with his rings, “i just..: want you to know in case you wanna like… stop being friends”

steve nods, “i know… i heard you when you slept over. and it’d be kinda weird for me to be homophobic, considering i’m like.. super gay too. i didn’t really know until recently though. robin helped me figure that out, i guess that’s why i never really dated a girl for more than a week. well except nancy. but now nancy is like family so maybe that’s weird too” he keeps rambling on, until he hears eddie chuckle. he hasn’t heard that sound in too long, and only now realizes how much he missed it. eddie invites him into the trailer, they watch a shitty movie together and have a beer. at the end of the night steve goes home.

they go kind of back to normal after that. except for one thing. there’s so much tension between them. they still hang out and drink, just like before. but now they both know. the chance of something happening between them isn’t zero. even robin notices when eddie comes to pick up steve from family video one night.

it takes them a few more weeks to address the tension. they’re sat on eddie’s couch, closer than they used to sit, their legs barely touching, each with a beer in their hands, when steve turns to eddie. he didn’t expect the following words to come out his mouth but they do, with no warning and no filter.

“i like you. kiss me”

and eddie stares at him, jaw almost hitting the floor. he slowly puts his beer down on the coffee table, steve copies him. both still staring at each other. “what are you saying harrington?” eddie leans in close. very close. steve can smell the beer on his breath but he doesn’t back off. he leans in closer, looking eddie in the eyes.

“i like you. kiss me” he repeats, still staring.

and so eddie does. he gently places his hand on steve’s cheek, pulling him closer before connecting their lips. steve kisses back with no hesitation, his arms finding their way around eddies neck to pull him closer, if they could they would fuse together into one being, that’s how close they are now.

eddie uses his free hand to hold steve’s hip, gently pulling him onto his lap, where steve’s legs instinctively wraps around eddie.

they don’t take it any further. they just sit like this and kiss for a good 20 minutes, only pulling away a few seconds at a time to catch their breaths, before diving right back. Once eddie finally pulls away and looks at steve, he sees how red the other’s lips are, his face is flushed, hair messy and he’s staring right back at him. they sit like this and just stare at each other for another 5 minutes before eddie speaks up.

“so this is how king steve kisses? i get all those girls now” steve chuckles and lighty hits his shoulder, before burying his face in the crook of eddie’s neck. eventually they fall asleep like this, without speaking another word.

eddie wakes up first the next morning, he carefully lifts steve off himself and gets up, trying to throw together something that resembles breakfast with the limited supplies the tiny kitchen has. he finally find some probably stale cereal and prepares 2 bowls for them, turning around to the couch, where he sees steve. He’s now awake and carefully watching eddie, biting his lips and fiddling with his hands.

“Mornin’ Big boy” eddie smirks and hands steve the bowl, sitting back down next to him.

they sit and eat in silence for a while, spoons clinking against the bowls. eventually steve looks at eddie, the same adoring look in his eyes as he had the night before. and then steve takes all the courage he has and kisses eddie again and within moments they’re entangled, the same was as the first time they kissed.

they spend the rest of the day together. between kissing and whispering sweet nonsense to each other, they figure out that they’ve been crushing on each other for months now. since before steve came to watch hellfire. steve has been crushing on eddie since the day he snuck into a bar and happened to catch a corroded coffin set. eddie has been crushing on steve since steve nonchalantly picked up a pen for him in the hallway 2 years ago.

it still takes them a few days to officially start dating but when they do, they don’t hide it. they don’t openly tell anyone, except their friends and uncle wayne. but they also don’t shy away from hanging out in the school courtyard, at family video every day and wherever else they manage to find time together

[apiratefellinlovewithastar]

Prickcest prompt!!! Yayy

Ok, here it is: Morty wearing Primes jacket

(also tysm for sharing the post <3 my typing hands are getting tired, need more hands on deck!)

HI SWEETIE <3 sorry I’m just answering this 🥹 life has been hectic OTL (that’s great!! you deserve the attention!! your drabbles are SO Good, I love them. <3)

He finds it by accident.

Morty just turned thirteenth and he’s all alone at home; his mom was out the door before she even finished saying happy birthday, Summer went out with her friends after tousling his hair and wishing him a good day, and his dad promised to bake him a cake after buying the ingredients. They’re all going to take hours to come back, and he’s bored out of his mind.

What are lonely and bored thirteen-year-olds supposed to do if not explore?

The garage has been locked for as long as he can remember. Neither of his parents ever uses it, always parking in the driveway. Usually, his mom doesn’t really mind what any of them does, but the door leading to that part of the house has always been a no-no in her books. His dad tried to open it once and she got so mad not even Summer dared to make snippy comments about it afterwards. Dad never tried it again.

So nobody ever goes in there. Not even her, not really—Morty has only ever seen her try to once, and it was late at night when she was really drunk. He had gone down to the kitchen to get a glass of water but stopped short when he saw her standing there, trying to get the door to open, but she kept missing the keyhole and soon she gave up with a soft thunk of her head against the wood. Morty had silently gone back to bed with his mom’s distressed expression ingrained in his brain.

It’s safe to say Morty is really curious about whatever’s behind it.

Lucky for him, he knows exactly where his mom keeps the garage keys hidden.

He closes the door behind himself in case anybody gets home earlier than expected; better to make them think he’s out as well than to get caught in here. Mom can get really scary when it comes to this place.

However, it proves not to be the smartest move. While it is not yet the summer, maybe Morty should have remembered that the A/C doesn’t redirect here and that the place has been sealed for who knows how long.

He’s been stuffed into worse places and for longer periods of time at school, though, so he can suck it up for a little bit. Especially when Morty’s high hopes and exhilaration taper off when he realizes it’s just a regular room.

Morty doesn’t know what he was expecting, but after the big deal his mom made about it he didn’t think it would be just that!

There’s nothing extraordinary about it. There’s a shelf with things strewn all over, boxes stacked on top of each other, and a workbench on the opposite wall. The floor has a thick layer of dust and that only confirms what Morty already knew: nobody has been here in ages.

He’s about to turn around to go sulk in disappointment in the comfort of his room—geez, is it stuffy in here—when a box high up on the shelf catches his attention. Something has been completely blacked out only for DAD’S STUFF to be scrawled under it in black, thick letters.

Morty immediately knows that’s what he’s looking for, without even having known he was doing so up until now.

As all thirteen-year-olds do, naturally, he has to check it out.

It turns out not to be much. There’s an empty box of cigarettes, a wallet and a broken wristwatch. He opens the wallet to find a picture of his mom when she was a little kid being held by who he now knows is his grandfather. Mom is smiling widely into the camera, and while his grandfather does the same, there’s something about his expression that makes Morty uneasy. He chalks it up to the discomfort strangers always bring Morty and decides to let it go to focus instead on the last item at the bottom of the box.

It’s a jacket.

Morty stares at it with wide, curious eyes. He bites his lip, looks towards the door leading back into the house. He taps his foot on the floor.

Morty puts on the jacket.

It’s almost a fit. Apparently he and his grandpa share a similar bulk—that is to say, lanky as hell—if not for the sleeves swallowing his hands by a long shot. The jacket is mostly dark, sans the magenta patches adorning the sides.

It’s a comfy jacket. He starts cooling down, somehow, but he ignores it in favor of noticing the many inside pockets it has, which is fun and has him wondering about all the things his grandfather could have used them for. It even feels good against his skin, unlike most of the clothes his parents keep trying to buy him.

Morty looks back at the door.

Nobody ever comes in here…

The sound of the car pulling into the driveway has Morty hastily putting everything back in its place. He locks the door and hides the keys in record time and then books it upstairs just in time for his mom to call out his name.

“My room!” Morty calls out, only to stare down, horrified, at the hand holding onto the doorknob.

The hand covered in an oversized sleeve.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

He can hear his mom walking up the stairs. Morty rips the jacket off, panics for a second. He looks around. His eyes fall on his bed and like a light bulb going on, the word association in his brain kicks in.

Bed. Under. Secrets. Yosemite shirt. Hiding nook!

He’s innocently sitting on his bed when his mom opens his door.

“Hey, sweetie.” She looks tired, but she still manages a smile for him.

Something warm unfurls inside his chest. It’s moments like this that make him feel wanted, even if a little.

If she didn’t love him she wouldn’t even bother, right?

“H-hi, mom.” He smiles back, fiddling with his Rubik’s cube. He’s suddenly grateful for the mess he left on his bed before going down to snoop. “How, how was the emergency surgeries?” He frowns, suddenly worried. “Are th-th-the horses okay?”

Her smile turns a little warmer now. “Yes, sweetie. They’re alright. I just had to stay back to help Davin with the paperwork.”

“Oh,” Morty relaxes. “What’s up, then?”

“Your dad called me on the way here.” She turns her head sideways to crack her neck; Morty flinches slightly, but her eyes are closed and so she doesn’t notice. “He was asking if you wanted a vanilla or a strawberry cake.”

Morty feels himself light up. “Vanilla!”

His mom turns around as she gets her phone out. “Vanilla it is.”

Morty doesn’t have a chance to wear the jacket again until exactly a year later, when Rick comes crashing into their lives—literally—and sweeps him off his feet with the promise of a birthday adventure.

Except.

Rick stares at him blankly when he meets him at the spaceship—a spaceship! How cool is that?!—and for a moment Morty thinks he’s going to get mad at him—it is his jacket, after all—but all he does is frown and look out the windshield, tighten his hold on the steering wheel—and oh, Morty understands now where his mom gets it from—before telling him to buckle up.

That’s the first of many yet-to-come near-death experiences he will have in his lifetime. He’s too busy having a meltdown about it to notice that the jacket is still in one piece and so is the skin underneath it even though his jeans are ruined and his legs scratched. He never gets a chance to either, afterwards, because once he passes out he forgets about the jacket completely.

[an-sceal]

Robby’s eyes flick toward the bikini babe poster in the dining room, then the stack of Hot Rod magazines on the coffee table. "Suuuure. Everything about you screams 'cool with gay guys', right?"

Robby has made it pretty clear all along that he doesn't want anything Johnny has to offer. That at the end of the day, the only connection they've got is a DNA test and Johnny’s spare room. Robby only talks to him to pick a fight, and the few times he's tried for a little more Robby has shut down, putting on headphones and ignoring him until he goes away.

It's not the first time Johnny’s loved someone who's never going to love him back, though. And unlike before, he's got the chance and perspective not to entirely fuck this up.

"I was in love with a guy in high school. Senior year."

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[nkogneatho]

when you die, gojo is still in denial. they say there are five stages of grief, yet he still hasn't been past that first phase. he misses it a lot. your touch on his skin. the way you'd trace random lines on his thighs when you were so indulge in a book. and that sudden grip whenever you came across a thrilling part of it. he always chuckled at your sudden "whats" and "awws".

he misses how your voice would always get gentler when you spoke to him. your usual voice was a little loud but whenever you spoke to him, you'd be so sweet and calm.

he misses how you'd outshine anyone and everyone around you. even him. the strongest. your smile was brighter than the diamond on your engagement ring. but life is unfair, isn't it? he was so excited to turn you from his fiánce to his wife, only to find you dead and cold on the ground, the crimson blood filming the diamond, drenching it in itself.

but to this day, even after so many years, he still finds himself in denial when he accidentally (to what it seems like a hundredth accident) calls you his wife mid conversation with someone else. "oh my wife loves this...perfume," he says to the worker, his voice fading in the end when he realizes he was supposed to use past tense. "loved"

"why don't you gift it to her? i am sure she'll love it," the girl smiles. if only she knew.

but he buys it anyway. decorates it with pink ribbons and stuff, even when he knew you were not there to open it anymore. he comes home, sits in one dim light of the bedroom, unwrapping it. he sprays the perfume on one of your dress that he loved. your scent. god he misses it. the cerulean eyes mimic an ocean once again in the wait of his lover. a useless wait for you were never arriving on his door ever again.

[nudystar]

2:22 am, never doing a fic again. only sticking to drabbles

[keiscorner]

2:53 am

"kei." no response. you know tsukishima has to get up early for work, but the window across from your bed is open, allowing the night breeze to creep in and sting your face. you could get up yourself, but that's what husbands are for, right?

you twist around, trying to wiggle out of your husband's grasp so you can take a better look at his sleeping face. he has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other supporting your neck to, in his words, 'protect his ears from your constant complaints about your sore neck in the morning'.

"honey?" you poke his cheek, smiling to yourself when he grunts in response. tsukishima has always been a light sleeper. you lay in silence for a few seconds before he finally lets out a sigh, opening his eyes to look at you.

"what do you want?"

you muster up your biggest doe eyes, knowing that he hates getting out of bed just as much as you do. "close the window for me?"

"no. you do it."

you sigh dramatically, gesturing at his arms wrapped firmly around you. "i would love to, but someone is holding me hostage, so i think you're going to have to do it."

tsukishima rolls his eyes, untangling his arms from your body. "problem solved." he holds back a smile when you frown and pull the blankets away from him, turning your back towards him. you're so cute. tsukishima would do anything you ask of him without hesitation, but he can't help but tease you a bit first. he'll never get tired of your reactions, and he loves that he can be a little snarky with you.

you sigh again, this time louder and more pointed, pretending to shiver just to show your husband how cold you really are, and how cruel he is for not helping. "if only someone could hold me right now...", you trailed off.

"ok, do you want me to help you or not?" he finally gives in, getting up to reach for his glasses. you win, as usual. you turn back to face him again with a smile as bright as sunshine, and despite all of the years you've been together, his heart still stops for a second. wow. okay, maybe he is obsessed with you, but he can't help it. you've clearly worked your magic on him, considering the fact that he's getting out of the bed for you when he has to be awake in a few hours. he goes to close the windows with a firm click, walking back to his side of bed.

"kei...since you're already up...", he looks back to see your guilty smile, an empty mug in your hands. "please? last thing, i swear." he give you a look that reads, "you're lucky i love you." (you know you're the luckiest person in the world.)

he takes your mug and you hear his quiet footsteps making their way to the kitchen. he comes back, handing you a mug full of warm water. once you take a sip, he takes the mug from you again, placing it on your nightstand.

"i poisoned that," he quips, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before finally lying down and snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. the only reason he hates getting out of bed is that he has to let go of you, but he doesn't need to say that. he's sure you already know.

[asexualasshat]

Anyone else Thinkin about how Steve was 100% the subject of Eddie cafeteria rants during Steve’s senior year?? Maybe a jibe about how Nancy was right to leave him? She’s too good for him??

And it hurts cause he’s a lil raw but it’s mostly like “yeah I know” so it mostly brushes past him. He’s doing his best to be a decent person.

And so now after seeing Steve bite the head off a bat and also be kind and respectable? He’s like “woah. Steve is good. So good. Maybe the best. Deserves so much love.” And obviously that’s rapidly growing crush. But he doesn’t quite pick up on it so he’s like “this surely means he’s at least good enough for Nancy. I need to encourage them to get together because Steve is so good and deserves the best”

So he encourages it and Steve kinda explores it and he’s quickly like “hmmm no. She’s the best and we’re buds and will never kiss again.”

And Eddie is a lil crushed that Steve isn’t happy and in love. No he’s fr feeling very sad for Steve.

It’s like a month later, with Steve leaning against him while they watch a movie, that Eddie’s like “hold the phone! I don’t just want him to be happy and in love! I want him to be happy and in love with ME!”

Thus followed by Eddie’s bumbling attempts because he doesn’t really think he’s good enough for steve

But what he doesn’t know is that Steve sped through a sexuality crisis and had been ranting to Robin about how Eddie wasn’t picking up on his flirting (Robin says he’s too subtle) so he doesn’t know what to do. But oh man, he recognizes flirting coming at him with no question. Even if it’s so deeply awkward. So once he sees Eddie flirting??? Game on. Come to Stevie

End rant

[st4rfckerz]

logan likes to watch you try to fuck yourself on his cock without providing an ounce of help. he knows you’re a big girl and can do it all by yourself, so he wants to prove that you can, even if you’re begging for help.

and he would be so cold too, head propped up against the headboard lazily with a fat cigar between his teeth, puffing smoke every now and again. his icy words somehow only fueling the fire between your legs.

“c’mon kid, i know you can do better than that.”

“where’s my big strong girl at huh?”

but of course he grows impatient with your lack of movement. so he rolls his eyes, grabs ahold of your hips and gives you exactly what you need.

[zephyrchama]

Belphegor followed you down the hall as you dragged your suitcase. It wasn’t very big, but it was still heavy and annoying to lug over the thick decorative carpets. Every time one came to an end, the luggage thudded loudly back onto the hardwood floor.

“You sure you have everything? You packed the pillow I gave you?” Belphegor sluggishly matched his pace to yours. Having long legs must be nice.

“Of course, I triple checked.” ”Good. That’s my fifth favorite pillow, so you have to come back and return it, ok?”

You nodded as the suitcase went over another bump. This was your third time going over this exact conversation.

It wasn’t just the youngest, all of the brothers were antsy about your little trip. It was written all over their faces as you arrived at the foyer where they were waiting. Satan and Asmodeus solemnly stood up from the steps they were sitting on. Mammon and Leviathan had a hard time looking at you, their eyes darted all over the walls and ceiling. Beelzebub offered to move your suitcase by the door.

Just one weekend away. That was it. Solomon volunteered to take you back to the human world for a bit. You couldn't let a rare trip home pass by, as who knew when the next opportunity would arise. You could eat some normal food for once and stock up on your favorite human things. Though, your housemates reacted like you were leaving for a year.

“Did you pack everything?” Lucifer asked.

“Of course, I triple checked.” Deja-vu.

“Even the lotion I gave you?” Asmodeus looked so worried. He loosely took hold of your forearm with a tear in his eye. “Don’t forget, the sun is awful this time of year. I’ll never forgive you if you come back looking like a lobster.”

“Asmo, I won’t.” You grinned at his silly concern and leaned in for a hug. Asmodeus did not disappoint.

Everyone else took a step forward, hoping for a hug of their own, as Asmodeus breathed into your ear, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You have my number. If anything goes wrong, call me.” Lucifer sounded so reliable as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

There were half a dozen chimes of “mine, too!” and “same here!”

You’d been away for longer trips. How in the world did these guys survive for so many millennia before you met them? You turned to look at Lucifer, wanting to counter that Devildom phones didn’t even work in the human world, but he probably knew that already.

"Don't talk to strangers," he reminded, "and don't go out alone at night. Some humans are worse than demons." He wrapped his arms around you and wished “safe travels.”

Mammon stepped up next. He forced himself to stare at you, haughtily playing off the sadness he was really feeling. His bottom lip jutted out a little more than usual. “Well! You’ll bring me back a good souvenir, right?”

“Oh? I don’t know, I might not have time…” It was playful banter, yet your words shocked him. Mammon’s eyes widened. He began stammering and gripped your fingers. You quickly performed damage control, “Joking! I’m joking, Mammon. Of course I’ll get you a souvenir.”

The younger siblings piped up, “us too!”

“I’m getting everyone souvenirs, don’t worry!” You already had a few gift ideas in mind.

Mammon put his forehead on your shoulder and a hand on your back that he rubbed. “But mine’ll be the best. I trust ya.”

“Don’t let Solomon give you any food he cooks,” Beelzebub warned. “Actually, don’t let Solomon give you any food. Ever.” He tried to give you a lumpy-looking cloth bag, no doubt filled with homemade treats to take with you. It smelled scrumptious. Only issue was, the bag was half your size.

“Beel, there’s food in the human world. I can’t take all this, why don’t you enjoy it with your brothers?”

Beelzebub frowned, setting aside his present. It tilted under the weight of its own contents. You felt a slight pang of guilt, but how could you carry it all? That much food could last you a week.

He picked you up for his hug, your toes dangling several inches off the floor until he gently set you back down. Belphegor caught you as you regained your footing.

His hug was simple and cozy. He tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. “Don’t forget about my pillow.”

You suspected that if you ever actually tried to run away, these seven would go to the ends of the three realms to find you.

Satan nudged your luggage, observing the way it slided forward an inch. It was heavy to you, but clearly not them. “That’s really all you’re bringing? Do you have enough clothes?”

“Yes! You helped me pack!” The repetition was really starting to grate on you. Things were never this crazy when one of them had to leave the house for a few days. They wouldn't even care unless somebody went mysteriously unseen for over a week. “You all know I’ve got everything under control. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Hey, how come Satan got to help you pack?” Mammon complained.

“We did too,” Belphegor said, his twin in agreement.

“It was a group effort,” according to Asmodeus.

Mammon crossed his arms. "No way! You let these guys see your underwear?"

Satan ignored them. “Do you want another book for the road?”

“I’ll be fine.” You gave Satan his hug. After letting go, his fingers hovered by your side. “We’re teleporting there anyway. I don’t think there’ll be time to read anything.”

One suspiciously quiet demon in the back stared at the floor. “Two days,” he sighed. Leviathan did a poor job of hiding how upset he was.

“Levi, aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

“Yes!?” His head jerked up, met your gaze, and looked down again.

“I can’t leave until I get a full set of hugs from everyone,” you admitted. “I’m missing a very valuable part of the collection.”

Asmodeus and Mammon readily offered themselves for a second go. Leviathan’s cheeks flushed with envy and he grabbed you a little roughly, squishing his face into your shoulder. “You’ll take lots of pictures? A-and you won’t forget about us?”

You scoffed, “how could I forget about you? We’re bound together by a pact, aren’t we?” As for photos… you didn't know what would be interesting, but it couldn't hurt to take a bunch anyway.

Lucifer cleared his throat, signaling to Leviathan it was time to let go. "I miss you already," he muttered.

The seven of them followed you out of the house and down to the House of Lamentation’s front gate. It was like having a school of fish circling you. You could call it a miracle they weren't following you onto the main road, but if they went that far you knew they'd unreasonably demand Solomon take them along too.

“It’s just one weekend!” you reiterated. “Take care, you guys.”

They peered at you through the fence bars, waving when you glanced over. It was a sad sight, and possible attempt to make you come rushing back. If it was this bad already, you didn't want to think about how they'd act if you were going away for one week.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

first moments

words: 1.5k

warnings: mom!reader, dad!rafe, established relationship, brief hospital setting, anxiety (from rafe)

“rafe, wanna do chest to chest?” you hum, eyes mostly closed, the exhaustion from labor still affecting you.

“i…” he stares at you, and then at your son, resting against your chest, maternity dress pulled open so he's against your skin, his face resembling the exact same one rafe makes when he's sleeping. “its okay, you keep holding him.”

“okay.” you say, looking down at your son. it didn't take you long to decide on a name. leon andres cameron. leon after rafes grandfather and andres after your own. a good strong family name. 

“he's so perfect.” rafe whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

“come closer.” you beckon, rafe moving his chair closer, but still keeping his distance, making you frown. “what's wrong?”

rafes mouth opens, but no words come out. you pause, hand petting over leons back.

“wait…” your mind starts to piece together, still foggy from the delivery and drugs. “you haven't held him yet.”

“i-” rafe stumbles over his words, knowing he's been caught. “i can't. he's too tiny. too perfect. i-i don't want to ruin him.”

“ruin him?” you frown. “rafe, you're his father. get over here.”

you struggle to scooch over on the hospital bed, but manage to make room for rafe to sit down next to you. he even sits carefully, gnawing at his lip as you turn leon over, keeping him asleep as you turn him face up, supporting his neck the whole time.

“just cradle your arms. it's okay, you'll get used to it.” you watch as rafe moves his arms before placing leon in them, having to cover your mouth when the sudden urge to cry hits you, leon looking even smaller being held by your husband.

“i love him.” rafe whispers, voice cracking, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. “i love him so much.”

“look how relaxed he is in your arms.” you coo. “i knew you'd be a good dad.”

--

“god, im so nervous.” rafe looks in the backseat where you’re sitting, leon buckled tight into the carseat.

“its okay.” you hum, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “just drive slow.” “yeah, of course.” rafe nods. he barely puts the car above 15 miles per hour the entire ride home. leon thankfully stays asleep, you’re not sure if you could have handled just leaving the hospital and having him crying on the way home.

“okay, here.” rafe takes a deep breath as he pulls the car into the garage.

“you got his carseat?” you ask. your body is still recovering from birth, and you’re not sure if you can lift anything up without tearing.

“yeah.” rafe undoes the carseat carefully as you get out and unlock the house, happy to be home after two days spent in the hospital.

“mmm.” you breathe in the fresh air. “my eyes are so happy after all that fluorescent light.”

“um- watch out baby.” rafe hates having to have you move out of the way so quickly, but he can hear leon beginning to fuss and needs to get him inside.

you giggle and step away, watching as rafe quickly rushes to unbuckle him. he looks to you to get him out of the carrier, but you allow rafe to scoop him up, shushing him and gently rocking him back and forth.

--

“i got it.” rafe offers.

“no, he's hungry.” you groan, already feeling your breasts swelling with milk just from hearing his cry. “i can tell.”

“im sorry, baby.” rafe sighs, staying in bed as he tries to get back to sleep. no point having both of you completely exhausted.

you manage to settle leon, feeding him in the rocking chair rafe got you before you gave birth. he almost wakes when you transfer him back to the crib, but you get him down and back to rafe, crawling into bed next to him.

“i wish i could do more.” rafe sighs. so much of you is required from leon, not just the pregnancy but now needing to feed him. rafe tries to take care of anything else you could need, but he struggles with not knowing how to do things as basic as changing diapers.

“you're learning fast, rafe. it's okay.” you move closer so rafe can hold you, snuggling into your back, his hand gently rubbing over your hip.

“i don't deserve you.” you know it's just the exhaustion talking. you grip his hand in yours, squeezing three times, saying the words without needing to speak.

“we should sleep while he's asleep.” you say, rafe nodding and pressing kisses to your shoulders and upper back until you're pulled back to sleep.

--

“shh, leon, it's okay.” rafe looks around for you, surely you must have heard leons cries. you said you'd be just a minute, running to the beauty aisle to grab your conditioner before returning to rafe shopping for groceries.

rafe pushes the brim of the carrier back, his heart breaking as his sons little face scrunches with big tears rolling down his cheeks.

rafe isn't sure what to do, so he just lets his instincts guide him as he quickly undoes the seatbelt and lifts leon into his chest, being careful to hold his head just as you instructed.

the second leon is against rafes, his cries lessen, and then all together subside as rafe bounces gently.

“is he okay?” rafe looks up to see you hustling down the aisle towards him.

“yeah, he was upset but i got him.” rafe pats leons back gently, turning his head to press a kiss against his cheek.

“okay.” you let out a sigh of relief, tossing your conditioner into the grocery cart. “want me to take him?”

“no, im good.” rafe shifts leon a little as you start to walk, pushing the carrier and loading the bottom up with more groceries, especially all the things you couldn't have while pregnant but are now safe despite still breastfeeding.

rafe doesn't miss the way you keep looking over at him with light in your eyes, excitement evident at seeing how comfortable rafe is becoming with leon held snuggly in his arms.

--

“are you sure?” you ask, frowning as your eyes flicker between leon laying on the couch cushion and rafe sitting next to him, focus on your baby as he makes silly faces at him.

“baby, i know i struggled at first, but this is one weekend. you have plenty of milk pumped. ill be fine.” rafe scoops leon into his arms as he stands, walking towards you.

“besides, if i need help i can always call your mom. even wheezie, you know she'll be happy to see leon.” rafe shifts the baby to one arm while his free hand comes to cup your cheek. “go. please, i will miss you and leon will too, but you deserve a break.”

“okay.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to rafes lips before also kissing leon, who lets out a familiar cooing sound.

“im gonna text my girls.” you can't hide the excitement in your voice, pulling out your phone to confirm you'll be able to go to the girls spa weekend away. 

“i want nightly face times with you though baby.” you poke leons little nose, whose cheeks stretch into a smile.

--

“oh my god, rafe, is everything okay?” you squeal, squinting at the screen as if it'll somehow make leon appear.

“yes! fine, i promise.” rafe points the camera down so you can see leon happily on his lap, already looking tired as bedtime is quickly approaching.

“why didn't you pick up the first time?” you ask, a lot calmer now that you have eyes on your baby.

“leon and i were just getting home. i took him to the park. he couldn't really do anything but be in the carrier but he liked watching the other kids play.” rafe looks down at leon, giving him a little tickle under the chin. “isn't that right buddy?”

“did you-”

“yes, i put sunscreen on him. and he wore a hat. and-” rafe stresses before you can interrupt. “i reapplied sunscreen after an hour.”

“you're the best.” you smile. “you know i never doubted you rafe, it's just-” you take a deep sigh. “i worry so much about him. and making sure he's happy.”

“and he is.” rafe assured you. “look at his little face.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you look at your husband and your son, snuggled together on the couch. you quickly take a screenshot while they both have smiles on their faces.

“you're such a good mama. leons lucky to have you, and so am i.”

the tears are now falling down your cheeks as you smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too. and we miss you, but go enjoy your night with the girls!”

“okay.” you nod. “you're right. ill be home tomorrow around noon.”

“got it.” rafe holds the camera closer to leon. “say bye bye to mommy, leon.”

the call ends with his smiling face looking back at yours.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen

[starrystevie]

“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed. 

steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”

the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love. 

“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”

eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them. 

“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see. 

it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making. 

steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore. 

“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room. 

another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”

they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll  find each other in the next one.