#whenever christmas comes around

[adore-gregor]

Lol I keep on doing this, saying I'd come back to tumblr to only disappear again 😂😭

[glimblshanks]

saying Joan Jett would kill a swiftie is so funny because never in my life have I met weirder gay people than swifties

Broski I'm sorry you only hang out with boring queer people, but your experiences are absolutely not universal

[vitiateoriginator]

I wish I were still young enough to go trick or treating

[sunni-stuff]

P2 P3

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[stopfunkinwmyheart]

[sweetiecutie]

Husband! König is very happy that your parents decide to finally come over to your house for a week to spend Christmas and New Year with you two. König does genuinely enjoy their company - they’re his family now after all, not only by law but by feelings that connect you all.

But there’s a little but. Husband! König just can’t help but feel frustrated at the lack of intimacy between you two these past days. Not only have you been occupied with holiday preparations, shortening the usual amount of attention you gave him, but constant presence of both your parents around the house meant nearly to no sex. From fucking you whenever and wherever he pleased, König now had to settle for a quick hand- or blowjob from you in a bathroom before going back to your parents, all broad smiles and innocence in your eyes.

Husband! König who clenches his chiseled jaw, throwing his head back so it hits the wall behind with a soft ‘thud’ as he tries his absolute hardest to bite back all the moans and groans threatening to slip off his tongue. You coo sweet apologies to him as your hand fists his leaking cock before the warmth of your mouth wraps around thick shaft, sinking down on it until your nose is buried into small bush of dark blonde hair on König’s pubic.

König can barely stay upright, the lack of any sexual interaction between you two in these past days making him even more sensitive. A string of hissed curses falling from bitten lips as your throat moulded to the shape of his dick, clenching down on him as you bob your head up and down, fucking the cum out of your husband with your mouth.

Husband! König who doesn’t last for long, soon flooding your throat with his thick pearly cum, making you gag and cough around his softening dick. You slip your mouth off his cock, tucking it back into his boxers and pressing a small kiss right under his bellybutton, practically making König melt in your arms. “I’m sorry baby, I promise that I’ll make it up to you once they leave” you whisper, pressing another quick kiss to his tummy before standing up and exiting the bathroom, leaving your hubby all hot and bothered still>:[

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off your feedback<3

[moonlightpirate]

The most creative I've felt in legit weeks.......and I have so much stuff to do for Christmas that I doubt I'll find time to write xD but I must find time I will treat my William boldwood readers for Christmas!

[cherrygirlfriend]

stepbro!rafe using a vibrator on reader

warnings: smut, stepcest, DUBCON, blackmail MDNI wc: 1.5k i've never written stepbro rafe before but i got this idea and wanted to give it a try??? so i have no idea how this is going to turn out but hopefully halfway decent

"rafeee, can you get my charger? it's in the top drawer of my nightstand!" you called up from downstairs, making your stepbrother roll his eyes.

"fucking get it yourself!"

"the food's gonna burn!"

despite you being on the first floor, rafe could hear the whiney tone in your voice, and almost picture the way your lip bottom lip would be pulled in with that despicable pout that managed to get you everything from both his father and your mother, and so, begrudgingly he opened the door to your bedroom.

he rounded the corner of your four-poster bed, bending to open the top drawer of your nightstand, spotting your charger on top of a bunch of your other shit, and letting out a small scoff as he threw the charger onto the bed.

but when rafe spotted a small key peeking out from underneath some stupid fashion magazine, his interest was piqued; he didn't even need to pick it up to know what it went to. it was the bottom drawer of your nightstand, him having an identical nightstand in his own bedroom, and knowing the almost scandalous contents of his own bottom drawer made him curious as to what you could be hiding in yours.

he picked it up, observing it for a moment before slamming the top drawer closed, swiftly putting the key in the lock and twisting it open. when he pulled it open, at first it appeared as if nothing was in it, but he knew better. he pulled the false bottom off, throwing it onto the bed, and when rafe's eyes fell onto what was in your nightstand, he couldn't help the grin on his face.

some of the contents were pretty tame; a pile of notebooks that he assumed were your old diaries, some weed, and some adderall that he knew you used to pop like fucking skittles back when you were in high school and had a big test coming up.

but his eyes widened slightly when he spotted the bottle of lube and the small, pale pink bullet-shaped vibrator; sure, he knew you had your vices and you weren't an innocent girl like you led your mother to believe, but you'd always been kind of a prude; you'd never let any of your old boyfriends mark you up even back when you'd been in high school like most girls that were too horny to even realize, and even now, he saw your face flush whenever there was a fucking sex scene on television and you conveniently looked down at your phone for the duration of it.

what really struck his eye was the stack of polaroids he knew you'd taken with the instax mini camera ward had gotten you for christmas, and when he picked up the stack and turned them around, only the first image was enough to cause his jaw to slack slightly.

it was taken on a timer, and you were kneeling on your bed, your hand splayed on your neck, wearing a sheer pink lingerie dress, lacy pink panties covering your pussy while your nipples were covered by red, heart-shaped pasties.

he went through the polaroids, his eyes widening and his shorts tightening with each picture, shots of you wearing different lingerie sets, ones of you looking over your shoulder seductively while you were kneeling on the bed, showing off your ass in a pair of thongs, pictures taken where your tits were soaped up and just covered by your arms, ones-

"rafeee! did you find it?!"

he chuckled at your called-out question, so unaware of the things he had found, putting the polaroids back in the bottom drawer, "yeah yeah!" he called back out, but as he was starting to put the false bottom back in, he got an idea.

and so, before he put the false bottom back in the drawer, he slipped the bullet-shaped vibrator into his pocket.

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat; you had no idea where it could've gone, having used it literally that morning. even though you remembered putting it in its usual spot in the bottom drawer of your nightstand, it was nowhere to be seen.

you thought that maybe you'd accidentally left it on your bed; your bedding, now on the floor. maybe it was on your top drawer instead, the contents dumped on the floor next to it. now you were going through your bookshelf, your teeth biting into your bottom lip so harshly you could taste blood in your mouth.

it wasn't only that you didn't want anyone to find it; it was also that you were so fucking sexually frustrated. you'd already gotten yourself off in the morning, but still, everything even slightly sexual had caused you to press your legs firmly together to seek some relief.

you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard someone clear their throat, and when you turned to look at who it was, you were faced with your stepbrother, a smug smile on his face.

"looking for something?" rafe said, holding up the pink device you'd been looking for, your eyes widening when they landed on it

"did you go through my stuff you psycho?!" you stomped to him, rafe holding the vibrator over his head and out of your reach when you tried grabbing it. "give it to me!"

"i don't think that's how you speak to someone when you want something from them." rafe tsked, his jaw clenched as he pressed you against your bedroom wall, his hand on your chin, making you look up at him, "see, you're supposed to ask nicely. didn't mommy teach you that?"

"what do you want, rafe?"

"you know, when i found this little thing," rafe tapped the small vibrator against your cheek, "i found some really interesting pictures." he grinned, your eyes widening, your heartbeat picking up, immediately knowing the pictures he was talking about.

rafe turned on the vibrator, letting it travel down your chest, until coming in contact with your clothed nipple, slowly, involuntarily pebbling under the vibrations, your stepbrother's breath hot on your face, an obvious tent in his sweatpants. "it would be such a shame if your mom saw them, you know?"

"they don't show my face..." you said with a small sniffle, your eyes starting to sting with tears, meanwhile you felt your cunt starting to get slick with arousal from the stimulation to your nipple.

"aw, she might be stupid but she's not an idiot. you really think she won't recognize that pretty little body? all those pretty marks and dots on your body. are you willing to risk it?"

rafe's hand started traveling lower, the vibrations trailing down your ribs and abdomen, causing you to tense up your muscles as you spoke, your teeth gritting together, "what do you want?"

"to own you."

rafe had you pinned down on your bed, your hands gripping onto your already crumpled sheets; your lacy panties clinging to your pussy, thoroughly soaked in your arousal, and you knew they were beyond saving.

your flimsy top had been pushed up to reveal your breasts, and he'd been using the vibrator on your poor pussy for an hour now, and somehow it had been the most excruciating yet exhilarating hour of your life.

"i can't..." you whined as rafe brought the vibrator to your clit, and even though it was covered by the soaking fabric, it felt as if there wasn't any barrier at all, the stimulation bringing you closer and closer to your third orgasm. "'s too much... feels too good…"

rafe let out a cruel laugh at that, only bringing up the volume of the vibrator, pressing it even firmly against your clit, causing you to let out a yelp that turned into a moan, roughly grabbing at the fat of your breast as he brought his face closer to your face.

"you're gonna take it." he smiled, pressing a small kiss between your breasts, before standing up. "keep it in place." rafe commanded, and you brought your hand to weakly hold the vibrator at your clit while he walked around your room, in search for something.

"what... what are you doing?" you mumbled, your mind hazy from the pleasure coursing through your body, your eyes widening when rafe turned around, holding your polaroid camera. "r-rafe?"

rafe walked towards the bed, turning on the camera as he kneeled over you, swatting your hand away from the vibrator, replacing it with his own. "this is gonna be your best picture yet."

before you could protest, you were blinded by the flash, trying to use your arm to cover up your eyes, the picture slowly coming out of the camera, and rafe set it down next to you on the bed while it slowly changed from black to a picture of your body, showing your bared tits and the soaked panties that had molded to the shape of your pussy, rafe's large, ringed hand holding the vibrator against your clit.

rafe turned off the vibrator, throwing it onto the bed, grabbing the photo, and shoving it into the pocket of his sweatpants, before leaning closer to your ear.

"i own you." he whispered roughly, before standing up and leaving your room.

[sectumsempraaa]

Flames on Thin Ice

Pairing: jealous!Theo Nott x fem!Ravenclaw!reader

Word count: 2.9k

TW: cursing, jealousy, ridiculous amounts of yearning and fluff

Based on this request! Thank you :)

Summary: You and Theo Nott are something much more than friends, but just less than lovers. He would very much like to change that, as he’s no longer able to control his rapidly intensifying feelings for you. But when Slughorn’s exclusive Christmas party approaches and Draco Malfoy asks you to be his date, the limits of Theo’s jealousy are tested like never before.

“Come here, bella,” Theo smiles and gestures towards you as he strides over to where you stand, surrounded by holiday decor. He approaches you from the side, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you gently. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you hook an arm around his shoulders, placing the star on top of the Slytherin common room holiday tree.

Decorating the common room tree is one of your favorite parts of winter at Hogwarts. This year, the Slytherins asked for your help after hearing how amazing you did with the Ravenclaw tree for your own house.

Theo can’t say the same, but he’d do just about anything at this point to spend time with you. His crush on you has blossomed the last couple of months, your pull on him amplifying each day. Any opportunity he sees to touch you, help you, or make you laugh, he takes. No question.

“Grazie, cara mio.” You respond, looking down into his heavy, perfect blue eyes. You always try to speak to him in Italian whenever you can, picking up on his more common phrases. You’re the only one that goes to that kind of effort for him and he notices it. God, does it notice it.

He spins you around, earning a series of giggles from you before he lets you back down on your feet. Your hand lingers on his for a few seconds, which feels like an eternity to him. If only he could kiss you right here, right now. But the graze of your fingertips on his palm is enough for him, for now. He’ll take what he can get.

You step back, turning towards the fully decorated tree, ready to show off your hard work. He wants to watch with you but he can’t bear to when you’re looking this beautiful, this stunning. His eyes obsess over your every perfect feature, his eyes drinking in your essence. 

This might be my favorite outfit of hers. The plaid skirt, the knee-high socks, the cream colored sweater. No- the one from my birthday, when she wore my necklace…

Oblivious to his longing stare, you take out your wand, tucked into the waistline of your skirt.

“Lumos,” you say, a look of wonder and awe blossoming on your face as the tree lights up. The warm glow makes you gasp, the sudden joy jolting through you.

Your hands quickly grab his bicep, pulling yourself towards him. A squeal of happiness escapes you, prompting a laugh from Theo. His smile, your favorite smile, triggers your heart to flutter. The way you’re looking at him sends his mind spiraling.

Gods, she is perfect.

It takes him a second to recover from the profound effect your touch has on him. His skin burns like fire, his heart aching for you. 

I’ll win her. I’ll win her so she can spin around in my arms again next year.

Your soft voice brings him out of his thoughts. “What do you think? Is it good enough?” you ask, your eyes contemplating your creation.

He reluctantly removes his arm from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. In a moment of risk, he drops it to your waist, his fingers fiddling with your sweater. Your face quickly turns to his in surprise. 

His pulse stops, his breath with it as your hand slowly makes its way to his chest, resting above his heart. Your head tilts up to meet his dark stare, your eyes locking in on each other.

“It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is glaringly apparent he isn’t talking about the tree anymore. 

You swore his head leaned down, his lips parted slightly, his hand pressed your whole chest against his, before-

“Y/L/N! Where is that pretty little Ravenclaw?” You hear a familiar, yet obnoxious, distant voice crawling its way into the common room from the dungeon corridor. A disgruntled Theo shuts his eyes in defeat.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

He notices the look of disappointment etched in your features, it’s enough to send a pang of longing and frustration slamming into him. His heart drops as your body detaches from his, putting a space between you. His side feels colder without your warmth against it.

I had her.

Draco rounds the corner, a skip in his step as he confidently strides over to you. His eyes light up with glee as Theo’s darken, seeing red. Draco takes your hands in his, kissing each one before speaking.

“My lovely little Y/L/N, just the girl I was looking for. I’ve got something to ask you,” he starts, your eyes widen as he gets down on one knee, keeping your hands clasped with his. A quick glance at Theo shows you the tension in his jaw, the dagger-like stare he casts on Draco.

Why’s she looking at him like that? That look was for me not even a minute ago.

“I have been personally invited to Slughorn’s holiday party and I couldn’t think of a more perfect date to bring. Will you be my plus one?”

The look of hesitancy on your face prompts him to continue. “Consider it the best Christmas present you could give me.”

Normally, Draco wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking anyone outside his own house. But the Slytherin crew has a soft spot for you, so much so that the common room door doesn’t argue when you say their password anymore.

You giggle, taking a step closer to Draco. “Well, I do love a Christmas party.”

His bright, smug smile draws you in as he stands up and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on top of yours. “I know you do.” He smirks.

He shares the time and dress code details with you before heading off to meet up with Blaise for dinner. You look around, only to find you’re alone in the common room. Theo left, admittedly, before he blew a fuse.

—

The next couple of weeks are interesting to say the least. Theo has been pining for your attention, trying to distract you from the other boys as much as he can. But mostly, he’s been keeping an eye on Malfoy.

In one instance, Draco came to Theo’s dorm, where he knew you were hanging out, to ask what you were going to wear to the party. “Hmm, we should match, I think.” He suggested. 

Nope. Not today, mate. And certainly not in my fucking bedroom.

Theo suddenly picked you up off his bed bridal style, physically removing you from Draco’s presence before either of you could agree on an accent color.

“Theo!” You yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck and peeking back at Draco. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere that prat isn’t.” He responds with haste.

In another instance, Draco sat across from you in the Great Hall during breakfast and gifted you a pair of earrings for the event. “They sparkle almost as much as you, love.”

The gesture brought a heat to your cheeks that had Theo making fists under the table. He can’t stand to see you flustered over Draco’s pathetic attempts to buy your affection.

Thin ice, Malfoy. Thin. Fucking. Ice.

Draco continues. “My mother picked them out special. She was beside herself when I told her I was taking you.”

At this, Theo happened to “accidently” spill his tea directly into Draco’s lap, earning him a public scolding. But the words go through one ear and out the other. He remains unscathed, because Draco left, and you’re all his again. And really, that’s all he cares about.

—

The day of the party arrives, one Theo has been absolutely dreading. No amount of self-soothing could keep his mind from imagining the shit Malfoy would pull without him there to interfere.

In your dorm, Theo watches as you fix your hair and apply your makeup. He observes your every move, trying to etch each one into his memory, noting all the things you do that drive him crazy.

The way she bites her lip while putting on mascara.

How she hums Christmas carols while pinning up her hair.

When she asks me what shade of eyeshadow she should wear.

When you finish dolling yourself up, you change into your dress in the bathroom. A pout of frustration escapes you as you realize your hands can’t reach the zipper. You decide to ask for Theo’s assistance.

When you walk back into your dorm, you’re met with a completely awe-struck Theo, his tired eyes grow wider than you thought they could even go. The boy is seemingly paralyzed by you. 

Holy bloody hell.

His trance-like gaze runs over the lace neckline, down the curves of your bodice, and over the shimmering gown. He’s never seen you dressed up before, and you have him wondering why it took so long to.

“Spin.” He demands, begs. “Please.”

You slowly turn for him, a small smile adorning your face. The gown flows like water, splaying out as it twirls around you. You have to admit, both the dress and his reaction are feeding your confidence.

Nothing matters in the whole world except for her.

He stands, having noticed the undone zipper in the back. He saunters towards you, jumping at the opportunity, his eyes unwavering from your body. He places his hands on your hips, turning your back towards him.

Can I just marry her now? Can she wear this to our wedding? 

You feel his soft breath grace your neck, a whisper of affection envelopes you. “Mia bella ragazza,” he says, each word dripping with pure adoration. He zips you up with the utmost delicacy and care.

He wraps his left arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you both back and forth, imitating a slow dance.

“Y/N.” Theo says, ready to pour his heart out for you. Right here, right now. As your eyes meet his, you share a moment of yearning, his lips dead set on meeting yours…

Until an abrasive knock that could only belong to Draco breaks your stare from his.

Please don’t take her away from me now.

He, of course, opens the door without being granted entry. You slide away from Theo’s embrace, slipping on your heels and grabbing your cover-up. Draco beckons you to him, grabbing a hand and twirling you around.

The sound of your laughter plagues Theo. You link an arm with Draco, tucking into his side. Theo’s mind silently explodes with jealousy, trying to identify everything wrong with the sight in front of him.

He looks like dirt compared to her.

Draco reaches to fix one of the earrings he gave you, setting it just right. Heat begins to course through Theo’s very being.

I’d rather eat slugs than see my Y/N on his arm.

Draco leads them out, nodding a silent goodbye to Theo on the way towards the door. “I think we look rather dashing together, don’t you agree?” he asks, his ego caking each word.

Theo takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure as he’s left in silence. He vowed to himself that he would behave for you, for this one night. For your sake. 

But just before you leave his line of sight, you steal one last, desperate glance at Theo. And that’s enough to break his vow.

—

I can’t believe she makes me this stupid.

Theo thinks as he peers into Slughorn’s party from a tiny window. His feet perched on the ledge, several feet above the ground. His knuckles go white as his fingers grip the wall tightly. 

He spots you next to Draco at the table, noticing his hand covering yours. The students engage in lively conversation, mostly Malfoy telling boring stories about his father.

Though Theo tries hard to keep his focus on Malfoy, he can’t help but obsess over your breathtaking beauty.

His ears recognize the first few notes of the song you were humming earlier coming over the speakers. 

You gasp and whip your head towards Draco, your eyes lit up with excitement, your hands tugging his suit jacket. “This is my favorite song!! Can we dance?” You ask him.

He stands and offers you his hand, which you take immediately. “All night, if you’d like, love.” 

He doesn’t deserve this. He can barely carry a tune, let alone dance. 

Theo hops down from the window, using the moving picture frames as leverage. Once he lands, he finds the back entrance to the party, peering through the sheer curtains.

Good luck pulling this off, Malfoy. I hope she laughs in your face.

But that’s not what happens. In fact, it is hard to deny how absolutely gorgeous you two look together, each step perfectly placed, each twirl calculated. Everyone watches you both sweep across the dance floor with ease, like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. 

And even worse, it looks like you’re enjoying it. Theo’s hand drags down his face in agony.

Fuck… he’s killing it.

Theo’s inner fire intensifies as Draco’s hand moves to rest on your lower back. Too low for his liking. And the way you’re eating it up drives him mad. Draco leans in near your ear, sharing smirks and whispers with you. 

The bloody fool is talking during her favorite song instead of letting her sing.

An idea sparks in Theo’s head, one that would probably disappoint you. But he doesn’t care anymore. Especially as he watches Draco cross the final line by dipping you backwards, his eyes obviously lingering on your chest. When he lifts you back up to him, you hear a faint, boyish voice call from behind you.

“Confundus.”

Suddenly, Draco stumbles over, tripping over his own feet and falling on the floor, bringing you down with him. Slughorn swiftly strides over and accuses Draco of drinking too much champagne, despite your efforts to defend him. When he’s asked to leave, you follow him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, patting down the front of his suit jacket and fixing his hair. He rolls his eyes, shrugging you off and mumbling something to himself about how “Slughorn will pay for this.”

As he sulks away, you find yourself alone in the corridor, sighing and stepping out of your heels. A humming sound emanates from behind you, the familiar tone easily identifiable to your ears. You can’t help but smile as the pieces fall into place.

“Really? Confundus?” You joke, turning your head to the side with a smirk. Theo’s arm wraps itself around your front once again, swaying you in his slow-dance way. What you didn’t expect was the feeling of his lips on your cheek, kissing you ever so softly.

“Si, bella.” He responds, switching to kiss your other cheek. “With the way he drooled on you all night, he’s lucky it wasn’t a Crucio.”

You remove his hand, letting yourself turn to face him. He kicks your heels to the side, allowing you to step closer. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, your finger tracing the edge of his jaw.

“Mio bel ragazzo,” you say, lifting yourself up on your tippy toes. He pulls away, catching you off guard, grounding yourself to the floor again.

“I’ve waited forever to kiss you, Y/N. Dreamed of it, even.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, his finger twirling around one of your stray curls. “Let me.”

The blush on your face hits a crimson peak, nodding a silent grant of permission. Your heart races as both his hands firmly cup your face, pulling you gently until you feel his lips join yours, melding into each other.

The kiss is long and earned, his lips moving against yours with intention. When he finally breaks for a breath, you tug on his collar, quickly crashing your lips back onto his. A low moan travels its way from his mouth to yours, his hands now wrapped securely around your waist. Good luck getting this boy to let go.

You pull away, letting Theo rest his forehead on yours, a stupid smile adorning his face as he processes the moment.

“For what it’s worth, I told Narcissa I wanted those earrings. I think she almost felt bad that I had to go with him.” You laughed, playing with the jewelry on your ears.

“He’s not allowed near you- no, he’s not even allowed in the same room as you from now on,” Theo says, a shadow of the tension in his jaw lingers. “Or it’s lights out for him.”

You both break into a fit of laughter at the threat, leaning on each other for balance.

You pause for a second, his eyes brimming with unspeakable joy. Your hand finds the back of his neck, grazing it with your fingertips, feeling the resulting chills it sparks on his skin.

“There’s only one room I want to be in right now, and I’d like you to take me to it.” You whisper, Theo’s expression becoming eager as he immediately lifts you up, swiftly carrying out your order. You could tell him to burn down a city and he’d do it for you.

“Am I dreaming this, bella? Am I really taking the most extraordinary person who’s ever lived back to my dorm?” He asks, relishing the feel of your arms around his neck and the scent of your vanilla perfume encompassing him.

“Wow, the most extraordinary person? Ever?!” You giggle, your voice coated with exaggeration. “What does that make you?” You ask him.

“The luckiest.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[onlyswan]

summary: in which there is never enough time to be in love but jungkook is a 24/7 lover. (part one)

idol!jk x afab!reader / fluffy fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 3.6k

warnings/content: jungkook takes a day off and surprises oc <3 ; he's veryyy touchy; he gives oc's boobie a lil bite lol this guy ; s*xual innuendos; one (1) spank; oc comforts him :(; bam is home too!!; family is complete

→ in which masterlist!

note: smth short and sweet so i can recover from dreamboat loool missed my babies sm <3 as always reblog and/or feedback is very much appreciated! <3

p.s. i'm also redoing my iw taglist so pls comment/send an ask if you want to be (re)/added!

—

“baby? i’m home.”

you’re confident to say that you’d never mistake jungkook’s voice for anyone else’s. and on that note, you must be dreaming of him— the voice of an angel, the calloused palms cupping your cheeks… the audible and damp kisses delicately being peppered all over your face. everything feels so real. too real. just like how it used to be.

it hasn’t been long since you last saw him. you communicate and meet whenever it’s possible, no matter how short the time he is allowed to dedicate. still, you miss him all the time, everyday. you keep telling yourself it’s not that bad. time is passing by faster than you feared. but this whole set-up is foreign and daunting. and you miss him. you miss him all the time. that must be why you’re dreaming. 

when you open your eyes in the morning, you’ve come to expect nothing more than the view of the plain white ceiling, or the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains. 

so why are you gawking at jungkook’s face?

he smiles from ear-to-ear, bunny teeth and crinkles around his eyes— you can’t be mistaken. it’s him. it feels as though your heart has been shocked and revived. 

“jungkook!” you gasp.

you startle your own self when you abruptly throw your arms around him. he tries to hold you up, but you’re far too ecstatic for your own good, inexplicable joy thrumming in your veins and fireworks bursting in your ribcage. you squeal and jump up and down on the bed like a little kid on christmas morning; jungkook hugs you back tighter than he has ever done before, protecting you from the fall and crash.

“oh my god, you’re here! you’re here!”

“yes, i’m here-” he laughs in amusement. “ow shit, settle down- wow, it’s so early. why are you so energetic-”

“i missed you!” you briefly pause for oxygen. “so much! i’m never letting go of you again!” 

“wow!” he makes a dramatic wheezing sound. “that much, baby? you missed me that much?” 

“that much!” 

you draw back with a pout, just enough so you can look at each other, nodding your head probably too fast— you’re almost dizzy. adrenaline tide calming into waves, you’re catching your breath.

are you certain that this is not your imagination playing tricks on you?

“you’re here…” you slowly say. it’s only registering to your whiplashed brain. there is barely any feeling in your arms as you touch his face, an attempt at separating wishful thinking and reality. “why are you here?”

“why else?” he grins toothily. “because you said you were missing me.” 

your attempt at forming words is rudely interrupted. he steals a kiss, this thief… hard and hungry, keeping you in place by his palm cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. 

he pulls away with a satisfied hum, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “and because i was missing you more.” 

for a moment, you gaze at each other in silence. you’re still neck deep in disbelief and euphoria. that kiss took your breath away. under the circumstances, you shall yield and admit that he misses you more. he requests for developed photos of you when you come visit. that’s something you never imagined you’d have to do. 

he tries to tame your messy hair, smoothing it down until he’s holding your cheeks lovingly. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? i miss waking up to this pretty face everyday.” 

you pucker your lips in response, demanding for a kiss. this earns a chuckle from him before he grants your wish. an unintelligible noise of joy escapes your mouth as you jump and hug him again. it is shortly followed by a yelp when he whisks you off the bed without warning, spinning you ‘round and ‘round… ‘round… and ‘round… and…

your laughter soon transforms into horror. 

“jungkook!” you scream with your eyes squeezed shut and your legs curled around his waist. “okay! stop it! i’m getting dizzy!” 

the crazy bastard keeps on giggling as if he doesn’t hear a thing. you always expect these reunions to be so emotional, but when jungkook is here, it feels as though he never left.  

“jungkook!” 

you hook your leg around his, causing the two of you to collapse on the soft mattress. you land on top of him with a whimper. you breathe out a sigh, relieved that the nausea-inducing ride is over.

“that was fun.” he speaks next to your ear; the sensation makes you squirm. 

“it was,” you push yourself up to search for more air, a little sweaty after yours and jungkook’s hyperness took control of your bodies. “for the first five seconds.” 

you’re now properly straddling him, ass on his crotch. it’s accidental, but nothing new. nay, comfortable. this level of proximity won’t feel like intimacy with somebody else. goddamn, you missed your boyfriend so much. 

a big, sleepy yawn zaps your attention from him. you cover your face with both hands, wandering into the darkness for a little while. you find that your mind is devoid of any thought. perhaps you’re more overwhelmed than you let on. 

“missed this view too…” he reveals amidst the haze, a distinct change in the tone of his voice. 

there they are— the butterflies in his stomach, slaves to you and only you. he breathes through his parted lips as he caresses your thighs with tenderness bleeding from his fingertips, your skin so smooth and soft in contrast to his calloused palms. his lips curve into a drunken smile when you graze his greedy hands, as though granting them permission, before they slip inside the magenta velvet of your night dress. the material bunches over his forearms as he reaches for your hips. it leaves almost nothing to the imagination (in his case: memory). his attention is stolen by your cotton panties. light taupe. decorated by white polka dots. 

“this one’s new.” he comments.

you peer down to figure out what he meant. right, he’s never seen this before. “surprise! you like it?”

“yes, it’s cute.” he toys with the little ribbon at the center of the waistband. “you rarely get this color.”

“thanks. i think my taste is changing.”

“really?”

“mhmm…” 

his hands venture up to your waist, kneading at the flesh and reacquainting with the feel of you. he’s been pissed off at the thought of forgetting what it feels like to touch you, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he hasn’t been away from you for extended periods of time since their last tour. that was years ago. 

for maximum comfort, he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. “let’s move here.” he carries you with him, back comfortable leaning against the headboard, while you remain sitting pretty on his lap. “bam was sleeping on my side of the bed when i arrived.”

“huh…?” you blink. 

“you didn’t know?”

you shake your head innocently, a tad distracted by your eyes roaming his naked torso. he looks absolutely ravishing as ever. did something already change from the last time you saw him? 

“i tucked him into his bed last night.”

you visited bam at the training facility after work yesterday, but he kept trying to follow you as you were leaving. your fragile heart caved and you brought him home for the weekend. you texted jungkook about it but he didn’t respond; as much as that made you sad, you figured he was just tired or he used his phone time to talk to his family. 

you spent the whole night playing with bam and watching his favorite dog entertainment channel on youtube. the house wasn’t dead silent for once. you fell asleep together on the couch until you woke up at 2am and tucked him and yourself into your respective beds. it was easy to fall back to sleep after, but it felt weird that you didn’t need an audiobook or hours of calming sounds of nature. 

you’re not whining. there have been a lot of sunny and happy days. you have wonderful people in your life who act as your support system in their own unique ways, but jungkook and bam… they’re your family. you made your peace with no longer having one, but now that you’ve built your own, having to be apart from them makes your heart ache. 

“did he sneak in to sleep next to you? he does that now?” he makes a surprised face. “what’s this? i’m so jealous of him!”

a pinch in your heart. 

you try your best to conceal a frown, but your poor choice of words paints your disappointment. “you’re not-” you avoid his eyes. “staying the night?”

“yah, you don’t have to look so sad. i can stay, baby.”

“you can?” your face lights up. 

“for you, i’ll make it happen.” he cheeses, affectionately tapping the tip of your nose like it’s a button to make you smile. “i’m only working hard in there to earn more days off, you know that?”

that makes you frown.

“babe, don’t do that…” you whine, shaking his shoulders. “you don’t need to work so hard. only do what is required of you. i just want you to be healthy.”

“no… just let me.” he replies with finality. “i need… i need a reason. you’re the reason why i’m still hanging in there, and i don’t want to miss another anniversary.” 

he bats his eyelashes. 

“being your boyfriend is my favorite job in the whole world.”

and how are you supposed to argue with one of his most heart-fluttering, most wholesome lines yet? 

you sigh in defeat. “then you can rest when you’re with me.” 

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” 

you lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted when he yawns. your forehead ends up resting against his as you giggle uncontrollably at the unexpected and hilarious view of his open mouth. 

“sleepy?”

he bows his head in embarrassment, body vibrating with laughter. “i couldn’t sleep because i was so excited. i wanted to talk to you last night but i was so sure i’d spoil the surprise.” 

“of course you couldn’t.” you giggle, removing yourself from his lap while tugging at the collar of his shirt. “come here. let’s sleep some more.”

you lie down on the bed facing each other. jungkook moans in contentment as you engulf him in your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. he can smell your body wash, sweet and clean. that— that isn’t new. every muscle in his body decompresses. he needed this, needed you. desperately. tremendously. you pull the thick and warm blanket over yourselves and he melts. while he wishes he was taller, he knows he is still of considerable height. he’s been bulking up, getting stronger than before too. but he doesn’t give a fuck about those at the moment. he’s not even aware. his body fits perfectly with yours— that’s all he knows. oh… he’s melting. but it doesn’t feel like he’s being reduced. he has everything to gain. this is heaven on earth.

he opens his eyes into an awful squint, faced by your cleavage spilling out from the neckline of your night dress. there’s this urge he can’t ignore. it’s not spelt out in his mind, he rather feels like his body is having a fit. next thing he knows, he’s carefully sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the swell of your boob. he stays still for a few seconds, and then pulls away once he deems himself satisfied. he wipes your skin with his thumb incase he left some saliva, innocent eyes peeking up at you huffing out a quiet laugh. 

“you sure that’s all you needed?”

“i’ll devour you later.” he smirks, blinking sluggishly. “i’m tired but just you wait. i’ll go all night!”

“not if i beat you to it…” you tease, having plans of your own. you want to make him feel good. you’ve been going insane thinking about it. “missed you.”

“alright then, let’s do it at the same time.” he says suggestively. 

“you know i have a hard time focusing when we do that.” you huff.

“eh, so? not me.” he chuckles. “i think you do a really great job, though?”

“…still! go easy on me a little bit so i can do better.”

“it’s not a competition, baby.” he squeezes your waist affectionately. “plus, i don’t think i’d be able to control myself once i get a taste.”

“jungkook!” you whine, growing flustered. 

he laughs out loud, giving your ass a quick spank that resounds through the walls of the bedroom. 

it becomes silent again after that.

the tip of your nails graze his scalp with repeated movements, more so for your amusement, but he is practically purring. you can’t imagine your arm being a comfortable pillow either, but he is doing great at making it appear so.

“i realized something.”

“what is it?”

“i really can’t live without you.” he confesses earnestly, then looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “don’t say anything. i know you’ll say something like ‘yes, you can!’”

“i was not. i liked hearing you say it.” you stifle a giggle. “but i’m not going anywhere. you know that.”

“i don’t doubt that.” he sighs with a heavy chest. “sometimes i just get a bit worried that you’d get tired of waiting.” 

this isn’t the first time in your relationship that he’s voicing out this fear, but the difference between then and now is stark. with the disconnection, there was a part of you that expected it to resurface. 

“babe,” you gently tilt up his face, locking your sincere and love-filled eyes with his. “we’re okay. i’ve loved you since i was 18. this? this is nothing. you’re a part of me, so you’re always with me. and i know you keep me with you too.”

you wear a brave face. you hope that he believes your words as much as you do, because no matter how many boulders the universe throws down your path, all you ever think about is how you and jungkook will surmount them. together. he is your partner after all.

“we’ll get through it like we always do, baby boy.”

jungkook nods and smiles, doe eyes glittering. you love making that happen. “sorry, i think i scared myself when i read stories on the internet.” 

“our story is different!”

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, seriously-” he cackles, a little breathless.

“we’re one of a kind!” you keep the joke running. you want to keep making him laugh, even if it’s only for a few seconds longer. 

“we’ve gone through so much bullshit. not everyone would fight as hard as we did!” jungkook passionately agrees with the same intensity. “you’re right, we always make it work. we’ll get through it like we always do.”

“trust me,” you charmingly implore him. “when was i ever wrong?”

“never!” he immediately shakes his head. “…atleast not about the things that matter.”

“okay,” you shrug. “i’ll take it.”

“goodnight kiss, please.” he cutely pleads.

wild guess: he went home to be babied. not that you’re complaining. this is miles better than having to wrestle him over who gets to be the big spoon. you love giving love. when your heart stops beating, it would be great to celebrate how much you were loved, but you also wish to be remembered as a person who gave love until their last breath. 

“goodnight, my love.” you coo, well aware that the sun has risen. 

you plant a tender kiss on his forehead. the complaint bubbling in his throat is swallowed when you lean in closer to reach his lips. with his wish fulfilled, he flutters his eyes closed and snuggles as close to you as possible, real and proper rest finally within his grasp. he basks in your warmth and the tranquilizing silence— his breathing steady and his heart at its calmest. beautiful things enter his mind. you are the sun on the first spring day; the clouds that go with him no matter the distance; the waves that kiss the shore and never fail to come back. he heals in places he didn’t know he was hurting. 

“hold on, where is bam then?”

“his house. i gave him some treats then he slept again…” his voice comes out muffled. he sniffles jokingly. “the reaction was kind of underwhelming. i think he didn’t miss me as much.” 

“of course he’d choose that over a human.”

“i bribed him too early.” he laments.

“wait…” he feels you come to a still. “i think he’s coming.”

he opens his eyes and copies you in focusing on the familiar sound of bam’s paws clicking against the floor. the mattress quakes and he lifts his head to find the dog climbing over your bodies. 

he’s seriously a large and tall dog. 

“bam, what are you doing here?!” 

bam tilts his head and stares back at jungkook, tail wagging as his dad laughs and pets him on the head down to his back. 

“he’s so adorable.” you squeal quietly, joining in and scratching under his chin. “i love you, bam.” 

bam’s eyes switch to you. he slowly lowers his head, giving your hand a tentative lick as if to show appreciation but he’s also worried that it would prompt you to stop.

“he’s gotten real heavy, huh?”

“he’s got some big muscles like you.”

“of course! he got it from me.”

jungkook’s proud smile drops a little. it morphs into pure fondness once bam starts sniffing at him. he yelps and dramatically falls back, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand, but it’s game over once bam pants with excitement. bam chases his face to attack him with his love language. 

you watch the scene from the sidelines, laughing so hard that your sides are beginning to hurt. you wish you were recording. you wish that you never forget this. 

“okay, okay! you’re happy to see me! i see that now!” jungkook laughs, squeezing bam in a tight hug for a moment. 

the dog still refuses to relent, however. they almost look like they’re fighting to the death but the truth is they’re just smothering each other with affection. unbeknownst to them, you make a pained face when one of them accidentally hits your arm multiple times. nevermind, they were definitely both culprits. 

“____! save me!” your boyfriend cries out.

he bulldozes through bam and shoves himself into the tiny space he previously, and peacefully, occupied minutes before. he’s squeezing you so tight, nearly crushing you as he laughs with tears in his eyes. they affectionately call it his elmo laugh, the fans, which you adore just as much. 

you see it before you hear it. bam makes that face when he’s about to bark. your hush comes out at the same exact second as his barking. 

“this is so chaotic!” you try to project your voice louder than everybody else’s. 

jungkook’s laughs quieter but harder, if that makes any sense. 

you have an arm around jungkook that holds him taut and protected, while the other is busy with getting bam to settle down. you slide your palm across his fur in repeated motions, focusing on the spots that cause his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“shhh, bam. it’s still too early. let daddy rest first. we can tire him out again later, okay?”

he settles on top of your bodies again. he has stopped moving around, but then he makes that face again, and you really love your healthy sense of hearing. 

“behave, bam-” you playfully squeeze his cheeks together before scratching under his chin. “my cutie bam. you can do that for me, right? you’re a good boy! i’m sure you understand.”

he abandons the urge to bark, suddenly fixing his position so you can also scratch at his chest. you almost snort at how funny he looked obeying you on accident because he is begging to be petted.

“that’s right. good job, bam.” you coo, sending him a pleased smile. “you’re so smart. you listen so well.” 

you whisper to jungkook. “it’s so cute when it looks like he really understands what i’m saying.”

“it’s the way you talk to him.” he answers quietly, placing tiny kisses along your collarbone. “you’re so sweet.” he almost forgot how good you are with bam. he just fell in love with you all over again. 

“but it’d be cooler if he does understand me.” you hum, moving your hand on bam’s head. he finally decides to flop down then. he rests his head over your waist, eyes seemingly inching closer to sleepiness. you sigh in relief. “go to sleep too, baby.”

jungkook breaks the silence a moment later.

“…did you mean me or bam?”

“you!” you chuckle. 

“oh-” he laughs at his own foolishness. his arm that is supposed to be hooked around your waist rests over bam’s body instead. he ruffles the dog’s fur softly. “let’s all go to sleep.”

you let out a yawn in response to that. you sniffle, murmuring tiredly. “i love you, baby… your surprise made me so happy. i’ll make it up to you too.”

“i love you more…”

jungkook lifts his head and finds that you have closed your eyes. your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. bam is closely following you into dreamland. 

heavens, what he wouldn’t give so he could stay here forever and never leave again. 

his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, hot with sleepy tears, but he fights his own body to stay awake. with all his might, he gazes in awe at the beauty of a life with you. he wants to always remember what is waiting for him at home.

[wandaslittlebird]

Her Special Girl

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

After being away at college for three years, you finally come home for the holidays. And no one is more excited to see you than your stepmom.

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, MOMMY ISSUES, slight daddy issues, mommy kink, cheating, breastfeeding, fingering (R receiving), mentions of strap usage, flashbacks, mentions of past: suicidal thoughts, loss of virginity, ghosting

Word Count: ~5k

A/N: I think if I keep this up, they’re going to revoke my degree in psychology and bury me for defending psychosexual development.

A/N: I could be talked into making a part 2 for this. And by talked into I mean approximately 1 person needs to ask. I had way too much fun with this.

Part 1 of Her Special Girl

——————————————————--

She knew something was wrong when you had called her to pick you from your mom’s house a week early. You weren’t supposed to be coming home till Christmas Eve, but here you were, curled up in her passenger seat only three days after being home for Christmas break. 

Wanda wasn’t supposed to be the one picking you up. You originally called your father, but he was, unsurprisingly, unavailable. Apparently he was off playing ‘not the world’s worst stepdad’ with Wanda’s boys for the week. Probably some bonding time enforced by Wanda. He was never terribly keen on spending time with his family. Plus it got the miserable old man out of her hair for a few days. Merry Christmas to Wanda.  

“Mom’s house was that bad, huh?” she asked. You simply nodded in response. She made a sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of your head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. We’ll talk about it when we get home?” 

You nodded again, thankful she wasn’t going to fill the car with awkward small talk. You reached for the radio, turning up the quiet christmas music. You rested your head against your knees, absently humming the familiar music to soothe yourself. You didn’t notice the way Wanda’s heart absolutely melted everytime she got a glance at you. As much as it broke her heart that you’d had a bad experience at your mother’s house, she was glad to have you home for Christmas. 

—------

Wanda and your father had married when you were around 16. In the first years, you weren’t close. In fact, you had hated Wanda at first. The kindness and gentleness she offered you was so alien and unfamiliar. Everytime she did you a favor without being asked, or made a move to give you physical reassurance, you felt like your inside would turn to mush. By that point, you were old enough to decide when you wanted to go to your dad’s house, and it felt easier to avoid her entirely than confront the gnawing feeling in your chest that arose whenever you interacted with her. So you spent those years at your mom’s house.

But as time passed, something shifted. 

In what was supposed to be your last semester of high school, it became pretty clear you were not going to pass. Your life, the one you had planned for at least, fell into a tailspin. You watched all of your friends move on without you. Both of your parents were extremely disappointed with you and seemed to give up on you in favor of the new families they’d created. All of your hopes and dreams of finally escaping to college were put on hold. You had completely lost all direction. 

And one night in late July, when there was no school to look forward to in August and no hope of starting a life of your own without a high school diploma, you hit rock bottom. You were lying down in the shower at your dad’s house and you found yourself unable to get up. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do it anymore. And just when you thought your body would decay into the blue tile, you heard a knock at the door.

“Honey? Are you okay in there?” 

It was Wanda. You wanted to yell that you were fine and you'd be out in a minute, but you couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. So you didn’t respond. 

You heard the sound of a key pressing into the lock, and the hesitant steps of your stepmother making her way into the bathroom. “Honey?” she called again. She gasped when she found your limp body in the shower. She threw the glass door open, turned off the shower that had long since gone cold, and wrapped you up in a towel. You were too far gone to be embarrassed that your stepmother was seeing you naked at 18 years old. All you could do was throw your arms around her and sob and babble apologies. 

“Oh! My sweet girl. How long have you been in here? I just woke up to use the restroom and I heard the water still running. You poor thing, have you been in here all night? You’re freezing. Your poor lips are purple! Come on, let's get you warmed up.”

With impressive strength, she was able to pick you up and carry you to bed. She threw all of your softest blankets around you cocooning you with warmth on all sides. Then she sat on the bed next to you, wiping the cold wet hair from your forehead. 

And for once, you were too weak to push her away. Too weak to fight the magnetic draw you had always had towards the woman. You needed her more than anything in the world. You wanted to be surrounded by her. You craved an impossible closeness with her. The hole in your heart had grown so big it nearly devoured you, and she was here to patch it up and kiss it all better.

So you melted into her touch, inching your body closer to where she sat on the bed until you were wrapped around her. You almost expected her to inquire as to where this was coming from, the sudden closeness after avoiding her for so long. You thought maybe she would even reprimand you for your childish behavior, or call you weird for acting like this with her. But she didn’t. “Aww my sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Mama’s here.”

And she didn’t call you weird when you tugged on her nightshirt, silently asking her to lay down with you. She simply crawled under the covers, kissed your head, and pulled your still naked body into her arms. “You poor thing, you're still freezing. It’s okay, mama will keep warm.”

And she didn’t reprimand you when you decided there was still too much separation, so you pulled her nightshirt up over her head, leaving her bare in bed with you. “Mmm, you’re right this will get you all nice and warmed up. You're a very smart girl.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

She tangled her body into yours, enveloping you in the warmest embrace. Her skin was so incredibly soft against your, pressed into every inch of your body. You could feel the way her heart overflowed with contented joy with you between her arms. 

And nothing was ever the same after that. In the span of twenty minutes with her, you’d gone from believing you could die on the shower floor and no one would care, to feeling like the single most important thing in her entire world. You were hers. 

And you were hers when she gave you your first kiss over an episode of “Legend of Korra.” You’d been so over eager, it’d felt like you were trying to eat her face, but she didn’t make fun of you. She just calmly pulled back, giving you all the instructions you needed to make your second kiss perfect. 

And you were hers when she took your virginity while your father was away on a business trip. She had laid you out on the bed, kissing slow trails down your stomach while you gasped and shuttered at every new sensation. That first night, she treated you like you were made of the finest glass, beautiful and delicate. 

And you were hers when she cried into your arms, begging you not to go so far away for college. With her help, you’d finally gotten a high school diploma. You had the funding from your father to go anywhere you wanted. She wanted to want you to go, she really did. She wanted to want whatever was best for you, but she wasn’t ready to let go of you yet. 

But when you packed your bags and left anyway, you couldn’t be hers any longer. There were no phone calls, no texts, no apologies or explanations for why you left. You were simply gone like you’d never existed in the first place.  

—------

“So,” she asked, helping you carry in your luggage and dropping it in the foyer, “do you wanna talk about what happened with your mother?” She knew you and your mother had never gotten along. She was honestly more wondering why you even decided to go home in the first place. You had spent Christmases with your friends since you’d left for college, but this year you had inexplicably decided to come home. 

You shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. There’s never been a group of people I’m so palpably unimportant to. She and my stepdad have a family of their own, ya know? And I’m just… not part of it. Every time I’m there I feel like a ghost haunting a happy family.” Tears welled up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks. 

“Oh, honey,” Wanda sighed, cupping your cheek with her hand. You only cried harder at the gesture. It was so kind. So gentle. So familiar. You fought your every instinct to not throw yourself against, clinging to her like a petulant child. You wanted to be close to her again.  

The look in her eyes made you feel like you were going to explode. She was listening to you, like actually listening to you. You couldn’t help but pour your heart out to her. “I don’t even know why I tried to come home this year. I just had this idea that I was gonna come home after being gone for so long and she was going to have magically changed. I just had this, like… fantasy that she’d wrap her arms around me and apologize for not being there for me, say that all this time away has made her realize that she can’t live without me, tell me how I’m her most special little girl and she’ll do anything to make it right.”

You turned away from her, suddenly very embarrassed of all the things you’d just confessed. “It was stupid. Whatever. It’s never been like that and it’s never going to be like that. I’m fucking 22, I wasn’t going to be mommy’s little princess anyway.” You felt the urge to run away. You couldn’t bear to look at your stepmother’s face any longer. You made a quick break for the stairs, but Wanda caught your wrist.

“Honey, wait!” she said, pulling you back around to face her. Your head spun and your skin tingled when she touched you. “You know you're still my special girl, right?” 

“Of course, but you have your boys and they’re your whole world. And that’s a good thing! They’re really lucky to have you, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“You just?” she asked after you didn’t speak for a minute. 

Another torrent of tears stung your eyes. “I can’t be your special girl. I’m not even really yours.”

Wanda tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean by that, honey?”

“I’m not your baby,” you said, choked up by your failed attempt to not let your tears fall. You ducked your head, avoiding her gaze at all cost.

She took a step towards you. “Hey,” she started, reaching for your chin to make you look at her. “I’ve missed you, you know? While you’ve been gone.”

“You did?” you asked in almost a whisper. 

“I did,” she reassured. “I thought about you all the time. I never let your father get rid of your bedroom, even though he wanted to move his office there. And there’s still a chair at the end of the dining table for you. And in the winter time I always buy that peppermint creamer for my coffee because it was always your favorite.”

Your resolve finally crumbled and you threw yourself around her, clinging to her desperately. “I missed you too, mama. I wanted to come home to see you, but I didn’t think you’d ever wanna see me again. After I… I thought you’d hate me forever!” you were sobbing in her arms, head tucked under her chin as her long nails scratched your scalp, just how you like. 

“Shh, baby it’s okay. I could never hate you. You’re home now. Mama’s got you,” she cooed. “Let’s get you a nice warm bath, get you all cleaned up, and then we can watch a movie in my room. Does that sound good?”

You nodded, reluctantly removing yourself from her. She reached out for your hand and smiled when you grabbed her arm with both hands, clinging to her awkwardly as you made your way up the steps. She led you to the master bathroom that had a fancy corner tub. She ran the water, checking the temperature to make sure the water was just right. 

“Alright pretty girl, arms up,” she said, lifting the hem of your shirt over your head. She neatly folded your shirt and placed it on the counter. She turned around to find you with your arms bashfully crossed over your chest. She took your hand. “None of that, sweet girl. It’s just you and mama, you don’t need to cover yourself.”

“‘s cold,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising across your chest.

“I know,” she said, bending down to unbutton your pants and push them down around your ankles. You wrapped your arms around her neck, using her for balance as you kicked out of your pants. “We’re gonna have you all warmed up in just a second, sweetheart.”

As soon as you were naked, you scrambled over to the warm tub. Steam was rising from the water’s surface where it met the cool air. You hissed as your cold feet met the water. Wanda giggled at your eagerness, folding your pants and underwear and placing them on top of your shirt. “Careful, pretty girl,” she chuckled. 

You sank into the tub, slowly allowing your body to adjust to the temperature. You sighed in contentment, resting your head back against the ledge of the tub. You rolled your head to the side to face Wanda, who had stripped off her jeans, leaving her in a long gray sweater that barely covered her ass. Your eyes glimmered at the sight of the beautiful woman. “Will you get in with me?” you asked. “Please?”

“Not tonight, honey,” she said, sitting down on the ledge of the tub behind your head. She stuck her feet into the water on either side of you, leaving your head between her bare thighs. “Mama’s already had her bath. Now keep your head tilted back for me. I don’t wanna get any soap in your eyes.” Any protests you had were quickly cut short when you felt long fingers massaging your favorite coconut shampoo in your hair. Wanda worked cautiously, careful not to get any soap in your eyes. She somehow managed to keep your face almost entirely dry throughout the entire process. 

You nearly started to cry when she started applying soap to your body with a soft washcloth. It had been so long since someone had touched you so gently. You could feel how much she cared for you as she softly scrubbed the day's grime from your body. Each caress left trails of goosebumps rising on your soapy skin. You felt like you might melt into the bathwater. 

“Alright little love, kneel up nice and straight for me so I can get you all clean,” she calmly commanded. You hesitantly got up on your knees and turned to face her, reluctant to pull your body from the warmth of the water. Now that you were looking up at her, you felt suddenly exposed again. It was much easier to be naked in front of her with your back turned. 

You took in a sharp inhale when the washcloth landed between your legs. “Mama…” you whined, looking up at her with worried eyes. Her touch felt so good you couldn’t help but buck against the cloth while a knot still coiled in the pit of your stomach. You had the fleeing thought that you should tell her to stop and that this was wrong. But as she continued her ministrations, your head seemed to empty itself of any such thoughts. All you could focus on was the growing sensation between your legs. 

“Aww, sweet girl,” Wanda cooed. “It’s okay that you like it when you like it when mama touches you like this honey. You don't have to be embarrassed, angel.” She made slow, teasing circles around your clit through the thick cloth. You grabbed her arm, keeping her in place until she finally had had enough of the teasing and gently freed herself of your grip. 

“Mama,” you whined again as she continued to wash down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs. You weren’t sure why, exactly, you found yourself chanting her name, but it seemed to be the only word you could find. 

She smiled. “You’re okay, angel. Mama got you. I love you so very much, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you, just like I used to. There’s no need to be embarrassed or guilty or scared. You’re still your mama’s special girl, okay?” She leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed her complete control over your body.  “We’re all finished, detka. You can sit back down now.” She guided you back down into the water, turning you back around and resting your head against her inner thigh. She gently started to dry your hair as you settled back into the water. You found yourself wrapping your arms around her calf, clutching at her like she might fly away.

“Mama?” 

“Yes, little love?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“How do you mean, angel?” Her voice was laced with concern. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, so you nuzzled your face into her thigh in embarrassment. “Hey little love.” She bent down so she could see your face. “It’s okay. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shifted around uncomfortably, unsure of how to phrase what you wanted to say. “I need you really badly mama,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I know I’m too old, but I wanna be your special little girl forever.” 

“Oh honey,” she soothed, “you’re never too old to be my special little girl. Even if you wanted me to take care of you forever, I’d love every second of it.” She laid back against the wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have you back. Forever, this time. A faint smile painted her face at the thought. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re too old to need your mama. They might not understand it like you do, but you are a very very special girl and your mama loves you very very much.”

You nodded against her, shyly tucking your face back into her thigh. You sat like that for a minute, letting her fingers scratch your damp scalp while you smiled in contentment. 

But you could only rest naked between her bare legs for so long before the little pings of arousal took over. You turned around to face her, this time straddling a single one of her legs between two of your own. You sat back on your feet, resting your head on her knee. 

“Mama, please. I need to feel you again,” you sighed. You desperately craved the feeling of closeness you’d once shared. The feeling that you and her were the only two people in the world, and that you were as important to her as she was to you, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

You wanted her inside of you, touching all the parts of you no one else got to see. You yearned for the way she made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe, chasing your pleasure like it was her own. She felt good when you felt good. 

Conversely, you wanted to be inside of her, pushing into her like a puzzle piece that had always meant to fit together. You felt like you could rewrite time, finally inside your mama like you were supposed to be all along. 

She reached down beside the tub and pulled up a fluffy pink towel. She stretched it out with her arms, welcoming you into a soft embrace. She took such care in drying off every part of you, down to your calves that still stayed in the water. 

You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around your bare body. She pulled you close to her, your back flush against her chest. Then she wrapped her legs around yours, effectively pinning them open against the wall of the tub. 

You pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, desperate to get closer to her. There was still too much fabric between the two of your bodies. 

She shushed you pleas with gentle hands. “Not right now, detka. Let mama show you how much she’s missed you, okay? Then we can cuddle up all naked under the soft blankets on the bed just how we like to. Does that sound okay?”

You let out a displeased whine. You were extremely impatient. It had been years since you’d had her so close. But as she stroked your hair with one hand and your clit with the other, you found yourself more amenable to suggestions. “P-promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” she reassured. 

She kept her pace just steady enough that talking, and thinking for that matter, became difficult. “A-and we stay like that all-all night?���

“All night, angel.”

You finally nodded in agreement, relaxing against her. You kept a ironclad grip on her bicep, feeling the muscles flex as she played with your most sensitive parts. 

She moved her fingers down through your folds, teasing your entrance. You tried to force your hips down onto her fingers, but her legs kept you from moving. You settled instead for whining like an injured puppy. “Please mama, please.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in your ear, circling your entrance with the tip of her finger. “I’m so lucky. I get to have my most special girl and all her most special parts,” she sunk her middle finger into you, eliciting a mangled groan, “all to myself.” 

“All yours,” you assured, feeling her finger curl and twist inside of you, making room for more. She was always so calculated with the way she pleased you. You were like a present she was methodically unwrapping, peeling each piece of tape off, careful not to damage the paper. She was in no rush to tear you apart. She kept her painfully slow pace, but sunk a second finger into you. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I’m all yours, mama.” 

She leaned your head back onto her shoulder and kissed your cheek. You didn’t even notice the uncomfortable strain the position should’ve caused your neck. There was just her everywhere, caressing each part of your body with a tenderness you’d never experienced anywhere else. Her hand explored your chest, teasing hard nipples with gentle pinches and soft touches. Nails scraped their way down the soft expanse of your stomach, paying special attention to the curve of your hip bone.

“Mama, I love you. You feel so good inside of me, please don’t stop. Oh god please never stop,” you whined. You didn’t even care that she was moving her fingers too slow to make you cum. You were so content with just her filling you up, touching the parts of you no one else got to touch. You got to be hers all over again.

You thought back to your days with her, home alone. She’d let you sit on her lap in her office, arms and legs wrapped around her like a koala bear, her strap nestled inside of you. She was always so impressed by your ability to stay still for hours on end. But how could you want for anything more than to be full of her?

“You’re so tight and warm for mama,” she cooed. “I love feeling you around my fingers, baby. You make such pretty noises.” She sped up her movements, highlighting the sound of the wetness between your legs. You were nearly dripping a trail down the side of the tub. 

You tried to buck against her hand, but her legs kept you perfectly still. “Ooh mama. I love you. I love you mama,” you cried, unable to escape the building pleasure of her fingers. She slipped a third finger inside of you, only further spurring your desperate cries. “Please mama!  Please, I'm so full. Mama I wanna cum for you. I wanna cum on your fingers. Please! Please let me cum on your fingers.” 

Her fingers twisted and curled in all the ways that drove you crazy. You knew you couldn’t cum until she touched your clit, which she was tactfully avoiding for that exact reason, but you still felt nearly out of your mind with pleasure. You were jerking against her now, causing her to wrap her arms around your waist. “Calm down honey. Mama’s got you. You’re doing so good for me sweet girl.”

“Good girl for mama,” you mumbled brainlessly. The continuous pounding of her fingers made your head spin. There was nothing in the whole world but you and your mama. Nothing else mattered. 

“That’s right, angel. You’re mama’s good girl,” she praised. 

You nodded dumbly, unable to muster any more thoughts than “mama” which you chanted repeatedly. She shoved three fingers in your mouth, making the word come out even more unintelligible. You whined around her hand, but obediently sucked her fingers. 

“Can you touch yourself for me princess?” She asked, both her hands too occupied to finally put an end to your abuse. You both knew that just a little pressure to your clit would finally push you over the edge. 

You didn’t even acknowledge her question, just hopelessly cried around her fingers. “Aww sweet girl, you need mama to do it for you? That’s okay, honey. Mama will take care of it.” She pulled her fingers from your mouth, now covered in your spit, and reached down between your legs. She kissed the side of your head while she finally attended to your neglected clit. “That’s it, princess. Cum on mama’s hand.”

You were nearly silent as you fell over the edge, unable to do little more than jerk and squeak. She gently led you down from the high, removing her fingers and bracing you against herself so you didn’t tumble back into the now cold bathtub. She cleaned you up with a washcloth and wrapped you back up in the soft towel. 

She chuckled when she picked you up and saw your face, blissed out and stupid. She thought back to before you had left for college, when you were 18 and it took a lot more than three fingers and 20 minutes to get you here. “Nobody has touched you like that for a long time, have they angel?”

You shook your head against her chest. “Only you mama.” 

She smiled at the admission. Laying you down at the center of her big bed. You pawed at her sweater when she pulled away. “I’m just taking this off. I’ll be down there in just a second.”

She crawled under the covers only a moment later, pulling you closer and discarding the towel onto the floor. You nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around her waist. You were so warm and so loved. You felt so important again, just like you did the fateful night she’d pulled you from the cold shower. In that moment, you couldn’t wrap your head around why you’d ever left. How could you ever have left anything so perfect?

“Mama, can I be inside of you next time?” You mumbled into her chest, unwilling to completely separate yourself from her. 

“Of course you can,” she replied, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. “Anything for my special girl.”

You smiled. “Can I use the dark red toy? The one that gives you the little bump right here?” You touched her lower stomach in indication. 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the request, recalling the only other time she allowed you to use that toy right before you left. Seeing the bulge in her lower stomach had gotten you so excited you’d pathetically rutted into like a teenage boy. “Only if you can be gentle with mama.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gentle with mama.” 

She smiled down at you, noticing your eyelids start to droop. “That’s enough for tonight, little love. Rest now and we can talk some more in the morning, okay?” She gently guided your head down to her chest. She smiled when you almost immediately took her nipple into your mouth, suckling contentedly, just like she’d taught you to do. Oh, how she loved you.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into a daydream. Maybe she could convince you to move schools so you could come back, live at home with her. Every stressful assignment or class or situation with your friends could end like this: in this intimate act that drowned out both your stress and hers. Maybe if you’d stay, she could get on hormones and start actually producing milk again. All for you. All for her baby girl. And she'd remind you how loved you were everyday, and you never take her for granted again. 

Yes, she’ll have you back in her arms just like it used to be. You’ll come home to her, and you’ll finally see that you’ll never need anyone else ever again.

[quill-pen]

Storm Shelter

I guess this could be considered a sibling to my 'A Good Man' ficlet. Enjoy!

*drags out infamous iron chair again* @rom-e-o , you might want this again....

Summary: A flashback to her past throws Bess into a spiral.

Rating: T

Warnings: Child abuse (past), harsh language, panic attack, angst

Theme:

"Oh, m'Lady!" Ida squealed. "You look positively radiant!" Seated on the bench of Bess' vanity, the little, blonde lady's maid layered her hands over her heart as she stared at her mistress as she stood in front of the mirror, looking herself over. Her eyes were actually a bit misty.

Bess chuckled. "I don't know about that," she remarked humbly. "But even I have to admit I do look... rather attractive." She twirled just a bit to get a better look at her new dress.

"More than attractive, m'Lady, I assure you," Ida insisted. She and Bess had a very... unusual bond for a Lady and Lady's maid; being comprised almost purely of friendship (even if Ida's training had almost permanently hammered into her the impulse to refer to Bess as "m'Lady"--they were working on that). Ida certainly never would have made such passionate declarations or sat in the presence of her last employer, Mrs. Dickens. She would have been thrown out on her bum. "Mr. Scrooge will certainly be at a loss for words when he sees you in that dress on Saturday." A sly smirk pulled at the woman's thin lips. "Dare I say, you two may not make it to the party at all."

"Oh, hush, you!" Bess laughed, waving her hands dismissively. "I thought lady's maids were supposed to be polite and pure--working too hard to think of such things."

"That's just what we want you to believe."

"Ah-ha! I knew it was all a sham! I'm onto you, Smith."

Ida laughed. Then her face suddenly lit up and she clapped her hands together. "Ooh! I have a brilliant idea to make you look even more beautiful, m'Lady!" She shot to her feet and hastened out of the room and down the hall to her room. She was back a few seconds later, holding a little compact. "I bought this for myself for special occasions-" Bess translated that to mean, "to make Howard the launderer take more notice" and smiled, "-but I'm dying to see what this shade would look like on you, m'Lady." She flipped open the pretty little tin to reveal a slab of rich red coloring.

Bess quickly tried to wave her away. "Oh, Ida, I couldn't possibly--that lipstick is yours! You bought it with your hard-earned money!"

Ida grinned. "Yes, it is," she agreed. "My own to do with and share as I wish, and I want to share it with you. At least this once--just to see how it will look on you. Once we find out, we can go out and buy you your own!"

Bess shook her head. It hardly seemed fair to use someone else's luxury items when she could so easily afford her own. "Oh, Ida, I don't know..."

"Please?" Ida asked, almost beseechingly. She put on her most winning smile and batted her eyes. "Just this once to see if my color theory is correct?"

Bess' lips pulled together in a firm line and twitched as she considered the proposition. "Oh... I suppose just this once wouldn't hurt. Just to see if it's worth running out to buy myself one." She couldn't help but smile when A beaming grin parted her friend's lips.

"I assure you, it will be worth it, m'Lady. I'm never wrong with color."

"Right. So... you just want to paint it on me so I can be your life-sized dress-up doll like always?"

Ida smirked impishly and shrugged. "Perhaps."

Bess snorted. "I knew it." Then with a melodramatic sigh, she walked over and plopped down onto her vanity bench. "Very well," she said, "paint me up like a clown if you wish."

Ida snickered and plucked up the compact's brush. Swirling the soft bristles around in the waxy red paint, she approached her mistress and then brought the brush to Bess' mouth. With a delicate hand, she painted the red coloring onto Bess' full lips, tracing the outline of them expertly. "Oh, m'Lady, this looks wonderful on you. It goes so perfectly with your skin tone."

Bess turned and examined herself in the mirror, pursing her lips to get a good look. Ida was right again; even Bess couldn't deny the shade was very becoming in her lips. Like a beautiful red rose. "It is a rather pretty shade," Bess remarked with a smile. She rubbed her lips together to smooth out the coating. "What's it called?"

"Classic Rose," Ida answered cheerily.

All at once, a horrible sense of dread slammed into Bess like a runaway coach. Her stomach tensed as though she'd been punched in the gut and went sour, nausea washing over her. Her heart began to race like it was trying to beat itself out of a rib cage and escape. And her mind... Her mind began to race with thoughts she'd buried away long ago--memories she tried to forget. And they wouldn't be pushed away or silenced again:

Beatrice Sullivan stood beside the vanity in Bess' bedroom, an open tin compact of rosey red coloring in her hand. Her usually pretty face was twisted in disgust. "Classic Rose?" she read the name inside imprinted inside the lid. The dark-haired woman snorted derisively. "'Classic Whore" is more like it!" She turned cold, steely gray eyes on her daughter and scowled down her nose. "Only prostitutes paint their lips with such a color! And only sluts paint their lips at thirteen! Is that what you want to be, Elizabeth--a slut?!

Curled up as small as possible with her knees tucked to her chest as she sat on the edge of her bed, Bess peeked up from behind her thick curtain of hair. Her lips were as red as the paint in the compact; undeniable proof of her shameful actions. Tears were starting to creep down her freckled cheeks. "N-No, Mama!" she trembled, her body shaking. She was terrified--absolutely terrified of her mother's wrath.

"It appears to me that you do!" Bea snapped back. She was positively livid. "Otherwise I wouldn't be holding a tin of lip-paint, would I?! Where did you even get such a thing? This compact is much too fancy and expensive looking to be something you could afford. I know you're not making that much working at the mercantile or Mr. Dower's farm. And you haven't worked long enough at either place to save enough money." Bea's face hardened her glare narrowing. "Are you a thief, Elizabeth?" she asked, her accusing tone hinting that she'd already made the decision herself. "Are you a thief as well as a slut?!"

Bess gazed desperately up at her mother. "No, Mama!" she wailed again.

"Then where did it come from?" Bea demanded.

Bess opened her mouth and closed it again.

"Elizabeth? Where did you get this paint, Elizabeth Felicity?"

"I-I... um..."

"If you don't answer me, I'm getting the switch. One. ... Two. ... Thr-"

"George gave it to me!"

Bea stopped short, practically freezing. "What?"

Bess cowered further into her protective ball. "G-George gave it to me, for my birthday. I told him I was getting made fun of by all the other girls for not wearing lipstick. He gave it to me for my birthday."

Bea looked more enraged than before. "George?! He knows I don't want you wearing makeup while you live in this house!"

Bess' chin trembled. "But, Mama, all the girls are trying on and wearing lipstick now! And you've already let Josie wear some and she just turned nine! Ack!" The girl's head snapped around from her mother's hard smack and she fell back on the mattress.

"Don't you get smart with me! And don't you bring your sister into this--it is not even remotely the same thing! Your sister is a child playing dress-up with makeup, not painting herself up like a harlot to attract boys and men!"

Bess sobbed uncontrollably. "But, Mama, I'm not doing that! I just like it because it's pretty and fun--I swear to God!"

Looking positively livid, Bea reached out and grabbed the teen by the arm, yanking her onto her feet. She slapped her again, making the girl scream. "You watch your tongue, little hussy!" With that, she dragged Bess out of her room, out of the house, and over to the tank at the barn. Hardly giving the girl a chance to draw breath, Bea grabbed her daughter by the hair, forced the child's face down into the water, and held her there, for a moment, before yanking her back up, gasping and spluttering and crying for her to stop. "No daughter is mine is going to look like a tramp while she's under my roof!" Ripping off her apron, Bea began to scrub with brutal savagery at Bess' lips, trying to wipe off the lipstick. Bess cried and pleaded for her to stop, that she was hurting her, that she promised she wouldn't wear lipstick again, but Bea wasn't listening. Or she didn't care. Successfully smearing the makeup into a big, red blotch around her daughter's lips, Bea dunked the girl again. ""Classic Rose' is not permitted in this house--do you understand, Elizabeth Felicity?!" She scoured Bess' face until the smeared lip paint was not the only reason the girl's face was red and splotchy.

"Y-Yes, Mama! I promise! I promise I'll never wear it again for as long as I live!"

Apparently not satisfied with that, Bea moved to dunk the child again, carelessly knocking Bess' head against the side of the tank as she did so and causing her nose to bleed. Bess cried out in pain. Bea didn't seem concerned and shoved Bess into the water regardless.

Ida watched with some alarm as Bess stared straight into the mirror, dark eyes unfocused and unseeing what was right in front of her. The dark-haired woman had suddenly turned into a statue; the maid wasn't even sure her mistress was breathing! "M-M'Lady?" she gently called. No answer came, and the little woman reached out to put a small hand on a broad shoulder. "M'Lady, are you al-"

"Don't touch me!" Bess screeched. She lurched away from Ida as if she'd scalded her shoulder again; her tone of voice was utterly desperate and terrified. Jumping to her feet, the American knocked the vanity bench over with a clatter and scrambled around the edge of her vanity to crouch down as small as she could behind it so that it formed a barrier between Ida and herself. Tears instantly flooded her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Her heart raced in her chest as Bess struggled to breathe under both the tightening in her chest and the nausea that had dropped into her stomach like a rock; she felt she were about to be sick she was so anxious!

Ida stared in alarm, clutching her lipstick tightly. "M'Lady?!"

"Please, don't touch me!" Bess begged, voice small and frightened and childlike. "Please don't hurt me! I won't wear it again! I won't were it ever again--I promise, Mama! I promise!"

At those words, Ida felt her heart sink as she finally came to understand. Her heart went out to her mistress. "Oh, M'Lady, I'm so sorry."

❥━━━━༺♡༻━━━━❥

It wasn't the most unusual thing, anymore, for Ebenezer Scrooge to enter the door of his home and find no one there to greet him. Ever since Bess had officially become a full-time midwife and gained a notable reputation as one she was being called out more and more often and was gone whenever he returned home for lunch or for the day. If that was the case, Ebenezer usually found a little note for him left on the desk in his office. This time, just like there'd been no Yankee to greet him at the door, there was no note to greet him on his desk.

Ebenezer raised a brow and hummed. Odd. That wasn't like Bess. Even if she hadn't time to scrawl him a letter, she left word with Ida and Ida greeted him at the door with it, but even Ida hadn't been there to meet him either. Had they possibly gone out shopping? No. Bess would definitely have left a note then.

"Mr. Scrooge!" Ida's urgent voice echoed distantly. "Mr. Scrooge!"

Ebenezer spun on his heel and sprinted back to the front hall, a pit forming in his stomach. There was only one reason Ida would sound so upset, and it was that something must have been wrong with his beloved wife. Entering the hall, he looked up to see Ide leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs, panting hard and looking worried. "Ida! What is it?!" He was taking the steps nearly three at a time.

"I-It's... Bess," the woman panted.

"Yes?"

"I... We were... testing a lipstick... shade... and..." Ida trailed off to puff and shake her head as if she were at a loss for words. "Something set her off," she continued. "She started screaming and crying, and she's acting like she's not here. She... She keeps mentioning her mother."

That was all Ebenezer needed to hear before he was sprinting again, barrelling through the halls and up the stairs to the third floor and to the master bedroom. The door was already, mercifully, open and he rushed in, pausing just long enough in the center of the room to scan it and find his wife huddled behind the mirror between the dresser and wardrobe. Ebenezer's heart broke at the sight: Bess curled up as small as possible on the floor, practically swimming in the billowing skirts of her dress, violently trembling as she clamped her hands over her ears, babbling through almost incoherent sobs and cries that she "was sorry" and "would be a good girl from now on". There were smears of red around her mouth and on her wrists and forearms, and for a second, the Englishman feared she might have somehow hurt herself. Then her heard Bess mention "lipstick" and remembered what Ida had told him, and that fear was quickly soothed.

"Oh, Bess." Moving slowly, Ebenezer quietly approached his panic-stricken wife. "Bess, Darling? Sweetness?" He shifted the mirror and knelt down beside the woman. Of its own accord one of his hands lifted to gently brush long fingers over Bess' quivering shoulder and settled steadily and warmly there even as she flinched under the touch. "Bess," Ebenezer murmured again, shifting closer. "Shh. It's okay." He gently grabbed one of her arms and managed to tug it away from her ear. "It's okay. You're all right, Bess--she's not here. Your mother's not here. She's not here, Sweetness, it's all right. You're safe. Shh, you're safe." He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Bess' shoulder before bringing his lips beside her ear and whispering yet again, "You're safe, She-Wolf." He kissed her temple. "I promise, you're safe."

Bess sobbed harshly and shook her head. "No!" she croaked. "No, I can still hear her! I can still hear her calling me a 'slut'! 'Whore'!"

Tears starting to prick his eyes from hearing such harsh words in conjecture with his wife--and coming from her own mouth, no less--Ebenezer slipped an arm around the woman's shoulders and gently pulled her into him. "Shh, I know," he murmured, wrapping both arms about her and snuggling her close against his chest. He tucked her head under his chin and started rocking her. "I know, Bess."

Bess sobbed into his waistcoat, clutching at him desperately. She continued: "'Harlot'! 'Tramp'!"

"Shh, no, Bess. No, none of those words are true. None of them."

"I tried to get it off! I tried to wipe the lipstick off before she saw me, but it wouldn't come off!"

"I know, Darling. It's all right."

"Please don't let her see me like this! She'll hurt me again if she sees me like this! Please don't let her see me like this!"

"No, she won't. She won't ever hurt you again, Bess, I promise you. She's gone, Dear One--forever. And even if she weren't, I would never let her come near you or hurt you again. I'll never let anyone hurt you, She-Wolf, not ever. You're safe. I have you--you're safe. I promise."

For the next several minutes, Bess just wailed her heart out into her husband's chest, holding onto him for dear life. And Ebenezer simply let her, gripping her back just as tightly as he gently swayed her and murmured comfort and reassurance into her ear. He peppered her head with soft kisses. The only thing he could do in these situations, he'd discovered long ago back when he and Bess had been friends, was to let Bess cry her way through it, and simply be there to hold and speak gentle, sweet things to her until she finally came out the other side. He didn't know how long that would take. He didn't know if he would be late back to work. He didn't know if he'd be able to get up from the floor after this or if his knees would lock up, but it didn't matter. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered at that moment was Bess, and she would have his undivided attention until they'd managed to steer her through this storm. And they would. They'd just need some time.

Ebenezer smoothed a hand softly over Bess' hair as he nuzzled into it to kiss her crown. Closing his eyes, he focused on pouring every ounce of love and affection he had for his wife into every kiss, every touch, every caress, and every word he spoke. Bess had questioned her entire life if her mother had ever truly loved her: She would not worry that same question when it came to him. "I love you. I love you, Bess Scrooge--so much. My Sweetness. My sun, moon, and stars. My beautiful and perfect She-Wolf. Let it go, Darling. You're safe--I have you--let it go. Let it all go, I'm right here. I'm here."

Bess' sobs were starting to decrease in ferocity, but she still had a ways to go before she cried herself out. "I'm sorry, Ebenezer!" she gasped.

"Shh," her beloved quieted her. "You need not apologize, Love. I promised you 'for better or worse', remember?"

"I thought I was past this!"

"I know--it's all right."

"I thought I'd moved on from her!"

"I know, Bess. Shh, I know. And you will move on--one day. But for now, let's just focus on right now, hmm? Let's get you through right now together."

That idea--the idea of the man she loved holding her and supporting her through this painful emotional turmoil that she had so often had to fight through herself for years--was enough to draw forth a fresh, painfully hot wave of tears from the woman. Returning to incoherent wails, Bess buried her face into Ebenezer's chest and started up with the crying all over again.

And her husband was more than content to hold her close to his heart so full of her love for her and be her rock in this raging, stormy sea. Through soft kisses and touches, he let her know that she wasn't alone. And she never would be again.

Taglist: @christmasgaybusinessmen @tenodai @girlbosseveyhammond @witchypandamonium @purgratoriat @neonshoe @orangewierdo @mirthadra @the-enchanted-rose @simp2537 @pandora-native-ayatei @youngsongnerd @skyvstheworldsince1996 @crimson-phantom-designs @cila-17 @ry-ichi1 @artist-anon08 @alittlebitbethany @crowwritesthings @hyerizz @crowbones13 @rom-e-o @softmullet @the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting @thephantomofzaun @littlethief78 @beascrooge @themostanonymousscribbler @eahreviver218 @b4bynikii @sparklesphobia

Imagine your f/o holding you in whatever way they can or just being in the room with you while you cry. Encouraging you to release all those pent up negative emotions. Being your rock for however long it takes for you to feel better.

proship/comship DNI

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Those three little words were something Simon never gave much thought to. It’s not as if he didn’t believe in love. Sure he knew it was real, he’d seen it come and go with those in his life- it just wasn’t for him.

Or so he thought.

He’d been with you for nearly eight months now, and truth be told they were the best months of his life. You, who was everything Simon could’ve ever hoped for in a partner, were the one person who was finally able to peel pack years of hardened layers around Simon’s heart.

You, who finally showed him what caring for someone meant, not just on a romantic level. You, who made Simon smile more in one day than he’d ever smiled in his life. You, who made Simon’s insides turn to mush whenever he looked at you, knowing you were HIS.

You…who made Simon feel…loved… for the first time in his life. He felt truly, unconditionally loved.

It was late, on a snowy night in London, and the two of you were curled up watching Die Hard (Simon insists this is a Christmas movie). You looked up from the TV, and glanced over at Simon to find him already looking at you, a small smile lining his scarred lips.

“You okay?” You asked, returning his smile. “You know, you’re the one who insisted on watching this darn movie. If you’re not watching it, I’d be glad to turn on something -.”

“I love you.”

Your brain suddenly stopped working, your words dying in your mouth as you stared at Simon slack jawed. In your many months together, he’d not once said those words.

It wasn’t something you needed to hear, you knew in your heart how Simon felt. But to hear them… and the way he was staring at you in that moment like you were the most beautiful person on earth… you simply didn’t know what to say.

Hot tears began to form in your eyes, as you finally remembered how to speak. “Really?”

“Really.” Simon gave you a curt nod, his smile widening. “I fucking love you.”

Before your brain could catch up, you threw yourself at Simon, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you possibly could. “You have no idea how much I love you, Simon.”

But he did. And he’d spend the rest of his life, showing you just how much he loved you in return.

[gguk-n]

The Exception (Max Verstappen x Reader)

Summary- 4 times Max let y/n get away with whatever she wanted and 1 time he didn't.

I just have so much love for maxie and I wanna show it so it came out as this. Hope you like it!! I hope maxie is only loved tbh

Max was very young when he had moved to a Netherland. If someone asked him when it was, he'd probably never be able to tell. But he could tell you about the annoying neighbours he had growing up. Yes, he did spend most of his time karting and didn't have the time at home or in school like normal kids his age would but the fleeting moments spent at that house in Netherland left behind fond memories that he can look back and only because of a certain little girl with chubby cheeks and two identical braids on either side of her head who had made quite a place in his life. Jos wasn't very happy with Max wasting his time entertaining those kids but he couldn't do much when the children's father was a tall bulky man who could take Jos out in one punch, insisted on letting the kids play together. The tall man had 3 kids Max noticed when he had dinner at their place for the first time; the oldest being the girl who we mentioned before followed by 2 younger brothers who seemed to love karting. They asked Max so many questions about it that they got scolded by their mother for ruining dinner for everyone but Max thought was cute because the youngest couldn't even pronounce karting but had a lot to say. Every time he would spend time with his neighbours, it would always be with the 2 young boys who wanted to learn how to kart better and become like Max like the younger one put it. Even now it makes Max laugh reminiscing about those days. They never really made it professionally though.

2008

Max and the 2 boys were playing around when their older sister asked if they would like to join her for a session of afternoon tea with Mr Whale and Miss Teapot. The brothers made a face of disgust and ran away from her, dejected she turned around when Max agreed. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She quickly dragged him into her room and had him sit next to Mr Longneck, the giraffe. An hour later Max was found in Y/N's room with two pigtails if you could call them that on the top of his head, a tiara and the prettiest necklace Y/N owned. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but laugh. Y/N on the contrary looked pleased with her handy work. She thanked him for being a good and compliant customer and to come back again if he ever wanted to look pretty. It wasn't easy to get Max to do what you wanted except he couldn't say no to her puppy eyes. She even gave him a drawing of him in his kart saying that it would bring him good luck since she couldn't be there and placed her favourite bracelet on his hand.

If Y/N was to ask him about the bracelet, Max would say he lost it as soon as she gave it to him, but deep down in the watch drawer of Max's Monaco apartment sat a brightly neon pink bracelet with Y/N’s initials.

2014

Y/N had started highschool and remained the annoying self Max had come to love. Her over the top demeanor and affection to screaming at the top of her lungs whenever she spotted Max never failed to make him smile. Having joined Formula one this year, meant Max was way to busy to be home but Y/N seemed to never forget to text him regularly. She would ask him to get autographs of other drivers or souvenirs from different countries. It was a regular race weekend when Y/N texted Max asking him to explain how the engine in a go kart worked. In a split second Max was on call with her asking "why do you need that?" to which she replied "I'm doing a project on that. I even made a small scale replica of your kart Look here!!!" She exclaimed. "I just need to shrink you and place you inside it" Y/N laughed. Max told her not to worry and that he would text her the details in a hour or so. Actually it took a couple hours and Y/N was starting to get agitated and called him back. Max replied with a almost done and smiled at her. He had literally written her entire report for her and sent it to review. Y/N almost screamed when she saw the assignment. She thanked Maxie for doing this for her and that she owed him her life. Max was just happy to be of help, he told himself more than he told her because who stays up till 5 in the morning on a race weekend doing someone else’s project.

He kept the small scale replica of his Kart on the mantle above the fireplace if anyone wanted to know what happened to the kart.

2018

Y/N was freshly 18, so getting drunk was the only thing on her agenda. On a night out, she was so drunk that no one could get her to move because she wanted her Maxie and would only leave with Maxie, she enunciated. Her friend was able to open up Y/N phone and thankfully find a Maxie in her favourite contacts. She called the number to be met with a groggy but worried voice. "Hi! This is Y/N's friend Kate speaking. Am I speaking with a....maxie?" she said tentatively. Max let out a sigh while rubbing his eyes, "Yes, this is Max speaking." "Can you come pick Y/N up?" She asked hesitantly followed by, "She won't leave with anyone but you apparently." Max was already out of bed and near the door when he said "I'll be there in 10, where are you guys at?" She sent him the location and waited for 'maxie'. Nothing could've prepared them for this. They had thought Maxie was a friend, a boyfriend maybe even a neighbour; they did not think Maxie was Max Verstappen, F1 driver for Redbull racing. He apologised for the inconvenience and crouched down to Y/N level who seemed to have realised that he was here. She cupped his cheeks and giggled while turning his head to the crowd of people standing, "Look, this is my Maxie." Hearing Y/N say my maxie made his heart beat faster then it should've, he admits but that girl had a tight hold on his heart and he couldn't really do much about it. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Max asking him to carry her since her legs felt like mush. Max gladly carried her back to his car, as he fastened her seat belt she asked him to take her back to his place since her parents would probably disown her if she come in drunk for the 6th time this week. Max looked shocked and asked her to stop drinking so much since it wasn't good for her. All Y/N could mumble was that the alcohol made the pain in her heart bearable. This broke Max's heart. Who would dare hurt his precious little angel, if he met that guy he was so dead, Max thought. Little did he know that guy was the one driving her back home.

Y/N was a nuisance when drunk, she reminded him of the little girl he had befriended when he moved here. She wouldn't listen to anything he asked her to do that night until he agreed to let her do make up on him which he would gladly agree to, real or not.

2022

Y/N had recently graduated and was looking for a place to stay. It was one of those nights after a fruitless apartment hunt Y/N facetimed Max. He looked very comfortable in his sim racing chair in his luxurious apartment in Monaco having moved recently. "Maxie" the younger girl sighed. "Meisje, what's the problem?" came a concerned voice. "I can't seem to find a decent apartment, I've been at it for months now." she said. Max offered to help her find the right place and Y/N started listing out all the things she wanted in her apartment which was sounding a lot like Max current apartment which was true, that was Y/N's dream apartment currently; after seeing it a couple months ago when she had visited him as a housewarming surprise and even held a party for him. "You can move to Monaco, the house you're looking for is here" Max said. After a long pause Y/N replied with a chuckle, "I don't make formula 1 money. I'm too broke to afford a house here. In Monaco, I'd have to sell my organs to afford a place there." As if it was the most obvious thing, Max offered her to stay at his place and look for a job here.

The allure of Monaco was too much and Y/N was able to thankfully find a job there so that she wouldn't be completely dependent on Max which he wouldn't have minded. Max never let her pay rent, he'd always tell her to cook good food and that was rent sorted.

2023

It was the night of the Abu Dhabi grand prix. Max had just won his third WDC so him and his friends decided to go out to celebrate, Y/N included. The night carried on as usual, Max not touching much of the alcohol since Y/N decided to down drinks like a thirsty person. She was now in the middle of the dance floor making herself familiar with Lando's crotch, much to Max's dismay. He made his way to her and led her away from Lando while she shouted at him to let her go. They were now stood in the quieter part of the club but you could still hear the music blasting. Y/N looked visibly annoyed at being taken away from the dance floor. "You are drunk, you'll regret it tomorrow." Max said. "That's for sober me to deal with. Drunk me just wants to forget about everything and having an eventful night with a guy would do just the trick." she said. Max winced at the words and held her arms so that she could steady herself. "I don't wanna feel like this," was this the alcohol giving her the confidence, "the guy I've been in love with for ages can't seem to see me as a woman. I've been trying for years now. If I walked out naked, I'm sure he wouldn't even be phased." she sounded dejected. "Any guy would want you, Meisje." Max whispered. "But not the one I do" she stepped closer, enough that their breaths mingled. The woman in front of him was driving Max mad, had she not been drunk he would've shown her how much any man would want her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes before saying, "He's so dumb, can't even see the woman in front of him." The statement felt oddly targeted. "You know, he's a 3 time world drivers champion and he doesn't even get that I love him so much." she said while looking into his eyes. "You're in love with me?" Max exclaimed. "I have been since the day you let me make pigtails on your hair but thanks for realising now." she replied sarcastically. "You're drunk, you don't know what your saying" Max replied. "Well, sober me would never tell you this but I love you Max Verstappen. So much that you make my heart beat faster and my chest swell when you look at me. I think about marrying you and having a family with you, but you think I'm joking." she declared. Max couldn't help but smiled, "Tell me all of this in the morning when you're sober so that I can tell you that I love you too schat and then I can finally kiss you." "You can kiss me now" Y/N made a kissy face and eagerly leaned in. Max shook his head and carried her back to the hotel room.

Y/N indeed remembered everything and the first thing she did even though she wreaked of alcohol was finally kiss those soft pink lips.

this is just brain rot at this point. hope you liked it

[starcurtain]

A Look at Ratio and Aventurine... and Ratio/Aventurine

I was morally obligated to use this picture.

Anyway, I got an ask about my understanding of Ratio and Aventurine's relationship both in canon and as a ship that I have been holding on to for a while now because... phew, there's like... a lot to talk about there... But I felt I should at least give it a try, so here is my attempt to comment on the intersection of two of Star Rail's most complicated personalities. Long post is longgggg; you have been warned.

First, Aventurine's canon relationship to Ratio:

In the interest of not hitting tumblr's image limit, let's just throw out some of the information we have in one go:

It's pretty complimentary. (Yet somehow...)

The implication of the infamous "Keeping Up with Star Rail" video is that Ratio understands Aventurine better than anyone else, and Aventurine knows this. At the very least, putting all shipping aside, Ratio is the person who can explain Aventurine's behaviors best. He's the person Aventurine chooses do so. This suggests significantly more knowledge of each other's lives than the game first led us to believe.

Other people (read as: my GOAT Owlbert) perceive respect from Aventurine to Ratio, and although I read them as a bit sarcastic, the 2.1 mission logs not only repeatedly confirm that Aventurine views Ratio as smart and reliable, but that Ratio is reliable "as always," again indicating a longer and closer history of collaboration than we get to actively see in game. The devs were working hard to tell us "Penacony isn't Ratiorine's first rodeo," which is interesting--given Topaz's voiceline recommending the Trailblazer avoid working with Aventurine whenever possible, we're led to believe through 2.0 and 2.1 that not many people will willingly work with Aventurine more than once, let alone many times.

While going through psychological scrutiny from the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come his Harmony-infused self, the "Future" Aventurine suggests that Ratio and Aventurine are quite similar, and that Aventurine puts a surprising amount of trust in Ratio, to be willing to hinge such a dangerous plan on something as untested as Ratio's ability to act. At the very least, Aventurine's own psyche is pondering on Ratio and whether or not their connection has any emotional meaning.

But despite all this evidence suggesting Ratio and Aventurine spend significantly more time with each other than we get to see in game, Aventurine's own thoughts cast strong doubt on whether he and Ratio are actually close.

Aventurine's "About Dr. Ratio" voice line suggests that Aventurine believes Ratio does not particularly like him. He seems to think that Ratio would prefer to stay away from IPC operations where possible, and it's "unfortunate" for Ratio to be stuck with Aventurine as a conversation partner. He's tolerated, rather than enjoyed. His overall impression seems to be that Ratio mostly views them as distant coworkers.

When the "Future" Aventurine suggests Ratio did not betray Aventurine willingly, actual Aventurine immediately pushes back:

(Personally I'm on the fence about whether this was real doubt or just a ploy to continue sussing out Sunday; see my other post about this scene for some more thoughts.)

But if we take this statement to be played straight, it implies that Aventurine doesn't fully believe Ratio will side with him, even (maybe especially) in dire circumstances. If this statement is real doubt, then despite considering Ratio the person who best understands him, despite building an entire life or death gamble around Ratio's loyalty... Aventurine still doesn't think Ratio even likes him.

Aventurine's not stupid or blind, so theoretically he should be able to read the situation better than that. But actually, there's plenty of evidence both in the game and outside it to suggest that Aventurine is not the most accurate judge of his own relationships to others and is a down-right terrible judge of his own worth as a person.

"Future" Aventurine suggests that one of Aventurine's deep inner flaws--the truths that he rejects about himself--is a massive inferiority complex. This is backed up well by the mission text, where Aventurine's thoughts about himself spiral into self-harm, and the scene in the maze, where "Future" Aventurine taunts our Aventurine with the unforgettable fact that his entire life was only worth pennies:

There's also pretty consistent self-deprecation, with both "Future" and real Aventurine noting several times that he's a pathetic mess of a person that other people don't trust or like.

The overall impression 2.0-2.1 left me with is that Aventurine is perfectly capable of respecting and caring for others, but virtually incapable of accepting other people genuinely respecting and caring for him.

Part of this seems to stem from the directly-stated sense that he's a failure whose only worth is in transactional exchanges, using and being used by others (there's so many layers to this--internalized racism even), but I also suspect that much of his inability to accept genuine connection from others is defensive behavior.

Aventurine's true self, Kakavasha, is deeply hidden away, like the ghost of the child that manifests from his Harmony delusion in the Dreamscape. Although Aventurine clings to that person, claiming that he has "never changed," he actively coats over his beliefs, his kindness, and his authenticity with the mask of a "cavalier gambler," with glitz and glamor and showy distractions. No one gets to see Kakavasha. No one gets to know him, because being buried deep in the dirt is the only way to remain untouchable, and fiercely keeping one's distance is the only safe bet. (For both Kakavasha and any fools who would doom themselves by daring to care for him.)

So: Canon is telling us that Ratio is one of, if not the, closest people in the world to Aventurine. But canon is also telling us that that still means absolutely nothing at all, because Aventurine won't let himself be close to anyone living.

Aventurine's senses of self-worth, trust, attachment, and safety have been warped so badly by ongoing and untreated trauma and mental health issues that, at least until the end of 2.1, I just don't think he was capable of even accepting genuine friendship from Ratio, let alone anything more.

(Interesting side note here: Ratio is actually one of the people Aventurine calls "my friend" the least. He only says it directly to Ratio a single time in all of their lines of dialogue across 2.0 and 2.1, and even then, does so only when right outside Sunday's door, while almost certainly being spied upon by the Family. Anyone who knows how often "my friend" is peppered into Aventurine's dialogue otherwise should know that the absence of the phrase is actually pretty telling. It almost feels like canon Aventurine's not even sure he can call Ratio his friend, at least to Ratio's face.)

Which makes Ratio's canon relationship to Aventurine quite sad and ironic:

From start to finish, Ratio canonically esteems Aventurine more highly than almost any other character in the game. I'm not even talking about shipping when I say that there is no character Ratio is closer to in the entire game.

At present, Ratio has only four voice lines about other characters, and of those four, Aventurine's is the only one that isn't someone from the Genius Society. The only one. Ratio's voice lines are also notably, uh, not very complimentary. Herta is "talented but not helpful to others" and "sees no one as her equal" (read as: she's self-absorbed). Screwllum is a "monarch, rather than a genius" (with the vague implications of being a tyrant), and Ruan Mei is overly ambitious and "fooling everyone."

Meanwhile, Aventurine is "our man" (who is "our" Ratio? who?) whose success "can't all be chalked up to luck," implying that part of Aventurine's success must come from skill. Ratio notes that Aventurine questions his own ability... but as far as Ratio's evaluation goes, he seems to doubt that Aventurine will ever experience a downfall. For someone who thinks 99% of the people he meets are mediocre failures scrambling around in the filth of existence, to be recognized as skilled and unlikely to fail is quite obviously glowing praise.

Then, of course, there are numerous moments that echo Aventurine's hints, implying that Ratio spends significantly more time with Aventurine than we see on-screen, that he knows Aventurine extremely well, and, although he tries (vainly) to pretend he isn't, he's clearly quite concerned with what Aventurine thinks of him.

Especially this last one. "No wonder that gambler likes you so much" is pretty intentional on the devs' part, confirming that Ratio and Aventurine are having off-screen conversations we players are not privy to, which obviously would indicate a closer relationship than the in-game cutscenes could cover.

Then, Trailblazer has the option to flat out ask Ratio to "rate" Aventurine. (Star Rail ship bait is not even subtle.)

At first, this line might read as all over the place:

"The bosses say we're partners but I wouldn't say that" -> Read as: Ratio wants people to know how their relationship is classified but doesn't want to admit to being actually invested.

"I see myself as the teacher to everyone I meet" -> Read as: Ratio at least pretends that he doesn't view anyone as his equal; everyone is either above him--geniuses--or below him--students.

"Aventurine is not that bad of a student" -> High praise; even Ratio can't pretend Aventurine's untalented.

"Actually, Aventurine's probably in metaphysical danger" -> Read as: Ratio is aware of the "void" Aventurine is experiencing and his mental struggles.

The ultimate takeaway of Ratio's "rating" actually says more about Ratio than Aventurine. When it comes down to it, Ratio's choice to answer this question for the Trailblazer instead of dismiss it tells us that Ratio has spent time quantifying and trying to define his relationship with Aventurine, is willing to at least discuss that relationship with other people (when we have no evidence he ever discusses any other personal/non-academic matters with anyone), and that Ratio pays attention to Aventurine's mental states.

Canon Ratio is not beating the allegations, I'm afraid.

But actually, I think the biggest tell about Ratio's canon relationship to Aventurine is that Ratio's behavior completely changes the moment Aventurine appears in the game.

In every single one of Ratio's other appearances, two facts are hammered home again and again:

First, Ratio hates interacting with fools and "noisy" people. He wears his plaster bust so that he doesn't even have to see them. Canonically, we're informed by both March 7th and Argenti that Ratio brought and was wearing his headpiece in Penacony. Curiously though...

The players never see it throughout 2.X--probably because 90% of Ratio's scenes are with Aventurine, and Ratio is never shown wearing his bust on screen with Aventurine--even in their very first meeting in the Final Victor lightcone. Aventurine clearly knows of the bust, but despite Ratio verbally going on and on about how Aventurine is the most "flashy" and "devoid of logic" person Ratio knows... the devs deliberately send their message: Ratio has chosen not to cut himself off from Aventurine.

Aventurine can be more "clamorous" than a screaming peacock, but Ratio will still not put up walls against him. This isn't accidental. The devs had every opportunity in the world to go the opposite route and make jokes about Ratio refusing to take the bust off in Aventurine's obnoxious presence; instead they decided that Ratio apparently has a glaring, Aventurine-shaped exception to his "I don't want to perceive you fools or be perceived by you" life rule.

This "willing to tolerate shenanigans only if Aventurine is involved" behavior continues basically throughout all of Penacony's plot. In 2.3 for example, if you turn around and talk to Ratio again on the Radiant Feldspar, he flat out says:

But there's no actual explanation for why he's there in the first place. He mentions he was assigned to watch over "the IPC's ambassadors," which theoretically should apply to Jade and Topaz, yet we never see him interacting with them in any capacity. He's never even shown in the same room as Jade or Topaz, and he's not shown doing any other form of business for the IPC on the Feldspar either. Theoretically, he could have been on the Feldspar to meet regarding the Divergent Universe... except Screwllum wasn't there yet, and Ratio doesn't mention a single word about the Divergent Universe to the Trailblazer.

The only person Ratio talks about in his dialogue on the Feldspar is Aventurine, and the only non-Trailblazer he talks to in 2.3 at all is also Aventurine, replying to him and only him in the group chat.

He looked like he might give it a shot to try to befriend Boothill and Argenti at the end of 2.3... but immediately changes his mind and leaves without saying a word to them.

It's not really a stretch to suggest that the only reasonable excuse for Ratio to attend the party on the Feldspar was if he was there for Aventurine, a behavior that he himself notes is out of character. ("A waste of time" he says, as he stands there anyway.)

But, second and even more importantly: Ratio's single most defining character trait is that he believes people need to pick themselves up. The entire point of his debut appearance in the game was to present his philosophy that if the powerful or privileged intervene to continually "save" the mediocre, ordinary people will never learn for themselves or get the chance to grow. It is in times of desperation, he says, that fools exceed their limits and reach greatness.

This is why, in 1.6, he insisted on Asta and the Trailblazer being the ones to solve the attacks happening on the space station, without relying on Screwllum or the other geniuses. Although Ratio did actively intervene a little (using the phase flame to save the researchers from death), he did so only from behind the scenes, where his actual help would not be noticed by those affected and where it had no impact on their decision-making or their struggles to solve the mystery.

He let Asta and the Trailblazer panic. He let them flounder. He even deliberately misled them at points, claiming that Duke Inferno must have kidnapped the researchers (when it was actually Ratio himself who re-routed them).

Ultimately, Ratio let Asta and the Trailblazer grow from their experiences.

This is also why he lets the Trailblazer go blazing in to fight Ruan Mei's faux emanator of the propagation, despite knowing that Trailblazer was not actually strong enough to win. Ratio watched and was ready to intervene... but in the end he did not, because it was the Trailblazer's fight to lose.

Ratio's most defining character trait is that he believes standing back and observing is the true kindness, rather than inserting oneself and denying people their autonomy or opportunities to grow.

Buttttt... then there's Aventurine, and suddenly the story is completely different.

Suddenly, Ratio isn't an observer but becomes essential to the plan. He's even walking around making big claims about being the manager of the task, flexing all of his C+ acting ability to actively carry out their mutual ploy.

In 2.3, he claims he was just there to watch, and his Penacony sticker asserts he's only "a supporting character"--yet we have never seen Ratio take a more active role in the entire game. Unlike with the Trailblazer in 1.6, he's not primarily watching events unfold from shadowy corners. He's in Penacony as Aventurine's active partner in crime.

And, even more telling--he later jeopardizes their entire mission just to ask if Aventurine needs help.

What? Huh? The character who is famous for the voice line "You look distressed. Is something troubling you? If so, you can figure it out for yourself" is suddenly offering his assistance entirely unprompted?

The guy whose motto might as well be:

Is suddenly out here throwing his own core philosophy out the window to solve Penacony's mystery for Aventurine and save him from himself in Aventurine's hour of greatest need?

A lot of people get hung up on the second half of Ratio's letter, the part about staying alive, which of course is very sweet. But I think the second half causes people to forget that the first part of Ratio's letter is, quite literally, the answer to Penacony's mystery.

Ratio gave Aventurine the answer.

This is like if your professor just gave you and you alone the score key to the final exam and then turned around to insist he "doesn't play favorites."

Of course, Aventurine is brilliant and didn't need Ratio's answer about dormancy, which makes the fact that Ratio went out of the way to give it to him even more odd. Ratio despises unnecessary repetition. If he wasn't dead worried, he would never have given Aventurine an answer that Aventurine had the power to find on his own.

And, as far as canon tells us, Ratio has never done this for anyone else.

The difference is night and day. It's literally the Gordon Ramsay meme, with everyone else in the entire game being the "fucking donkeys" to Aventurine's "Oh dear. Gorgeous."

So: Even if we entirely put aside shipping, if we look strictly at what we're given in canon:

Ratio treats Aventurine with more respect than he treats most other characters in the game.

He involves himself in Aventurine's struggles in a way that he flat out refuses to do for anyone else.

He compromises his own beliefs purely out of concern for Aventurine.

So, at least as far as we've been shown in canon, it is accurate to state that Aventurine is the closest character to Ratio--and unlike Aventurine (king of self-gaslighting), Ratio isn't even good at acting like he doesn't care.

Frankly, the whole thing is a little sad. Ratio's behavior is so blatantly out of character that a smart person like Aventurine should easily be able to determine it is genuine, but Aventurine's personal hang-ups and ongoing trauma make it difficult for him to even see that authenticity, let alone put faith in it. Even in canon, Ratio is mostly unable to help himself when it comes to Aventurine, which is especially unfortunate given how badly skewed Aventurine's perception of himself and others is by the start of Penacony's story.

PHEW! I finally made it through canon content!

Now there's just... everything else... 🫠

Well, to be honest, I don't think I could ever manage to put all my thoughts about this ship into one post. Probably not even fifty posts.

So rather than trying to say everything there is to say about Ratiorine, what I want to focus on is how fantastically these two characters just fit together. Like puzzle pieces that need to be mirror opposites in order to link, these two characters parallel each other while also perfectly filling in each other's voids. It's some of the best character pair writing I've seen in a long time (though I'm still sort of convinced it was at least 50% sheer luck on Hoyo's part), and my perspective on their ship can really be tied to my underlying perception of Ratio and Aventurine's characters as remarkably similar individuals:

It's obvious that Aventurine is not a healthy or well-adjusted adult man, but like... neither is Ratio.

Both of these characters are "not quite right" marginalized people who, at least in my interpretation, have essentially given up on even faking normality and are now just vaguely play acting their way through being functioning members of a universe that is entirely unequipped to accept them for who they are. In a world full of cyborg cowboys and people with wings growing from their heads, the game still manages to somehow convince us that Aventurine and Ratio are odd ones out.

Kakavasha can't even exist in the dystopian capitalist hellscape of the IPC's machinations. "Aventurine" isn't even a real person, just a never-ending performance, a slick, devil-may-care persona without a single ounce of substance.

Ratio, meanwhile, is a world of one, rejected from the only place he thought he could find validation and acceptance but unable to lower himself to fit in anywhere else.

Aventurine is so bad at making genuine connections that he turns everyday conversations into gambles because he doesn't believe people will care enough to keep talking to him without tangible incentive.

Ratio's insistence on treating everyone as students, not as equals, also means he has an excuse to never emotionally engage with anyone he meets. (This is not at all a textbook method of intentional avoidance to prevent any chance of social rejection. Not at all.)

At the end of the day, Aventurine and Ratio both come across as desperately lonely, and so caught up in their own situations that they really don't have the ability to climb out of that hole on their own.

Preventing them from even being able to maintain any form of relationship is also the fact that neither one of them can even find justification. Neither one of them has a reasonable answer to the question "Why am I alive?" anymore, because Aventurine's reason died on Sigonia and Ratio's reason died with an IPC invitation instead of a Genius Society letter. Though their differing perspectives have led them on opposite paths pursuing their own answers to that ultimate question of "Why should I keep living?" (Aventurine was headed toward giving up before the end of Penacony, while Ratio has invented an immeasurable, impossible goal to distract himself from feeling purposeless), both of them are pretty much miserably unfulfilled in their current lives.

They're also both violently allergic to emotional vulnerability and to having any of their flaws or true desires actually be perceived. Both of them put up insanely high walls. Aventurine pushes boundaries with everyone he meets to provoke their hatred in advance, before they can come to disdain him for his "real" flaws. He acts out harmful racist stereotypes to use others' preconceptions for advantage, manipulating every situation he's in--incidentally affirming the stereotypes against his people by doing so.

Ratio puts a physical wall of plaster between himself and others, but the plaster bust actually doesn't have anything on the mental and emotional gymnastics he's engaged in to justify his isolation from the world, doing everything in his power to convince himself that he's isolated by choice, that it's perfectly logical for Veritas Ratio to have nowhere to truly belong, no one to truly belong with. He's so mundane after all. Of course the geniuses don't want him, that's just commonsense. But everyone else is so... different, so foolish, so illogical... It just wouldn't be reasonable of him to try to become one of them either, to be their friend instead of their distant educator. (You know, if you never try to integrate with others, then they can't reject you. Ratio has learned his lesson.)

Somehow, Aventurine and Ratio are two of the most competent and successful people in Star Rail's entire universe and simultaneously also two of the most misfit, reject, dysfunctional messes in the game. Like... Blade has a better support network than Aventurine and Ratio combined. The 7000-pound murderous mech with a disabled, genetically-modified war veteran who never got to live a normal human life hiding inside it is more capable of making friends than Aventurine and Dr. Ratio.

Which is why I love that the devs decided to make their canon backstory: "Some absolute treasures in the IPC and the Intelligentsia Guild had the galaxy-brained idea of pairing Ratio and Aventurine as strategic partners." The game's writing really said: "These two characters are so socially stunted, they have to be assigned a relationship like it's homework."

They may not have it all figured out yet, but the fans see the design: Now that Ratio and Aventurine have each other, they're not alone anymore. I have never seen two characters better fit the "Is anyone going to match my freak?" meme only for the actual answer to be "Yes."

Ratio is "plays chess with himself" levels of loner weird? No problem--Aventurine is "Wanna take bets on who's going to die today?" weirder. Ratio wears a plaster bust to ward off idiots? Aventurine transforms into a monster on command, which is pretty much guaranteed to achieve the same effect.

Ratio wasn't chosen by Nous? That's fine, Aventurine's one job as a "chosen one" was to save his people and now they're all dead. Nobody can keep up with Ratio in conversation? Watch a single comment from Aventurine turn him into a fumbling mess on live television.

Ratio's inability to relate to the experiences and development of any peers his own age have left him extremely isolated and with a permanently scarred sense of self-worth? Wow, I wonder if Aventurine knows exactly what that feels like.

They just... fit.

And, changing focus a little here at the end: While I personally think that recovery from trauma requires internal motivation and self-kindness foremost, I also think that Ratio and Aventurine's relationship should be considered from the perspective of how they help to fill each other's gaps.

Unlike any connection at the Genius Society who will always evoke unpleasant memories of Nous's rejection, Aventurine isn't going to make Ratio feel intellectually inferior. Aventurine has nothing but good things to say about Ratio's intelligence, and it's even apparent that Ratio felt comfortable enough to at least mention his Genius Society woes to Aventurine, something he explicitly does not do with anyone else.

Even when it comes to social interactions, Aventurine isn't going to make Ratio feel inadequate, because honestly? Aventurine's almost as bad at them as Ratio. Aventurine is much better at faking it socially, but when it actually counts? When he's trying to be real with others? A solid 70% of the people who meet Aventurine still end up wanting to strangle him. The guy tried to apologize for threatening to detonate the Trailblazer like a bomb by buying them a model train...

Then there's this:

Aventurine is the only character explicitly called Ratio's equal in game, and more than just treating him respectfully as an equal, Aventurine also exhibits one extreme appeal that no one else in game has ever shown to Ratio: Aventurine makes Ratio feel needed. For Aventurine, Ratio is not a forgettable after-thought as he is to Herta and most of the other geniuses. He's not just "some weird guy who scolds me about school" like he is to the Trailblazer. Ratio's intellect and skill were integral to Aventurine's plan from step one to the very end. Ratio has a place in Aventurine's plots. For a character who directly assesses worth by how beneficial a person can be to others, the fact that Aventurine can make Ratio feel wanted and valued probably produced some of the strongest personal fulfillment Ratio has had in years.

On the opposite side, Ratio's in a unique position. Out of every relevant character in Aventurine's story, Ratio is the only one who has nothing to lose by choosing Kakavasha over "Aventurine." Ratio doesn't profit off Aventurine or take any expensive gifts from him, like the Trailblazer does. He doesn't need Aventurine's luck for anything at all. He'd be able to work for the IPC even if Aventurine wasn't in it. Ratio certainly doesn't want the glitz and glamour of a shallow gambling hustler persona. His work doesn't require Aventurine's continued involvement like Topaz's and Jade's does. He'd probably prefer not to know any Stonehearts at all, thank you for asking.

Outside of deliberate-acting insults about Sigonians for Sunday's sake, we're not told that Ratio has any connections to--and therefore has no preconceived biases against--Sigonians. Being a person who values self-determination and a refusal to live in mediocrity above all else, he would have nothing but esteem for how far Aventurine has managed to come despite the harsh circumstances of his life. Ratio probably wouldn't even think Aventurine's belief in Gaiathra is that strange; one of Ratio's doctorates is actually in theology.

Unlike literally everyone else in the universe who needs "Aventurine," we have every indication that Ratio's respect and admiration will only grow when he finally gets to meet "Kakavasha."

Loneliness, rejection, betrayal, a lack of understanding from others--all of these can leave wounds that only genuine, deep bonds with others can heal.

On death's doorway, in the darkest shadow, when Aventurine had to make the choice between passing on to be with the family that loved him and choosing to return to a reality without them... Ratio's letter was there, telling Aventurine the exact thing he needed to hear to choose life: Someone is waiting for you to come home.

If the resounding rejection of Star Rail's Nihility is belief in humanity's power to make meaning in our own lives through our connections to others, then the ultimate message of Ratio and Aventurine's arc in Penacony is that no one needs to be alone. The world is not as empty as you fear.

And that is a message that Ratio and Aventurine can learn best through each other.

(I just... love them so much...)

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed (part two)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda), Hannibal (TV), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; heavily suggestive content, implied smut, unhealthy power dynamics, references to stalking and kidnapping, violence

♡ notes; still kind of figuring out characterization for Jason and Danny tbh

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> mama always taught him that sharing a bed with someone was wrong

> it could so easily lead to sinning! and the woods tended to be humid anyway, so it’d get sticky and sweaty

> but Jason likes keeping you close, very close

> the only time he’s not by your side is when he’s “working”

> and even then he’ll check up on you throughout the evening

> one day you get worried, though

> he’s usually back by the time you’re about to go to sleep- he drinks tea with you and usually cuddles for a bit even though he’s convinced staying would be bad

> on this night, the tea is getting cold, and you’re getting grumpy, so you step outside to call for him

> it’s just a moment- a split second that you feel a hand on your shoulder- too small to be Jason

> then there’s a sickening squelch, a scream, and a couple more wet thumps and groans before silence

> you don’t need to turn to know what happened, instead letting Jason come to you (he doesn’t like seeing you sad from his messes- and you don’t like seeing them period)

> he’s got the blood of the man who touched you splattered all over you but you just frown softly “…it’s bedtime.”

> he wordlessly nods and scoops you up quickly, seeming scared that you were somehow hurt

> you quietly reassure him but he gets you the tea and pets your hair until he’s satisfied you’re okay

> you relish in the affection and get an idea

> “Jason baby? can you sleep in my bed? just tonight?”

> you can tell he mulls it over a long while before he nods

> he looks comically large in your bed, holding your teddy bear for you while you change into pajamas

> you let him be the little spoon, wrapping around him happily

> surely something this comfy can’t be wrong, he decides and falls asleep peacefully

> but when he wakes up, holding your soft, barely clothed form tight against him…he realizes he doesn’t care what’s wrong and right when it comes to you

> because you make him want to do all of the things mama said not to - and he just loves making you happy

Bo Sinclair

> you like your personal space- that’s something you made clear when you started living there

> back then you were still a victim, but the point stands

> so once they trusted you you got your own little room and let you decorate

> and you like your arrangement. you have your bed, your boyfriend has his, and you don’t ever sleep in the other’s on purpose

> why would you want to sleep next to Bo anyways? he snores, he’s always splayed out in weird positions and he sweats like a motherfucker

> maybe it had to do with the way you can always hear him screaming when he wakes up in the middle of the night.

> or how it stings whenever he leaves after you fuck, even though you never really ask him to stay

> okay, fuck it. you love the idiot and you want to sleep next to him.

> that shouldn’t be too hard to say

> except it is, because your stubbornness is almost as legendary as Bo’s

> you’re still actively putting it off when you manage to sprain your ankle in the house

> after thanking Vincent for patching you up, you spend the afternoon in the living room, sulking as you wait for Bo

> you know it’s not his fault you slipped, but you’re irrationally mad at him and getting worse the later that he is

> you can tell Vincent got to him first because he’s already frowning when he walks in to the living room close to midnight

> “what happened to you, little darlin?”

> your anger immediately melts away and you give a pathetic little pout as he hugs you tight, cursing for not checking in

> he babies you throughly and eventually takes you to your room

> he’s giving you a goodnight kiss when you grab his sleeve

> “…stay?”

> he can’t hide his smug smile

> “…you want me to?”

> you grumble but he’s happy to strip to his boxers, whistling

> “what’re you so smug for?”

> “you finally asked me to stay.”

> “…well duh.”

> he falls asleep with your whole body laid on top of him, hand lazily stroking your hair

> for once he doesn’t have any night terrors, and he’s grateful

> so grateful in fact, he’d like to repay you..

Billy Lenz

> you don’t love the idea of billy spending the night

> it’s not that you don’t love him, or being around him. he’s your boyfriend, of course you like his company

> it’s just that the sorority girls don’t have the greatest track record of giving you privacy

> they don’t cross boundaries, or enter without knocking- you lock the door anyways

> but they like you enough that usually they’re knocking on your door by eight, inviting you on a shopping trip or to breakfast or even asking for help studying

> it can be stifling, but it’s sweet, and it’s not like they’ll know you have a guest. they’d be more courteous if you could tell them

> and there’s the second reason, the one you can’t tell Billy

> you know the walls are paper thin, and you know just as well he’d take that as a challenge

> but it’s spring break, and only a couple of students are still about

> so you quite casually ask him if he’d like to stay the night

> you’ve never seen this man smile wider in your entire time with him

> and he’s surprisingly PG as you make plans

> he’s excited to eat popcorn and get his nails done and cuddle - you paint his hails black and get the snacks ready

> you rent a horror movie for the occasion, and he’s giggling the whole way through it

> he thinks it’s just adorable that you get so scared, hiding your face against him

> “Billy’s pretty baby is so silly- maybe he should distract his baby….-“

> luckily, you’re able to turn being as quiet as possible into a game when you mention how sound carries through the house

> and he’s ecstatic when he gets to stay next to you, tangled in the sheets and clinging to you for dear life

Danny Johnson

> you’ve never been to his place

> he started as a stalker, so it seemed natural he’d just keep going over to your apartment

> and since he’s always busy with the paper, and continuing his current murder spree…

> well most nights you just let him go, and when you don’t you wake up alone

> but on a particularly boring evening you decide to reverse the roles just a bit

> you figured out his address some time ago- and you picked up a thing or two about picking locks from dating Danny

> so it’s not a problem getting into his penthouse and making yourself comfortable

> you make sure to send a vague text that you knew he’d be able to figure out

> after all actually being sneaky around Danny was probably dangerous- you’re about the only person he wouldn’t stab on site

> you can’t help your huge grin when he stalks into his bedroom

> he’s acting pissy but you see the way his eyes survey your nearly bare body

> “You little brat…”

> he’s the fun kind of angry

> after a through lesson in asking permission you shower and collapse into bed together

> you cuddle close and fall asleep in his arms as he traces all your new bite marks and bruises

> he seems to get the message about staying - when you wake up it’s to him kissing your neck and purring your name

> apparently he didn’t finish last night’s ‘lesson’…and he’s eager to continue

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s eager for you to spend the night, in all honesty

> he likes being in control, utterly and completely

> if he had it his way, you’d move in within the month

> but even though you’ve brought a bag, and are all pj-ed up, he’s distracted

> maybe the one thing that can distract him from you is work- he’s a perfectionist

> and he doesn’t have to prove himself to you like he does clientele and state boards, and practically everyone else

> “y’know you said ten minutes ten minutes ago.”

> “yes my darling- i’ll be there shortly, just- go lay down-“

> you roll your eyes and instead stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and beginning to kiss his neck

> he tries his damndest to keep focused

> “…if you don’t come soon, i won’t be awake enough to help you…unwind,”

> that gets him up- you 1, work 0

> you’re surprised when after you’ve both gotten nice and relaxed, he pulls you flush

> usually you have to ask for affection

> but he spoons you, face buried in your hair as he dozes off