#why was i told it was all okay and then its not

[fairymischief]

"I'm pretty with makeup"

"I'm pretty without makeup"

Radical feminism: "It doesn't matter if you're pretty at all. You don't exist to be pretty."

"Female body hair is okay"

"Female body hair is not okay"

Radical Feminism: "Female body hair simply exists and is completely neutral. Talking about whether its 'okay' doesn't even make sense."

"Presenting THIS way makes you a man"

"Presenting THIS way makes you a woman"

Radical feminism: "Nothing about the way you present makes you a man or woman. Gender isn't real."

I love that radical feminism just removes you from so many binaries of thought. It makes them completely nonsensical. Why would I analyze whether I'm pretty when it doesn't matter either way? Why is the acceptability of my body hair even a subject of discussion? It merely exists, just like the bark on a tree. Does society sit around and debate whether a tree ought to be able to keep its bark?

I've come to realize that I've been handed a ton of "either/or" choices about who I am all my life and told to make a decision on each one. And they were all illusions! I just exist. I never had to justify the way I am or even formulate an opinion on it.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Built A Fire Just To Keep Me Warm

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter are in the same friend group but never got along. That doesn’t keep him from making sure you never get cold

Masterlist

“Guys, why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned and rubbed your arms up and down. The thought of sitting in your lecture class for the next hour with your professor with the dullest voice imaginable somehow made you even colder.

“I told you to layer up.” MJ shrugged. “But you never want to listen during layer talk. You know this guy always cracks the AC.”

“I always listen during layer talk.” Ned mumbled and threw his scarf over his shoulder.

You looked at your professor in the front of the room and then up at the vent above you.

“Why though? It’s the middle of December. My arm hairs should not be standing up.” You said and held your arm up for MJ to see.

“Maybe you should wear a jacket.” Peter interjected, making you all look at him.

“What was that?” You asked him. Ned signaled for him to stop talking but Peter had a point to make.

“I was just saying. You know this professor always has the AC on. But you always come to class in thin shirts and then complain that you’re cold.” Peter said. You sat up in your chair so you could fully face Peter and narrowed your eyes at him.

“So?”

“So,” he mimicked your tone, “You know its going to be cold in here. But you still never wear a jacket. Maybe you should put one on next time so you won’t have this problem.”

“And maybe you should mind your business. I wasn’t even talking to you.” You grumbled and slumped down in your chair. Peter watched you rubbing your arms to keep warm and rolled his eyes a little.

“You were talking to the group.” Peter pointed out. “I’m in the group. So it was my business.”

“No, I was talking to MJ.” You stated as your annoyance for him grew.

“You said “guys, why is it so damn cold in here?”. That implies you were asking all of us.” Peter corrected. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as you glared at Peter.

“Okay, but I didn’t say ‘Peter, I’m really cold. Please give me your professional opinion on how to prevent that’. I was just making an observation.”

“But that’s not really an observation though, is it?” Peter asked. “It’s a declarative statement. We were in Linguistics together. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Why do you have to be such a know it all?”

“I don’t know. Why do you insist on wearing the flimsiest shirts to class and then complaining that you’re cold?” Peter retorted.

“There’s about to be an active threat in this classroom.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What do you mean?” Ned asked you.

“I mean I’m about to beat Peter up.” You told him.

“Knock it off you two.” MJ warned. “Can you guys go one day without going at each other?”

“Tell Peter that. He started it.” You reminded her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any bickering at my party tonight.” She said. “It can’t be like Friendsgiving. Because that was giving enemies instead of friends.”

“If you don’t want any fighting then you’ll have to uninvite Peter.” You told her.

“I can’t. He’s the only one with an ID. We need him for the alcohol.” MJ replied.

“I’m right here.” Peter pointed out

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled.

“Speaking of alcohol, I can’t go with him to get it.��� Ned cut in. “My Lola has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. If I even look at a bottle of alcohol, she’ll know about it and strike me dead.”

“Then you’re going to have to go with him. I’ll be busy setting up.” MJ told you.

“What?” You whined. “I don’t want to go with him. Why can’t he go alone?”

“Again, right here.” Peter stated and waved his hand.

“Because of the Buddy System.” MJ answered. “Remember when we sent Ned alone to the bodega to get Sun Chips? He almost got kidnapped.”

“The only reason the man didn’t take me was because he thought my choice of chips was disgusting.” Ned whispered.

“That’s valid.” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t kidnap you either.”

“Can you guys just go together this once? For me? For little mixed drink loving old me?” MJ pleaded and held your hand to her heart.

“Fine.” You sighed and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. Peter watched you doing this and then looked up at the vent above you.

“Don’t act so excited about it.” Peter mumbled to you.

“I’m not.” You scoffed and gave him a look.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So was I.” You said as Peter got up out of his seat.

“Where are you going?” You asked him.

“To pee. Is that allowed?” He sassed you.

“Go piss girl.” Ned called after Peter as he walked down the steps of the lecture room, earning many stares from other classmates.

“Ned, no.” MJ whispered. “That’s not relevant anymore.”

“Oh shit. Um, mama a hawk tuah diva behind you?” Ned asked to try and fix his mistake.

“Just stop while you’re ahead.” MJ replied with a pat on his knee. She then turned to you with a devious smile.

“Peter totally likes you.” She whispered.

“What?” You laughed. “No he doesn’t. We’re barely even friends. I only tolerate him since he’s friends with Ned. And I mess with Ned heavy.”

Just then, Peter came back from the bathroom and stopped at the professors desk. You watched them curiously but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. When Peter walked away from the desk, your professor went over to the thermostat and turned the AC off. You felt the vent above you stop spewing cold air just as Peter came back to where you were all sitting. He didn’t look at you but his cheeks were pink as he sat down. MJ and Ned hadn’t noticed what happened so you leaned over to him to whisper.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“You said you were cold.” He shrugged, still without looking at you.

“So? Why do you care if I’m cold?”

“I don’t. I was cold too. Not everything’s about you.” He said quickly. You decided to drop it but you found the interaction strange.

Later that day, you and Peter kept a distance between you as you walked towards the nearest corner store. You had your arms folded to keep your hands warm and Peter was fighting the urge to comment on your lack of preparation for the cold.

“Do you have the list?” You asked Peter as you neared the store.

“I do. But it just says “alcohol” so we’re going in blind.” He answered. You couldn’t help but laugh at MJ’s lack of instructions as you rubbed your arms up and down. Peter noticed this and was about to offer his jacket when you reached the store. Instead, he held the door for you and you smiled in surprise.

“Thanks. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.” You said, feeling awkward now as you walked past him into the store. You were never really alone with him so you weren’t expecting him to be so civil. You split up and went down each isle to collect a few token party items. As you browsed, you kept feeling Peter’s eyes on you but you never looked up to check.

“They don’t have MJ’s favorite vodka here. She’s gonna kill us if we don’t come back with it.” Peter came up to you to tell you.

“Damn. We could try the store two blocks down. They usually have it.”

“All right. Let’s go.” Peter said and nodded towards the door. As you started to walk to the next store, the frigid New York air hit you and sent a chill through your entire body. You shuddered and blew hot air on your hands before holding your arms to keep warm.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked you.

“Of course I’m cold. It’s brick out here.”

“How come you never wear a jacket if you’re always cold?” He asked. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

“Because I thought we were just running to the store by the dorms. I didn’t think I’d need one.” You replied. Peter fought every instinct in his body that told him to stay silent and unzipped his jacket.

“Take mine.” He offered and held it out to you.

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “No way.”

“Come on. Don’t be stubborn. You’re freezing. Just take it.”

“I’m not taking your jacket. I’m fine.” You insisted and continued to shiver.

“Just take the damn jacket.” He sighed and put it over your shoulders. You wanted to be stubborn, but you more so wanted to be warm. You gave him a look and slipped your arms into his jacket. You instantly felt better and smiled a little at your new protection from the cold. Peters jacket hung a little big on you but kept you perfectly warm.

“Thank you.” You said timidly. “But aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand. “I run hot.”

You had reached the next store by that point and he opened the door for you once again. You flashed him a quick smile and went inside to get the drinks for MJ. You found it quickly and joined him at the cash register.

You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around you as you walked back to the dorms together. He felt better now that he wasn’t watching you freeze to death and you felt better now that you were safe from the bitter wind. You dropped Peter off at the boys dorm before going back to yours and MJs room. As soon as you walked in, you were hit with a familiar scent that made you suspicious. You looked around the dorm until you found what you were looking for.

“Oh, hey. You’re back.” MJ smiled when she found you.

“What’s this?” You asked and pointed to the mistletoe taped to the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Nothing.” MJ said quickly. “It’s basil.”

“You have basil taped to the ceiling?” You asked skeptically.

“I’m Italian.” She shrugged.

“No you’re not. I’ve eaten pasta you’ve made. It was like chewing a pen cap. There’s no Italian in that blood.”

“You got me. It’s mistletoe.” She admitted. “Arranged beautifully due to my floral arrangement class, may I add. I hung it incase you wanted to kiss any boys tonight.”

“I knew it. You’re still trying to set me up with Peter. It’s never going to work so give up now. Now matter how much basil you hang up.” You said and snatched the mistletoe down.

“You fight it but my lesbian instincts tell me that you guys are meant to be.” MJ said and held her hands up in defense. “And you better hang that back up because that was my only bushel of mistletoe.”

“The same lesbian instincts that made us get on that bus to Long Island? I can never un-go to Long Island, MJ. You did that to us.”

“It was dark. All the buses looked the same.” She defended herself. “But trust. My instincts are right about this one.”

“They’re not.” You stated. “I don’t like Peter like that. I don’t even like him as a friend.”

“Okay. Sure. I believe you. Nice jacket, by the way.” She smirked before walking away. You looked down and remembered you were wearing Peter’s beat up winter jacket. You quickly followed her into the kitchen area to continue the conversation.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was cold.”

“Yeah. I bet he was too. Especially after he gave you his jacket.” She said smugly.

“He said he runs hot.” You insisted.

“Yeah. Hot for you. Ayo.” She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.

“That’s not getting a high five.” You said flatly. “There better not be any more surprises. Don’t try to intervene tonight, okay? Peter and I would never work.”

“I thought you said you and Peter would never happen. Now you’re saying it just wouldn’t work? Sounds like someone’s having a change of heart.” MJ clicked her tongue as she finished setting up for the party.

You rolled your eyes at her and didn’t respond as you helped her put out snacks. While setting a bowl of chips out on the table, you caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne coming off the jacket. You instinctively smiled at the scent before you caught yourself. You had never thought about it before, but now that MJ put the idea in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper reason that you and Peter never got along.

An hour later, the party was in full swing. You made your rounds and greeted people as you filled their cups up some more. You would never admit it, but you were a little disappointed to not see Peter in the crowd yet. MJ noticed you searching the room every so often and took a place by your side.

“Looking for Peter?” She asked with a smug expression.

“What? No. Like I care if that doink shows up. I’m looking for Ned. He’s supposed to bring the…. Sun Chips.” You lied to cover up what you were really doing.

“Right, right. Of course. And how do you feel about Sun Chips?” She asked sarcastically.

“I need some air.” You said quickly and walked away from her. To get away from the crowd, you went out to your room and crawled out the window to sit on the roof. You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around yourself and stared up at the night sky. The sound of the party coming through your open window sounded a million miles away. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them as the cold wind sent a chill through your body.

“Hey.” You heard behind you, making you turn around. You saw Peter coming through your bedroom window and come join you on the roof. You got a new feeling in your chest as he sat beside you.

“Hey.” You smiled softly at him. He returned the smile before an awkward silence settled between the two of you. You didn’t know how to interact after he was nice to you on your trip to the store.

“Thanks for walking through my bedroom with your dirty converse on.” You said to break the silence.

“Like my shoes were the dirtiest thing in that room. I’m pretty sure I saw a rat eating your homework.” He mumbled. You stared at each other as you both tried to read the situation. You were bickering like usual, but there was a playful sense to it this time.

“That’s just our third roommate, dummy.” You replied, adding to the teasing nature of the conversation.

“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckled before looking down shyly. The awkward silence returned but you found yourself hoping he didn’t leave.

“How come you’re out here? You’re not having fun?” He asked after a beat.

“It got a little overwhelming in there. I needed some alone time.”

“Oh, I could go.” He offered and went to stand up.

“You could stay.” You said and stopped him from getting up by placing your hand over his. You watched Peter turn bright red so you quickly withdrew your hand. It was quiet again and you both looked anywhere but each other.

“How come you’re not in there with Ned and all them? Didn’t you just get here?” You asked to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah. Ned and I just got here. But I walked by your room and I saw the window open. I was going to close it until I saw you out here.” He answered a little too quickly.

“Why were you by my room? The party is in the kitchen area.” You wondered. Peter was flushed again and a smile tugged at your lips.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked in a quiet voice. Before Peter could deny the allegations, a gust of wind hit the two of you. You shivered and rubbed your hands together to stay warm.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked you.

“You know what’s wrong.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes. Instead of pointing out that you were purposefully outside on the chilly roof, Peter took both your hands in his. You watched him curiously as he rubbed his hands up and down yours to generate heat. It occurred to you both at the exact same time that this was the first time you’d ever touched. You locked eyes with him and thought he’d let go, but he instead leaned down to blow some hot air on your hands to warm you up.

“Thanks.” You said softly. “That feels better.”

“You’re welcome.” He said in just as timid of a voice. The awkwardness returned and you turned away from each other to avoid it.

“I’m sorry about before. In class, I mean. It was none of my business. You can wear whatever you want.” Peter said after a minute.

“It’s fine.” You waved your hand. “Maybe you kinda sorta possibly had a point. I knew it would be cold. I should’ve worn a jacket. Besides, we always go at each other like that. Don’t be sorry.”

“You’re right. We do always fight.” He agreed. “Do you ever wonder why?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I assumed that’s just how we are.”

“Yeah, it is.” He nodded. “But how did it start? Did we just meet one day and decide we hated each other? I was trying to think about it the other day but I couldn’t remember.”

“Well, I remember MJ telling me she made a friend in her floral arrangement class. Which I told her not to take, by the way.”

“I told Ned the same thing.” Peter sighed. “I said it was a waste of time and credits. He didn’t listen. But he did make me a beautiful bouquet for my birthday.”

“MJ failed so she got me a gift card to Staples.” You replied, making Peter laugh.

“Why Staples?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she found it on the ground.”

“Did you ever use it?” He asked.

“I did. And guess what I got.”

“Staples?”

“Yep.” You nodded, making him laugh again. You never realized it before, but Peter had the kind of laugh that made you want to say the most random things just to hear it again. His eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, another thing you hadn’t noticed before.

“I remember Ned introducing me to MJ, and then MJ introduced me to you. But I don’t remember how our dynamic started and why we fight all the time.”

“Hm.” You hummed. “It’s funny.”

“What is?” He wondered.

“The one time we’re alone together is the one time we’re not fighting.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He smiled shyly. “Funny.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. You felt like you were talking to a completely different person than who Peter usually was. This version of Peter didn’t get under your skin or make you roll your eyes. This version was sweet and warmed you up from the cold.

“You kept my jacket.” Peter pointed out, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, you can have it back.” You said and went to take it off.

“No, no. It’s okay. I want you to keep it.” He insisted and pulled it back around you. For extra measure, he zipped it up to your chin before patted both your arms. You smiled at the action and tilted your head down so the jacket would cover your chin.

“It looks better on you anyway.” He added without looking at you. You picked your head up and looked at him but he was busy fussing with the her of his shirt.

“Thanks. It’s really warm.” You said in a soft voice.

“Good. You need it. You’re always cold. And never prepared.”

“We can’t all be hot.” You replied. “Run hot, I mean.”

“Did you just call me hot?” Peter asked with a devious smile.

“Shut up.” You groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“I wish I had your problems. My hands are always sweating because I’m always so hot.” Peter said as he looked at his hands.

“Gross.” You grimaced. “Keep that to yourself.”

Peter looked sad as he didn’t realize you were joking. You found yourself feeling bad that you hurt his feelings despite all the times you intentionally tried to hurt them.

“I was just kidding. Let me feel.” You quickly assured him and took his hand. You ran your fingertips along his palm to see what he was talking about while Peter stayed perfectly still. You let out a soft laugh which sent chills up Peter’s spine.

“What do you think?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s like touching a Swedish fish that’s been in a toddlers hand for too long.” You replied, making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. That was a really lovely description.”

“Seriously, how do you walk around with these things? Do girls ever complain when you hold hands?” You wondered as you slipped your hand into his. He instinctively rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as the comfortable silence returned. You stayed like that for a moment, holding each others hand on the cold rooftop. The only warmth Peter had was from your hand so he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“Aha! Holding hands!” MJ suddenly exclaimed from behind you. And was standing in your room and pouting at you through your open window. You turned around and quickly dropped Peter’s hand.

“What? No we’re not.” You scoffed and stood up. Peter felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him as you left the roof to follow MJ. It hurt him that you were so quick to drop his hand and deny what was happening, and even quicker to leave him.

“Lesbian instincts.” MJ said as she tapped the side of her head.

“Shut up. We weren’t holding hands.” You insisted as you led her back towards the party.

“I may be a little drunk right now but I know what I saw.” She stated. “And you can’t deny something I saw with my own two eyes.”

“What did she see?” Ned asked as he came to your side.

“Nothing.” You said quickly. “She didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing except her and Peter practically having full on intercourse out on the roof.” MJ replied, making Ned gasp.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “We were not doing that. We were just holding hands.”

“So you admit it!” She clapped her hands at the confession and nearly fell over.

“Girl, how are you so drunk already?” You asked her. “The party only started an hour ago.”

“Not the point.” MJ held up a hand. “Why were you and Peter holding hands? I thought you hated each other?”

“Peter doesn’t hate her.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous. You were about to question what made him sound so sure when you realized you had left Peter out on the roof. You left MJ and Ned behind and quickly ran back to your room. The window was shut but Peter was nowhere to be found. Guilt building up in your stomach now, you went back out to the party and searched the crowd for him. When you didn’t see him anywhere, you went back to the kitchen to find Ned.

“Did Peter come in here? I can’t find him.” You asked him.

“You just missed him.” Ned answered. “He said he wasn’t feeling well so we wasn’t going to head back to our dorm.”

“He left?” You asked sadly. You looked at your front door before looking at MJ for help. She tapped the side of your head again and you knew what you had to do.

You ran out to the hall but didn’t see Peter anywhere. The hum of the elevator gave you an idea where he might be. You got to the elevator just in time to see the doors closing. Without thinking, you wedged yourself in between them to get them to open back up. They bounced off either side of your body but opened up enough for you to get inside. Peter caught you as you stumbled in and helped you stand up straight.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” He asked as you held your aching body.

“I think I just went down a cup size.” You wheezed out.

“Why didn’t you just tell me to hold the door?” Peter asked through a laugh.

“There was no time.” You waved your hand. “I had to talk to you. You’re leaving?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not much for parties.” He lied.

“Neither am I.” You told him as you stared into his eyes. He stared back and you could see a sadness in them that you knew was probably your fault.

“Before you go, I just wanted to apologize for before. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “We did look pretty incriminating.”

“We did.” You agreed. “And MJ was thrilled to see it. She has this dumb idea that we only pretend to hate each other to cover up the fact that we like each other.”

“She thinks that? Wow. That’s quite a theory.” Peter said as a blush painted his face a warm pink.

“Right? I don’t know where she gets it.” You shook your head and slid down the wall of the elevator. Peter decided to see the situation out and sat down beside you. Neither of you had pressed any buttons so the elevator stayed in place.

“Ned has a similar theory, actually.” Peter told you. “He thinks I’m totally in love with you and I don’t know how to express it outside of teasing you or making sure you’re warm.”

The silence that followed Peter’s statement was almost more incriminating than the hand holding. In your head, you replayed every time he had done something to keep you warm. Just the week before, Peter had wordlessly dropped a blanket beside you during a movie night at his dorm. Another time, he insisted you drank the tea he brought to class because he decided he didn’t like it anymore but didn’t want it to go to waste.

“Also quite a theory.” You said to break the silence. “But wait, if you run hot, how come your dorm has been perfectly toasty everytime MJ and I came over this winter?”

“It’s not usually like that.” He admitted. “But I take out the space heater when you and MJ come over because I know you get cold easily.”

“Oh. Well thank you.”

“For the teasing?”

“For keeping me warm.” You corrected. Peter flushed again and looked down at his lap.

“It’s all right. Winter will be over in a month. You won’t need me to keep you warm anymore. Then we’ll go back to being enemies.” He said without looking at you. You could hear a sadness in his voice and moved a little closer to him.

“You’re not my enemy. I just never really liked you.” You admitted.

“Yeah. I had a feeling. But how come?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, because I got the feeling that you never really like me either.” You shrugged. “Once our friend groups merged, you and I were just kinda there. We never really gelled like Ned and I or you and MJ.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” He agreed. “The only times we would talk to each other is when we were fighting or something. That’s the only reason I kept teasing you.”

“Because you wanted to talk to me?” You smiled teasingly. Peter didn’t smile back and just stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you.” He said quietly. “I never wanted us to fight. But if we didn’t, then we would never talk. And I really, really wanted to talk to you.”

The way you had felt about Peter just that morning had completely changed for the better. You were now hanging on his every word and desperate to hear what he had to say next. You turned a little to face him better and tilted your head to the side.

“What did you want to say?” You asked him. Peter’s eyes darted around your face and eventually landed on your lips.

“That I think you’re really cool. And really pretty. And really smart. Even though you never wear a-“

“Don’t say it.” You cut him off by leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Peter turned his body so that he could slip a hand in your hair to kiss you back. He took the chill right out of your bones as he kissed you as if he’d been waiting his entire like to do so. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him until you ran out of breath. He had a dreamy smile on his face when you pulled away. You smiled shyly and sat back down on the elevator floor. Peter started to sniff the air suddenly and looked around.

“Do you smell basil?” He asked. Your smile dropped and you looked up to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, taped to the ceiling of the elevator was a makeshift mistletoe MJ had crafted out of basil and ribbon.

“Freaking lesbian instincts.” You muttered and stood up to snatch the basil down.

Tag list 🏷️ 🧥

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@nellabella @boogywoogywoogy

[astonmartinii]

day seven: (christmas) star power | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem primary school!teacher

oh how one lie can spiral

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, yourbrother and 204 others

yourusername: so ummmmmmm i pulled the short straw and am in charge of the school's nativity ??? AND THEN made a comment about my 'boyfriend' charles leclerc and now the whole school and WHOLE village think he is coming to the show ...

view all comments

yourbff: are you fucking dumb ???

yourusername: YES

yourbff: you told the headmaster that your boyfriend is CHARLES LECLERC ????

yourusername: i said it in JEST

yourusername: like ooohhhh my boyf charles

yourusername: and i guess that my framed picture of him on my desk definitely didn't help ...

yourbff: you have a framed picture of him on your desk...

yourusername: it was a christmas present from my cousin 😭

yourbff: oh but why would you have it on your desk - you're a primary school teacher all those kids do is ask questions

yourusername: why are you VICTIM BLAMING SO MUCH

yourbff: because you're DUMB

yourbrother: oh they're gonna stone you when they figure out it's not true

yourusername: they should know it's not true ITS CHARLES LECLERC

yourbrother: so you're saying you couldn't just go to monaco right now and pull him? disappointing

yourusername: 1. i'm broke as fuck 2. i am me and he is he

yourbrother: ugh such a skill issue

yourbff: bro it's hit f1twt

yourusername: WHAT

yourusername: who the fuck is on f1twt from our village

yourbff: maybe it was me...

yourusername: REALLY?

yourbff: no you actual dumbass

yourusername: no but for real these people are insane detectives they're going to figure out it's me and i'm going to be CANCELLED

yourbff: lol

yourusername: fuck you.

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 1,034,289 others

tagged: arthurleclerc & lorenzotl

charles_leclerc: just a quiet christmas for the leclercs this year

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user4: because we're going to somerset right?

user5: does he know he's meant to be in somerset?

user6: does he know what a nativity is?

user7: girl he may be an f1 driver who didn't finish school but he's not THAT dumb

landonorris: why am i seeing that you're coming to my ends for christmas?

charles_leclerc: am i??? why would i want to spend even more time with you?

landonorris: first of all - rude. second of all i have literally seen posters about you coming to the village?

charles_leclerc: what is a village?

landonorris: okay mr monte carlo some of use aren't from a tax haven

charles_leclerc: also when you're this beautiful, people tend to paste your face everywhere, you can't relate

landonorris: even RUDER

landonorris: my young cousin goes to the school and is completely convinced that you're coming to the show and dating his teacher

charles_leclerc: WHAT

yourusername: oh my jesus christ

user8: and if that one girl on f1twt made it all up...

user9: would be the only good thing to come out of that place

pierregasly: what is this i'm hearing of you having a girlfriend? charles i am HURT

charles_leclerc: where are you all hearing all of this stuff?

pierregasly: twitter!

charles_leclerc: oh jesus christ

pierregasly: you've got yourself in a right mess

charles_leclerc: ME?

charles_leclerc: this is clearly the work of a downright lunatic or a lonely cat woman with FAR too much time on her hands

yourusername: oh he gagged me there

yourbff: heyyy you have a dog not a cat!

charles_leclerc: who are you people?

yourusername: NO ONE

user10: what on earth is going on

user11: and WHO is @yourusername

yourusername: NO ONE

landonorris

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri and 1,034,277 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

landonorris: look who came to see me :)

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user13: holy....

user14: oh charles at the nativity is still so on

user15: my hopes are simply too high now good lord

user16: lowkey hoping this is all one big lie from f1twt that has managed to convince ACTUAL drivers to go to a random village

oscarpiastri: how did he get an invite to the norris house before i did ?

oscarpiastri: do my 'heart eyes' mean nothing to you?

landonorris: no babe i can explain it's for the bit

charles_leclerc: babe?

oscarpiastri: stay out of this old man

charles_leclerc: that's no way to talk to your father

oscarpiastri: my father wouldn't do such things for 'the bit" WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN

landonorris: it's a joke osc

oscarpiastri: so i'm a joke to you? i see how it is

landonorris: NO THE TWITTER JOKE

landonorris: has he just put his phone on do not disturb?

charles_leclerc: he said he's going to bed (it is actually quite late in australia dude)

landonorris: how do you know that?

charles_leclerc: he replied to my text :)

landonorris: WHAT

charles_leclerc: family comes before whatever pathetic crush he has

user17: how have we gotten to this point?

user18: just smile and wave boys this is mental illness on show

charles_leclerc: you're right, having a crush on lando is mental illness

landonorris: then it's time to get your son sectioned!

alexalbon: well this has all gotten a bit serious now - can we get back to the actual reason charles is at your house?

yourusername: @yourbff oh brother this is getting TOO REAL

yourbff: to put it quite kindly you are royally FUCKED

yourusername: i might have to move to another country, change my name and get bangs :(

yourbff: NOT BANGS

landonorris: who are you people and why are you always camping out in our comment sections

yourusername: WE'RE NO ONe

landonorris: WAIT I HAVE MUTUALS WITH YOU?

landonorris: NOOOOOOOOO

landonorris: she blocked me?

yourbff

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 304 others

tagged: yourusername

yourbff: take a good look at her folks because i have reason to believe that if a certain someone turns up at the show she will KILL HERSELF. love you queen, rest in divadom

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yourusername: this sounds very dramatic

yourusername: but you are correct

yourusername: my life will come to a short and all round inconsequential end tonight

yourbff: it is dramatic

yourbff: but i understand queen

yourbff: your celebrity crush who you have had a parasocial relationship with for years is coming with the express purpose of embarrasing you because he believes you are a sad, sad woman who has created an elaborate lie that you're in a relationship

yourusername: well yeah that sums it up pretty well - you think you could put that on my head stone?

yourbff: i don't think we can afford that

landonorris: i can pay!

yourusername: AHHHHHHH

yourbff: AHHHHHH

landonorris: oh forgot to say but found you! we have a lot of mutual friends lol

landonorris: actually i think my mum and your mum are in the same book club!

yourusername: you're aware this is creepy?

landonorris: you're aware that pretending to be my friend's girlfriend is creepy

yourusername: THERE WAS A GROSS MISUNDERSTANDING OVER MY DESK DECOR

landonorris: sureeeeeee

yourusername: also charles isn't even the only man i have framed on my desk, i have my dog, justin from wizards of waverely place, jason kelce and marc marquez, he's just the one the old lady picked out

yourbrother: now we have actual f1 drivers in the comments, how can we get free tickets from them?

yourusername: so my impending suicide means nothing?

yourbrother: not really. i might take your car if you die

charles_leclerc: so this was all one big scheme to get tickets? there's no show ???

yourbrother: that's what you're focusing on? not that she has a whole town under the impression that you're dating some irrelevant primary school teacher?

yourusername: rude?

charles_leclerc: a primary school teacher? that's cute

yourusername: wait did you think i was just doing the nativity for the love of the game?

yourbrother: who gives a fuck he called you CUTE

yourusername: oh!

yourbrother: she passed out :/

charles_leclerc: i didn't know i had that kind of effect on people

landonorris: oh fuck off of course you do

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,539,056 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: met my long lost girlfriend (and most importantly her dog)

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user20: omg i do not know how to feel

user21: WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME SHE'S THAT BEAUTIFUL

user22: i 100% thought the gal was gonna at least be in her 40s

landonorris: i guess she puts on a pretty good nativity

charles_leclerc: which kid is your cousin?

landonorris: the lobster!

pierregasly: LOBSTER?

charles_leclerc: @yourusername why was there a lobster?

yourusername: ummmm there's a lot of kids in the class and i was running out of roles? all animals are gods creations?

charles_leclerc: seems sacrilegious but it was cute <3

charles_leclerc: just like you

pierregasly: that was awful

yourusername: SHUT UP

yourusername: thank you charles :)

charles_leclerc: no worries princess x

user23: i am losing my mind ?????

user24: bro got tricked into going to SOMERSET and has actually fallen for her

user25: i mean ... look at her

yourusername: i do also have a cracking personality if i do say so myself

yourbff: oh girl you needed it after i held your hair back three times in the lead up to meeting charles

yourusername: and i will repay you somehow ???

yourbff: well.... now you've charmed a certain someone can we inquire about his pool of friends

landonorris: hi!

charles_leclerc: no not that one he's not cute enough

landonorris: you're really mean

charles_leclerc: @yourbff may i introduce my good buddy joris

landonorris: JORIS ???

charles_leclerc: well i regularly want to throttle you so i think it would be better to go on double dates with someone i actually like ?

user26: charles leclerc is the origin of the sassy man apocalypse

user27: i think the paddock was the start of it all

yourusername: i can't believe this actually happened :')

charles_leclerc: and i can't wait to see where it goes

yourusername: see you for new years pretty boy

charles_leclerc: i think i already know who my new years kiss might be

yourusername: i'm already waiting :3

fin.

note: i hope you all had a fun christmas! i had a great day with my family and am workin hard to get the rest of this series out!

[revelboo]

Metroplex? 🥺

Big baby needs love.

He does

I Can Feel You Pt 13

Metroplex x Reader

• “I don’t know why I bother, no one ever listens,” Ratchet says, startling you awake from where you’d been drowsing after losing Metroplex again and you flush. Because he had told you to stay away from the drone and you’d spent the night in its lap. “Other Cybertronians don’t listen, why would a human.” Sitting up in the drone’s lap still cocooned in your blanket, you guiltily avoid looking at Ratchet as he wanders around the medbay making a lot more noise than is probably necessary. Clearly annoyed with you, so it’s a surprise when he drops an MRE at your feet and then stomps off.

• Drifting, he dreams of you. The way you’d felt in his arms, the warmth of you and the way you fit against him. Hates putting that worry on you, to ask for even more than you’ve already given him. But you’re all he has, the only one who’s bothered to even try to reach out to him. It’s getting easier to keep a thought hooked in the drone. Hearing through it as he gathers his strength. Can hear you talking to Ratchet, trying to convince him to go with you down into his interior.

• Looking up at Rachet as the medic grimaces, you wish Metroplex would wake up again. Explain it to Ratchet, because you’re just a human. They don’t take you seriously and you know it. Usually don’t really mind even though it makes you so lonely, but right now? You need his help. Metroplex needs his help. “We’ve explored down there, but haven’t been able to find anything to explain what’s wrong,” he says, freezing as the drone curls an arm around you, servos splayed against your hip. Under you, the drone slowly moves, lurching upright and dragging you with it, your legs dangling. “Is that Metroplex?” Ratchet asks and you wordlessly shake your head, not knowing how you know, only that you do.

• Exhausted, he sinks into his dreams of you, losing connection with the drone. In his dreams, you’re back in that hidden, guarded space. Can feel your warm, bare feet on his interior as you tip your face up toward his spark, letting that light play over you and illuminate you until you don’t seem half real. Unfurling the protective petals of that node in invitation to connect again. Tendrils uncoiling to snare you as soon as you touch him, he sees your arm lift, soft fingers hovering over him. And then his plating under your feet caves in with a wrenching pain, pulled apart by that yawning wound inside him. That ruined space bridge arcing with malevolent light as you fall with a soundless cry and there’s nothing he can do.

• Dangling as Ratchet tries to pry its arm loose, the medic swears as the drone takes an uncertain step, then another. Dragging him with it as it strides out of Medbay and you see the ground shift, opening to reveal a path like it had in your home that night Metroplex had led you to him. “I told you not to mess with it,” Ratchet snarls as you struggle to wriggle loose. It’s not hurting you, but you can’t get free either. But it’s taking you underground. To Metroplex and you stop fighting. “It’s okay,” you whisper, not at all sure. “It’s taking us to the problem.” That has to be it. Glaring, Ratchet strides alongside the drone as it carries you down into the darkness.

Previous

Hard to learn the workings of

This lonesome charade

I'm filled with hesitation

Staring down the tide

It pulls you apart

It stabs in the dark

It carries away

I'm starting to see

The problem with me

Is everything

I can't wait to find you, I really hate that I'm alone

I got a flurry of words

But I got nothing to say

And why does everything

Always end this way?

If I asked you to let me go

Would you hold on, would you hold on?

I try hard to let go but the pull is too great

Consumed with the promise

Of one last chance

Are you holding on?

Cause I'm still holding on

[magnagaruzenmon]

This Christmas (I'll burn it to the ground)

Merry Christmas to all of those who love Zombies, Kpop, and MTG as much as I do. (I have been playing to much Dead Island 2) Here's hoping I can pull it all together.

I finally made it to the guesthouse, my boots crunching against the gravel as I pushed the door open. Relief swept over me for a fleeting moment—until I realized I wasn’t alone.

There was someone already there, and she was changing.

The soft rustle of fabric froze me in my tracks. She turned sharply, startled, and our eyes locked. Her wide, expressive eyes—big and doelike—struck me like a thunderbolt. There was something in them, a blend of innocence and unspoken intensity, that made my heart stutter. A weird mix of emotions bubbled up—guilt, curiosity, and something warmer that I couldn’t name but tried to smother immediately.

She was standing there, clad only in a simple bra and panties, her cheeks flushing as my presence registered.

“I—uh—” I stammered, tearing my gaze away as quickly as I could. My hand shot up to shield my face. “Venus told me to come here to cool off. I’m not trying to do anything… improper,” I managed to say, my voice more strained than I liked.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by her shaky, “Okay.”

I backed into the doorway of the next room, needing to give her space and myself some time to calm my racing thoughts. The guesthouse smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish, a strange comfort in the chaotic world we were surviving in. But any solace was shattered when I saw movement at the barbed fence outside.

A zombie was clawing its way through, its grotesque face contorted in hunger. With a sigh, I unsheathed my dagger and slipped out. With a quick slash, the dull squelch of the blade met decayed flesh, and it was over. Cleaning the dagger on the zombie’s tattered shirt, I slipped back inside, shaking off the tension.

The girl was still there.

She had finished changing, now wearing one of Venus’s sundresses. It fit her perfectly, the soft fabric draping over her in a way that felt… natural and unfairly captivating. For a moment, I forgot what I was doing, but I quickly bit my tongue. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

She was watching me, her expression thoughtful, almost calculating. There was no trace of the earlier shyness—just a quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from her now.

“You’re Dinozen, right?” she asked, her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

I nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She broke into a smile, her lips curling into a smirk that sent an odd shiver down my spine. “I’ve heard stories about you. A slayer from Hel-La with a heart of gold.” Her tone was teasing, but there was something sharper beneath it. “I didn’t expect you to be so… mundane,” she added, her smirk growing.

Her teasing caught me off guard, and I blinked, unsure how to respond. Just like that, the power dynamic shifted.

She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with amusement—and something more. She extended her hand, her movements fluid and deliberate. “I’m Chowon.”

I hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, but instead of shaking it, I pressed my lips to the back of it, the gesture more instinctive than calculated.

Her smile widened, clearly pleased. “Oh,” she said, her voice low and a touch amused, “a ruthless gentleman. I like it.”

There was a spark in her eyes now, one that hinted at danger, playfulness, and intrigue all at once.

Chowon corners me, her lithe fingers brushing against my jawline with an almost teasing delicacy. The sensation sends a spark through me, subtle but undeniable. Before I can react, we tumble onto the couch together. Her movements are graceful, deliberate, and unrelenting as she straddles me, settling herself on top with a kind of predatory poise.

Her lips curve into a mischievous smile. “So, why do they call you Dinozen?” she asks, her voice low and sultry. “Because I don’t actually think that’s your name.”

Our eyes lock, her gaze playful yet searching, and I feel a sudden weight in the air between us. She bats those impossibly long lashes, weaponizing her doe-like eyes with a kind of innocent cruelty. I know I should deflect or say something clever, but I can’t. I’m too drawn in.

I swallow hard before answering. “People like to say I’m like an apex predator—instinctually at the top of the food chain, basking in its state of zen,” I explain, my voice low, barely audible. “My love of dinosaurs made the nickname stick. So… Dinozen.”

Her smile deepens, her teeth catching the faint light. It’s the kind of smile that’s both knowing and inviting. She leans in, closer now, her breath brushing against my lips, and I catch the faint scent of gooseberries and lilac. The fragrance is intoxicating, too perfect to be real, as if she’s wrapped herself in some kind of spell.

But then I see it—a faint bite mark on her shoulder, just peeking out from the neckline of her dress. My gaze lingers for a second too long. She notices, of course. Chowon’s eyes follow mine, and when she meets my gaze again, she’s smiling.

“Oh, you figured it out,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of pride and challenge. “Yes, I’m a slayer like you.”

I blink, taken aback.

She leans closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, “I was reborn helping my girls get out of New York when the zombies came.”

Her words are heavy, laced with memories and something deeper. A hunger begins to build between us, a feeling I can’t quite name but can’t ignore. It’s electric, primal, and utterly overwhelming. She closes the distance between us, our faces now inches apart.

“Are you in a state of zen?” she whispers, her breath warm and soft against my skin.

Her words feel like a spell. My eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when I open them again, it’s as if something inside me has been unlocked. Or unchained.

I feel it—the shift.

The part of me I’ve spent so long burying, controlling, suppressing—it rises to the surface, clawing its way free. Imperio Rex. The name feels like fire in my blood, and as it takes hold, my entire perspective changes. My focus shifts from protecting, from doing right, to simply taking what I want.

And what I want is sitting right in front of me in that flirty sundress, her body close enough to touch, her lips almost brushing mine.

Chowon doesn’t flinch. If anything, she leans in, her breathing hitching slightly as her eyes glint with something darker, something wilder. It’s as if she welcomes this shift, as if she’s been waiting for it.

“That’s not the gaze of a hero,” she teases, her voice soft but sharp, a taunt wrapped in velvet.

Her words only fuel the fire inside me. My gaze roams over her, drinking her in. Her figure is exquisite, every curve and line a masterpiece of temptation, but it’s her eyes that hold me. The softness, the doe-like innocence—gone. What stares back at me now is the gaze of a lioness, her hunger matching my own.

Two predators, circling.

Neither of us speaks. The air between us crackles, charged with tension and unspoken desires. Whatever happens next, it feels inevitable, like a collision neither of us can stop—or wants to.

Here’s an expanded and detailed version of your scene, adding more depth to the emotions, tension, and connection between Dinozen and Chowon:

Chowon moved first, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. Her lips crashed against mine, fierce and deliberate, like she had decided the moment and wasn’t going to let it slip away. The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was raw, electric, and unrelenting.

And then, I felt it.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was something deeper, more profound. Our energies shifted, intertwining in a way that left me reeling. For the first time in my life, I felt seen. I felt reciprocation.

Her soul was a mirror of my own—a churning storm of anger and loneliness, a fire that refused to be extinguished. I felt it all: her hunger for mayhem, the thrill of violence, and the exhaustion from constantly holding back for people who expected so much, demanded so much, without ever asking what we needed in return.

It was a soul as bruised and battered as mine.

When she pulled away, her lips just inches from mine, her breathing uneven, she searched my face with those predatory eyes. “How were you reborn?” she asked, her voice low and steady, a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy between us.

I hesitated, the memory of that moment clawing its way to the surface. “I was saving my dad from a zombie,” I said, my voice tinged with bitterness. “I got bitten… and when the chaos hit, my family left me during their escape.”

The words came out heavier than I expected, dragging old wounds into the light. I could feel my anger rising, simmering alongside something darker, something hungrier.

Chowon’s breath hitched, her heart rate spiking—I could hear it, feel it. Without a word, she pulled me into another kiss. This one was different—just as hungry but tinged with something else, a silent acknowledgment of the anger, the pain, and the raw, unfiltered truth we shared.

When we finally broke apart, her gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unyielding. There was no teasing now, no coy smile. Just a woman who saw all of me and wasn’t afraid.

“Always the hero,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Well then… tonight, don’t play the role. Be who you are.”

Her words hit me like a jolt, cutting straight through the layers of control I had spent so long building. There was no judgment in her tone, no expectation. Just an invitation. A challenge.

I didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, I let the mask slip. I let the carefully constructed image of Dinozen fall away, piece by piece, until only the raw, unfiltered truth of who I was remained.

And she welcomed it.

For the first time, I felt no need to hold back. No reason to hide. No fear of being too much, too intense, too broken.

Chowon didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned in closer, her presence steady and unyielding. In that moment, I realized we weren’t just kindred spirits—we were two sides of the same coin, drawn together by the weight of what we’d endured and the unshakable hunger to embrace what we truly were.

Whatever came next, it wouldn’t be quiet. It wouldn’t be safe. But it would be real, but before we could do anything we heard more growls of zombies encircling the party. Chowon and I get up from the couch before slipping out of the guest house

The guesthouse door creaked as we both stepped outside, the cool night air crackling with the distant groans of the undead. The swarm had breached the perimeter—a mistake they wouldn’t live long enough to regret.

Chowon twirled her machete lazily in one hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. She gave me a look, her smile sharp and playful. “You ready to let loose?”

My dagger felt steady in my hand, but my heart pounded for an entirely different reason as I met her gaze. “I think you’ve got more to prove than me,” I shot back, grinning despite myself. As we walk over the zombie I had previously slain.

She laughed, a sound both sweet and unnerving. “Let’s see who makes the bigger mess.”

Then the first zombie stumbled into view, and all hell broke loose.

We moved like a deadly symphony, two parts of the same chaotic whole. Chowon darted forward, her blade slicing through rotted flesh with precision. Her movements were graceful, almost balletic, as if every kill were a carefully choreographed dance.

I wasn’t as elegant. I was raw power, using my knife and my fists when needed, each strike fueled by a deep well of frustration and hunger. The undead fell in heaps around me, but every now and then, I caught a glimpse of Chowon—her lithe figure spinning and twisting, her sundress smeared with blood but her expression radiant, alive.

The horde was relentless, but we were more so.

At one point, we ended up back-to-back, surrounded. Her voice was low, teasing, even as she hacked through another zombie. “Still feeling zen, Dinozen?”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “More like… alive,” I admitted, plunging my blade into another corpse.

Her laugh rang out again, wild and unrestrained. “I love it.”

As the swarm thinned, something shifted between us. We weren’t just fighting anymore; we were feeding off each other’s energy. Every shared glance, every brush of her arm against mine as we moved, heightened the tension between us.

Blood streaked her face, her doe-like eyes now alight with something feral. She caught me staring and smirked, slicing through a zombie with a flourish before turning to me. “What, admiring my form?”

I wiped sweat and blood from my brow, unable to resist the way my lips quirked upward. “It’s decent,” I teased, though my voice betrayed how much more I thought.

She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling as we stood amid the carnage. Her machete dangled loosely at her side, forgotten for a moment as her eyes locked onto mine. “Decent?” she repeated, her voice a whisper now, tinged with mock offense.

“Better than decent,” I admitted, my voice rough from exertion.

Her lips curved into a genuine smile—one that made the world around us fade, if only for a moment. We head back to the guesthouse our bodies electric as we can't deny the attraction we felt anymore.

I tear off that sundress that hides her delicious curves and I tear off the lingerie that hides her from me. She did the same and as we stood bare before each other she pounced on me. Her hands claw into my back but I don’t feel pain only invigorated She claims me with another bit on my other shoulder further linking us now both virally and emotionally I follow suit and bite her other shoulder. Our bite marks now creating mirror pairs, but now I need her carnally I see her eyes yelling “take me make me yours!” So I do just that. I violently thrust my cock inside her. Chowon moans as her insides welcome me. I fit perfectly inside of her, something she makes very clear by saying

“Oh fuck your cock. It’s so good.” I smile and begin to suck on her massive tits. She moans out as I thrust and suck on her tits like a man dying of thirst. Chowon coos as her body reacts violently. Her back arches towards me as I lightly nibble her nipple. She grabs my face and brings me in for another kiss. Fire runs through both of veins as we copulate. I continue thrusting into her and she continues fucking herself on my cock. our moans echo throughout the room as we desperately mate. I feel Chowon's walls clench around me as if to milk me and it works i spew cum into her womb like a volcano, uncontrolled and violent. She moans as her orgasm hits soon after. she smiles then says,

"Fuck!" her eyes narrow and she says "you are mine and I am yours." I nod as our vision goes black before we pass out.

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the remains of last night’s chaos. The yard outside the guesthouse was a battlefield—a mosaic of dismembered zombies and smeared gore, with the unmistakable stench of death hanging thick in the air.

Venus, the hostess of the party, stepped outside cautiously, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She froze mid-step as she took in the carnage. Around her, other survivors began to stir, their sleepy murmurs turning to gasps of horror and confusion as they joined her on the porch.

"What the hell happened here?" Donny asked, stepping outside and immediately covering his nose with his sleeve. His eyes widened as he surveyed the wreckage.

"Was there a raid? A bomb or something?" Haseul ventured, her voice trembling.

“No,” Venus said slowly, pointing toward the barbed-wire fence. It was still intact, albeit stained with black blood. “No breach. Whatever did this… was already inside.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances. They all knew the stakes of staying here, but no one had heard any alarms or screams during the night.

“Look at those slashes,” Donny's said, kneeling next to a fallen zombie. Its torso was nearly split in two, the edges of the wound clean and precise. “This wasn’t some lucky survivor swinging a baseball bat. This was…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Venus crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “A professional.”

“But who? No one here—” Donny's voice cut off as his gaze lifted toward the guesthouse.

The survivors followed his line of sight. The door to the guesthouse was slightly ajar, the faintest tendrils of smoke curling from a makeshift firepit just outside, where a few zombie skulls were charred black.

Inside the guesthouse, Chowon and I lay tangled together on the couch, both still wearing faint remnants of the night’s battle on our skin—smears of black blood on my jawline, a shallow cut on Chowon’s shoulder that had already begun to heal. The only wounds not healing were the bitemarks from our original infection and each other.

The room was warm with the morning light streaming in, highlighting their serene faces. Chowon’s head rested on my chest, her fingers loosely curled against mine. my arm was draped protectively around her, our breaths rising and falling in sync.

Raph pushed the door open wider, and Venus peered in behind him. The scene they found was at odds with the carnage outside.

“Are they… cuddling?” Raph whispered, dumbfounded.

Venus frowned. “They didn’t leave with the rest of us last night.”

“You think they did all that?” Jihyo asked, jerking her thumb toward the yard.

Venus didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked toward the bite marks on Chowon’s neck and the scratches on my arms. She noticed how our wounds seemed almost healed, despite being fresh hours ago. There was something unsettling about the stillness of our sleep, something off about the peace we exuded.

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t the wind,” Venus muttered, stepping back outside.

As the survivors gathered on the porch, hushed debates about what had happened swirled through the air. Meanwhile, in the guesthouse, my fingers twitched slightly, as if dreaming of the fight, my grip tightening around Chowon for a moment.

She stirred, smiling softly in her sleep, her voice barely audible as she murmured, “Always the hero… even when you’re not trying.”

And the two apex predators, satiated and at peace, slept on.

Jonah stared at the pair on the couch, his jaw slack. “I don’t… What am I even looking at right now?”

Venus crossed her arms, her brow furrowed as she studied Dinozen’s protective arm draped around Chowon. “You’re looking at two people who somehow turned the yard into a zombie graveyard and then decided to take a nap.”

“They’re covered in blood,” one of the other partygoers whispered, their voice trembling.

“Yeah, but… they look so normal,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “Like, I’m half expecting them to wake up and ask if breakfast is ready.”

“They weren’t normal last night,” Venus said sharply, her eyes narrowing. “They stayed behind when we all took cover. And now, this.” She gestured toward the carnage outside.

Another voice chimed in. “You’re telling me those two—just the two of them—took out all those zombies? That’s insane.”

“Look at the wounds on those things,” Jonah said, his tone grim. “Clean cuts, precision kills. Whoever did that knew exactly what they were doing. That wasn’t panic. That was… art.”

“Art?” Venus scoffed. “Try predation.”

The group fell silent, staring at the serene scene before them. Dinozen shifted slightly, murmuring something under his breath as Chowon nestled closer against him, her hand curling around the fabric of his shirt.

“They look so peaceful,” someone said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jonah replied. “Like wolves after a feast.”

Venus took a step forward, her boots creaking on the floorboards. “Whatever they are, they’re not just survivors. Nobody walks out of a night like that without a scratch and sleeps like this.” Her voice dropped lower. “We need to figure out who we’re dealing with. Because if they’re on our side? Fine. But if they’re not…”

Jonah hesitated, glancing back at the open door. “What do you even do against people like that?”

Venus didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped back outside, leaving the others to exchange uneasy glances.

I woke up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the guesthouse window. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, my mind foggy from the chaos of the night before. But then I felt the warmth against me, the steady rise and fall of someone breathing, and it all came flooding back.

Chowon.

She was curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder, her arm draped lazily across my chest. Her hair smelled faintly of lilac, with something sweeter I couldn’t place. It was comforting, grounding me in the moment, even as everything else felt surreal.

Her eyes fluttered open, and when she met my gaze, a lazy, mischievous smile spread across her lips. “Morning, hero,” she said, her voice soft but carrying that teasing lilt I was starting to recognize.

I huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Not sure ‘hero’ is the right word after last night.”

She stretched, her fingers brushing against my chest, sending a spark of something electric through me. “True,” she said, her smirk widening. “Maybe ‘beast’ fits better.” There was something in her tone—pride, maybe, or amusement.

Before I could respond, a knock at the door startled both of us.

“Hey, uh… are you two decent?” Jonah’s voice called from the other side, awkward and unsure.

Chowon raised an eyebrow at me, leaning in close to whisper, “Do we want to be?”

I gave her a look, shaking my head despite the smirk pulling at my lips. “Yeah,” I called out. “We’re decent.”

The door creaked open, and Jonah stepped in, looking half-relieved and half-terrified. Behind him, Venus lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed and her gaze sharp as a blade.

“So…” Jihyo began, scratching the back of her head. “Crazy night, huh? Any chance you want to explain how you two managed to… you know…” She waved a hand toward the window, where the yard beyond lay strewn with carnage.

Chowon tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Oh, did something happen?”

Jihyo just stared at her, clearly out of her depth. Venus stepped forward, cutting to the chase. “Don’t play dumb,” she said coldly. “The yard looks like a battlefield. And you two…” She gestured at us. “You look like you didn’t even break a sweat.”

I met her gaze evenly. “We did what needed to be done,” I said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m just not sure what to make of you two.”

Chowon her tattered clothes did little to hide her body and this tide of possessiveness raged within me with anger at how they looked at her. I caught Jonah’s eyes dropping to her shoulder before they shot back up, his face pale as a ghost. “Uh… what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Chowon asked, her voice all mock innocence.

Jihyo pointed, and my stomach tightened. Her bite scar.

“Wait,” Venus said, her voice low and wary. “Is that… a bite mark?”

Chowon rolls her eyes dismissively, "you know we were both bitten already," she says her tone even hoping not to anger the rest of the group.

Venus eyes us and says, "Yeah we knew. about the other one but why do you have two now?

Sighing, I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the scar on my forearm. “Yeah,” I said flatly. “We’ve been bitten.”

The room fell silent, everyone staring at us like we’d just sprouted fangs. Raph broke the silence, his voice shaky. “But… you’re not… you didn’t turn?”

Chowon smirked, glancing at me. “Nope. Guess we’re special.”

“Special?” Venus repeated, her tone laced with suspicion. “Or infected differently? How do we know this doesn’t mean something worse?”

“Because we’re still here,” I said, my voice firm. “If we weren’t immune, you’d all be dead by now.”

Donny's eyes darted between us, his expression torn between awe and unease. “Still… something’s different about you two. It’s not just the scars. You… feel different.”

I didn’t have a good response for that, and neither did Chowon. She just shrugged, brushing past Venus with that same breezy confidence. “Well,” she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

I followed her toward the door, the rest of the group trailing behind us hesitantly. I could feel their eyes on the scars, like they were trying to piece together some unspoken truth.

As we stepped outside, the aftermath of the night’s rampage hit me in full. Zombies torn apart, blood and gore staining the ground, and a mess of destruction that could only be described as primal.

Chowon and I walked through it like we belonged there, side by side, as if the carnage was some twisted monument to what we’d become.

Behind us, I heard Jihyo whisper, “They’re not just immune, are they?”

“No,” Venus replied, her voice grim. “They’re something else.”

I glanced at Chowon, catching the faint smirk on her lips. Maybe Venus was right. Maybe we were something else..

I stepped out into the bright morning sunlight, stretching my arms wide as though shaking off the stiffness of sleep. My muscles ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache—it was the satisfying kind, the reminder of a job well done. Beside me, Chowon followed, tying her hair back in a loose ponytail. Her steps were deliberate, calculated, but she carried herself with the kind of grace that seemed to melt away suspicion.

Venus and Jihyo were standing by the remains of the fire pit, poking at the charred logs with sticks, while Jonah and Donny scouted the edges of the yard. Raph sat perched on a broken log, flipping his knife over in his hands, his gaze shifting between us and the destruction.

The tension was still thick in the air, coiled tight like a spring, but I could feel it loosening the moment we appeared. The group’s eyes darted to Chowon first, and then to me. I made a point of smiling—easy, warm, the kind of smile that always worked to smooth over rough edges.

“Morning, everyone,” I called, forcing a yawn into my voice to make it seem like we’d just woken up. “Looks like we missed a hell of a night out here.”

Jihyo gave a dry laugh, her arms crossed. “You can say that again.”

Chowon stepped forward, folding her hands in front of her like some picture of innocence. Her head tilted slightly, her expression soft but curious. “Are… are you all okay? No one got hurt, right?” Her voice was quiet, almost fragile, and I saw the way it disarmed them instantly.

Raph scoffed but didn’t press. Donny’s shoulders eased. Even Venus, who had been glaring daggers at us earlier, seemed to falter just a little.

“We’re fine,” Jihyo said, her tone softer than before. “No thanks to the circus act that went on out here.” She gestured vaguely to the carnage surrounding us.

I rubbed the back of my neck, letting out a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, about that. I guess things got… a little out of hand.”

“A little?” Venus muttered under her breath.

Chowon sighed, her gaze sweeping across the yard, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We just… we wanted to make sure everyone was safe. That’s all.” Her tone carried just enough guilt to sound believable, as if she was genuinely ashamed of what we’d done.

I stepped in, my hand brushing lightly against her shoulder in what I hoped looked like reassurance. “We had to make a choice. They were getting too close to the house. We couldn’t risk it.”

The group exchanged glances, their unease cracking just a bit under the weight of my words.

“It’s just…” Donny started, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just crazy how you two pulled that off.”

“Luck,” I said quickly, waving a hand. “We’ve had… practice.”

Chowon looked down, biting her lip like the very thought made her uncomfortable. “It’s not something I like doing,” she murmured. “But I couldn’t just… I mean, what if they got to you guys? What if someone got hurt?” Her voice cracked slightly, and that was the nail in the coffin.

Jihyo’s face softened, and she stepped forward, placing a hand on Chowon’s arm. “Hey, you did what you had to do. I don’t think anyone’s blaming you for that.”

Chowon nodded, her expression a perfect mix of gratitude and humility, and I had to bite back the smirk threatening to pull at my lips.

“Besides,” I added, my voice light, “it’s over now. We can clean up, regroup, and figure out the next steps. No use dwelling on it, right?”

The group nodded, their focus shifting away from us and toward more practical concerns. The tension broke completely when Donny called out from the edge of the yard, waving a hand. “Hey! I found a couple of intact water bottles over here!”

The moment their attention turned, Chowon glanced at me, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. Her eyes gleamed, just for a moment, with the same predatory hunger I’d seen the night before. I mirrored it, my own mask slipping for just a second before I tightened it back into place.

The group didn’t need to know what we really were. They didn’t need to see the predators that had taken up residence inside us. Not yet.

For now, our masks were enough.

And for now, we were satisfied.

The caravan was loud with the sound of engines sputtering to life, the groan of doors swinging shut, and the rustle of last-minute supplies being stowed. I leaned against the side of one of the battered SUVs, watching the group finalize their preparations. Chowon stood a few feet away, tossing a bag into the back of her vehicle. Her hair caught the morning sun, a streak of gold against the drab gray of the world around us.

She glanced over at me, and for a moment, we shared a look. Her lips twitched upward in that lazy, knowing smirk of hers—the one that always made something primal stir deep in my chest. My fingers flexed at my sides involuntarily, the urge to be near her gnawing at me. But then Nayoung’s voice cut through the moment like a jagged blade.

“Uh… I was thinking,” she began, hesitantly, her voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Maybe it’d be better if Chowon and Dino rode in separate cars. You know, just to… spread things out.”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy and awkward. I felt the heat rise in my chest, the pulse of anger flashing through me. My jaw tightened. My fists curled at my sides. I wanted to snap, to tell her to mind her own business. Who was she to decide that I couldn’t ride with my equal—my mate? The thought of Chowon being apart from me, even for a short drive, felt wrong, like something vital being torn away.

But I couldn’t show that. Not now. Not to them.

So, I forced a grin. “Sure, Nayoung,” I said evenly, as if her words hadn’t scraped against every nerve in my body. “Whatever makes everyone more comfortable.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she still didn’t meet my eyes. “It’s just… you two seem, uh, close. And maybe some space would be good—for the group, I mean.”

Chowon, to her credit, didn’t rise to the bait. She just raised an eyebrow and gave me a small shrug, like it was all a joke to her. “Fine by me,” she said, her tone light but carrying that edge of amusement. “Just don’t get too lonely without me, Dino.”

My lips quirked into a smirk that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ll manage.”

Internally, though, the possessiveness burned. I hated that she was being shuffled off like we were some kind of threat, that Nayoung—or anyone—thought they had the right to dictate where we stood. We’d done more for this group in one night than most of them had done in weeks. And yet, here I was, swallowing my pride, because that’s what the “hero” would do.

Chowon climbed into the SUV without another word, her confidence radiating even as the door slammed shut. I turned to my assigned vehicle, forcing my feet to move even though every instinct screamed to follow her instead.

Venus stood near the driver’s seat, her sharp gaze tracking my every move. “You okay with this?” she asked, her tone as neutral as she could manage, but her eyes betrayed her suspicion.

I shrugged, slipping into the seat next to her. “What’s there to be upset about?” I said, my voice smooth, practiced. “It’s just a car ride.”

She didn’t reply, but her silence felt loaded, like she was waiting for something to slip.

As the caravan rolled out, the world outside blurred into a haze of trees and broken roads. I kept my eyes on the SUV ahead of us, knowing Chowon was inside. The thought of her alone, without me to watch her back, sent a low growl vibrating through my chest. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus on the rumble of the engine beneath me instead.

The predator inside me snarled, furious and restless. But I breathed through it, letting the mask settle back into place. For now, I’d play the part. For now, I’d keep the peace.

Because the truth was, Nayoung wasn’t entirely wrong. Chowon and I together—unchecked—was something none of them were ready to face.

Not yet.

And maybe that was for the best.

For now.

I would find out later that Chowon felt the separation anxiety even more than I had.

The steady hum of the engine filled the car as Chowon sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Nayoung was behind the wheel, her hands gripping it tightly, her knuckles pale from tension. She glanced sideways at Chowon every so often, the silence between them heavy and awkward.

“I’m glad we’re finally moving,” Nayoung said, her voice overly bright, like she was trying too hard to keep things light. “Being stuck in one place felt… dangerous.”

Chowon nodded, offering a shy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, it’s good to get some distance,” she said softly. “Safety in numbers, right?”

Nayoung relaxed slightly, her grip on the wheel loosening just a bit. “Exactly,” she said, though her voice still carried an edge of nervousness. “And, um… spreading everyone out for the ride made sense, too. Gives people some space.”

Her words made Chowon’s stomach churn. Space? From Dinozen? Her instincts roared against the idea, the predator inside her snarling at the separation. It was wrong, unnatural. She and Dinozen were a unit, two halves of a whole. Being apart from him felt like losing a part of herself.

But on the surface, Chowon’s expression didn’t falter. She tilted her head slightly, her smile remaining soft and understanding. “Of course,” she said gently. “You’re just looking out for everyone. That’s really thoughtful of you, Nayoung.”

Nayoung glanced at her, her expression easing a little at the words. “I just… I’ve seen how close you and Dinozen are, and I couldn’t help but worry, you know? I mean, after last night…”

Chowon felt a flare of anger deep in her chest, sharp and hot. She kept her hands folded in her lap to hide the way her nails dug into her palms. Last night had been perfect—a primal, untamed connection between her and Dinozen. No one had the right to question it.

But she kept her voice light and her expression calm. “I get it,” she murmured, her tone tinged with bashfulness. “It probably looked… intense. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. Dinozen and I just… trust each other. That’s all.”

Nayoung glanced at her again, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “Trust, huh?” she said cautiously. “It just seemed like… I don’t know. Like you weren’t even afraid. You and Dinozen… you acted like—”

“Like what?” Chowon asked, her tone quiet but curious, encouraging Nayoung to continue.

Nayoung hesitated, her fingers tightening on the wheel again. “Like you weren’t human,” she finally said.

Chowon’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she wanted to laugh. If only Nayoung knew how close to the truth she was. But instead, she lowered her gaze, letting a faint blush rise to her cheeks. “I guess you stop thinking about fear when people are counting on you,” she said softly.

Nayoung nodded slowly, though her grip on the wheel remained firm. “Maybe,” she said, her voice uncertain. “I just want to make sure everyone’s okay. Including you and Dinozen.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but they only fueled the frustration simmering beneath Chowon’s calm exterior. She and Dinozen didn’t need Nayoung’s concern. They were stronger than anyone else in the group. Stronger together.

But Chowon’s smile stayed in place, warm and disarming. “Thanks, Nayoung,” she said, her voice gentle. “That means a lot. You’re a good leader, you know. You’re always thinking about what’s best for everyone.”

Nayoung blinked at the unexpected compliment, her cheeks flushing faintly. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice flustered. “I just… try my best.”

“And it shows,” Chowon said kindly. “We’re lucky to have you.”

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, Nayoung visibly relaxing while Chowon’s thoughts churned. Her gaze remained on the road ahead, but her mind was with Dinozen, riding in another vehicle somewhere behind them. The separation gnawed at her, an ache that only grew with each passing mile.

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, her nails pressing into her skin as she fought to keep the frustration from surfacing. Let Nayoung think she’d done the right thing. Let her believe Chowon was the shy, caring leader she wanted her to be.

For now, Chowon could wear the mask.

But when the time came, when she and Dinozen stood side by side again, nothing—not Nayoung, not the group, not even the world—would keep them apart.

Mikey and Chaehyun’s safe house was a welcome sight—tucked into a quiet, wooded clearing, with high fences and a sturdy-looking building that practically screamed, This place is safe, or as close to it as you’ll get. Still, I felt uneasy as we pulled up, the faint scent of decay still lingering in the air despite the relative quiet. Chowon and I had been separated during the ride, and now, as we stepped out of the vehicles, that distance lingered like an ache just under my skin.

Sakura was quick to approach, clipboard in hand like she was already mentally assigning jobs. “Alright, let’s get this place fortified,” she said briskly, her sharp gaze scanning each of us. “Mikey and Chaehyun did well setting this up, but it’s not perfect. We’ll need to check the perimeter, strengthen weak points in the fencing, and clear out anything that might attract trouble.”

I caught Chowon’s eye as she hopped out of the other vehicle, her movements fluid and easy despite the long ride. She looked my way for the briefest moment, her expression unreadable, before Sakura stepped between us.

“Dinozen,” Sakura said, her tone firm, “you’re on perimeter patrol with Leo. Chowon can help Mikey with the fences.”

My jaw tightened at the way she separated us so deliberately, as if we couldn’t be trusted to work together. I felt that familiar heat rise in my chest—possessive, primal, protective—but I swallowed it down. These people didn’t understand us, not yet. Maybe they never would.

“Sure,” I said coolly, shrugging like it didn’t bother me. “Perimeter patrol sounds fun.”

Leo sidled up to me, his usual easygoing grin replaced with something more cautious. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip just a little too tight. “Let’s go, man,” he said. “Got to make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

Chowon was already moving toward Mikey, her gait relaxed, but I caught the flicker of tension in her movements—the way her fingers curled slightly, her nails brushing against her palm. She wasn’t happy about this either, but outwardly, she wore her usual bashful smile.

“Come on, Mikey,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s see what needs fixing.”

Sakura watched her go before turning back to me and Leo. “Keep your eyes open,” she said. “And stay focused. No distractions.”

I nodded, biting back a sarcastic remark. Instead, I glanced toward the house where Chaehyun stood by the door, her arms crossed, watching all of us with a mix of curiosity and caution. This wasn’t just about fortifying the safe house; it was about fortifying the group’s trust—or lack thereof.

Leo led the way toward the treeline, his machete in hand, while I trailed behind, scanning the perimeter with practiced ease. My thoughts, though, were elsewhere—on Chowon. On the way her scent had lingered in the car even after she was gone. On the way her absence felt like a missing piece of me.

“So,” Leo said, breaking the silence as we walked, “you and Chowon seem… close.”

I glanced at him, my expression neutral. “We’ve been through a lot together,” I said simply.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, though his tone was cautious. “But some of the others are… worried. After what happened last night.”

“They’re alive because of us,” I said, my voice sharp despite my efforts to keep it level.

Leo nodded quickly. “I’m not saying they aren’t grateful. Just… things looked a little intense, you know? People are still trying to figure out what to make of it.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence stretch between us. Let them worry. Let them guess. As long as they stayed out of our way when it counted, that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, I could hear Chowon’s voice in the distance, faint but distinct, as she talked to Mikey about the fence. She laughed at something he said, the sound light and airy, but I could feel the tension beneath it like a wire pulled taut.

By the time we circled back to the others, the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. Chowon was standing by the fence, her hands on her hips, inspecting the repairs. Mikey was chatting animatedly beside her, but her attention shifted the moment she saw me.

Sakura stepped in again, her timing almost comical in its precision. “Good work,” she said briskly, addressing me and Leo. “Now let’s see if we can reinforce the house itself. Chowon, you stay with Mikey and Chaehyun for now.”

Chowon’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—annoyance, maybe, or a quiet defiance. She nodded, though, her demeanor as shy and accommodating as ever.

“Of course,” she said sweetly. “Whatever you think is best.”

I turned away before anyone could see the irritation creeping into my features. It wasn’t the right time to push back, not yet. But as we worked through the evening, I couldn’t shake the feeling that separating us wasn’t just about safety.

It was about fear.

They were afraid of what we were—what we might become. Which saddened me more than it should have.

I was leaning against the safe house’s patched-up railing, enjoying the quiet for once. The group had settled in for afternoon , the tension that came with a new place giving way to a cautious calm. I was sharpening my dagger, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against the whetstone grounding me, when Leo, Donny, and Raph approached.

The three of them shuffled awkwardly, like schoolboys about to ask the teacher for help. I didn’t look up at first, letting them squirm. Finally, Leo cleared his throat.

“Uh, hey, Dinozen,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got a minute?”

I glanced up, deliberately slow, then tucked the my dagger and stone into my belt. “What’s up?”

Donny hesitated, his cheeks already a little red. “We, uh… we kind of need some advice. Relationship advice.”

My grip tightened for a split second, a surge of something dark and possessive rising in me. Tensions among them could work in my favor, I thought. Distract them, make them look at each other instead of us. But outwardly, I kept my expression calm and curious, tilting my head like I was genuinely interested.

“Relationship advice?” I asked, the corner of my mouth quirking up in a faint smile. “Didn’t think I was the type to give it, but sure. Shoot.”

Leo spoke first, his voice low. “It’s about Sakura. I mean, I think she might be interested, but she’s so… focused. Every time I try to talk to her, she brushes me off. I don’t know if she’s not into me or if she just doesn’t notice.”

Donny chimed in, almost cutting Leo off. “And Venus. She’s… intense, you know? But I think there’s something there. I just don’t know how to… approach her without looking like an idiot.”

I caught myself before I laughed aloud. Venus and Jihyo had been paired off since before I joined this group. The two of them might not have announced it outright, but the signs were there—the subtle, protective touches, the way they moved in sync, the private looks.

Donny’s chasing a ghost, I thought.

Then Raph added his voice to the mix. “And Haseul… I think maybe she’s been trying to… you know, drop hints? But I’m not sure if she’s just being nice or…”

Now that’s a smarter path, I thought. Haseul had been hovering near Raph more often lately, her gaze lingering when he wasn’t looking.

I leaned back against the railing, crossing my arms. Internally, my mind was already weaving threads, possibilities. If Leo and Donny turned their attention to their own pursuits, they’d have less time to focus on Chowon and me. Better yet, if things went wrong, the tension could splinter the group further. It was almost too easy.

But outwardly, I played the part of the helpful friend. “First off,” I said, “you’re all overthinking this.” I pointed at Leo. “Sakura’s the kind of person who respects directness. If you keep skirting around what you want, she’s going to assume you don’t mean it. Be upfront with her, but keep it simple. Ask her to take a break with you—something small, something that lets her focus on you for a few minutes. She’s busy, yeah, but she’s not unfeeling. Give her a reason to look at you.”

Leo nodded slowly, his brow furrowed like he was committing every word to memory.

Then I turned to Donny, keeping my voice even. “As for Venus… look, man, I hate to say it, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Venus and Jihyo? They’ve got their own thing going on. It’s quiet, sure, but it’s there. You don’t want to put yourself in that situation.”

Donny blinked, his face falling slightly. “Oh,” he muttered.

I clapped him on the shoulder, offering a faint smile. “Don’t take it too hard. You’ll find someone who’s actually looking back at you. You’ve got the charm—just pick the right target.”

Finally, I turned to Raph, my smirk softening. “And Haseul? She’s already looking at you, man. Don’t overthink it. She’s not the kind to play games. If she’s giving you her time, it means she wants you to notice her. Just talk to her, like a person. Don’t make it bigger than it is.”

Raph’s expression shifted from nervous to thoughtful, his lips pressing into a determined line.

“Think you can manage that?” I asked, my tone light, like this was all casual advice from a guy who had it all figured out.

“Yeah,” Leo said after a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Same,” Donny added, his voice firmer now.

Raph nodded as well, his eyes flickering with something like hope.

They all thanked me and wandered off, their heads already buzzing with plans. I watched them go, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. I’d given them real advice, sure—good advice, even. But I’d also planted seeds. If Leo focused on Sakura and Donny redirected his efforts, the tension in the group might shift in ways that kept Chowon and me out of the spotlight.

And if Raph managed to connect with Haseul? Well, that was one less pair of eyes watching us.

I turned back to my dagger, picking up the whetstone and resuming the steady, calming scrape of blade against stone. They didn’t need to know how much I’d wanted to laugh at their nervousness or how little their problems mattered to me in the grand scheme of things.

As long as they stayed distracted, we could stay safe.

The late afternoon had settled in, and the house was quieter than usual, with most of the group winding down or keeping busy with last-minute chores. I’d done my part, but I couldn’t ignore the pull inside me—the pull to find her.

Chowon.

She’d been busy all day, just like everyone else, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the need for solitude. Neither of us could. So, when I noticed she’d slipped away, I didn’t think twice. I followed.

I found her in a small room at the back of the house—just a storage space, really, but it offered the kind of privacy we both craved. She was leaning against the door, her breathing shallow, like she had something weighing on her. When she saw me, her lips curved into that soft, bashful smile of hers. It made the beast inside me stir.

“You knew I’d come,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t. It was one of those moments where everything else faded away, and all I could focus on was the way she looked at me. Like she wanted more but was scared of what that might mean.

Slowly, I crossed the room, my every step measured, like I was stalking prey—but she wasn’t prey, not in the way the world would think. She was mine. In a way no one else could understand. My equal. And there was a fire inside me—an unquenchable hunger—that flared every time she got close.

When I reached her, our gazes locked, and the space between us seemed to shrink. I could feel the raw energy crackling between us, a constant push and pull. Her fingers brushed against my arm, sending a pulse of electricity straight to my chest.

The mask we wore—the one that kept us from slipping into our darker instincts—was slipping. I could feel it. And it felt so damn good.

I leaned in, closer than I should have, letting her feel the heat of my breath on her skin. “You know, you’re not asking for permission, Chowon,” I said, my voice low, tinged with something dangerous.

She swallowed, a slight shiver running through her. I knew what she felt—the same thing I did. The pull, the need to break free of everything we were supposed to be.

“Maybe I’m not,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her fingers slid up my chest, and I had to bite back a growl. Everything in me screamed to take control, to claim what was mine. But I held back—just enough to let her make the choice.

The door creaked open behind us. I tensed, instinctively pulling back.

“Chowon?” Nayoung’s voice, uncertain and high-pitched, broke the moment.

Chowon immediately stepped away from me, her face flushing with embarrassment. She cleared her throat, trying to act casual, but I could feel the weight of the interruption on her, too. She had wanted this as much as I had.

Nayoung stood there, wide-eyed, staring at the two of us. I didn’t care what she saw. But Chowon… she was still trying to maintain her composure. “I was looking for you,” Nayoung added, her voice awkward.

I shot her a glance, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s fine, Nayoung. Just give us a moment.”

Nayoung hesitated, glancing between us with that familiar uncertainty, then nodded and stepped out of the room. I didn’t miss the look she shot Chowon before the door clicked shut.

Chowon sighed, letting her shoulders drop as she leaned back against the wall. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure, but I could tell she was still shaken. It was just like her—trying to act like nothing had happened, like the hunger between us wasn’t real, wasn’t something she craved too.

“You’re not the only one who’s good at hiding things,” I muttered under my breath, stepping closer again.

She met my eyes, her lips curling into that soft, rueful smile. “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Of course you weren’t,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. But there was an understanding there too—an acknowledgment of what we were. “Neither was I.”

She looked away, but I caught the flash of something darker in her eyes, a fleeting reminder that we were both far from innocent. “Later,” she said, as though trying to pull herself together, smoothing down her clothes like she wasn’t just moments away from devouring me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure “later” was going to be enough. We both knew the truth now.

We stepped out of the room together, the weight of the moment hanging between us, unspoken but undeniable. As we walked back into the chaos of the house, I couldn’t help but glance at her, the bond we shared undeniable.

And as we rejoined the others, I knew that whatever happened—no matter how much we tried to fight it—this hunger, this need, wouldn’t be so easily ignored.

When Chowon and I returned to the group, the air shifted instantly. It always did when we walked into a room together. It wasn’t something we tried to do, but people noticed. Their eyes followed us, their postures stiffened. It was the kind of attention predators gave to other predators when they didn’t know whether to trust them—or run.

The others were scattered around the central living room, doing whatever passed for relaxation these days. Leo and Sakura were hunched over a map, marking supply routes with careful precision. Donny was fiddling with a makeshift antenna, muttering about improving the safe house’s radio signal. Raph and Haseul were by the window, whispering about something that made Haseul’s cheeks flush pink. Venus and Jihyo were on the couch, arms brushing but pretending not to notice.

When we stepped into the room, all those little pockets of activity froze.

Leo glanced up first, his expression unreadable but his shoulders tensing just the same. “Back already?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with an edge I couldn’t ignore.

Chowon was quicker to answer. She plastered on one of her signature soft smiles—the kind that made her look like she couldn’t hurt a fly, even though everyone here knew better. “Just needed a breather,” she said lightly, brushing past me and settling into an empty chair near the couch. “It’s been a long day.”

“Right,” Leo muttered, exchanging a quick look with Sakura, who didn’t bother to hide her wariness.

I stayed standing, leaning casually against the doorway, but I could feel the weight of their stares. My own mask slipped into place—a practiced air of calm and control. It wasn’t hard. They expected me to be the composed, dependable one. The one who kept things steady. If only they knew how thin that line was sometimes.

Donny broke the tension first, glancing up from his antenna with an awkward grin. “Hey, uh, we were talking earlier about fortifying the south side. Might need some extra muscle for that tomorrow.”

“Dino can handle it,” Chowon said easily, her voice as sweet and warm as honey. She shot me a quick, playful glance. “He’s good at heavy lifting.”

I gave her a small smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes but was enough to keep the tone light. “Only if you’re supervising,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear the double meaning.

She caught it, of course. Her eyes flicked to mine for a brief moment, something dark and knowing passing between us before she turned her attention back to the group.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Jihyo chimed in, clearly trying to steer the conversation to safer ground, “we’re low on water. Someone’s going to have to scout the area for another source.”

“I can do it,” Chowon offered quickly, and I felt my chest tighten. The idea of her out there alone, even for a short trip, sent a wave of protectiveness through me that I barely managed to suppress.

“No,” Leo cut in, his tone firm. “We’ll go in pairs. It’s safer that way.” His eyes flicked to me briefly, then back to Chowon. “You and Nayoung can take that one.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still. The idea of her paired with anyone but me felt wrong, even if I knew it was irrational. Still, I kept my tone even. “Sounds like a good plan,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

Chowon didn’t even flinch. She nodded gracefully, folding her hands in her lap like she had no objections. But I knew her well enough to see the flicker of annoyance behind her eyes. She didn’t like being told what to do any more than I did.

As the group settled back into their routines, the tension in the room began to ease. Or at least, they thought it did. I stayed where I was, watching and listening, every sense attuned to the shifting dynamics. Leo and Sakura were still wary, still on edge. Venus kept glancing at Chowon and me when she thought we weren’t looking. Even Donny, with all his awkward charm, seemed less sure of himself around us lately.

It didn’t bother me. Not really. If anything, it kept them predictable. Distracted. As long as their tension was pointed at each other—or at us—I could keep control of the situation.

Chowon caught my eye again from across the room, her expression unreadable but her gaze lingering. The bond between us hummed like a live wire, even in the middle of this crowd. They could separate us for now, keep us at arm’s length. But it wouldn’t last.

We’d always find our way back to each other. And when we did, the masks would slip again.

I wanted to be better.

That thought was loud in my head as I dragged a sheet of metal across the safe houseyard, the makeshift panel screeching against the dirt. My muscles burned from hours of hauling supplies and hammering nails, and the sun overhead felt like it was doing its best to break me. But I didn’t stop.

This was my way of trying to help, of proving that I wasn’t just some unpredictable wildcard in their midst. I could be useful. I could be part of the group.

The others were scattered across the property, all busy with their tasks. Leo was up on the roof with Sakura, patching holes and reinforcing weak spots. Jihyo and Venus were inside, organizing supplies. Raph and Haseul were working on reinforcing the gates. They all seemed comfortable in their little pairs, moving together with an ease that came from trust and familiarity.

And then there was me. Alone.

It didn’t take much to notice the patterns. They didn’t ask me to join in their conversations or include me in their plans. Even now, when every hand mattered, they made a point of keeping me separate. “Dino, can you move those over there?” “Hey, you’re strong—get this done first.” Commands, not invitations.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. I wasn’t new to being treated like an outsider. But the weight of it all settled on me like a stone, pressing harder with every glance that lingered a little too long, every whispered conversation I couldn’t quite hear.

I was halfway through dragging another sheet of metal when it hit me—harder than it should have. A memory, unbidden and sharp as broken glass.

The day I was bitten.

I could still feel the fever that had burned through me, the way my limbs had gone weak, my vision dimming as my body betrayed me. My family had been there—faces pale with horror, tears streaking their cheeks. I had reached for them, begging them to stay, to not leave me alone.

But they had.

The memory of their retreating backs as I collapsed still burned. They had been afraid of what I’d become. And even though I’d survived, even though I wasn’t like the others, that fear had never really gone away.

It was the same fear I saw now, in the way Leo watched me like I might snap at any moment, in the way Venus kept her distance, in the way Jihyo avoided meeting my eyes.

I straightened, the metal sheet dropping from my hands with a thud. My fists clenched at my sides as my breaths came in slow, measured gulps.

I wasn’t one of them. Not really. And maybe I never would be.

I forced myself to focus, to shove those thoughts into the darkest corner of my mind. I picked up the metal sheet again and continued working, but my movements felt heavier now, like I was dragging more than just supplies.

And yet, in the back of my mind, the thought lingered: They’ll never trust you. Not fully. No matter what you do.

Still, I kept going. Because what else was there?

I stepped away from the group, needing space, air, something to calm the gnawing inside me. The predator was stirring again. It always did when I felt cornered—when the isolation, the sideways glances, and the unspoken distrust piled too high.

I found a quiet spot by the treeline and leaned against a weathered trunk, closing my eyes. My chest heaved as I tried to steady myself, my claws itching to come out even though I kept them buried. I wasn’t going to let it win. Not now.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees should have been soothing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voice in my head: They don’t trust you. They never have. They never will.

I dug my fingers into the bark, splintering it beneath my grip, and forced myself to breathe. One… two… three…

Then I heard it—the screams. Distant but unmistakable.

I cursed under my breath, sprinting back toward the group, the predator surging forward like it smelled blood.

When I reached the clearing, the fight was already over. The bodies of infected littered the ground, and the group was huddled together, shaken but mostly unharmed.

All eyes turned to me as I approached, their expressions a mix of relief and suspicion.

“Where the hell were you?” Venus demanded, her voice sharp.

“I stepped away for a minute,” I said, my tone tight.

“A minute?” Donny’s voice cut through the tension, his face flushed with anger. “We were fighting for our lives, and you were just—what? Taking a stroll?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished.

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you,” he said, jabbing a finger in my direction. “You slayers are always so selfish, so worthless in a group setting. All you care about is yourselves!”

The words hit harder than they should have, and something inside me snapped.

The predator roared to life, surging forward with a ferocity I couldn’t contain. My vision blurred, and a low growl escaped my throat before I even realized it.

I stepped toward Donny, my muscles tensing as every instinct screamed for recompense. His scent was sharp—fear, adrenaline, something that only fueled the hunger clawing its way up my spine.

“Dinozen,” Chowon’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.

I froze, my gaze snapping to hers. She stepped between us, her hand lightly brushing my arm, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just her.

“Hey,” she said softly, but there was steel beneath her tone. “We all need to take a breather sometimes. Let it go.”

Donny’s mouth opened, but she shot him a glare that silenced him immediately.

She turned back to me, her eyes searching mine. “Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

I let her lead me away, my chest still heaving with the effort of keeping the predator at bay. She didn’t say anything until we were far enough from the group that their voices were just a faint murmur.

When we stopped, she turned to face me, her gaze steady.

“Let it out,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

I shook my head, backing away. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m here. I can handle it.”

Her words broke something in me. The predator surged forward, and I let it. My head tilted back as a roar tore from my throat, reverberating through the trees. It was raw, primal, and louder than I’d ever allowed it to be.

When the sound finally faded, I slumped forward, breathing hard. Chowon’s hand was on my chest, steadying me.

Her eyes softened, and before I could say anything, she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was grounding, pulling me back from the edge.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered against my lips.

I rested my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. The predator was still there, but it had quieted, content for now.

The living room was lit with a warm glow, the crackle of a fire providing the soundtrack to our makeshift Christmas celebration. Despite everything—the attacks, the tension, the unspoken fears—we had found a moment to gather as a group. A small tree sat in the corner, decorated with scavenged ornaments, and under it were gifts, most wrapped in patchwork paper or cloth.

Venus stood up first, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she held out a small, carefully wrapped box. “Alright, Dinozen,” she said, her voice teasing, “you’re up.”

I blinked, surprised that she’d drawn my name. When I took the package, the weight of it felt solid but unfamiliar. With the group’s eyes on me, I peeled back the paper and froze.

Inside was a revolver-shaped dice chamber. The bullets, each intricately carved into polyhedral dice, gleamed in the light.

“You mentioned liking D&D and guns,” Venus said, her tone nonchalant but her gaze curious, watching for my reaction. “Thought I’d combine the two.”

I turned the revolver chamber in my hands, feeling the weight of it, the craftsmanship. For a moment, the predator inside me stirred, sensing the symbolism of the weapon. But as I looked at Venus, I pushed it down and smiled—genuinely. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

Venus gave a small nod, and I caught a flicker of something—maybe trust—cross her face before she sat back down.

My turn. I reached into the bag beside me and pulled out a small box. “Nagyung,” I said, holding it out. “This one’s for you.”

Nagyung’s face lit up as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a handheld gaming console I had found and fixed up, complete with a charger. Her eyes widened as she turned it over in her hands.

“You got it working?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

“Yup,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “Thought you could use something to pass the time when things get quiet.”

She grinned, her excitement contagious. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

As she admired the gift, I noticed something in her gaze—a quick glance toward Donny, then back to the console. The pieces clicked.

“Hey,” I said, standing suddenly and catching everyone’s attention. “Hold up.”

The group stilled, confused, but I ignored them, focusing on Nagyung. “You like Donny, don’t you?”

Her face flushed red, and she stammered, “I—what? I don’t—”

Donny, equally flustered, muttered, “What’s he talking about?”

I raised a hand, cutting off the denials. “Look, it’s Christmas. If there’s ever a time to be honest about how you feel, it’s now.” I looked between the two of them. “Talk. Now.”

The room was silent as Nagyung and Donny hesitated, but then Nagyungtook a deep breath, standing. Donny followed her lead, and together, they walked out of the room, whispering to each other.

When the door closed behind them, the tension in the room shifted. The group looked at me, their expressions softening. For the first time, I saw understanding in their eyes.

“Guess you’ve got a heart after all,” Venus murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t push it,” I replied, but there was no heat in my voice.

The gift exchange continued, the atmosphere lighter now. When it finally ended, Chowon tugged on my sleeve, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent.

I didn’t need to be told twice. We slipped away from the group, moving through the quiet hallways until we found a secluded corner.

Chowon turned to me, her eyes dark and predatory, but there was a tenderness there too. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I smirked, stepping closer. “Takes one to know one.”

Her hand slid up my arm, her touch grounding and electrifying all at once. “They’re starting to see you, Dino. The real you. It’s working.”

I tilted my head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You make it easier.”

The predator in me stirred, recognizing her as my equal, my mate. And for once, I didn’t fight it. As our lips met, the masks we wore for the group slipped away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered bond between us. In between messy hungry kisses, Chowon said, “You have no idea how angry I was when Donny came after you. I should have let you tear into him. We should have torn into them all,” Chowon said as her inner lioness sheds its meek mask. Her eyes shone with that familiar hunger. I feel imperious come out and Chowon purrs in satisfaction. “There’s my partner in crime. My equal.” She moans as she goes in for another kiss. we spend the rest of the night together cuddling and enjoying each other's presence.

The moonlight filtered through the cracked blinds of the safe house as Chowon moved silently through the halls. The group had settled in for the night, their murmured conversations and quiet laughter fading into the background. But her focus wasn’t on them. It was on Donny.

She found him sitting alone near the back entrance, fiddling with the straps of his boots. He looked up when he sensed her presence, his posture stiffening.

“Chowon,” he said, his voice cautious. “Something you need?”

Her usual mask—kind, bashful, unassuming—was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was an intensity in her eyes, something primal and dangerous that froze Donny in place. She stepped closer, and though her movements were slow and deliberate, there was an undeniable power in them, like a lioness stalking her prey.

“You’ve got a lot to say about my equal,” she began, her voice low and sharp as a blade. “Too much.”

Donny blinked, his mouth opening to respond, but no words came out.

Chowon leaned in, her face inches from his, and the predatory edge in her gaze made him shrink back. “Listen to me carefully, Donny,” she said, her tone steady and calm, but laced with the unmistakable promise of violence. “If you ever come after Dinozen like that again, I will tear your throat out.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Donny was too stunned to react. He could feel the weight of her presence, the raw, animalistic power she usually kept buried beneath her quiet demeanor.

And then, just as quickly as it had surfaced, it was gone. Chowon straightened, the warmth returning to her eyes as she tilted her head and gave him a gentle, almost apologetic smile. “You should get some rest,” she said sweetly as if nothing had happened. “Long day tomorrow.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Donny sitting there, still trying to process what had just happened.

As Chowon disappeared into the shadows, the predator within her purred in satisfaction. Her equal was safe, and the balance had been restored. For now.

We were nearly ready to leave the safe house, the group moving like a well-oiled machine, though the unease of what lay ahead was palpable. I busied myself with the perimeter, scanning the tree line and listening for any sound out of place. The air had a weight to it, a sense that something wasn’t right, but I chalked it up to nerves.

Then the ground started trembling.

“Everyone, on alert!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the bustle.

The first thing I saw was the treeline parting as a massive creature—a hulking monstrosity of decay and muscle—lurched forward. It shouldn’t have been able to move so fast, but it did, each step shaking the earth. And then it opened its mouth and breathed fire.

“Scatter!” I roared, drawing my weapon and placing myself between the group and the beast.

Chaos erupted as flames licked the edges of the safe house, forcing the others to dive for cover. My heart pounded, the predator within me straining against my control, but I couldn’t let it take over. Not now. Not in front of them.

The monster charged, and I met it head-on, weaving past its fiery breath and slashing at its joints. My strikes landed, but this thing wasn’t going down easy. Every swing of its massive claws forced me back, each roar rattling my bones.

“Dino!” Chowon’s voice reached me, frantic and desperate.

“Stay with them!” I barked, not daring to look at her. “I’ve got this!”

But the beast had other plans. Its massive claw lashed out, wrapping around me like a vice. I thrashed, slashing and kicking, but it was no use. The world tilted as it yanked me off the ground, dragging me away.

“Chowon!” I shouted, but I couldn’t see her anymore. Only the burning horizon and the sound of the group retreating.

Sakura grabbed her arm. “Chowon, we have to go!”

“I’m not leaving him!” she snarled, her voice raw with emotion.

The group hesitated, torn between their loyalty to Chowon and their survival instincts. Finally, Leo spoke, his voice heavy with regret. “We don’t have a choice. He wouldn’t want us to die here.”

The group began to retreat, dragging Chowon with them. She fought them every step of the way, but eventually, she relented, her eyes never leaving the direction Dinozen had been taken.

An hour later, Chowon sat alone by the charred remains of a tree, her knees pulled to her chest. Her mind raced, torn between worry for Dinozen and guilt for letting the group leave without her.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her tense, her hand instinctively going to her knife. A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with dark eyes and a calm, almost disarming smile.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Pretty in pink

Written for day 24 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles and for the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Stocking & Kink

Rated: E

Tags: Established relationship; Lingerie; Awkward sexual situations; Mutual handjobs; Butt plugs; Kink exploration

The inconspicuous brown paper bag looms down at Steve from its place atop the bathroom cabinet. For a second, he's tempted to chicken out. Just get in the shower like he said he would and leave Eddie none the wiser.

Then, he gives himself a firm mental slap and starts stripping. He's spent money on this. He's made the preparations, lit the candles in the bedroom, and told Eddie to wait for him. He can't back out now.

Still, he thinks when he opens the bag and bites back a wince, he wishes he'd picked any other color than pink. Don't get him wrong, it's not like he doesn't look good in it. He knows that it goes well with his tan skin, knows that it brings out the natural hue of his cheeks and lips. Knows that Eddie is crazy about it.

But, and somehow this is only dawning on him now, there's a huge difference between the soft pink knitted sweater vest that Eddie loves on him and a pair of hot pink, lacy stockings with matching crotchless panties.

He's an idiot.

And in a few minutes, he's gonna be an idiot in hot pink lingerie, all because Eddie offhandedly mentioned he found lingerie hot and that he'd like to try it.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice floats in from across the hallway. He's sounding lightly impatient and more than a little bewildered, and Steve realizes he must've been clenching the bag and staring at the contents for at least a few minutes. “You good in there?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls, frantically pulling the panties from the bag and nearly dropping them in the toilet. “I'll be right there don't- … don't go anywhere.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Eddie singsongs. “Just hurry up a little, I'm feeling lonely.”

Steve doesn’t reply. He's too busy hopping on one leg and chanting idiot, idiot, idiot under his breath as he struggles his way into the stockings. The delicate fabric feels strange but not uncomfortable against his skin, the rubberbands at the top settling against his thighs with firm pressure, just shy of too tight. The cut and color of the panties really do make his ass pop, he has to admit as he does an awkward little twist before the bathroom mirror. Maybe this will be okay, after all.

“Stevie,” Eddie whines. “C'mon, big boy, I'm waiting.”

Or maybe it'll be a disaster.

Well, there's only one way to find out.

“Okay,” he blurts, yanking open the bathroom door and bridging the few steps to the bedroom before his courage can leave him again. “Please don't laugh. I know I look like a fucking joke but-”

And then he forgets how human speech works.

Eddie, lounging on the bed with his hair fanning on the pillows, stares at him with saucer-like eyes and an open mouth. Steve, frozen in the open door, stares right back.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes after what feels like forever. “You look incredible.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Steve mutters absentmindedly, taking two wobbly steps towards the bed. “What the- … What are you wearing?”

Eddie reaches out eager hands, pulling Steve down on top of him. His smile is wide and elated, like that of a kid in a candy shop.

“Well,” he drawls. “What does it look like, sweetheart?”

“But I thought-” Steve starts to say, but that's about as far as he gets before Eddie pulls him down with one firm hand against the nape of his neck, tongue slipping into his mouth. Eddie's other hand finds his ass, calloused fingers kneading the firm flesh through the pink lace, and Steve moans.

“Hold on a fucking second,” he gasps when they need to break apart for air. Eddie doesn't listen, just keeps trailing biting kisses down his jaw and neck, so Steve bodily pushes himself off him to sit back on his haunches. Eddie pouts at him. “I thought you said you wanted me to- … Why are you-?”

“What?” Eddie asks, bottom lip jutting out a little more, but there’s this unmistakable glint in his eyes that tells Steve he’s holding in his laughter by sheer force of will. “You don’t like what you’re seeing?”

“Shut up,” Steve snaps. “I never said that. You look- … You’re- … Fuck, this is so hot.”

Eddie smirks, smug and self-satisfied, pushing himself up so that they’re kneeling in front of each other on the mattress. The movement makes the strap of his top slip; a black, lacy number that hugs his slim form and ends just barely below his ass - just about where his black fishnet stockings begin. Unlike Steve, he hasn’t bothered with panties. His cock is jutting out from under his top, flushed and fully hard already. The sight makes something hot and needy pool low in Steve’s own abdomen. And then, Eddie reaches out and takes him in hand, and he feels himself leaking precome all over his fingers.

“Glad we agree,” Eddie purrs against his lips, thumbing Steve’s slit with gentle pressure, grinning when Steve’s hips buck. His other hand finds Steve’s wrist, guiding his hand to his cock, and Steve is happy to comply. “Y’know, this is not at all what I pictured when I said I’d like to try this.”

Steve laughs, shaky and breathy. “We need to learn how to better communicate our expecta-aaaah, shit.”

Eddie’s other hand is back on his ass, fingers brushing against the base of the plug he’s been wearing all day.

“Hm, probably,” Eddie agrees, smile going feral as he pushes Steve down into the pillows. “I think I rather like the outcome of this little misunderstanding though.”

Steve can’t help but agree.

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie bingo

[hjvi]

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𝘜𝘯𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘠𝘰𝘶

⚠︎  mdni, heavy smut, eating disorder (anorexia), overall mature subjects, and more

⤷ A gentle reminder: If my content ever feels overwhelming, please take care of yourself and step away. Anorexia is a key theme in this story, and as someone who understands its weight, this fic is deeply personal to me. I want to remind you that you're never alone in your journey.

Sending love and healing to all. 🩷

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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2: 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

The sound of skates carving through ice echoed in the quiet rink, but it barely registered in my mind. I was too focused on the way Chris’s hand felt in mine. The warmth of his fingers, the way they gently squeezed as if trying to anchor me to this moment, to him. I wasn’t sure if it was the silence of the rink or the chaos inside my head, but there was something in the air—something thick with unspoken words.

Chris and I stood side by side, staring out at the empty ice, both lost in the gravity of everything that had been said. He had apologized, confessed his love to me, and promised to help me heal. His words hung in the air between us, fragile and uncertain. I had told him I was willing to give us a chance, to give him a chance. But I wasn’t sure if I believed I deserved any of this.

I glanced down at our hands, our fingers still intertwined. And that’s when I saw it.

His eyes dropped to my bruised hands. The skin was discolored, darkened from the impact of fists, marks left from someone who should have loved me. The edges of his expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he quickly glanced away, like he couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. His jaw clenched briefly before he let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, uh,” Chris started, his voice tight as if he were trying to sound normal. “Do you wanna come over to my house? I have something I want to show you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if I was ready for more of his kindness, for more of his attention. But I nodded slowly, almost instinctively. What else could I do? I wasn’t sure how long I could stand there, the weight of his unspoken questions pulling me under.

We left the rink, and within minutes, Matt—his only triplet brother with a license—pulled up in their old, beat-up car. The ride was silent, the kind of silence that feels louder than anything. Chris, normally so animated, so full of energy, sat beside me, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds as if he were studying my every move, trying to make sense of the distance between us.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, pressing down on me with every passing second.

When we finally arrived at Chris’s house, I shuffled behind him up to his room, his footsteps quick and purposeful, as if he wanted to show me something important. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I took in the walls of his room, decorated with rap posters, old vinyl records, and the familiar scent of his cologne and something else—comfort, maybe. It was all so him, yet I felt so out of place.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he glanced over at me. He had been looking at me like that all day—like I was something precious that he couldn’t bear to break.

I nodded stiffly, offering him a weak smile as I dropped my eyes to the sleeves of my hoodie. They were covered in dried tears, remnants of mascara streaking down my face from the few times I had wiped away my tears, trying to keep it together. I wasn’t even sure why I cared.

Chris noticed, and without hesitation, he moved to his closet, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Here,” he said, holding them out to me. “You need something clean. You can change in the bathroom, if you want.”

I accepted the clothes reluctantly, feeling an odd wave of guilt rise in my chest. I didn’t want to take anything from him. But his kindness felt almost overwhelming. And when I inhaled the scent of his hoodie, it was like an old memory wrapped around me, one that made me ache for a time I hadn’t realized I had lost. The familiarity of it made me feel both comforted and strangely distant.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him gently.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was silent except for the hum of the fluorescent light above me. The mirror reflected a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I stood there for a long time, staring at myself. I unzipped my hoodie and slipped it off, throwing it on the floor, before pulling at the waistband of my low-rise jeans, stepping out of them with shaky hands. I was all too aware of the hollow feeling in my body, the emptiness that came from not eating, not caring.

As I reached for the hoodie Chris had given me, I slid my arms into the sleeves, feeling how much too big it was. The fabric hung off me like a curtain, too large for my frame. I felt the fabric stretch and tug, the empty space inside me made all too clear.

I lifted the hoodie, my fingers grazing the sharp outline of my ribs. I swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic. I could feel the hollow hollowness inside of me, the bruises left by years of self-doubt and the echoes of my father’s words.

I stared at myself in the mirror, not realizing how much time had passed. Minutes slipped by like hours.

I couldn’t take it. I yanked the hoodie off, the fabric crumpling in my hands. My skin prickled with a familiar discomfort—the kind of vulnerability that I hated, the kind of vulnerability I had never been allowed to show.

There was a knock at the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris’s voice was muffled but full of concern.

I wanted to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Before I could say anything, the door creaked open just a fraction. And then Chris stepped inside, his eyes immediately catching on my bare skin, my sweatpants hanging off my frame, and the rawness of my vulnerability.

He froze. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing in embarrassment. But he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes not leaving me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I sank down onto the floor, my knees buckling beneath me as my body began to tremble. The sobs came in waves, uncontrollable, and I couldn’t stop them. I just sat there, breaking apart in front of him, unsure how to stop the flood of emotion that had been building for so long.

Chris, to his credit, didn’t try to rush over. He sat down next to me slowly, careful not to overwhelm me. He gave me space, but his presence was steady, like an anchor holding me together when I was slipping away. His hand hovered near me, unsure, but it was enough.

“You don’t like the hoodie color?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but I couldn’t even muster a smile.

“I feel so weak, Chris,” I cried. “I feel so skinny, like I’m fading away, and I can’t stop. I’m just… I’m so broken.”

His hand finally found its way to my back, gently rubbing circles over the fabric of his hoodie. “You’re not weak,” he said softly. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you don’t need to feel insecure. I love you. I’ll help you through this. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore.”

His words—gentle, so full of love and compassion—were a balm to the raw wounds inside me. I buried my face in his chest, not caring about how vulnerable I was, how exposed. For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry freely, knowing that someone was here to help me piece myself back together.

When the tears finally started to subside, Chris pulled away gently, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face. “How about a bath?” he suggested quietly. “A vanilla bubble bath. I’ll set it up for you.”

I let out a shaky giggle, feeling a hint of something lighter for the first time that night. “That sounds nice.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” he said, his voice soothing as he helped me stand. “You just… take all the time you need.”

As he went to his brother Matt’s room to give me some privacy, I stood there for a moment, lost in the quiet of the bathroom. I reached up to wipe away the last of my tears, but the weight of everything still hung heavy on my shoulders.

When I walked back into Chris’s room later, towel in hand, I overheard him talking to Matt in hushed tones, the conversation I had been dreading.

“Do you think she’s too thin?” Matt asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“I don’t know,” Chris replied, a tone of sadness in his words. “She’s just… so fragile, Matt. I don’t know how to fix her. I just want to help her.”

The words crushed me. I turned on my heel and fled back to his room, sinking down onto the floor with my back against his bed. It wasn’t about fixing me. I wasn’t some broken thing to be fixed.

I wiped away my tears, quickly swallowing down the rising wave of self-doubt. When Chris entered the room, he froze when he saw me sitting on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, kneeling down beside me.

“I don’t know, Chris,” I whispered, the weight of it all crashing back down on me. “I don’t know how to wash myself… I hate seeing my body.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting my chin gently, “it’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He reached under his bed and pulled out a small, weathered box. He opened it slowly, revealing photos of me, my hair ties, old bracelets, small trinkets I had long forgotten about. My breath caught in my throat.

“I kept everything because I can’t live my life without thinking about you,” Chris said softly, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. “You are so beautiful. I hate seeing you do this to yourself. But I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, and I won’t leave you.”

I stared at the box, unable to speak for a moment. His words hit me harder than anything. He cared about me, but why did he talk about me like I was something broken, something that needed fixing?

I didn’t know, but I had to find out. And for the first time in so long, I was willing to try.

Chris sat beside me, the silence in his room hanging like a heavy blanket. He’d shown me the box, full of my old trinkets—little pieces of me that I hadn’t even realized mattered to him. But now, staring down at the photos, the bracelets, and the hair ties I had long forgotten about, something inside me was starting to crack.

“I—I didn’t even know you kept these,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I ran my fingers over a photo of me from years ago. It was from a school trip, one where I had laughed so hard my stomach ached, my eyes crinkling with joy. I couldn’t even remember that girl. She felt like a stranger now.

“I couldn’t let go of anything that had you in it,” Chris murmured, his voice low and serious, as if the weight of his words mattered more than anything else. “You’ve always been on my mind. Always. Even when I was… too stupid to realize it.”

I felt a swell of warmth in my chest at his words, but a sharp pang of guilt followed right after. He kept these things because he couldn’t forget me. But I had been so lost, so deep in the dark that I couldn’t remember who I was before all the pain.

“You always knew how to make me laugh,” I said, swallowing hard as I fought against the rush of emotions. “I used to laugh all the time. And now, it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

Chris didn’t answer at first. His hand, gentle but firm, found mine. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my gaze back to him. His eyes were so earnest, so full of concern, like he could see right through the walls I had built around myself.

“You haven’t forgotten, though,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had a reason to laugh in a while. But you will again, I promise.”

I looked away, tears gathering in my eyes, and Chris squeezed my hand, the contact grounding me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“Chris… I—I’m scared,” I whispered, barely audible. “Scared of what’s happening inside me. I don’t know how to fix it.”

His face softened, and he slowly pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the cologne, the faint smell of laundry detergent, and something uniquely Chris, something that felt like home. His embrace was warm, enveloping, and for a moment, the world outside his room, outside of everything I had been through, seemed so far away.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll help you, step by step. But you don’t have to fix it all on your own. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Not anymore.”

I nodded, my breath catching as I allowed myself to lean into him, feeling something shift within me. The heaviness that had weighed on my chest for so long was starting to lighten, piece by piece.

There was a long pause, where all we did was hold each other, not saying anything more. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Chris pulled back slightly, his hand moving to my cheek, lifting my face to meet his eyes.

“You want to take that bath?” he asked softly, his voice coaxing yet gentle.

I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t planned on doing anything like that. The thought of getting clean, of scrubbing away the remnants of the past, made me feel exposed in ways I wasn’t ready to face. But something in his gaze softened the edges of my fear.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I do.”

“Good,” he said, his crooked smile tender as he brushed a lock of hair from my face. “I’ll get it ready for you.”

I stepped into the bathroom a few minutes later, the soft sound of Chris’s footsteps fading into the background as he prepared the bath. The room was bathed in warm light, the kind of soft glow that felt like it could cradle me in its embrace. He had already filled the tub with bubbles, the scent of vanilla wafting through the air.

“Here,” Chris said, handing me a fresh towel and a pair of his old slippers, the kind he wore around the house. “I’ll give you privacy to change. Just… take your time.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. The thought of washing away the layers of pain that had accumulated over time felt almost foreign. But Chris was right—this was part of healing. I could start small. I could start with something simple, like the warmth of the water surrounding me.

As I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the bath, the water felt like a second skin. It was soothing and gentle, yet the bubbles seemed to bring everything to the surface. I leaned back, letting the warmth seep into my muscles, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm the storm that raged inside my head.

But it was still there. The emptiness, the ache. The feeling of being too small, too fragile, too broken.

Chris knocked on the door softly a few minutes later, his voice muffled. “You okay in there?”

“I’m… I think so,” I called back, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed the door open a crack, just enough for his head to peek through. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

I hesitated. A thousand thoughts swirled in my head. But in that moment, I needed him. Not in the way I had needed someone before, but in the way that felt raw and real.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

Chris stepped into the bathroom, his presence so calming it was like I could finally breathe a little easier. He moved with quiet care, making sure not to intrude, not to overwhelm.

He sat on the edge of the tub, his hand brushing lightly against my hair, careful not to disturb the bubbles.

“Do you need help?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

I shook my head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I don’t know if I can… do this,” I whispered.

Chris took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was unwavering. “I’m here. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just sitting here with you.”

And so, he did. He sat by the edge of the tub, his hand gently resting on my arm, a grounding presence.

I finally closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the water, the comfort of his touch, and the gentleness of his voice wash over me.

The warm water enveloped me like a second skin. The steam rose in gentle swirls, filling the bathroom with the soft scent of vanilla bubbles, calming me just enough to breathe deeper. But as I sank further into the tub, I couldn’t shake the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The scars, the bruises, the emptiness inside—it was all still there, lingering like a storm inside me.

The soft clink of a bottle being opened echoed in the quiet, followed by the sound of Chris’s voice, calm and steady, like he was trying to anchor me.

“Is the water warm enough?” he asked, standing just outside the tub, his voice soft and considerate.

I nodded, though my eyes were shut, a futile attempt to block out everything. I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to stay close, to offer to help. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn’t explain. But still, I felt the faintest stir of relief in my heart. Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe this was how I could start to heal.

Chris, sensing my hesitance, didn’t rush. He waited, patient and gentle, until I nodded again, finally allowing him into the space I had, until now, kept so tightly guarded.

“I’m right here,” he said, kneeling beside the tub. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing softly against my shoulder as if to reassure me. He was so close, and yet he gave me space, the quiet comfort of his presence enough to settle my nerves. “Do you want me to help you wash?”

The words felt strange on my tongue, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. But part of me wanted him to stay close, to be the one to help me through this—this vulnerability that terrified me. So, I swallowed my pride and nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Chris’s voice was low and steady, a constant reassurance as he reached for the body wash, the soft scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the air. He poured it into his hands, lathering it gently before turning his attention back to me.

“I’m just going to start with your arms, okay?” he asked, his eyes soft but filled with something more—something that felt like a promise.

I swallowed hard, afraid of what I might see if I let him in too much, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull away. There was something about his kindness, his unwavering patience, that made me feel a little less fragile.

His fingers gently cupped my wrist as he began to wash the skin of my arms, his touch tender, careful not to overwhelm me. The sensation of his hands gliding over my skin was almost too much to bear, yet it was strangely soothing, like he was washing away pieces of the hurt that had accumulated for so long.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Chris murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a tenderness in his tone that made my heart ache. His touch was light as he moved down, past my elbows, moving to my forearms, the lather turning into a soft foam as it slid across my skin. His touch was careful, as if he could sense the weight of my past, the scars, both seen and unseen, that I was trying to bury beneath the surface.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands. Trying to let it soothe the growing discomfort in my chest. But with every gentle sweep of his fingers, the floodgates seemed to open, and my chest tightened. The moment felt too intimate, too raw, but still, I stayed.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice steady like a beacon in the storm. “I’m right here.”

His hands moved to my shoulders, the pads of his fingers tracing over the skin of my upper arms with gentle care. As he reached the back of my neck, his hands hesitated, and I could feel the heat of his gaze, though I refused to meet it. I could feel the weight of his concern pressing against me, like he wanted to do more, wanted to somehow fix what had been broken for so long.

But he didn’t push. He simply washed, quietly, steadily, as if he was trying to reassure me that nothing would change in this moment—he wouldn’t rush, he wouldn’t push me beyond what I could handle.

Slowly, I felt his hands move to the small of my back, washing down the length of my spine. His touch was so gentle, so unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure I felt cared for. His hands glided over the small curve of my back, and even though I felt exposed, raw, I felt something stir within me—a longing for comfort, for healing. I closed my eyes, biting back the tremors that threatened to overtake me.

“You’re okay,” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes again, threatening to spill over, but I held them back, clenching my fists in the water, willing them to stay.

His hands moved to my ribs then, slowly, as though he was afraid of hurting me. The touch was so tender that it made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. His fingers brushed over the skin of my side, and I stiffened involuntarily, the memories of being touched without care, without kindness, rushing back to me.

Chris noticed instantly. His hands froze for a moment, as though he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into his touch, trying to let it soothe me, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “I just… I just hate how I look. How I feel.”

Chris’s voice softened, filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, the words steady, unwavering. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. Don’t ever forget that.”

I closed my eyes tighter, not sure I could believe him, but the warmth of his hands on my skin, the way his fingers moved carefully over me, told me he wasn’t lying. He saw me. The real me. Not the broken pieces I tried to hide.

His hands moved to my stomach, gently lathering the soap along the curve of my waist. I could feel myself wanting to shrink away, but I stayed, breathing in deeply, trying to let myself relax. I had to remind myself that this was Chris. The same Chris who had made me laugh in ways I had forgotten. The same Chris who had been my friend, my constant, long before everything had gone wrong. And now, he was still here.

“Almost done,” he said, his voice quiet, soothing. His hands moved slowly, methodically, as though trying to memorize the feel of me, as though he needed to make sure I was taken care of.

I nodded again, my throat tight with emotion, but the discomfort started to ease just a little. His hands felt like safety, like protection, and I let the warmth of the water, of him, wash over me.

When he finished, Chris gently pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel from the nearby rack. His fingers worked quickly, drying my skin with soft, deliberate motions. His touch, while gentle, was insistent, as if he was trying to remind me that I was still here, still whole, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips as he helped me out of the tub. “Let’s get you cozy.”

As he helped me into a pair of his old sweatpants and a loose hoodie, I couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered over the soft fabric. It felt so… normal. The simple act of being cared for, of being seen, was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

When he finished, he tucked me into his bed, the soft covers enveloping me like a cocoon. He sat on the edge, just watching me, his eyes full of something I didn’t know how to name.

“I’m here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, or not talk, I’m here.”

I nodded, the exhaustion of everything that had happened weighing heavily on me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t drowning in it all. Chris was here, and I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to let myself get this far.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his fingers brushing through my hair. “But it’s not your fault. You’re not to blame for the things that have happened to you. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”

I sighed deeply, the weight of his words sinking into me. I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it in. I could feel his hand on my cheek, wiping away the tear.

The room felt heavy, the silence between us thick with unspoken things. I had shared the worst parts of myself with Chris—the parts of me I had been hiding, the parts I hadn’t dared to look at in years. But as the words left my mouth, I realized how much more there was to say, how much I had buried beneath the surface. And now, with Chris here, his steady presence beside me, it felt like the dam inside me had broken open.

Chris didn’t speak immediately, but I could feel his anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. It was there in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his fingers gently squeezed mine, as if he were trying to hold me together while trying to contain the fury building inside him.

“You’re safe now, (Y/N),” he said softly, but there was a strain in his voice. “But I want to know more. I need to know what happened… all of it.”

I looked up at him, the room dim in the evening light, but his eyes were bright with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t know if I can…” My voice wavered, as if speaking the words out loud might make them more real, more permanent. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t rush me. He just sat there, steady, waiting. “You don’t have to do it all at once, but I’m here, and I want to hear it. Whatever you’re ready to share.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat like a stone that wouldn’t budge. It was too much, too overwhelming. But his patience, the way he was just there—unwavering—made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could say it.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my shaky breath. “He’s… he’s still hitting me.” The words slipped out like daggers, sharp and jagged, and I couldn’t take them back.

Chris’s face twisted in disgust, his eyes blazing with something darker, something I couldn’t quite place. His grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain, but I didn’t want him to let go. “What do you mean, still?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “What the hell do you mean, still hitting you? After everything? After all these years?”

I flinched, the pain of his words stinging more than I expected, but not in a bad way. Chris was angry—for me, for the things I had endured—and I needed that anger. It was the first time someone had ever been angry for me.

“He doesn’t care. He never did. He doesn’t care that I’m his daughter.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. “I don’t know what to do. He’ll always come back. He won’t stop.”

“God, I’m so fucking mad at him right now,” Chris growled, slamming his fist down on the bed between us. “How could anyone do that to you? I don’t care if he’s your dad—no one should ever lay a finger on you. No one.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, the rage that burned there, but it was mixed with something else too—something softer. Concern, protectiveness, the desire to shield me from all of it.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as the tears started to fall. “He just… he can’t stop, Chris. He gets drunk, and then it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees someone to hurt. And I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to get out.”

I could feel the panic rising in me again, that familiar, overwhelming sense of suffocation creeping in like it always did when I thought about the fear of being stuck, of being trapped in that life. The life where I wasn’t safe, where I wasn’t even allowed to feel like I mattered.

Chris’s voice became softer, almost a whisper, but it was full of resolve. “You don’t have to go back to him, (Y/N). You don’t have to live like that. I won’t let you.” His hands gently cupped my face, as though he were trying to steady me, trying to pull me back from the edge I felt myself teetering on. “You deserve so much more than this, and I swear to you, I’m going to help you get out of this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that things could be different, that I didn’t have to go back to the house that had been my prison for so long. But the doubt gnawed at me, a constant voice in the back of my head telling me that it was all just a dream, that things would never change.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat again. The panic was slowly building inside me, and I couldn’t stop it. My hands began to shake violently, and I felt like I was drowning in the tightness in my chest. The room began to spin, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“Chris,” I gasped, clutching at his shirt, “I can’t breathe…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Chris said urgently, his hands moving to my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Just focus on me, okay? Focus on me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

But the panic didn’t stop. My chest felt tight, my heartbeat erratic, and I couldn’t seem to calm down. Every breath I took felt shallow, as though the air wasn’t getting into my lungs. I could feel the walls closing in again, just like they did every time I let myself think about what my dad had done to me.

I began to tremble uncontrollably, my hands like ice against his warm skin. My head felt light, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to collapse.

“Chris, I can’t…” I whispered between gasps, feeling the world slipping away from me. “I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I can’t get away. I’m scared of him coming after me, of never being free.”

Chris’s eyes were frantic now, but he was still holding me steady, his voice unwavering. “You’re not alone in this, (Y/N). I won’t let you go through this alone, okay? You’re safe now. You’re with me. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He moved his hands down to my back, rubbing slow circles as he whispered over and over again, “Breathe. Just breathe. In… out… You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let him hurt you again. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

I tried to focus on his voice, to let the steady rhythm of his words ground me, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. My breath was still shallow, and I felt like I was drowning in the memories, in the fear of my dad’s hands on me, of his voice shouting at me, of the pain I’d felt when he told me I wasn’t worth anything.

But then, slowly, my breath started to steady. The panic began to recede, and I was left trembling in Chris’s arms, my chest heaving, but the overwhelming tightness starting to fade.

“You’re okay,” Chris said softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes, clinging to him like he was the only thing that could keep me from falling apart. But as much as I tried to believe it—tried to believe him—there was still a part of me that felt like I was trapped. Still a part of me that didn’t know how to escape the life I’d been born into.

But with Chris’s arms around me, his warmth seeping into me, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different.

The room felt quieter now, the oppressive weight of my panic slowly lifting as Chris’s steady presence calmed the storm inside me. His arms, strong but gentle, still wrapped around me, and for the first time since I’d entered his house, I felt a sense of calm begin to settle deep in my chest. The world outside might still be chaotic, but here, in this space with him, I was allowed to be broken. I didn’t have to hide. And for once, that thought didn’t scare me—it comforted me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

Chris shook his head softly, pulling me a little closer. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm, as if wanting to erase the guilt I felt. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. I’m just glad you’re here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I leaned into him, feeling his warmth seep through the thin fabric of my hoodie. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was grounding. It was like listening to the sound of something real and tangible, something that wasn’t connected to the chaos that always seemed to follow me. His love, his presence—everything about him was real, and it was one of the only things I felt I could rely on.

The minutes stretched on, and gradually, the shaking in my body slowed. My breath deepened, and though I still felt raw, the sharpness of the panic attack had dulled into a more manageable ache. It was as though, piece by piece, I was learning to breathe again.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asked after a moment, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance we had found. He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

I nodded, but my voice still trembled. “Yeah… just a little… dizzy. But better. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chris murmured, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m just glad I could help. You’re not alone, (Y/N). You never will be again.”

I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, Chris. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Stop saying that,” he said firmly, his tone soft but resolute. “You’ve always deserved it. You deserve every bit of love and care in the world, (Y/N). You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to heal.”

His words lingered in the air between us, and for a moment, I felt a wave of gratitude rush over me. It was hard for me to accept that kind of love, to believe I was worthy of it, but I didn’t want to push him away anymore. Not when he was trying so hard to give me something I’d never had before.

We sat there for a while, neither of us saying much, just being in each other’s presence. It felt like time had slowed down in the most comforting way possible. The panic that had felt suffocating now seemed like a distant memory, and I realized, with a twinge of bittersweetness, how much I had missed moments like this. Moments where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

Chris cleared his throat after a while, breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, his fingers gently tracing the back of my hand. “I’ve missed having you around. I missed having you sleep over.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. The memories of spending nights at his house, hiding away from the world, were so much clearer now. There was comfort in those late-night talks, in the sound of his brothers’ laughter echoing through the house, in the feeling of being part of something that wasn’t broken. Something that made me forget the things I had to escape at home.

“I missed it too,” I replied, the words escaping before I could stop them. “It was the only time I felt like… like I had a family, you know? Like I was safe.”

Chris’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the tenderness in his eyes. “You are family, (Y/N),” he said. “You always have been. You’re just as much a part of us as Matt, Nick, and me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

I felt a lump in my throat at his words. It was hard to accept that kind of care, but somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as impossible. It felt like it might actually be real. “You guys were always the closest thing to family I had,” I said, my voice quieter now. “When I stayed at your house, it was like everything else faded away. Like I could breathe for the first time in so long.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft, yet tinged with an almost protective edge. “That’s why I want you to come over more. And stay as long as you want, okay?”

I nodded, the idea of having a constant refuge growing more and more appealing. “I really appreciate you, Chris. More than you know.”

He smiled then, a small, soft smile, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand gently. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The words hung between us, and for a moment, I let myself believe them. I had spent so long thinking I wasn’t worthy of love, of care, but with Chris, it felt like I might just be wrong.

Chris then leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I was thinking… if you’re comfortable with it, you could sleep over tonight. We have a guest room, but if you want, you can sleep in my room too. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

The thought of sleeping under the same roof as him, of being so close to him, made my heart race in ways I didn’t quite understand yet. But the idea of being in a space where I could truly rest—without the constant tension and fear of home—sounded like a dream.

“I… I’d like that,” I said softly, the words barely leaving my lips before Chris’s face broke into a smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice warmer now. “It’s settled, then. You’re staying.”

I smiled back at him, feeling a surge of appreciation flood through me. “Thank you. Really.”

Chris leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The night was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the faint sounds of traffic from outside. The room was dimly lit, soft moonlight streaming through the curtains. I stood by Chris’s door, my fingers tracing the edge of the frame, unsure of what to do next.

Chris had already prepared the guest room for me. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. But as I stood there, I realized something—something I hadn’t admitted to myself until now: I didn’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened.

I glanced over at Chris, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were soft, yet filled with that familiar protectiveness I had come to rely on. He’d given me the option of sleeping in the guest room, but he didn’t press it. He just watched me, waiting for me to make up my mind. And somehow, that quiet patience made everything feel a little easier.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice low. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

I nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “I want to stay with you,” I whispered. The words felt vulnerable, like I was admitting something I’d been too afraid to admit even to myself. But as I looked at him, something in me softened. I didn’t have to be afraid here. Not with him.

Chris didn’t respond right away. He just smiled a little, that soft, comforting smile of his, the one that always made me feel like maybe everything wasn’t so broken after all. He patted the bed beside him, a simple invitation. “Come on then. Get comfortable.”

I hesitated, standing there in the middle of the room, still holding the hem of my oversized hoodie, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I had spent so many nights alone in my own bed, trying to sleep through the memories of my father’s anger, the shouts, the pounding fists, the feeling of being trapped in a house that never felt like home. But tonight, I wasn’t alone. Not really.

I crawled into the bed, my body feeling stiff, not quite sure what to do next. Chris kept his distance at first, settling in on his side of the bed, turning on his side to face away from me. His back was to me, but I could feel the space between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the closeness I longed for either. I needed something more than distance, more than just his presence across the room.

I reached out tentatively, my hand brushing the edge of his shirt, and in a soft whisper, I said, “Chris?”

His body tensed for a split second, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his voice was low, a little rough. “Yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I said, barely able to form the words. The truth was, I was scared. Scared of the nightmares that might come, scared of the darkness and what it might bring. But more than that, I was scared of being vulnerable, of needing someone and not knowing how to ask for it.

Chris’s response was immediate. He turned around slowly, facing me, his expression soft, understanding. He didn’t say anything right away, but instead, he reached out, gently guiding me toward him. “You’re not alone, (Y/N). Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction.

It wasn’t like I was scared—no, that wasn’t it—but there was a strange sense of comfort in being this close to someone who truly cared. Still, the distance between us remained for a moment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little unsure of myself.

Chris didn’t press, though. He just stayed where he was, pulling the covers up around him. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I found myself inching closer, seeking the warmth of his body, the connection I had been craving but too scared to ask for.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him moving toward the small dresser by the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt, unaware that I was watching.

The suddenness of it made my heart skip a beat. My gaze followed his every movement, captivated by the way his body moved as he shed his shirt. He wasn’t being flashy or deliberate; it was just natural for him, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist in the best way. I could see the muscles in his back shift as he pulled the shirt over his head, his toned body now exposed to the dim light of the room.

I hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the moment of stillness where I could appreciate him in his simplest form. He wasn’t trying to impress me, wasn’t posing or playing it up. It was just him.

And for the first time, I truly saw him. The sculpted shoulders, the defined muscles along his arms, the way his skin seemed to glow under the soft light, the gentle curve of his back. Everything about him was perfect. So perfectly human, so real, that it almost overwhelmed me.

Chris turned toward me then, his chest now bare, and I quickly looked away, my face flushing as I realized I had been staring. But before I could feel embarrassed, I caught him looking at me, that mischievous smile curling up at the corners of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying softness. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

I swallowed, trying to find words. “I, uh… you look perfect,” I mumbled, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He chuckled, not at all fazed by my awkwardness. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down with ease and slipping into a fresh pair before sliding back into bed beside me.

But there was a softness in his movements now, a tenderness that came with his willingness to let me see him—let me in. He wasn’t just showing me his body, but his trust. And that meant more than anything.

As he settled back into bed, he turned toward me, the space between us finally closing as he reached out a hand. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice so gentle that it made my heart ache.

I nodded, this time more certain. “I’m okay. I just… I missed being close to someone. To you.”

And then, he opened his arms.

I didn’t hesitate this time. My heart pounded in my chest, and with a mix of relief and hesitance, I scooted closer, curling up against his chest. The warmth of his body was comforting, a quiet reassurance that I wasn’t in this fight alone. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in, his embrace tight but not suffocating. I felt his breath on the top of my head, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

For a moment, everything felt safe. The chaos of my mind, the pain of my past, all of it seemed to fade away as I listened to the sound of Chris’s heartbeat, the steady thrum of life that was so different from the anger and fear I’d been accustomed to. He was here, and for tonight, that was enough.

I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling my body relax in his arms. But I still couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my mind—the way I felt so small in his arms, how much I had lost, and how little I had ever felt cared for. But then, as if sensing my discomfort, Chris moved slightly, adjusting his position so that we were closer, my head resting on his chest. His hand gently began to stroke my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a slow, comforting rhythm.

His fingers continued to gently play with my hair, and I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his hand. It was so soothing, the motion familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. It felt like home, like something I’d been searching for without even knowing it. His scent, that familiar cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap, enveloped me, and for the first time in so long, I felt like I could breathe.

His hand reached for mine then, his fingers lacing with mine in the quiet dark of the room. The simple connection was grounding, and as he pulled me closer, I felt something shift. I had been running from the past for so long, so afraid of what was behind me that I hadn’t realized how desperate I was for the present. For someone who cared.

“Your hair smells so good,” I said quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I had never noticed how comforting his scent was before. It was like a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s just shampoo,” he teased, but I could tell he was pleased by my words. He continued to play with my hair, the action so tender that it almost made me feel like I was someone worth caring for.

“It’s not just shampoo,” I said softly, lifting my head a little to look at him. “It’s you. You’re… comforting, Chris. It’s like… I feel safe when I’m with you.”

I leaned my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath me calming the frantic pulse of my own. His arm wrapped around me as I settled more fully against him. I could feel his breath on the top of my head as he shifted, pulling me just a little closer.

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, the words slipping out before I could fully process them. “I missed sleeping over at your house… when I could just escape home for a bit.”

Chris stiffened for a moment, as if processing my words. Then, he ran his fingers through my hair gently, his touch so soft that it almost felt like he was tracing the contours of my soul.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You’re welcome here anytime, (Y/N). Don’t ever feel like you can’t come over. It was never about just ‘hanging out,’ you know? I care about you. I always have.”

My chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking deep inside me. I closed my eyes, trying to take in the comfort of his embrace, trying to let myself believe him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the quiet strength that emanated from him, and it made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The words settled in my heart like a balm, soothing the wounds that had never quite healed. I felt his fingers moving slowly through my hair again, and this time, there was no rush. Just us, wrapped in the quiet security of knowing that we didn’t have to face the world alone.

As the night stretched on, I felt myself relax more, his steady breath and gentle touch lulling me into a peaceful stillness. He kept playing with my hair, his hand brushing over my forehead, smoothing out any lingering tension. The rhythm of his movements was comforting, and I found myself drifting, my eyelids growing heavier as I rested against his chest.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper now, sleep creeping in.

“You don’t have to,” Chris replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay as long as you need.”

And with that, I let myself fall into the warmth of his embrace, the first true rest I’d had in what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but somehow, they felt true.

Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up so I could see his face. “You deserve everything, (Y/N). More than you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

I felt a lump form in my throat, but instead of pushing it down, I let it rise. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching with the need to express how much his words meant to me.

“You’re too good to me,” I said, voice breaking. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this.”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear away from my cheek. “You don’t need to repay me. Just… let me be here for you. That’s all.”

His voice was so steady, so comforting, and as he pulled me back into his chest, I felt everything fall into place. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

With Chris by my side, I had everything I needed.

A/N: Hey, loves! 💖 First off, thank you so much for making it this far. Your support honestly means the world to me, and I can't thank you enough. I know this chapter feels a little more low-key and maybe even rushed—life’s been a bit chaotic on my end—but I really wanted to take the time to dig deeper into the characters and their emotions. A special thanks to @bernardsbendystraws for being such an inspiration to this fic. You’ve truly helped shape the direction of this story!

This chapter touches on some really heavy topics, especially around eating disorders, and I hope it gets recognition! It's a difficult subject to navigate, but it's so important to shed light on it. I appreciate all of you who stick with me and support these moments in the story. You all keep me going!

If you or someone you care about is struggling with anorexia, please reach out to the helpline at [National Eating Disorders Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237 or text "NEDA" to 741741]. You are not alone, and there is always support available when you need it.

taglist: @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

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[frillydolle]

ok idk if u have done this before but what abt low honor arthur x shy/easily flustered reader…been thinking abt this for awhile

lowhonor arthur x shy female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ arthur is a little pervy , suggestive themes?

he was terrifying, mean, and even sadistic man. those rumoured whispers explained a lot about him in that way. there was no remorse from a man like him, no mercy, either. to be one of the worst men that's involved with the infamous gang. the most wanted man within the states, there wasn't a day that he didn't come back with someone's blood on his hands.

he was disgusting and vile. probably the most perverted man u have ever come across, too. his unannounced touching would often catch u off guard. the women in the camp always gave him a sort of a dirty or death state, knowing that kind of man arthur is now ever since the relationship ended between him and mary. that took a toll on him more than people thought.

not with u, though. he knew that gaze made u feel uneasy, made u squirm, almost like a coyote watching its prey. it's like he enjoyed it, too. u weren't the social butterfly. u kept to urself or the small group of girls u would do chores with or u would be often see talking the only man, arthur. to be honest, u were even sure how he felt about u, it's not like many spoke to u.

he made the man stay away from u, but that's a different conversation...

u didn't even need to turn around, knowing who it was coming towards u by their hard footsteps. “hey, babydoll. missed my favourite girl while i was away.” he says with that cocky smirk on his face, leaning against the pole behind u, totally not looking at ur rear while u hand washed some clothes.

“hi morgan, I've been okay.. keepin' busy like-” “good girl. as y'should be. wouldnt want ms. grinshaw gettin' mad atcha.”

she was a terrifying woman, ms. grinshaw.. but not as terrifying as arthur, of course. he was the worst. but arthur liked her a lot. he wasn't sure how to tell, and so he often showed her through his actions... like his weird, perverted touching and words.

he told u to come here, and once u were finished cleaning, of course, u made ur way over to him before he took u round the wagon, no one was there. this was strange but u did sort of like him.. u didn't know why. he was always odd with u, but u did find a small sense of comfort in him every time he brings a small gift to u as he comes back to camp.

“have i ever told ya how pretty y'look? 'course i have.." he says, his tone laced with roughness. his big hand soon glides down to ur waist, gripping the flesh so hard that it light leave a mark later, curse him.

“thank you, arthur-” u reply, feeling ur face rise with heat, squirming slightly under his intense gaze, all embarrassed. “y'know what else would make ya prettier? some little hickeys on yer neck, my girl.”

was he being honest?... well, of course he was. he was a very serious man, not the type to be funny unless it was one of sick jokes. anyway, he could do not that, the two of u were in camp! someone might see u both, ms. grinshaw might catch u or even dutch! and that woukd be a lot more embarrassing than how red ur face is right now.

“arth- we cant, i- we'll get caught- arthur!” ur gentle protests mean nothing as he took a hold of ur wrists, making u back up against the wagon. he inhaled ur scent of lavender and pine, made the man almost crazy.

“lemme mark ya up, so everyone can see how I feel 'bout ye. c'mon sugar, i might be gentle but dont count on it.”

god it was like u couldn't move or couldn't talk, u didn't know what to say, how to react. ur face was all flushed with his words, it wasn't a surprise that he'd be flirting with u now.

and soon, he began toying with the collar of ur blouse. soon that felt to unbutton the top few buttons before he inched closer to mark u up.

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias part 3

Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings: onesided romance, mature and r rated themes, Hanahaki Disease

-----

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

You really must love torturing yourself. It's official. Your a masochist for your own feelings. Otherwise, why would you be standing here. In the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, with most of what you own stuffed into two large luggage trunks. The lobby felt larger for some reason as your stomach twisted into knots, like the large peeling murals were staring at you like wolves after a rabbit.

You need the money. And this place at least has room and board included.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Scuttling footsteps.

Your focus was towards the banister and you were about to reach for handles of your trunks. A blue of red and white hit you like a freight train, knocking the breath out of you for a moment. You look don and saw the one large red eye staring up at you with a cracked grin across her face. Niffty. The little maid grabbed a hold of your shirt and used your thighs as a prop for her light body as she looked at you.

"Y/N! Sir told me you would be coming! " She made a small giggle," He was happy that you were coming!"

Your heart squeezed in your chest. " Yeah? He offered a job and well, how can I refuse him?" You make a laugh, forced but it helps the tightening in your throat a little. " A-Anyway, I better go find my room. "

" Oh! " Niffty hopped off of you and took ahold of your hand. " I can show you! Its what sir asked me to do anyway. He picked out the room himself. " She began to gently pull you along, you only had a moment to grab the handles of your trunks before she had you going up the stairs.

"He ... He did?"

" Mmhmm! It's just right up here. "

Niffty took you up several floors, almost to the top. She hummed a tune you didn't know the name of under her breath. The floors looked mostly unused, so you wondered why you were taken so far up. You didn't ask though, you doubted Alastor told Niffty his motivations. He never let anyone know exactly what he was thinking. Bastard. Handsome bastard. But still a bastard.

Niffty let go of your hand as she stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, nothing special about it, the numbers on the little plaque had long since faded and only the little etching remained. Maybe it had once been painted with gold or red at some point. Niffty hopped up and grabbed the handle, the door clicked open and swung with her still holding onto it for a moment before she hopped down and spun to look at you. She was practically bouncing on her little feet.

" Here you are! I made sure all the bugs died in here. Personally. " She covered her mouth as she cackled a little.

You pay the top of her head and smiled. " Thanks, Niff. I'm sure you did it in a way that terrified the other bugs. " You set your trunks down at the end of the bed. Looked a little lumpy but otherwise it was large and clean. " Is Alastor... Busy right now?" Your run your fingers across the bedposts, old and rough to the touch.

" Mhmm. He said he will see you for dinner though. "

Your stomach made flips and you felt the cruel taste of ginger in the back of your throat. You swallowed. " Well, yeah. Yes. I'll see him then. " You take a breath. " I better get unpacked and occupy myself until then. I don't even know what kind of job Alastor wants me to do around here, to tell the truth."

" I can show you my collection now that your here! I've added a few things. " Niffty added. " I'll bring it by later. And I wouldn't worry about it, there plenty to do. Oh, oh! You can help me name the stains in the lobby or polish the silver. "

You make a small laugh and you felt a smile test on your lips. " Alright, niff, I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I'll take you up on that naming stains. "

" Okay! Bye! " Niffty smiled and she scuttled out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. You didn't bother going to close it.

You focused on unpacking your trunks into the bureau in the corner. You carefully folded the clothes and placed them inside, you hummed softly to yourself as you organized and got settled into the room. Things smelled like they had been recently cleaned, you wonder if Niffty had fixed the room up before you came. You pulled an old sequined flapper dress from the bottom of your trunk. Your fingers brushed over the edges of the fabric. The red had faded to an almost pink in color. You make a gentle sigh and tuck the dress away.

You almost didn't hear the creak of the floor boards as someone approached the door. You look over and see snake eyes peering from around the corner. Charlie was in the doorway and cleared her throat. You set your empty trunk down and then towards them. You watch Charlie give Sir Pentious a little pat of encouragement.

" You apologized to Alastor just fine. Now, the other one you could have seriously hurt, is right here. " Charlie smiled and then looked to you. " Sir Pentious is staying in the hotel! And first order of business is to show him how to apologize! " She practically buzzed with energy. " So many new faces! So exciting." She then caught herself and cleared her throat and nudged Sir Pentious again. " Go ahead, I have to go check on the welcome cookies and I will be right back!"

You open your mouth to stop Charlie, wanting to at least have another person with you while this wannabe overlord was 'apologizing'. You sigh in defeat and look to Sir Pentious, you put on a bit of a strained smile. " Hello. "

" Yes, ah, Ms. Y/N , " he slithered a little closer and you watched him closely. " I.... Am sorry I nearly blew you up. I wasn't intending for you to get caught in it. "

" Yes, you were only aiming at my friend. " You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. You ignore the tickle in the back of your throat.

Pentious stood up straighter and he looked like he was sweating. Can snakes sweat? " Oh well . Yes. " He looked around as if looking for help then looked back at you with a cocked grin. " I am sorry for that as well?"

You shifted your weight onto one leg and made a slight frown. " Well, did you apologize to him?"

" Yesss...."

You look at him up and down. Then make a shrug. " Fine. " You crack a smile. " I dont care actually. Not that you could actually hurt Alastor. I've never seen anyone hurt him. At least, not since he got down here. " You make a small laugh.

" Oh... " He blinked. " Well... Thank you?"

You hummed. " Well if that's all, I think I'll get back to moving in... "

" Oh well..."

Pentious cleared his throat and then he shifted, his eyes glanced at the sleek watch on his wrist. Like those touch screen ones that you've seen on T.V. . You look back to him for a moment and make a small hum before turning away from him and heading towards your dresser to feign looking through it. You heard his scales slide across the carpet and a small thump of the door closing behind him. You glance back over towards the door.

" Vox. Silly man. Really needs to learn how to be more creative. " You mutter under your breath.

He wouldn't last the day.

You look around the room and tap your foot. Maybe you should spuce up the place a bit. Maybe before dinner, you had a few hours. You slipped on your peacoat and smoothed your hair out before you left your new room. You made note of the location in the hallway and headed for the elevator you had seen at the end of the hallway. You hoped it worked. You clicked the button and it buzzed to life with creakig cogs and a little bit of green crackle to it. You winced a little and took a breath as the doors slid open. You stepped on it and clicked the button for the bottom floor. You looked up at the top and made note of your floor number.

Okay. You hate this thing.

It creaked and shook as if moved down, it's decent was agonizing slow as well. Now you see why everyone just took the stairs.

Your nerves were on end by the time the metal box you were in settled on the bottom floor and the bell dinged to signal your destination had been reached. You shake your hands and let out a breath as the doors slid back open.

"Never again." You whisper as you left the confines of the elevator.

Your shoulders were grabbed almost immediately. You make a shocked gasp. Charlie had a hold of you, and she was a lot stronger then she looked as she moved you to the side part of the lobby with couches and chairs arranged. You were shoved into a seat without much ceremony and Charlie sat beside you in the middle of the couch. You blinked and looked next to you. Alastor looked like he had been snatched up. The reluctant audience around you told you that most of them were either threatened by the small Vaggie or snagged by Charlie. A plate of cookies sat on the table in front of you.

Alastor's knee was next to yours and he crossed his legs, his hoof touched the bottom of your shin occasionally. " Ah, Y/N, it seems as though you have been coerced into watching this ...." He made a hum and his eyebrow twitched. " Play. "

Oh God. Oh God. So close. You haven't sat this close to him in years. Decades maybe. Your throat felt tight.

You put on a smile. " Ah yes, I was about to run a few errands and-"

Charlie shushed and patted your arm. She made a small squeal. " It's starting!"

You look ahead. Maybe you could focus on this.

Alastor was drumming his fingers on his knees. He was bored and irritated, though he was placating the princess. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, he wasn't really watching the show. You look back ahead, trying to keep your focus on that. Not the taste of ginger and the smell of old wood. His hoof grazed against your shin again. Your eyes drawn to him. He was still so handsome. Even down here.

His already sharp features made sharper down in hell then when he was alive.

Your stomach churned as you swallowed and looked back ahead.

You can do this.

"Y/N, what would you prefer to eat for dinner tonight?" Alastor's voice was right in your ear. The filter dropped for a moment as he had leaned down close and didn't want the rest of the audience to hear.

" I.... Well whatever you are in the mood for Al. You know I've never been picky when it comes to your cooking." You manage out. You couldn't think right now, you focused on not letting the cough bubbling in your throat out.

He made a chuckle. " Alright, fresh meat. I can pick it up after this travisty. "

You nod and give a smile, you look back to your lap. Your fingers curled around the fabric of your peacoat. Breath. Breath normally. You could feel his gaze on you, it lingered longer then normal.

When Charlie stood up to clap, you were immediately on your feet. You excused yourself, covering your mouth with the handkerchief in your pocket. You walked as quickly as you could while everyone was distracted and made your way to the closest exit. You coughed gently at first but then it turned to hacking. Petals fell in wads and clumps. It felt like your lungs were on fire.

You dug your nails into the wood of the outside wall of the hotel. The petals scattered in the lawn in front of you. Your eyes started to sting and you wiped your mouth off. You shook your head. You took a breath. Just relax.

You stomp the petals into the ground with your heel and head for the cobblestone pathway ahead. Go get a few things from your old place and pick up something new.

A trip to the shopping district of the Pentagram could do you some good. Some fresh air, and give you time to mentally prepare. You and Alastor are just friends. That's all. You clutch your chest a little as you make your way out of the gates of the Hotel grounds.

Thankfully it was easy to get to the shopping district from here, store fronts littered with different ads and some filled with television screens and people clammering for whatever product was on sale. You shook your head and stepped up to cross the busy street. You glanced around and took a step out. You skidded to stop as a limo pulled in front of you. Black with blue undertones. Flashy and new.

The window rolled down.

" Y/N, fancy seeing you here. " A shark tooth grin. Bright blue and glowing.

" Vox. "

Taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @kerosene--lamp @girl-nahh-two @phoephan-123

[the-offside-rule]

Lance Stroll (Aston Martin) - Happy Hanukkah

Day 24 of Christmas

Prompt: The Differences in Christmas

25 Days Of Christmas

Y/n was filled with excitement as she stepped off the plane, a flurry of anticipation swirling around her. Christmas was just around the corner, and she was invited to spend the holidays with her boyfriend, Lance, at his family home. As she arrived, she took in the lavish surroundings, the elegant decorations, and the warm, inviting atmosphere that enveloped her. As she settled in, she stumbled into the living room, looking confused at how bare it looked and wondering why there was no tree.

"Lance?" She called out, looking around. Lance peeped in. "Where’s your Christmas tree?" Lance chuckled softly, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. "Y/n, I’m Jewish, remember?" He replied gently, his smile reassuring. "We don’t have a Christmas tree." Her face flushed in realization. "Oh! Right! I completely forgot." She admitted, laughing at her own oversight. "So what do you do instead?"

Lance was more than happy to explain. "Well, we celebrate Hanukkah instead." He said simply. "It’s a festival of lights. We light the menorah, play dreidel, and eat traditional foods. It’s a little different from Christmas, but it’s just as special in its own way." Y/n listened intently, fascinated by the rich traditions he described. "What kind of foods?" She asked, her curiosity piqued. "Latkes, which are potato pancakes, and sufganiyot, which are jelly-filled donuts." He explained, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the treats. "We’ll make some together!" The thought of spending time with Lance in the kitchen made her heart flutter. "I can’t wait to try them!" She said enthusiastically.

The next morning, Y/n and Lance were in the kitchen, the warm scent of donuts lingering in the air. "I just need to grab something from upstairs." She said, wiping her hands on a towel. As she made her way through the expansive house, she stumbled upon a door that was slightly ajar. Curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked inside. It was Lawrence’s office, filled with books and family photos. One picture caught her eye: a younger Lance beaming as he helped his father prepare food for the final day of Hanukkah.

"Oh! I’m so sorry!" Y/n exclaimed, stepping back. "I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just exploring and got lost." Lawrence looked up, a friendly smile on his face. "No problem at all, Y/n. You can join me if you'd like." He invited, motioning for her to sit down. "I was just reminiscing about those days. Lance loved helping out in the kitchen." Y/n felt at ease as she sat down, her initial embarrassment fading away. "He told me you celebrate Hanukkah. I’d love to hear more about it, I just don't wanna annoy him with all the questions I'm asking about it."

Lawrence was more than willing to share. He talked about the significance of the menorah, the stories behind each night of Hanukkah, and how the family would gather to celebrate together. The conversation flowed easily, and Y/n felt grateful for the insight.

Just then, Lance walked by, overhearing snippets of their conversation. He paused, feeling a swell of pride as he watched his dad share their family traditions with her. “Dad, what are you telling her?” He called out, playfully suspicious. "Just some stories about your childhood." Lawrence replied with a grin. "Did know your girlfriend is curious about our traditions?" Lance smiled, his heart swelling. "I’ll take her to the airport to pick up Chloe and Scotty. She can learn more about Hanukkah from them!"

On the car ride to the airport, Y/n leaned back in her seat, looking out the window as the scenery rushed by. Lance glanced over at her, a content smile on his face. "Are you finding everything okay?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice. "Oh, I’m loving it!" She exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Your dad told me so much about Hanukkah. It’s all so interesting!" Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He thought to himself, I’ve definitely found the one. They arrived at the airport and helped bring the bags back to the car. Y/n chatted animatedly with Chloe and Scotty as they walked ahead, while Lance lagged behind, soaking in the happiness of the moment.

As they loaded the car, Chloe turned to Lance with a knowing smile. "This is the happiest I’ve seen you in a while." She remarked. "It’s because I’ve realized I’ve found the one." Lance replied, a serious note in his voice. Chloe rolled her eyes playfully. "You’ve said that about the last two girlfriends, and we all know how that ended."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different, and I know I've said thay before too, but I mean it this tims." He insisted, his gaze locked on Y/n, who was laughing with Scotty.

Once they were back in the car, they turned on the radio, and Christmas songs filled the air. Y/n joined in, singing off-key but with pure joy, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Chloe watched them, feeling a warmth in her heart, like when she and Scotty started dating and still to this day felt. She finally understood what Lance had been saying; he had found someone special.

*please lmk if there are any mistakes! This is just the understanding I have from my Jewish friend about Hanukkah*

[lottiesboy]

cg! agatha harkness reassuring you after you have an accident

note: i mis mama agatha,,, so so much :((( ugh its so painful like that’s literally my mom I NEED MY MAMAAA :[ i didnt know what to name this so :c also merry christmas eve to everyone that celebrates !!! :3

tags: sfw, fluff, age regression, mama! agatha, accidental wetting, bathtime, pacis, diapers

agatha told you to never go to the bathroom at the last minute. well, you did, resulting in you having an accident on yourself. you tried to run upstairs to change, but agatha caught a flash of you in the corner of her eye. “baby, you okay? did you go potty?” she saw you in the hallway.

“go ‘way.” you whined, using your shirt to cover the wet spot on your pants. “what’s wrong, bunny?” agatha came over to you, looking you all over to see what was wrong. she frowned when she saw your wet clothes. “oh sweetie, did you have an accident?”

she didn’t want you to be scared, trying her best to keep you calm. you were already crying, shaking with fear because you thought agatha was going to be mad at you.

“don’t be mad, mama.” you sniffled. agatha exhaled, caressing your cheek. “why would mama be mad, sweetheart? accidents happen. you're only little, baby.” you were still crying a little, avoiding eye contact with agatha. “oh baby… hold mama’s hand, c’mon.” agatha led you to the bathroom.

she took off your wet shorts, shirt, and your big kid underwear before helping you in the bathtub. she put them in the washing machine, coming back to you rather quickly. agatha tried to get you cheered up, coaxing you to play with your bath toys. but you stared down at the soapy water, tears still streaming down your face.

“bunny.. y’know mama’s not mad at you, right?” agatha wiped your tears, rubbing your soapy back. "but... you gonna put diaper on me. didn't mean to." you sniffled. agatha sighed. "i know you didn't, sweetheart. mama knows." agatha rinsed you off, draining the bath. she helped you out and gave you your hooded towel.

"shh.. let's get you changed, baby." she picked you up and walked to the nursery and laid you down on the changing table. agatha grabbed a diaper for you, along with some baby powder and baby lotion. "mama's gonna change you real quick, okay?"

you whined, chewing on the corner of your towel. "oh, i know!!!" she cooed in a baby voice. "fussy baby. you want your rattle?" agatha gasped playfully, shaking your rattle in front of your face to calm you down. "good baby." she gave you the toy and smiled, unfolding the diaper and putting it under your bottom. agatha knew you were slipping younger by the way you were cooing and chewing on the rattle. "oh yeah? are you talking to mama?" she powdered you before taping the diaper up, pointing out the characters on your diaper.

"good job, baby! such a good job." agatha kissed your tummy, making you giggle. "hold on, sweetie. can mama put some lotion on you?" she sat you up, pumping some lotion on her hand and rubbing it into your chest. she got your legs, arms and face as well, before grabbing a onesie out of your closet and put it on you, snapping the buttons below.

"aww, there's my sweet baby." agatha put you on your hip. "you're all protected by your diaper, huh? and you smell so good, like a cute little baby, yeah. mama could just eat you up." she kissed your cheek and neck with a playful growl, making you squeal and giggle. "no tickle, mama!"

"aww, why not? mama loves your giggle so much." she repeated her silly action, making you laugh even more. "i love you, bunny." agatha rubbed your back, feeling you snuggle into the crook of her neck. "love too, mama." you blushed, feeling super tiny and loved.

[simplepotatofarmer]

memory trouble

i wrote this for @whydoilovesomanyvillains for the @rivalsduogiftexchange! i really hope you enjoy it!

“Alright, what’s actually in the book, Dream?”

The book, with its slightly charred corner and worn pages, was sitting on the floor next to Dream and when Techno spoke, he put his hand on it. His fingers trailed across the scratched and water-damaged leather for a moment before looking up at Techno. He shrugged. The orange jumpsuit looked like a tent on him as it slipped on his shoulders.

“I-I already told you,” he said, scarred mouth twisting into a frown. He had. “What, you don’t believe me?”

Techno wasn’t sure if he believed Dream. What Dream had said was in the book – quick notes about things he didn’t want to forget – made sense and he had no reason not to trust Dream. Out of all the people on the server, it was Dream that had never betrayed him. But suspicion came easily here, even if Techno didn’t like it. He waved a hand and shifted where he sat, the hard obsidian digging into his rump.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you—” Dream huffed and rolled his eyes. “No, look, it’s just that I’m havin’ trouble believin’ I said anything that important, man.”

That was a half-truth. Information was valuable. What he had trouble believing was the paranoid, little voice in the back of his mind that Dream was looking for leverage. If that was the case, it was poor leverage in an even worse situation. It made no sense and yet he couldn’t fully shake the thought. Dream placed his palm flat on the cover of the book and then slid it across the floor of the cell towards Techno.

“Whatever. You can read it,” he said then settled back against the wall, thin arms crossed over his chest.

A twinge of guilt hit Techno. It was the outcome he had wanted, to have his curiosity sated and put to ease that suspicion he didn’t like bouncing around in his head. He picked the book up and almost tossed it back to Dream but he flipped it open.

“Honestly, it gets so borin’ in here that readin’ your fanfic sounds like a great idea,” said Techno as he turned the pages, glancing up at Dream. The eye roll and noise of frustration was predictable.

“I didn’t—I didn’t write fanfic, okay? I told you what I wrote. You’re just an idiot who doesn’t believe me.”

Techno frowned a little because he knew Dream was right. Even before found the two pages that had shaky, barely legible writing on them he had known Dream was telling the truth.

“Bruh.” He stretched out one of his legs with a groan. It was impossible to sit in a way that didn’t cause aches and pains after longer than a handful of minutes. “Y’know, I was really lookin’ forward to havin’ something to read.”

Dream snorted.

“Yeah, well, too bad. I wasn’t lying.”

The pages under Techno’s fingers felt stiff in the way paper did after it had gotten wet and then dried. On one, Dream had wrote ‘your polar bear is named Steve’, exactly like he had said he’d done. On the other page, he had written ‘Techno admitted I have a house’. His priorities were strangely endearing and Techno smiled.

“I know, Dream, I know,” he said, voice soft. He looked down at the book again. “But really, man? You needed to write this down?”

Dream shrugged again. He had barely moved all day. The almost frantic energy he had displayed when Techno first arrived, despite the condition he was in, had gone.

“Well, to be fair, I—I keep forgetting things, so.”

It was an answer to a different question than the one Techno had asked. He had wanted to know why those things were important enough to Dream to warrant being certain he wouldn’t forget. The thought to explain that to Dream crossed Techno’s mind. He looked at Dream for a moment. The jumpsuit he wore was stained reddish brown in enough places that seemed to be the original color. Bruises that were a vivid purple when Techno got here had faded to yellow. When he wasn’t speaking, an unfocused look was often present on Dream’s face. Techno got to his feet and shook his limbs out before sitting down in front of Dream. He pulled one leg under him and stretched the other out beside Dream. His hoof hit the wall.

“W-what are you doing?” Dream asked, leaning back as far as he could until his head hit the wall.

The suspicion hurt. Techno understood it – he had his own – but it still stung a little and the sudden urge to make up for pushing Dream to let him read the book hit him. Techno started to crack his knuckles and stopped when he noticed the way Dream was watching, how tightly his mouth was pressed shut. Techno lifted his hands, palms facing Dream.

“Easy, man. You said you’re havin’ trouble rememberin’ things, right? I just want to see if you’ve got a concussion or something.”

The suspicion on Dream’s face wavered and then dissipated. He straightened.

“I’m fine. It’s—Why do you care anyway?”

Techno winced; that hurt more than the suspicion did.

“I care, Dream, I care. I should’ve checked sooner,” he said, the words an apology. He should have. He wanted to explain why he hadn’t, that he had been prepared for a trap, for something to be off after Quackity crashing his birthday party, but he hadn’t expected this. There was something deeply cruel about what had been done in this cell and Techno didn’t know how to handle it. So he hadn’t.

Dream nodded after a moment. The curve of his smile was wry.

“Yeah, alright.”

The touch was gentle, frustratingly so.

Techno placed his hands on either side of Dream’s head, working his fingers through the matted strands, and Dream expected a joke about how badly he needed to wash and brush his hair but none came. The expression on Techno’s face remained serious, squinting over the rim of his smudged glasses. Dream wanted to tell him that there was no reason to do this. After Quackity’s last visit, Sam had given him a healing potion and a clean jumpsuit. Whatever signs from the blows rained on him or the times his head had met the obsidian floor had long since healed and beyond the scars and missing finger, no one would know.

“Hmm.”

Techno’s fingers pressed against the back of Dream’s head, almost massaging, and his face became even more serious. He flicked his eyes down towards Dream and the vaguely guilty look Dream had noted earlier, taking a bit of satisfaction in, was back.

“I mean, ha ha, I definitely know what I’m lookin’ for,” said Techno, close enough to Dream that his breath was warm on his skin.

That didn’t inspire confidence. Dream snorted quietly.

“There’s—You’re not going to find anything, Techno,” he said.

For a moment, Techno’s hands stilled and Dream thought he would give up. That was what he wanted, to get rid of the soft, worried touch, but he felt a sudden pang of regret. It was stupid, the desire to have someone be gentle or acknowledge what had been done to him and it made him feel weak and pathetic. Techno smoothed his hands against Dream’s head, fingers still probing.

“No harm in checkin’, man.”

Dream rolled his eyes but it was forced, habit because Techno was waiting for it and shook his head with a grin when he did. It was the most normal Dream had felt in months. Techno ran his hand over the top of Dream’s head then pat him lightly before leaning back. His leg pressed into Dream’s side.

“Yeah but you didn’t find anything. Like I said you wouldn’t,” Dream pointed out.

Waving a hand, Techno nudged Dream with his knee.

“Semantics, Dream, semantics.”

“That’s not what—”

Techno cut him off, holding a finger in front of his face.

“Do me a favor and follow my finger,” he said as he moved his finger slowly back and forth.

Without moving his head, Dream followed Techno’s finger, the argument forgotten. The frown on Techno’s face seemed grave.

“Hm, interestin’.”

 A jolt of panic hit Dream though it was tinged with skepticism because he knew Techno. He still lifted his own hand as if to recreate the test.

“What! What’s wrong?”

Techno laughed. The smile on his face was wide.

“Nothing, Dream. I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

It should have annoyed him but for some reason Dream found he was struggling to hold his own grin back. He smacked Techno’s leg twice in rapid succession.

“Oh my god! What—What is wrong with you!”

Still laughing, Techno tugged his cloak off and shook it out a bit. A cloud of dust and dog hair exploded from it, lingering in the air. Dream wrinkled his nose. It smelled of wet animal and mud but that was better than faint smell of blood and sweat that clung to the cell.

“Listen, the look on your face was totally worth it,” said Techno, moving from his spot in front of Dream to one next to him, back against the wall of the cell.

Dream watched him, trying to force the amusement off his face, not wanting to give Techno the satisfaction. It was a fruitless endeavor and he didn’t actually mind.

“You—You’re such an idiot,” he said.

“Whatever you say, Dream.” Taking the cloak, Techno spread it over both of their laps, carefully tucking it in around Dream. His smile was soft and when he was finished, he put his hand over Dream’s and squeezed. "Whatever you say."

[ivysprophecy]

Am I Okay? Chapter Two

a/n: hi!! so i know im a eensy bit behind on writing these because this takes place *during* part seven which is linked if you need a bit of a refresher however the next chapter will be up soon hopefully and i can tell you it will take place after part twelve! maybe you can guess what it will be ;)

warnings: i dont think there are any?

word count: 594

i kick my sandy boots off before walking through the door. trying to keep as much sand out of the house as possible.

"your house is gorgeous..." i bend over shaking any loose sand out of my hair before stepping into the kitchen. i see a picture frame on the counter. its what i assume to be a picture of his family. or what it used to be.

he told me something had happened with his dad's death and rose had left for some reason or another but...

"this is a nice picture... cute. i like the longer hair."

he looks over at me with an odd expression on his face, some mix of a melancholy tone to it. but he knows i mean well, no harm.

"thank you... but yea i was a lot younger then, i think i was a junior in high school there. making wheezie about fifth grade? sarah a freshman... different times."

"ya know she talks about you a lot. misses you. and a lot more but its not my business," all he can do is nod towards me, acknowledging what i said. "well i should be heading home..."

"are you sure? you dont have to go you know, you could stay. get dinner or something."

you chuckle running a hand through your tangly, gross hair. "im not exactly in going out attire," you gesture to your unkempt hair and bikini clinging to your skin.

"well youre welcome to make yourself at home here. im sure there are some clothes i can lend you."

"if its alright actually do you mind if i grab a quick shower? sands got me all itchy and stuff-"

"yea of course- ill find you some clothes and show you where the gust room is."

following him up the stairs i continue to take in his house, its real nice. but i guess thats how it goes when you own cameron development. or most of it.

"so just in here," he opens a door thats obviously a bathroom, "im gonna grab some clothes, sarah has a box or two left here but ill see what i can find."

"thanks so much- youre sweet as sugar," i lean up and press a friendly(?) kiss to his cheek.

his smile is subtle, but there, as he walks off heading to find the clothes previously mentioned. and its not long before i have the shower running and he leaves them outside the door before he goes to take care of himself.

after i get out of the shower i see my phones blown up with texts from sarah and the groupchat sending off a few responses before finally getting dressed. seeing he found some of sarahs jeans, but one of his shirts.

it smells like him.

and im kinda mad at myself for liking it.

i walk back down the stairs after throwing my hair up and out of the way since its still a little damp. and i see rafe watching me as i walk down and he hurriedly hides his phone in his pocket.

guess he likes me wearing his shirt too.

"you uh- you clean up nice."

i cant hide my smile and blush as i walk over to him, "could say the same about you. where are we headed?"

"i figured id let you pick where we eat."

"well im still new around here so why dont you take me to your favorite place?"

"i can do that... lead the way," he gestures to the door after grabbing his keys with a grin.

[ masterlist ]

[ginnympotter]

Jily lives au, Harry is a certified mama’s boy and when Harry starts hanging out with the youngest Weasley he spends less and less time with Lily and she’s feeling a little jealous (this is a current situation with my mom and brother. my mom was upset because my brother opted out for our annual Christmas baking session to bake cookies with his girlfriend instead. FYI my dad and I found the whole situation hilarious 💀).

"You literally have a cookie cutter, Gin, it shouldn't be that hard," Harry teased, pushing down a tree-shaped outline tin onto her remaining dough on the counter.

Ginny feigned offense. "Well, excuse me for trying to be creative and make something free-hand!"

"Creativity is for cooking," Harry told her, putting the cookie on the pan with the rest of them and throwing them in the oven. "This is baking."

"Pshhh, it's all the same," said Ginny, giving up and propping herself up on the counter and sitting on its edge. She put space between her legs and gestured for Harry to fill the gap. With a smile, he obliged, putting his hands on either side of her stomach as she leaned in and kissed him. Her mouth tasted like chocolate frosting, and he could feel the flour on her face rubbing off onto his as he pulled her tighter to him, needing this distraction.

To Harry's disappointment, she only let the kiss linger for another moment or two before pulling away. She examined his face, then poked his forehead. "What's going on in there?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I can tell something's on your mind."

"Oh, you can, can you?"

"I'm something of a Potter expert," she smiled. "Tell me what's up, Harry."

He sighed. "Before I left my house, my Mum... she was kind of upset with me."

Ginny gasped. "Lily upset with YOU? What did you do?!"

"What?! I didn't do anything! I just... I just came over here to bake with you that's all."

"That can't be all," Ginny pressed.

"Well..." Harry ran a hand through his hair, a habit he picked up from his father. "Today was our family baking day."

Ginny stared at him with disappointment. "Harry James Potter, WHY did you come here then?!"

"Cuz we already set our plans, and I didn't want to- this is OUR first Christmas a couple and I just wanted- you asked and I guess- ERGHHH I don't know!"

Harry walked away in frustration. Ginny sighed. "Harry, that's sweet and all, but- you could've just invited me over to your house instead, yeah?"

"I.... didn't think of that," Harry admitted, dumbfounded.

Ginny laughed, jumping off the counter and reaching Harry in the middle of the kitchen. "You also just could've told me you were busy and I wouldn't have been upset like... at all? Although I appreciate you wanting to make me happy."

Harry smiled back. "What do I do, then?"

"Go home," she told him, running a hand through his hair herself. "Apologize to your Mum. Make it up to her. Our families are literally having Christmas dinner together anyway. I'll see you then- okay?"

"You're kind of the best, did y'know?"

"I did know, in fact," Ginny smiled, leaning up and kissing his mouth. "Now go-"

Ginny pushed him towards the fireplace. He stole one more kiss before stepping in and flooing home.

***

Arriving back in the Godric's Hollow living room, Christmas music was playing softly from the kitchen. Wiping the soot off his clothes, he stepped into the hall. He could faintly hear his parents playfully bickering, his mother smearing his father's face with frosting.

"Oh no, how will you get all of this off of me? Guess you have no choice but to lick it off-"

"James, just go WASH up, you git-"

"No, no, no, Evans," James laughed pulling Lily close to him. "I need your tongue's skillful expertise-"

Harry coughed purposefully. "Son in the room."

His parents both turned to look at him, surprised at his appearance. Lily let go of James and returned to whatever mess was at the counter, pointedly looking away from Harry.

"Harry, I thought you'd still be with Ginny for a bit?" his father asked.

"Er, yeah, change of plans....Can I help at all?"

"Yeah, sure!" James said cheerfully, walking towards the living room. "Mum's just finishing up with some of the biscuits, we still got some pies to make."

Harry walked over to Lily, who was busying herself. "Mum?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm sorry I ditched the family baking day. I should've just asked Ginny to join us. It was stupid. I'm really sorry."

Lily sighed. "No, no, it wasn't stupid. You're so excited about Ginny, it makes sense you wanted to spend time with her- I shouldn't have reacted in the way I did. I just... I'm not used to doing traditions without you yet."

"And you don't have to-"

"No, no, I do. It's part of you growing up. You're going to make your own traditions one day with your own family-"

"Alright, slow down, Ginny and I aren't married yet-"

"Yet being the key word!" James called from the other room. "Sirius and I are placing bets on how soon you'll be engaged-"

"Shut up," said Harry and Lily simultaneously. They smiled at each other.

"Maybe you're right," said Harry. "One day I will have my own family traditions. But today... I still want to be a part of OUR family traditions. Is that alright?"

Lily smiled brightly at him. "Of course," she said, wrapping him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. "Now c'mon, let me finally teach you how to make this treacle pie on your own so you can impress Ginny with it next year."

[aventurineswife]

HIIIII!!! Can I request aventurine x reader where reader broke down at work but didnt say anything about it, and when they get home aventurine can tell that reader is feeling down? Basically reader just needs to be told that its okay to cry and in the end, aventurine comforts them as they cry in his arms

“It's okay to not be okay”

Summary: After a long, emotionally exhausting day at work, you struggle to hide your feelings of stress and sadness. When you return home, Aventurine immediately notices something is off and gently urges you to open up. Despite your attempts to keep it together, you break down, and Aventurine comforts you, assuring you it's okay to cry and that you don't have to carry your burdens alone.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Comfort, Emotional Breakdown, Hurt/Comfort, Vulnerability, Affection, Supportive Aventurine, Tears, Comforting.

Warnings: Mentions of emotional distress, emotional breakdown, light angst.

The day had been long, drawn out, and suffocating. You’d fought to keep the façade up, pretending to be okay as the weight of the world pressed down on you at work. No one knew the toll it was taking, and you certainly didn’t want to burden anyone with your emotions. So, you swallowed everything—every frustration, every bit of self-doubt—and forced a smile, hiding the cracks that were slowly growing wider inside you.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, you let out a shaky breath. The silence was almost unbearable, but it was familiar. You needed it—needed to be alone. But as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The soft click of your door was followed by the quiet swish of fabric—the unmistakable sound of Aventurine’s presence. You turned, startled, to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, eyes scanning you with that unblinking, almost predatory gaze he wore so well.

"Long day?" His voice was smooth, calm, but there was something in the air that told you he knew something was off. He’d always been observant, reading between the lines with an almost unsettling accuracy. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you.

You forced a smile. "Just tired," you murmured, taking a few slow steps forward to set down your things. The walls you’d built up during the day were starting to crumble, but you refused to let him see it. He didn’t need to know that you’d barely been holding it together.

Aventurine didn’t speak right away. Instead, he moved closer, the soft sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. There was a flicker in his eyes, something sharp and calculating, but also... something else. Concern? You weren’t sure, but it sent a chill down your spine.

"You’re lying," he said simply. "And I don't like being lied to."

You winced, the weight of his words landing harder than you expected. "I’m fine, Aventurine. Really. Just a lot on my plate."

He didn’t believe you, of course. But it was the way he approached it—slow, deliberate steps, like he was a predator sizing up his prey—that made you feel vulnerable. And when he reached you, he tilted his head slightly, his earring catching the light as his expression softened, just for a moment.

"You don't have to hide it from me, you know," he said, his voice quieter now, less theatrical and more... genuine? You weren’t sure, but something in his tone made you pause.

"I’m fine," you repeated, your voice unsteady. You didn’t know why, but the words felt so hollow, like they were no longer yours. Your hand clenched around your sleeve, and before you knew it, your breath hitched. You tried to steady yourself, but it was no use.

Aventurine’s eyes flickered with recognition. He was too sharp—he’d seen the signs before. Without another word, he reached out and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over the delicate skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze softened, a fleeting vulnerability hidden beneath the layers of his usually confident mask.

"You don't have to be strong all the time," he murmured, his voice unusually tender. "It's okay to break down. It's okay to cry."

The words hit you harder than expected, breaking through the dam you’d so carefully constructed. Before you could stop yourself, tears began to well up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. You couldn't hold it back anymore. The exhaustion, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of being trapped—everything poured out in that single moment.

Aventurine didn’t flinch. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. His body was warm, comforting, and his presence felt like the only thing keeping you grounded in that moment. You could feel his heartbeat steady and calm, and it somehow made you feel safe.

"You’ve been carrying this alone for too long," he whispered, his voice low and soothing as he gently rocked you. "But you don’t have to. Not anymore."

You clung to him, the tears flowing freely now. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and he didn’t rush you, didn’t pressure you to stop crying. He let you fall apart, and in that moment, it felt like he was the only thing that could hold you together.

"You’re not alone," he murmured again, his voice soft but firm. "I’ll always be here. No matter what."

And as you cried in his arms, surrounded by the weight of your own emotions, you felt something shift inside you. The fear, the guilt, the exhaustion—it all started to fade, replaced by a warmth that came from the simple act of being held, of being seen.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but eventually, the tears subsided. You pulled back slightly, wiping your eyes, embarrassed by the vulnerability you’d just revealed.

Aventurine looked down at you, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Better?" he asked softly, his fingers still brushing over your skin.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yeah. Thanks... Aventurine."

He nodded, his expression unreadable but somehow comforting. "Anytime," he replied, pulling you back into his embrace. "Anytime."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

The Bat catches a cold (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Prompt: The Bat never falls sick, or so he thinks. (2k~ words)

Bruce Wayne does not fall sick. 

The man simply can’t afford to. He could not possibly disturb the precarious balance he’s achieved between his double life of running a Fortune 500 company by day and fighting criminal masterminds by night. 

So his recent sneezing fits must be a result of allergies, it’s pollen season after all. And those dull headaches he’s be experiencing the past couple of days? Probably just a lack of sleep,  the Riddler’s recent antics had resulted in some long and arduous nights. 

Today he woke up feeling kind of feverish, body aching all over. But he’s got to push through, there’s an important board meeting he can’t miss. Especially not over something as silly as a common cold.

“Alfred, did you put the kettle on for coffee?” Bruce’s horse voice calls out, as he all but staggers through the hallway on his way to the kitchen. A little caffeine and a painkiller should do the trick.

As he approaches the archway to the spacious open plan kitchen, he blinks away the final wisps of sleep encroaching his vision, only to notice that instead of his trusted butler Alfred its his partner puttering about the kitchen.

“Alfred’s out on an errand, I’ve put the kettle on but it’s gonna be- Oh” 

You pause in your words as you look up from the counter, taking in the state of your husband.

Eyes rimmed red, hair scuffled and messy a far cry from the smart slicked gelled back style you’re used to. Also is he still in his pyjamas? It’s ten past nine, he’s usually in his starched white collar and dress pants by now. 

“Right. Could you make me a cup of coffee please? I’ve got to leave for the office in ten” he rasps before succumbing to a heavy cough. 

“Uh- I don’t think you should be going to work in your current state” you comment as you cross the counter to examine him better.

He shakes his head in hopes of ridding himself of the pounding headache. Bad idea. Now he feels like the room is swimming around him.

As he sniffles through his congested nose, you take in his slouched stance and tired profile. Yeah there’s no way he can go to work in this state.

As you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature a soft gasp escapes you, he’s burning up. 

“Bruce you’re running a high fever, you need to rest” you chastise. Did he really think he could hobble into work in this state?

“I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather” he groans in protest, though his statement was severely undermined by him leaning against the kitchen archway for support. 

This was quiet typical of Bruce, he was stubborn as an Ox when it came to admitting he needed rest. You give him an unimpressed stare, you were not buying it.

“Really now? Is that why you’re slowly sliding down the archway? Because you’re the pinnacle of  good health?” 

That causes him to abruptly stand up, he sways in place for a moment, “I told you I’m fine it’s just a-“ 

And that’s all he can muster before he begins to fall forward, limbs seemingly in free fall. 

“Bruce!” you exclaim as you rush forward to steady him. Though he is much heavier with his limp muscles, so instead your valiant attempt ends up with the both of you slowly going down as a heap onto the floor. But that’s still marginally better than him falling flat on his face so you’ll count it as a win. 

“Okay, time to get you back to bed. Can you stand up?” You pat his cheek as his head rests in your lap, hoping that will wake him up from his haze.

“No need for all that, I just need a moment to catch my breath and I’ll be fine” 

Though he voices his protest, his hand clumsily lands over your own, relishing the feeling of your cool palm against his hot face.

“Oh of course, you just need a minute to lie on the floor and then you’ll be able to crawl to work. Silly me for not realising” you remark dryly.

Bruce was usually a fan of your sarcasm, except when it was directed at him. He attempted to glare at you in response, but only managed to blink owlishly instead given his current state.

An exasperated sigh escapes you. You knew he was gonna be bull-headed about this, asking for help wasn’t exactly a part of Bruce’s lexicon. So it’s time for a bit of an ultimatum.

“Right so there are two ways we can go about this. Either you let me help you back to the bed where you *will* rest for the remainder of the day” you state, making sure you placed stern emphasis on the resting part of your statement.

His face scrunches at the prospect, the idea of rest foreign and unappealing to him.

“Or if you won’t listen, I guess I won’t have much choice but to get Dick and Jason to carry you to bed” 

You had to bite back a laugh at the way his eyes balked at the prospect. He was *not* going to be humiliated like that. He can already envision Jason’s poorly concealed attempt at suppressing his laugher, and he just knew Dick was gonna bring this up at some inopportune moment at a future family dinner.

You can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to work out another third option where he gets what he wants with his pride remaining intact. However, he doesn’t get very far in his dazed state.

So Bruce decides to go with the lesser of the two evils, one that would leave his ego less bruised.

“… I suppose you can help me to bed” He mumbles, causing you to laugh at his resigned tone. 

“You know it’s not a crime to ask for help once in a while. You don’t have to bear all the burdens on your own” you reply as you help prop him up. 

Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you begin the trek back to the bedroom. He huffs, unable to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to worry you” he admits quietly. 

He knows you worry enough already. He sees how your brows crease in concern when he comes home after patrol sporting a particularly nasty gash. He recalls the several times he caught you looking at him, quickly masking your anxious expression with a sweet smile. And on multiple occasions he’s found you dozed off on the couch well past midnight, in your attempt to stay up and wait for him until he returned from a mission.

It often causes a pit of guilt in his stomach that he finds it hard to push away. You already put up with so many eccentricities given his vigilante double life, that too all with a warm smile. He’d hate to add to your worries.

“Bruce” you tut, “You ought to know I want to help. You’re always juggling so many things all at once, it feels nice to help out once in a while. Besides, it’s not like I can help much with your nightly escapades” you say with a light laugh as you help him into bed.

But Bruce doesn’t miss the strain in your voice when you mentioned that last bit, you feel like you’re not doing enough, which is so far from the truth. Before he can address it you leave the room, stating you’d get him medicine and a cup of warm tea to help with the cold.

The next few hours seemingly pass in a blur, after his doze of medicine Bruce was out cold, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He wakes up in the late afternoon, the morning headache reduced to a dull pain at the back of his head, his voice feeling less hoarse than before. 

As he rubs his eyes to rid himself of the remnants of sleep, he notices you curled up on the sofa next to the bed, a book in your hand as you leaf through the pages.

“Morning sleepyhead” you tease as you notice him sitting up on the bed.

“How long was I out?” He asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“A couple of hours, feel any better?”

“Yeah… were you waiting up for me all this while?”

You give a light shrug, “It was gonna be a slow afternoon for me anyway, thought I might as well spend it keeping an eye on my patient for the day”

Bruce looks aways from your smile, feeling his cheeks flush. If you’d dare tease him about it he’d blame it on his cold no doubt.

There’s a beat of silence before he reaches over to grasp your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You do help (Name), more than you know it. I look forward to coming home to you every night, I’m deeply appreciate of the peace you bring in my life” he remarks, referring to your last statement before he fell asleep.

Bruce wasn’t one for bold declarations nor was he a waxing romantic. However, that’s not to say he didn’t cherish you in his life. 

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, at times he’s still taken by surprise by your willingness to put up with the whirlwind of chaos that constitutes his life. You provide a sense of warmth and familiarity that he always believed would be out of reach for him. Something he couldn’t afford, given his commitment to his mission under the cowl. A tradeoff he’d have to simply learn to live with.

He pulls your hand closer and kisses your knuckles, unable to voice his jumbled thoughts but hoping to convey the sentiment nevertheless.

You smile at his gesture, as much as you wanted to coo at his gentle words and warm disposition (which was not that common a site), you knew he’d only flush bright red in embarrassment. You decided to save the teasing for another time.

“That’s kind of you to say. You know I’m here for you. We all are” you reassure, referring to the rest of rag tag bunch of a family. 

“Well, as much as I love the kids, I wouldn’t describe them as a source of peace, quite the contrary really” he winces as he recalls their latest antics.

A discombobulated performance featuring Tim’s latest handmade gadget malfunctioning and causing a small fire, Damian’s new dagger stunt breaking several pieces of expensive china, a manhunt for Dick’s dog’s who got lost in the Bat Cave and Jason’s attempted DIY hair dye gone wrong causing him to sulk in his room for several days. Alfred came to the rescue as per the usual, putting out both literal and metaphorical fires.

Of course you supported when you could. That is to say when you managed to stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what you were witnessing.

You shake your head with a smile, before suggesting in a teasing tone “Maybe that’s just their way of showing love?”

He snorts at that, “Right by giving me new grey hairs”

He can’t help the bent smile forming on his face as you laugh at his quip. He still marvels at how easy it is between the two of you. How easy you make it for him to feel a sense of calm and security in your relationship. 

“What’ve you been reading there?” he asks, his chest warming at how your eyes light up, ands the excitement in your tone as you begin to describe the book to him.

Perhaps it’s not all that bad to need to lean on you once in a while.

Especially not if it means he get to make more precious memories with you.