#written in like four hours on very little sleep

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~

[the-faceless-bride]

141 Neighbors imagine

The boys have been in a relationship for a long time. They've all taken a small break from the feiled after Johnny almost dying... they have been staying in a small and sweet place, a nice flat for them to share.

And while not out on the feiled, they still worked overtime. And weren't home often; and when they were, they always just got some takeaway and loved each other before going to work the next morning.

You had noticed this; You had lived in the flat adjacent to the four hunks. You lived alone in your cute, comfy flat with your cat "Binks,".

You didn't like that they lived off cheap takeaway and three hours of sleep at most. So you decided to be a kind neighbor and give them a good home cooked meal. You made extra for dinner that night, packaging the warm meal and leaving it at their door with a small and short note.

John slowly walks to the door after hearing the soft 'tap tap tap' outside his door. His hand rested on the gun on his hip in case things went south after opening the door.

But nobody was there, he looked down and saw a small basket and a note. "W'as tha?" Johnny asked, coming up behind his former captian; picking up the small basket and bringing it into his lovers home.

"Trying to be a friendly neighbor, I noticed all the takeaway, and I thought you'd all enjoy a nice meal," a short note and nothing more. John didn't trust it, showing it to Simon and Kyle, and Simon agreed. It was too suspicious, Kyle wanted to think maybe their was a kind soul, but knowing their line of work, he wasn't sure.

"I don' kno 'bout ye, but I t'ink this 's delicious." The three men looking to their other lover and to their shock and horror he was munching away on the mysterious meal. "JOHNNY," Simon yelled in disappointment and fear, "well, how are you feeling?" Kyle asked, unsure if this was 100% safe.

"Feel great," the Scott says before taking another spoon full. Kyle shrugs, and they all settle into a comfortable silence as they eat the dinner from their friendly neighbor.

This becomes a normal occurrence. They hear a rapping on their door, and when they open the door, there is a meal waiting, but nobody there.

They didn't know who their friendly neighbor was, but they were thankful for the warm meals. However, one day Johnny came home after a last-minute grocery run and spots you.

Placing the basket on their door quickly knocking before rushing to your door and shushing your fluffy cat as it meows at your feet. Johnny found you cute, and he knew his lovers would love to know you too.

Sorry for the poorly written and rushed little imagine, I'm very tired and I just wanted to write this down before I forgot about it. Maybe make this a real fic later, it'll be written way better I promise.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 013 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. infidelity. slight angst. toxic characters & toxic relationships. 18+. smut (nothing explicit.) unedited. suggestive. fluff. alcohol consumption.

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3 ALSO!! i am very bad at describing places (i tried my best) but just so you guys can visualize things better, i included photos of where this chapter took place at the end of the fic

wc. 12.1k

series masterlist 

[ THIRTEEN ] it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. i’ve done the math, there’s no solution. we’ll never last – why can’t i let go of this?

“Rin,” you stopped his hands from going any further, your fingers closed around his. He paid you no mind as he merely flicks your hands away. The top three buttons of your blouse have already been popped open, the white lace of your bra visible to his eyes. They visibly darkened with lust. Grasping his hand again, you held him tighter this time around, preventing him from exposing you to him. “Rin, please. Stop.”

Rintaro finally stopped. His fingers froze in the air, his thumb caressing the button like he’s fighting back an itch to completely rip your blouse apart. Maybe on another day, you would’ve found his hunger to be flattering. But not here, not in the middle of nowhere, and definitely not when he smelled like smoke. Not when he smelled like all the horrible things he’d gotten from her.

Cocking his brow, he leant back at the hood of his car. He stared up at you, his pretty eyes narrowed into slits.

“What? You don’t want me to touch you?”

You vehemently shook your head no. You awaited it – some sort of angry response from him. It wasn’t often you rejected his advances, but it was written crystal clear on your face: he made you uncomfortable. He found it sickening, how you looked at him like he was some vermin.

“Fine,” he spat out, rounding the vehicle as he opens his door. “Get in the car.”

“But… I can’t just leave–”

“I’ll have someone take care of it. Get. In. The. Car.”

You glance back at your car. Kuroo’s cellphone was still inside, along with your gun engraved with your family crest. If anyone were to peek inside, it wouldn’t be far to assume that you were out to kill someone. Not to mention, it was your private vehicle, not the Palace’s issued ones. Quickly, you raise a finger to Rintaro and ask him to wait, running back to your car before slipping the phone inside your pockets. In less than a minute, you’d opened the passenger’s seat and buckled the seatbelt.

The silence was painful.

There’s nothing but the smooth hum of the car’s engine, the rhythmic tapping of Rintaro’s hand against the wheel. He didn’t bother turning the radio on, and you were too lost staring at the trees whizzing by to strike up a conversation. There were too many things to ask, too many answers that demanded your attention, and so little time for it all. You wanted him to break the silence first, until sleep beat you to it. With the clock reading half an hour past four, you found yourself nodding off, shaken awake by the constant road bumps ahead.

Six am.

You straightened your back. The scenery had shifted from the dense forestry. Beside you, Rintaro looked half-awake, cracking his neck from side to side.

You watched as the gentle fingers of dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold. With the car travelling along the coastal road, you glanced sideways, captivated by the mesmerizing vista unfolding before your eyes. You’d seen the sea before, but never at this time – never when the sun was beginning to stretch its arms as if to embrace it. The sea, that of liquid sapphire, shimmered under the first light of day, each tiny, soft wave crested with a translucent luminescence – something both haunting and mysterious that made it hard to look away. It was deep and bewitching, like it would whisper to you the secrets of the deep if you looked close enough.

Rolling the windows down, you gazed at the horizon – right where the ocean kissed the sky, and birthed with it the symphony of color. Pastels of pink and lavender blended into a cerulean blue. The sun, a radiant gem emerging from its slumber, cast a golden path across the water and shimmered across the ripples, inviting the soul to wander its glittering trail. You felt the need to reach out to it – to skirt your fingers across the horizon, wondering if somehow the sea could drown you in its beauty and your pain could be forgotten.

As the car cruised along, your eyes remained transfixed on the sea. Drawn to its endless, vast rhythmic dance of a push and pull. The waves rolled in a timeless cadence, their gentle roar a comforting lullaby. Each surge and retreat of the water mirrored your own steady breaths – in and out – a silent meditation that made you feel as if everything was almost okay.

Through the open window, the scent of salt and the crispness of morning air filtered through. It filled the car with the essence of the sea, masking the scent of Rintaro’s stumped cigarette. For a moment, you were filled with a profound sense of peace. A moment of stillness amid the journey. The sea, with its infinite expanse and eternal ebb, seemed to hold all the answers. It wasn’t like Itachiyama whose beauty brought calmness to your soul and silenced all your fears. It was entirely a beauty of itself, one that haunted you and prodded at your bones, picking your soul apart and gently sewing back them together.

Like an unstoppable force, like watching a car crash into another – it was hard to take your eyes off of it.

“Where are you taking me?” you broke the silence after a while, choosing to keep the windows rolled down. Beside you, Rintaro spared you a quick glance before turning his eyes back to the road.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Nodding, you propped your chin onto your arm. Now that you were awake, the events from the past few hours finally caught up to you. The meeting with Kuroo, Atsumu’s sex tape, being chased by Rintaro, and your call not reaching Kiyoomi – Kiyoomi. Gods. He must be so worried. But your phone’s battery died long ago, and there was a bigger matter at hand – Rintaro’s accusation, and the way he’d hid his hurt with a smirk.

It was a side of him you’d never seen before.

Sure, he’d been angry when you did anything that concerned Iris, or when you left for Itachiyama after his displeasure about it. But this time, he looked more hurt than angry, as if he couldn’t believe you would go so far.

You rolled the windows up. The sounds of the humming of the car and the breeze slipping through muted.

“Rin,” you mumbled, toying with your fingers in your lap. “I didn’t try to kill you, you know.”

Your husband snorted. “Oh, you didn’t? Could’ve fooled me. It’s not every day you see your wife’s new maid slipping something in my drink, but if you truly did not have anything to do with it, then I guess it’s safe to assume your maid is out to assassinate me,” grip tightening on the wheel, he forced himself to exhale through his nose. “Do you deny this?”

“Airi has nothing to do with this.”

“Do enlighten me, then, because I don’t know what to think of you anymore,” he gritted his teeth, and you were shocked into silence. It was quite the confession coming from him. “I have made mistakes. Many of them. I have hurt you, again and again, but do you really wish to end my life?” he shot you a look, only to turn his head away – staring out into the sea before you. You wondered if it’s because he couldn’t stand to look at you, or he didn’t want you to see whatever might show in his face.

“I didn’t think you could be so cruel, Princess.”

Your face fell, the light in your eyes dimming as his words sunk in. “I told her to crush some sleeping pills in your tea so I could sneak out without you noticing. I wasn’t trying to ‘kill’ you.”

“And where would you go without me? A lady like you should never leave the castle premises unsupervised,” he reminded, the edges of his lips curling into a dissatisfied smile. “Unless you don’t want me knowing who it is you’re meeting.”

Sighing, you let your head drop to your hands. “Enough with the accusations, Rin. How many times do I have to tell you I have never cheated on you?” you rolled your eyes at him, your arms crossed to your chest, irked. “If you really must know, I met up with Kuroo Tetsurou – yes, the man who wrote that article about your tryst and ruined your reputation. You know what I did? I paid him to disappear from this country, and to completely erase any traces of what he’d written. I did it for you. I did it because I no longer want to see you suffering from the hands of another, so don’t you dare go around treating me like I’m your enemy, because at the end of it all, I’m the only one on your side. Do you understand?”

It was a half lie, but a white lie in your defense. The end would justify the means. Rintaro didn’t have to know the whole truth, not when there was a chance he’d ruin your plans. He only needed to let his guard down, to completely trust you on this because that last part you would not lie about.

He could hurt you – take your heart and crush it until there was nothing left. But it would not change the fact that you were his wife, and he your husband. It wouldn’t change the fact you were bound by vows you’d spoken in front of Her Majesty, in front of the Gods they worshipped in a sacred chapel. You would never, and could never, go as far as to make Rintaro detestable in the eyes of others. He was yours to hate and love. No one else could take that right away from you. He simply wasn’t for the world to pick apart.

Silence clouds the car. With a quick glance, you saw his grip loosening on the steering wheel, his shoulders visibly relaxing as his brows pinched together. “You did that… for me?”

You scoffed. “You have no idea the things I would do for you.”

“Then why keep it a secret from me? I would’ve gone with you. I could’ve sorted it out myself.”

“You couldn’t. You’ve barely been touching any of your work ever since the scandal happened,” you pointed out, holding your hand up to flash him your ring – the one you never dared took off, not even in the shower, and especially not when Kiyoomi had been nudging his way into your heart. “I’m your wife. I promised to share the burden of the crown with you. If a time comes that you’re unable to handle the troubles coming your way, then I will step in and do it for you.”

Rintaro blinked rapidly, as if clearing away the images that troubled him. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I’m just… You said you hated me, and that you regretted marrying me. So when I saw Airi mess with my tea, I immediately thought you wanted me out of your life.”

You looked out the window. Pursing your lips, you couldn’t help but think to yourself – if only it were that easy.

“You’re my husband. I would be devastated if you died.”

Rintaro drove around for a few more minutes before finally arriving in a gated community. Although community was a stretch, considering there were no other houses around. Not a single person could be seen. The entire beach was closed off from that point on. He wouldn’t answer any of your questions either, simply smiling to himself as he drove past a grove of trees until you broke through – the sounds of the waves audible and muted, as if they were from a distance. Before you stood a large white mansion, hidden by the tall trees, but peeking just enough to be highlighted by the golden dawn.

“We’re here,” Rintaro announced, bouncing out of his seat to run around your side and open the door for you. You couldn’t help but snicker at his sudden chivalry. Nevertheless, you slipped your hand into his, following him as he led you to the pebbled walkway leading up into the house. “I bought this beach for us.”

“Rin, you can’t do that. The beaches should be open to the public.”

Rintaro squeezed your hand. There was a lightness to his step, almost as if he was floating through air – or maybe your reassurance had simply made his body feel lighter. “Indulge me a little, wife. Let me show you around first, and if you really don’t like it… then I’ll put it up for sale, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with that. It was hard to, anyway, when he struggled to open the doors as he refused to let go of your hand. After fumbling for the keys, he finally got them in and pushed the doors open.

You could see much from where you stood. At the break of dawn, the sun’s first golden rays began to dance across the tranquil surface of the sea, casting a gentle, shimmering glow that greeted the grand beach house with a tender embrace.

The luxurious abode, with its elegant arches and expensive terraces, stood proudly against the backdrop of the awakening sky. Its hues of pink and orange melded seamlessly into the lingering blue of the night. Your eyes widened, watching as the colors bounced off the water and reflected back onto the sturdy white pillars of the house’s exterior. The soft, ambient light illuminated its exquisite architecture, revealing intricate details and the soft contours of its stone façade.

Stepping onto the grounds for the first time, you let your hands run through the textures of the pillars, feeling its smoothened out surface. 

The house, a vision of opulence and warmth, beckoned you with its ethereal allure. Each window and glass wall, strategically placed, welcomed the sunrise with open arms, allowing the light to flood the interior spaces with a radiant glow. The reflections danced upon the surface of the pristine pool outside, playful patterns dancing along the walls and the ceiling. It made the entire house seem alive with its morning gentle touch.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat – stunned by the beauty of it all.

You moved towards the edge of the expansive backyard, where the manicured lawn stretched out like a verdant carpet leading directly to the soft sands of the secluded beach. The sound of the waves, a soothing melody, called out to you. It mingled with the rustling leaves of the palms that framed the house. The air, crisp and salty, invigorated your senses and filled you with a sense of profound peace and connection.

Unbeknownst to you, Rintaro was drunk on your expressions. He lit up each time you smiled at a corner, his heart blooming and swelling he felt it would burst out of his chest. For one of the few times in his life, he felt proud of himself.

“I bought this mansion a year after I started courting you,” he said, his gaze transfixed on the way your hands were still intertwined. It caused him to trail after you like a lost puppy; not that he minded. He just liked being here with you. With that thought in mind, he absentmindedly caressed your wedding ring with the pads of his thumb. “I didn’t have concrete plans in mind yet, but I knew I would end up marrying you someday, and the Palace didn’t seem like a good place for us to enjoy our married life. But here… we can live separately from the rules imposed on us. Here, we are not Princess or Prince. It could just be the two of us.”

You bit your lip, your heart hesitant. It fluttered at the sincerity of his words, swooned at the revelation he’d been planning this for years. You could imagine it – Rintaro walking through this property a year into your courtship, the young Prince nodding to himself because he just knew this place would be yours.

“It’s still mostly empty, of course. I didn’t want to decorate it without asking for your opinions, and I figured maybe you’d want to take the lead in that area,” he encouraged with a smile.

And really, who could say no to that? When he gave you such a beautiful house and handed you the reigns to do as you pleased, then you would turn this house into something you could call your home.

Every detail of the beach house was meticulously designed for both grandeur and intimacy. The spacious terraces offered the perfect setting for private dinners and joyful gatherings with family and friends, promising countless evenings of laughter and love under the starlit sky. You could already envision long, leisurely breakfasts on the balcony, the sea’s gentle murmur a constant, comforting presence.

You would sip your morning coffee in your nightgown, reading the newspaper, or letting your eyes close as you let the sea breeze gently wake you up from the remnants of your slumber. Behind you, your husband would sneak up in nothing but his sleep shirt, his voice deep and croaky with sleep laced to it. He would wrap his arms around your waist, coo good morning in your ears as he buried his face on the crook of your neck.

It was the perfect house to live the married life in.

The moment is too beautiful that it let the walls you’d put up slowly crumble. It gave way for your mind to entertain the thought of hope, of second chances, of a life where Rintaro apologized for everything he did and you forgave him for it. A life where he finally left Iris behind, and moved in here with you – being a loving husband and wife like he’d promised.

Regardless of his mistakes, you couldn’t deny he chose this haven with care.

He understood your yearning for a sanctuary that felt both majestic and personal. You could see his vision in every corner of the house – in the way the morning light filled the rooms, in the carefully carved openness that invited the outside world to become part of your home, and in the promise of countless memories waiting to be made within its walls.

“It’ll get very bright here in a few minutes,” he murmured, his voice echoing through the spacious expanse. “I know you hate dark places, so I wanted something that had a lot of room for sunlight.”

You hummed. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“I only had you in mind when I was looking for our place.”

Tugging at your hand, you let Rintaro drag you upstairs and show you around. “This is our bedroom,” he gestured, and you stepped inside, glancing back at him and down at your intertwined hands in a silent query. Rintaro smiled, nodding as he gently let go of your hand to let you look around the room.

Taking small, careful steps away from him, you let your eyes take in the sight before you. The room was a sanctuary of tranquility, bathed in the soft, warm hues of the rising sun. The bed, dressed in crisp white linens with accents of deep red, invited you to sink into its comfort. Candles flickered softly on a low, modern nightstand, casting a gentle, ambient glow that complemented the natural light streaming through the expansive glass wall.

The true masterpiece, however, was the view.

The entire far wall of the room was made of glass, offering an unobstructed vista of the ocean beyond. Palm trees gently swayed in the morning breeze, framing the horizon perfectly.

You moved closer to the glass, your heart swelling with awe and contentment. Outside, on the spacious terrace, two elegant lounge chairs awaited, promising peaceful mornings and serene evenings spent with the one you loved. The lush greenery surrounding the room blended seamlessly with the view, making it feel as though you lived in harmony with nature.

“Want to see the best part?”

You giggled. “You mean to tell me something could get better than this?”

“Of course. You know I’m only choosing the best for you.”

Leading you into another room at the end of the hall, Rintaro smirked – proud and barely holding back his excitement as he swung the door open. As you stepped inside, a gasp of pure delight escaped your lips – followed by bubbling laughter in disbelief.

The morning sun streamed through the grand, arched windows, casting a warm, golden light that danced sprightly across the room. The room seemed almost enchanted, a perfect blend of nature and comfort, invite you to lose yourself in your own world and let the time pass you by.

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with volumes of all kinds, promising endless hours of exploration and discovery. The rich, earthy scent of aged paper and polished wood filled the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. A graceful spiral staircase wound its way up to a second level, where more books awaited, their spines gleaming in the soft light.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the cozy seating area, where a plush of sofa beckoned you to sink into its depths and get lost in a story. The soft, muted colors of the cushions and throws added a touch of warmth, making the space feel lived-in and inviting. A quaint reading lamp stood nearby, ready to cast its gentle glow over late night reading sessions. Behind you, you could hear Rintaro move through the room as well – gently picking up knick-knacks placed along the way.

“–And here is your reading corner, or… whatever you’d like it to be really. If you want to crochet, or paint with Tobio, you can use this room.”

“I thought you said this place was empty,” you joked, gazing up at the myriad of books displayed.

“Yes, it is,” smiling to himself, he leant against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest, content to let you indulge yourself by exploring. “But I made sure to fill this place up first, as I figured this would be the room you’d spent the most time in. I went ahead and collected all the books I know you liked, along with other things I thought you would enjoy.”

There it was again – the thumping of your heart over his words.

It was too easy to get carried away, especially when Rintaro was being unnecessarily sweet. It almost felt as if… nothing was wrong at all. And for a moment – just for now – you let yourself forget everything and focused on the present. With your heart tucked and hidden away for safety under your sleeve, you pointedly averted your gaze from your husband. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him like that – content, unguarded, with hooded eyes watching you tenderly. Like he was in love with you, and he meant it when he said he wanted no one else to spend his future with.

You turned your attentions back to the room, the lush greenery that adorned the space, with ferns and potted plants that brought a taste of the outside world in.

You could already imagine yourself curled up on the sofa with a book, the sounds of the waves gently crashing in the background, or perhaps sitting by the window on a rainy day – the patter of raindrops providing a soothing soundtrack to your literary adventures.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in adoration, even as you tried so hard to fight against it.

The Prince had carefully curated this heaven for you. He’d ensured you could have a space where you would spend countless mornings in, a cup of tea in hand, watching the sun rise over the horizon. Afternoons would be spent exploring the vast worlds in the many books that lined the shelves, each one a new journey waiting to be embarked upon.

This reading room was more than just a space; it was an escape from the world. A place where you could retreat and recharge, surrounded by the things you loved most. As you stood there, bathed in the soft morning light, you were bombarded by a mix of emotions – an internal debate whether to feel elated or depressed.

How could someone know you so well, and still hurt you in the process? Love truly was a dangerous thing.

However, you pushed that thought out of your mind. You did not want any arguments tainting this space, this home. Rintaro’s efforts didn’t deserve to be shattered, either. You would save it for another time. For now, you would explore every inch and corner of this house. “And here’s the backyard – plenty of space for our future kids to play in. I’m thinking twins, one boy and one girl, and then we’ll stop trying for another. Two little devils should be enough. The boy needs to be the eldest though, so he can protect his little Princess,” his eyes lit up, and you can see it already.

Rintaro must’ve seen it, too – the scene of your children running around, chasing other. Your little boy would be screaming at the top of his lungs, your little girl blowing bubbles as her hair bounced around her cute little face with each tiny step she took. If she ever tripped, her brother would immediately be there for her. He’d cradle her soft cheeks in his equally small hands, wiping her tears away and telling her it’d be okay. And then they would run to their parents for comfort – Rintaro would bring them into his arms, pressing kisses to their foreheads before he brought them back to their mama. Then, you’d pull out the first-aid kit, plastering band-aids on every scraped knee and kissing all the boo-boos away.

It was a beautiful thing to imagine. Letting your kids grow up in a beautiful place, with a loving father who would stop at nothing to ensure their happiness, building a family.

It put a smile to your face. “You do know I can’t control who comes out first, right?”

“Yes, but a man could dream,” he shrugged and faced your way, his eyes softening as he scanned your face. You didn’t know why Rintaro looked so beautiful in that moment. The picture perfect image of a Prince Charming, his hazel eyes seeing things you couldn’t, his smile hesitant yet hopeful. “I hope our little girl looks like you. She’d be very pretty just like her Mom.”

Heat rushed at the nape of your neck. It was a flood of emotions all at once – flustered, flattered, frustrated.

You immediately pointed your body in a different direction. Sliding the glass doors aside, you kicked off your heels and sunk your feet into the grass. It was a much needed reprieve after walking and driving for hours with those darned heels. Soon enough, you could hear Rintaro trailing behind you – a quick, curious glance letting you know he’d picked up your heels, your shoes dangling on his crooked fingers.

“Can we have a dog?”

“We could have a dog,” he grinned, and then gestured for you to come follow him. Feet sinking into the sand, your hands found solace in his bicep. Rintaro practically puffs up with male pride the moment your nails sunk into his skin. It was silly, enough to make you roll your eyes, but you kept on walking and walking – the sounds of sand crunching beneath your feet and the delicious warmth emanating from your husband a great way to start the morning. Eventually, you’d made it to the front of the house, where the crystalline pool stood just before the sea announced its presence.

“And in the beachfront, well, we could do pretty much anything. Barbecue, invite friends over for dinner. Oh, and there’s a wine cellar in the basement. I think I had that filled up, too. Do you want to have a quick drink before we go?” Shaking your head at him, Rintaro nods, gnawing at his lip before he decides – fuck it – and finally lets his hand rest on top of yours.

The position was oddly intimate. You weren’t embracing each other, yet you’d never been so close to him before. Your sides pressed against one another, your hand curled onto his arm, with his large, veiny hands caressing yours. It’s a little too perfect, and it makes you just a little too in love. Unable to help it, and drunk in the serenity of it all, you let your head fall back to his shoulder. Eyes closed, breaths shallow – your heartbeat in sync with his.

Thump, thump, thump. The schwaa of the waves. The whoosh of the wind.

It was like heaven on earth.

Above you, Rintaro cleared his throat. “So? What do you think? Is it to your liking? If it isn’t, I could always look for a different house–”

“It’s beautiful, Rin. Thank you.”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” you told him, opening your eyes to smile up at him, your cheek still smooshed against his broad shoulders. “It’d be a perfect home for us.”

“O-Okay,” he blushed, averting his gaze from you as he stared at the sea instead. The motion made you chuckle. It wasn’t always Rintaro could be such a flustered, affected man, but you adored the rare times when he was. Just then, an idea popped up in your head and you grinned, tapping his shoulder with your nails.

“Hey. Why don’t we have a little housewarming party to make it feel more like home?”

“We can?”

“We can do whatever we want, Rin,” you reminded him, and then scrunched your nose as you thought of the whole process. Furniture shopping, talking with interior designers, adding your personal touch, bringing in some of your most important things to this beach house that was literally miles away from the Palace. “–Although decorating it would take a lot of time and you must be busy–”

Rintaro’s eyes widened in panic. “I’m not busy. Well, I am, but I’ll make time. Let’s – Let’s decorate. I want to turn this into our home, too.”

You squeezed his bicep, warmth flooding your senses.

As you wandered through the house, your heart swelled with love and gratitude. The beach house wasn’t just a place to live in; it was a dream woven into reality. A testament to the life you would build together. Standing there, bathed in the tender embrace of the sunrise, you felt an unbreakable bond to this place, knowing that it would be the backdrop to your love story – however complicated it may be – a place where you both would grow, laugh, and find solace in each other for the years to come.

For the next few months following your arrival, you and Rintaro dedicated yourselves to transforming the beach house into a true home. It was a long, arduous process – infusing every corner with your touch, and Rintaro with his love for knick-knacks. Countless mornings were spent wandering through local markets, hand in hand, searching for pieces that spoke to you – the future you would create.

It was a great opportunity to fool the media, too, a silent declaration to the world that your marriage would not be swayed by petty rumors.

Well, they were not just rumors, but the Queen seemed ardently pleased by the amassed support.

Rintaro, suddenly the considerate partner and doting husband, would often pause to hold up a delicate vase or an intricately carved wooden sculpture, his eyes seeking your approval. You, in turn, would smile and nod, trusting his impeccable taste and loving the way he always seemed to know what would make your heart sing.

It was as if he knew what you’d like before you even said it out loud. Maybe it was because he’d spent two years of his life courting you that he now knew you like the back of his hand.

Whatever it was, the media ate it up. The article regarding his cheating scandal eventually became nothing but measly gossip. You remained in contact with Kuroo, however, his article about Iris only waiting to drop at your signal.

It should’ve been released months ago. You could’ve ruined her already, snatched your husband back right under her nose – you just couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not when she’d been pointedly avoiding Rintaro, and your husband was acting like he forgot she existed. Could it be both of them couldn’t handle the criticism, after all? Did they care more about their reputations and image than their ‘passionate love affair’?

But then again, neither of them wanted to be exposed for their trysts.

It was all Atsumu’s doing.

And that actress – poor Hiroda Yuki – still remained oblivious to the sex tape you hid under your closet. A secret you would bury there forever, a secret you’d take with you to your grave. You hadn’t heard news of her getting knocked up, and her career was still soaring. For now, you had nothing to worry about. It seemed peaceful – for now.

In the meantime, you dedicated your afternoons in the arrangement and rearrangement of everything you’ve collected – snow globes from your trips overseas with your parents, Rintaro’s random collection of weapons and key chains from his own adventures. The living room, with its expansive glass walls and view of the endless ocean, became a canvas for you to experiment with. There were no rules here.

You placed a soft, oversized rug in the center, its deep blues and greens echoing the colors of the sea. Comfortable chairs and sofas were positioned to invite conversation and relaxation, while vibrant cushions and throws added splashes of color and warmth. You insisted on color, ensuring that the beach house had to be vibrant and thrumming with life. You refused to let it be like the Palace – dull yet overwhelming with all its arching marble statues and golden chandeliers.

And then the dining area, envisioned as the heart of your home, where family and friends would gather, received special attention. You chose a large, rustic wooden table, its surface polished to a warm glow. Around it, you placed mismatched chairs (which greatly bothered Kiyoomi when you sent him photos), but you told him that each had its own story and character. The space was an organized mess, eclectic yet coherent. Above the table, Rintaro hung a chandelier of delicate glass orbs that cast a soft, magical light during evening meals.

The master bedroom was a different tale itself. It was the room you and Rintaro spent the most time on. You established several rules before proceeding, drilling it into his head that:

Rule no. 1: He was not allowed to bring any women inside. (He scoffed at it, offended, but agreed anyway.)

Rule no. 2: Lavender essential oils were the only scents allowed. Vanilla scents were forbidden. (He didn’t understand why you were so vehemently against it, but again – whatever makes the wife happy, was what he said. That alone made you question… did he not know what Iris smelled like? He knew all your favorite perfumes by heart, yet could not recognize the distinctness of vanilla? You quickly dropped the subject.)

And finally, Rule no. 3: No arguments inside the bedroom.

(Rintaro was barely able to hide his shock at you suggesting it. His eyes widened for a moment, an expression he quickly schooled into that of nonchalance. “Of course,” he’d said, “Any conversation that may require a debate will always be had outside. Never here.” To which you replied, “Never here, Rintaro. This is our space. We will not be enemies here.)

There it was, the master bedroom, a sanctuary of tranquility and intimacy. Soft, sheer curtains were chosen to filter the morning light. The bed was adorned with luxurious linens and a variety of textured pillows, making it a perfect retreat after long days spent exploring the island or entertaining the guests you would have over.

Personal touches, like framed photographs of your wedding, and the candid ones he’d taken of you each time he called for you in the Yuzuru Estate, were placed on the nightstands.

All that was left was to invite his brothers over for the housewarming party.

You and Rintaro decided to keep it a secret for now. After all, it wasn’t every day that the brothers all gathered together for dinner outside the Palace. You debated inviting the Queen over, too, but after that recent fiasco and her snide remarks about your mother, you were heavily against it. Rintaro, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. He just wanted to spend time with his brothers – saying they’ve never done that before. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late for them to rekindle their brotherhood.

It sounded like an absurd idea at first, you admitted. You didn’t have to go so far to help your husband get along with his own brothers, but whether you liked it or not, you were married – and marriage often came with demanding responsibilities.

Of course, there was still the issue of Iris: would she be invited or not?

You gauged it for the first few weeks. Waiting, listening, and watching with a careful eye on how Rintaro would be acting. You’d also piloted the agenda, peering over it like a hawk to see if he would sneak in a thing or two. Or maybe he had a room for her. But – much to your surprise – there was none. There were exactly nine guest rooms; one for each brother and their wife, and one for the Queen or your parents, whoever wanted to visit.

Still, it made you turn your nose upwards.

You didn’t fancy the thought of Kiyoomi sharing a room with Iris. In fact, the image of them sharing the same bed was enough to make your stomach turn upside down. But knowing Kiyoomi? He’d probably make her sleep on the floor than be anywhere near her.

Finally, after some finishing touches, you both sent out the invitations.

The housewarming party was an intimate, private event. It was challenging at first – their schedules did not align with each other, and Prince Wakatoshi was not warming up to the idea. However, his son, Wakashi, badly wanted to see the sea. That was all it took before he’d agreed, and soon, even the busybody Shinsuke accepted the invitation – with the promise Airi could also come.

Pride bloomed in your chest. It seemed like an impossible feat at the beginning, gathering all the Princes into one place. But they’re all here now – Keiji was reading books to Wakashi, Tobio is playing beach volleyball with Tooru, Rintaro, and Atsumu. Osamu declined his brothers’ invitation as soon as he caught sight of your kitchen, pushing past his blond-haired twin and declaring that your kitchen was now his. You all laughed about it, and Osamu hasn’t left since.

Wakatoshi was there in your living room, cuddled up on the couch with his wife, Camilla. They both snoozed in peace, lulled by the Princes’ distant shouts and yells from their game. Behind them, Shinsuke crouched over the paperwork he’d brought with him, Airi happily gazing at her Prince as she wiped glasses and silverware.

Kiyoomi and Iris, for some reason, did not participate in any of the activities. The Second Prince has worn a stormy expression the moment he parked his car, his wife in tow. Iris didn’t look great either – her face pale and lips chapped.

You made a mental note to ask him about it later. For now, you would enjoy yourself.

Stepping out of the living room, you walked past the pool and to the beach. The Princes were still playing on a 2v2, Tobio and Tooru on one team, Rintaro and Atsumu on the other. As you got there, your sundress puffing up from the wind, you noticed Maiko was already on one of the lawn chairs – smiling fondly at her husband who scored once more.

You followed her gaze. Now that was a sight, indeed. All the Princes were shirtless – their muscles rippling with each jump or aggressive spike of the ball. They’d already been tanned after playing under the sun for hours, their healthy golden glow illuminated by the setting sun. Rintaro himself had you struggling to look away. Wearing sun shades, a black compression arm sleeve, and his shorts hanging low on his hips – it suddenly felt hot despite the breeze.

Shaking your head to yourself, you tore your gaze away from him and sat next to the Princess. “Maiko,” you greeted, handing her a watermelon juice.

“Your Highness!” she beamed, gladly accepting the drink and playing with the umbrella before she continued, “Thank you for having us over.”

“It was my pleasure,” Smiling, you watched her closely, not missing the way her cheeks flamed each time Tooru scored and he looked her way. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable from another’s eye, but it was clear in that moment it meant the world to Maiko. Beside you, the Princess hid her giddy smile behind her drink, her bare toes curling into the sand beneath you. “So. You and Tooru seem to have gotten along more.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that,” she scrunched her nose, “He was really worried for you, you know. He wouldn’t stop telling me how he was going to beat the Crown Prince up. And when that article went out…”

“We’ve moved past that.”

“You have?” she perked up, “I mean, that’s good. Have you forgiven him?”

You took another sip of your drink, and then snorted. “Of course not. But I think we’re at this point in our marriage where we’re pretending to be happily married, and it’s hard for me to not play my part,” when Maiko titled her head to the side, confused, you gestured to the grand abode behind you. “He’s bought me this house, helped me decorate it. We spent many nights talking about how we’d like it to be, and now we’re all here. His brothers, their wives – everyone is laughing and having fun. How could I ruin it by dwelling on the past?”

Maiko didn’t look entirely convinced. You couldn’t blame her – you weren’t very convinced yourself.

Things were going a little too smoothly for your liking. Until now, you still had your doubts that everything was suddenly okay, that Rintaro and Iris have suddenly decided to end their relationship. But you’d asked around, bribed the maids in Belleview Manor, and they all said the same thing.

Rintaro and Iris have not spoken to each other ever since your return.

It felt as if Rintaro had been sincere when he said he only slept with her because he felt lonely with you. A pathetic excuse, of course, something only an imbecile would fall for. But you’d long accepted that Rintaro was an oddity and complexity of itself.

The only way to truly understand him was to let him show all versions of himself, both the good and the bad, before you could see which one of him you could love the most.

And this Rintaro?

The loyal, caring husband who’d given you this home? The one who wouldn’t stop stealing kisses even when no one was looking? The one who proved to you that the master bedroom upstairs indeed had very soft, luxurious beds by fucking you in it all the way until the morning?

You liked that Rintaro very much.

“I’m always here for you,” Maiko said after a moment, her smile genuine as she gazed upon the secluded area. “The house is beautiful, by the way. I can see why you looked so happy ever since the Crown Prince showed this place to you.”

“It’s our home. It was the best thing he could’ve given me.”

Saying it loud felt like an accomplishment. Your mother had always told you that you would be great at managing your own house someday. It felt surreal to see with your own eyes that she’d been right.

“To be honest, I never expected I would have moments like this,” quipped Maiko, her smile wavering as she plucked out the cocktail umbrella. “Before I married Tooru, it was lonely in the Rai Estate. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father married the next woman who presented herself to him. Sometimes I think he did that because he wanted me to grow up with a mother, but my stepmother was never fond of me. It was a lonely childhood, I must admit,” she confessed with a sarcastic chuckle, lifting her head to stare at her husband. “But then Prince Tooru came along. The Queen started bringing him along whenever she visited my father, and the Prince and I would always have playdates. I remember I would cry each time they had to return to the Palace.”

You tipped your head to the side, curious. “The Queen brought Tooru to the Rai Estate?”

Maiko nodded. “Yes. You didn’t know? Her Majesty is my godmother,” she informed, absentmindedly spinning the ring on her finger. “She was close friends with my father, and they remained in contact even when she married the King. I’d say she was the closest I ever got to having a mother figure, but Her Majesty is too busy to waste her time looking after a little girl.”

“I see,” you murmured, and reached over to clasp her bare shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry about your mother, Maiko. I hadn’t known she’d already passed.”

“It’s alright, not a lot of people mourned her death anyway. And people easily forgot she existed because my father remarried very soon,” she shrugged, a forlorn look crossing her sharp features. “My father said I don’t look like her. Sometimes, I think that fact made it easier for him to move on, because he never saw her in me.”

“Did your father love her?”

“Probably not. You know how marriages between nobles are; I wouldn’t be surprised if it was arranged. He never talked about her either, so I wouldn’t know.”

You hummed to yourself, “Does the Queen still visit Lord Rai?”

“Not lately, no. She got occupied handling the Kingdom’s affairs when His Majesty passed away, but they still send each other letters during birthdays. I’m not sure the Queen has written back to my father in a while, though,” as quickly as she said it, Maiko’s back straightened, her free hands waving frantically in the air. “Oh, I hope this doesn’t change the way you see me, Princess. I promise the Queen does not hold any special favors to me.”

“Not at all, Maiko. You’re still the same Princess in my eyes.”

“TAKE THAT!”

Both of your heads snapped in the Princes’ direction. Tobio, pumping his arms in the air as Atsumu tugged at his blond locks from the other side of the net. Tooru was running around – or more like bouncing – while your husband was down on one knee, panting heavily with sweat dripping down his chest.

Before you could process what was going on, Tooru bolted for Maiko’s direction, whooping and hollering as he picked her up and twirled her. Maiko’s squeal was lodged in her chest upon Tooru’s crushing hug. He kept spinning her, enough to have Maiko wobbly on her feet when he finally put her down, holding her at an arm’s length away as he exclaimed, “Did you see that? Rintaro couldn’t receive my serve!”

“It was just a lucky serve!” defended your husband.

“Yeah, right.”

Rintaro turned to you, his ears turning red as he stood up and dusted the sand of his abs. “It was a lucky serve.”

You put your hand up to your mouth, concealing your laughter. “I’m sure it was.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the horizon, the air buzzed with excitement and the scent of blooming flowers from the garden. The sound of waves crashing softly in the background added a serene rhythm to the lively conversations that flowed as effortlessly as the wine. The brothers, their bond evident in their playful banter and shared stories, mingled around the spacious terrace, their laughter mingling with the music that floated through the air.

You eventually left Maiko, seeing as the Princes did not have any plans on stopping their game anytime soon. You didn’t want to rush them into dinner either, not when Rintaro looked like he was having the time of his life.

Dusting sand off your dress, you took yours and Maiko’s empty glasses back inside. Airi and Osamu were still in the kitchen; the former smiling at you when you handed her the glasses, while Osamu remained elbow-deep in some dough. You left them soon to their devices, heading out of the kitchen when you nearly bumped into a firm chest.

“Hey.”

“Kiyoomi,” you blinked up at him, joy radiating from every pore now that he was here. Kiyoomi looked handsome in just his cream, short-sleeved linen shirt, his curls tousled and falling beautifully to frame his face. Until now, you were still beguiled by his striking beauty. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I heard you’d been occupied with some things in Itachiyama.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, and I would never decline an invitation from you,” he said softly, dipping his head so you could hear him better. His close proximity set your heart racing, and before you noticed it, you had your dress balled into your fists. “You did a great job with the place. It’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” you breathed out, voice light and airy as you gestured outside. “Are you not going to join your brothers in their game?”

Kiyoomi shook his head, a mischievous smirk gracing his handsome features. “If I did, then Rintaro’s team would lose.”

“Oh, are you a better player than him?”

“I’m better than him in all aspects,” he declared, offhandedly gesturing to their brother on the couch.  “Though I could never hit as hard as Wakatoshi. You should’ve seen him in his prime – he was a monster as long as he had the ball in his hands.”

“I didn’t know you played volleyball, too.”

“We used to play a lot when we were younger. Before duties called.”

You nodded, silently escorting him out of the kitchen. You could already feel Airi’s gaze burning holes at the back of your head. “How is Iris, by the way? I don’t think I’ve seen her around.”

“She said she wasn’t feeling well, so she’s been holed up in bed ever since,” informed Kiyoomi, scratching his cheek in thought. “Did she have a fight with Rin?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think… it’s because Rintaro is ignoring her, and she might be upset about that,” wrinkling your nose, you raised both hands in the air as a form of surrender. “But let’s not talk about unpleasant things. How was your trip to Itachiyama? And Kanami! How is she? I didn’t get to properly say goodbye to her last time.”

Kiyoomi’s lip twitched with amusement. “She’s fine, just a little mad that I took you home without informing her beforehand. She really wanted to spend more time with you.”

I didn’t want to leave either, you almost told him, biting back your tongue at the last moment.

Finding yourself alone with the older Prince, the air thickened with unspoken tension. A palpable static seemed to crackle between you two. Every glance exchanged was laden with unvoiced words, and every accidental touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. He stood close to you, his presence comforting and warm, yet an invisible barrier held you apart – neither brave enough to bridge the gap.

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of his presence beside you, the magnetic pull urging you closer. The silence was almost deafening – filled with the potential of what could be said, yet the fear of breaking it kept you mute.

Finally, Kiyoomi, with a nervous swallow and a shy, almost boyish smile, broke the silence.

“How was the meeting with Kuroo?” he began, his voice soft but trembling with the same tension you felt.

You told him everything without a detail to spare. Your words were hushed, voice barely above a whisper in case anyone accidentally walked in on you. Kiyoomi nodded as he took everything in, the tension on his shoulders increasing. “I see. Has he contacted you ever since?”

“The last message I got from him was from a few days ago. He says he’s got everything he needs – he’s just waiting for the green light.”

“So we’re just waiting for him to drop the bomb.”

“Practically, yes,” you agreed, when an idea formed in your head. Clapping your hands together, you tugged at Kiyoomi’s sleeve. “Actually, could you come with me? I wanted to show you something.”

Kiyoomi wasn’t able to say his response before you’re dragging him upstairs. You already knew the house like the back of your hand, confident you could navigate through it even with your eyes closed. Once you’d reached your destination, you swung the doors open – arms outstretched to show it off. “This is my reading corner, a library of sorts. And here–” you led him to a wall you’d intentionally kept empty, “–is your corner.”

“My corner?”

“Yes, you know, like how everyone has their own space in your library back at the farmhouse.”

“That’s a family house. This is your house with your husband.”

“Rintaro bought it because he wanted to have a safe space with his family, and you’re his brother. That makes you my family too, doesn’t it?”

Your smile was warm, sincere and elated upon presenting him his ‘corner.’ Kiyoomi couldn’t blame you for not noticing the fleeting hurt in his eyes, his disappointment quickly masked with a practiced, cordial nod.

“Family. Right,” he echoed, “I’ll make sure to add my own things someday here. Thank you.”

“FUCK YEAH!” roared Atsumu from below. All too quickly, the moment is broken. You and Kiyoomi stepped away from each other, both releasing a breath you didn’t noticed you held.

“I should go–”

“Of course,” Kiyoomi agreed, his nods a tad too hurried. He’s looking at everywhere but you now. “I’ll follow in a bit.”

You were hesitant to leave. It’d felt like forever since you’d last spoken to Kiyoomi. Ever since that night your call did not push through when Rintaro chased after you, Kiyoomi had been restless. He’d text you every morning and night, without fail, to reassure himself you did not come to harm. He was sweet – undeniably so – and it felt like a waste. Everything did. You couldn’t spend time with him, or speak to him freely like you did in Itachiyama anymore. Here, in Inarizaki, the cameras devoured everything you and Rintaro did.

It came without question you’d unknowingly distanced yourself from the Second Prince.

With a heart heavy of doubt, you exited the room. The last you saw of Kiyoomi was him slouched over his corner, his eyes closed and his head resting on his arm.

You skipped down the stairs, careful of the ankle-length of your sundress. The living room was already a mess when you got there – Atsumu was shaking Wakatoshi awake by the shoulders, screaming that he’d won against ‘stupid Tooru.’ Tooru, on the other hand, was being comforted by his wife, a pout permanent on his face.

“Hey,” an arm wrapped itself around your waist. Tensing, you quickly smiled when you saw it was just Rintaro – now dressed in a plain white button-up, the top three buttons left open to cool himself.

“Hey back.”

“Why didn’t you watch me play?”

You almost laughed at him. It was a comical sight – your tall husband slouching and pouting like a kicked puppy. Shaking your head at him, you let him pull you into an embrace, his arms engulfing you completely. You’re wholly warm like this, his head on top of yours, your cheek on his warm chest that’s still slightly damp with sweat.

“We have guests over, Rin. I have to make sure everyone’s settled.”

“But I played good,” he whines above you, his head dipping to playfully nibble at your ear. Rintaro crushes you in the embrace, your bodies pressed close enough that the growing tent in his trousers poked you through your sundress. Breath hitching, your tilted your neck to give him more access – warily looking out for onlookers. Thankfully, his brothers were all occupied with searching for snacks.

“I’m not inviting my brothers over next time. They take up too much of your attention.”

“Don’t be weird,” you teased, “I’m all yours tonight.”

Tipping your chin to look him in the eye, Rintaro presses a tender kiss at the insides of your wrist. “All mine for a lifetime, hopefully.”

“We’re married. I don’t think we have much of a choice in that aspect.”

When Rintaro smiled, his whole face lit up, his teeth flashing wickedly. Squeezing your waist, his eyes took in the warm, golden lights of your house. The bustling noise his brothers made, and the aroma of dinner being prepared. “We really outdid ourselves, huh. This place turned out better than I expected.”

You patted his firm stomach. “Should we all celebrate with some dinner?”

Nodding, Rintaro pressed a kiss to your forehead before disappearing in the kitchen. Atsumu followed not long after, complaining that ‘Samu was taking ‘too darned long’ preparing his food. You can’t help the smile making its way into your face. Rintaro was right; you really outdid yourselves. The night was a success – everyone was happy, and it finally felt like everything was normal.

“Nee-chan,” Tobio appeared before you, a towel wrapped around his neck. His grin is bright, cheeks flushed from the game and still breathing heavily. “Thank you for the party. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun before.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Tobio,” you beamed at him, watching from behind him as Wakatoshi shook his head at all the noise his brothers made – not missing the way his lips curled just the slightest when his son joined in on the joyous atmosphere.

“You should teach me how to play volleyball someday.”

“Of course!” Tobio said, a little eagerly. Just then, his eyes dimmed, his smile wavering as he approached you, a hand cupped at the sides of his mouth. “But sis… are you sure you’re okay with Rintaro? He seems oddly clingy to you today. If he bothers you, let me know, okay? I’ll beat him up. I’ll ask Shinsuke-nii to help me too–”

“Calm down. No one’s getting beaten up today. Let’s just enjoy dinner, alright?”

Tobio sulked, his shoulders closing in together with a frown. However, all that disappeared when Osamu and Airi appeared with dinner. Within minutes, all of you were situated in the long table. Everyone dug in, a mumbled ‘thanks’ and a quick prayer led by Wakatoshi.

Beside you, Rintaro squeezed your thigh before standing up. The scraping of his chair alerted everyone – multiple pairs of heads turning your way as he raised a glass.

“I wanted to make a toast – to thank everyone for coming despite their busy schedules. This home – our home – means the world to me, and there’s no one else but family who I’d rather share this moment with. I want to thank my wife, too, for bringing light into my life,” he gestured your way, causing a bout of sniggers coming from Atsumu. You rolled your eyes and decided to ignore him. “Also, I am very happy to announce that the scandal has been officially cleared. The writer of that article has left the country, and the media is no longer attacking me. I am officially an honorable man again.”

“To honor?” Osamu raised his wine with a snort, and everyone glared at him. “Oh, my bad, I thought that’s what we were toasting for.”

“Osamu,” warned Shinsuke.

“To good memories,” you announced, followed by a chorus of echoes, “And to family.” Pointing your drink in Kiyoomi’s way, the Prince raised his drink, his small smile hidden behind the glass.

“To family.”

As twilight deepened into night, the garden lights twinkled like stars, and the gathering moved inside to the cozy warmth of the living room. Stories and laughter continued late into the evening, the house filled with the comforting sounds of family and the promise of many more cherished moments to come.

It was a night of celebration, not just of a new home, but of the bonds that made it a true haven—a place where love, laughter, and the warmth of family would forever reside.

It was a moment you would cherish while it lasted.

Everyone headed straight for the wine cellar after dinner.

It caused a ruckus – half of the Princes were passed out drunk in their rooms, while the rest stayed up playing Mario Kart. It had been Tobio’s idea, and with Rintaro eagerly joining in, it soon turned into the competitive bout it was now. Whoever lost would skinny dip in the pool without turning the heater on.

You shook your head at their antics.

You cleaned up after everyone, Maiko and Camilla apologizing that they wanted to tend to their drunk husbands and couldn’t help. You quickly waved them away, unbothered. If anything, you appreciated how the noise slowly dissipated – leaving you alone with Kiyoomi who’d volunteered to help clean up. The silence is comfortable as you maneuvered around the dining room.

“Your Highness!” exclaimed Airi, wiping her hands on her apron as she rushed to you both. “Please, leave that behind, I’ll take care of it!”

As gently as you could, you snatched back the wet rug from her hands. “Airi, darling, you can go ahead and rest. I’ll take over here.”

“Oh but Princess, I could never! I’ll clean everything up–”

Kiyoomi smiled at her. “It’s okay, Airi. I’m sure Shinsuke’s been dying to talk to you, too,” Airi flushed red, causing the Prince to rumble in laughter beside you. “Go. We’ll handle this.”

“T-Thank you.”

Airi dashed upstairs, sending you both one last grateful glance before disappearing.

Guilt washed over you at the sight of her. Airi and Kita seemed to be happy together, but you knew the harsh reality that the chances of them working out were low. Not only was she a maid, but she had completely nothing to her name – no family, no college degree, and had a mouth that required dire control. At least here in the privacy of your home, they would receive no criticism, but as soon as you all returned home to the Palace… you sighed.

You couldn’t tell whether you were comforted at the thought you were not the only one suffering when it came to love.

You’re elbow deep in the sink washing the dishes, Kiyoomi at your side silently wiping the plates, when you remembered an empty seat at the table. “Iris didn’t come down for dinner. Should I bring her some leftovers?”

Kiyoomi grumbled, uninterested. “I’m sure she’ll come around once she’s hungry, and that should be soon. She’s had a mad appetite lately.”

Speaking of the devil, a light tap came from the countertops. You whipped your head at the soft, lilting voice. Iris stood a few feet away from you, a basket covered with red cloth held in front of her stomach. She looked sheepish; her brown hair falling down her in graceful waves, but her eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d been crying the entire time.

You snuck a glance at Kiyoomi, questioning, but he merely shrugged, turning his back to her and resuming with his task.

“Your Highness. May I speak with you?” her eyes darted to her husband’s figure, shifting from foot to foot. “Alone?”

“Of course. Excuse me for a moment,” bowing to Kiyoomi, you quickly washed your hands and followed Iris. She led you past the living room and out to the pools. The Princes’ shouts and banters became nothing but background noise. There, Iris situated herself in the picnic table under the willow tree, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“What is it you wanted to talk about?”

She nudged the basket your way, lifting the red cloth to reveal… pastries? “I baked these cookies for you this morning before we left the Palace. Please, have some. Consider it my peace offering.”

You fell silent. Mouth opening and closing as you searched for the right words, you settled for a forced smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Iris gnawed on her lip, and dragged her chair closer to you. Much to your surprise, her hands landed on your knee, her big, green eyes pleading. “Listen, Princess, I know we got off on the wrong footing, and I really want to put that behind us and start new.”

“Uh,” you blinked back, “O-Okay?”

“I’m sorry for everything. I really am. I didn’t mean for Rintaro’s lies to drag on and go this far, and if you must know, I never supported him on his plan–”

“Why?” you didn’t mean for your words to come out harsh. But it did, and you tilted your head to the side, oddly calm as you asked, “Why don’t you support him? Don’t you want to be his?”

Iris’ bravado faltered for a minute.

“I-I did at one point. It gets tiring having to hide your relationship, you know? But his plans seemed too absurd to me, and it sounded impossible that he could achieve it.”

“Do you think he’s not fit to be King?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied,” you reiterated, scanning her face for answers – for the truth – when realization dawned on you. Leaning back, you flicked her hands away from your lap, lips curling in distaste. “You look down on him, Iris. You don’t think he’s a capable Prince at all.”

Iris clenched her jaw in an attempt to bite back a retort. “He has his many great qualities, but sometimes the Crown Prince loses touch of what is real and what is not,” she said, her placid tone betraying the fire burning in her eyes. “This is why I’m hoping we can be friends and start anew, Princess. I’m letting you know I’m breaking up with Rin. In fact, we have not been talking as of lately–”

“You fucked him in my bed lately. Do you really expect I would believe you?”

Her gaze was ice cold as it cut to you. “That was months ago, and he was the one who brought me there.”

“Let’s say he did. But who’s to say you did not seduce him beforehand?”

“He said his room felt lonely without you there, and he brought me for company. Don’t you realize, Princess? Your husband longs for you more than you know.”

Unable to help it, you chortled out a laugh. “What, are you saying he loves me?”

“He might,” she gritted her teeth, “But he needs to get over me first. That’s why I’m letting him go – you’re a kind person and you don’t deserve to be treated as second best. I’m putting my heart aside so you can finally enjoy your marriage.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re doing this for me? How very benevolent of you, Princess.”

“It’s really not that hard to believe I want you to be happy.”

You shook your head, refusing to believe it was this easy. “Why the sudden change of heart? Is it because you couldn’t handle being called a slut by everyone?”

“I am not a slut, nor am I a homewrecker. He loved me first, don’t you forget that,” she spat out, her words laced with poison. It had you narrowing your eyes at her, and the Princess cowered for a moment, dropping her gaze down her lap as she stumbled over what to say next. “But the truth is… I never loved him. Or if I did, it wasn’t to the point where I would throw away my marriage to him. I want stability, Your Highness, and my union with Kiyoomi provided me that. Stability, security, and power – I have it all. There’s nothing more I could possibly want.”

“Then why were you sleeping with my husband?”

Iris shut her eyes, her hands balled into fists at her lap. “Because my husband wasn’t around. He avoided me like the plague during the early stages of our marriage, and the Palace is too big a place for someone like me. I’m human, too. I got lonely. You cannot blame me for seeking out the warmth of another. He wasn’t yours during those times, so you can’t put this over our heads again and again.”

“You were using him,” you stated, shooting up from your seat. Kiyoomi had told you about it. Hell, even Maiko had an inkling their relationship was nothing but exploitative on Iris’ part, but hearing it coming from her – hearing how she used your husband like he was a mere toy or puppet for her to play with as she pleases… your blood boiled.

“You knew Rintaro was in love with you, and you took advantage of that. How could you?”

“Because he was there when no one else was.”

You stood rigidly, trying to quell the storm brewing within you. Fixing your gaze on the horizon, you avoided Iris’s eyes, afraid that even a fleeting glance would betray the torrent of emotions you fought to contain. Each breath was a deliberate effort to maintain your composure, your mind a battlefield of unspoken accusations and restrained fury.

Despite the turmoil, you held yourself with regal poise.

“I think I’m going to have a drink,” you decided, sending one last forced smile her way. “Care for some?”

Color drained from the Princess’ face. “No, I-I’m laying off the drinks for a while. I’ve never been a drinker anyway.”

You watched Iris from the corner of your eye, noting how she subtly used her arms to hug her stomach, her movements slow and deliberate. Since arriving at the beach house, Iris had looked unusually pale and sickly, her vitality drained. She kept her distance from Rintaro, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by everyone.

A wild thought flickered through your mind – could Iris be pregnant?

You quickly dismissed the idea, shaking your head, but the possibility lingered – filling you with a growing sense of dread. The realization settled in her chest like a heavy stone, the implications threating to unravel the fragile ‘peace’ between you all.

“Hmm.” You dug your nails to your palm, licking your lips as you tried to still your beating heart. “I think I’ll head to bed soon. Good night, Iris.”

“Princess,” Iris called out from where she sat, her beautiful face crestfallen and desperate. “Have you forgiven me? Can we be friends?”

“I’ll think about it.”

You headed back inside the house, your breathing growing shallower with each step you took. Faintly, you heard Rintaro’s concerned voice calling after you. You paid him no mind, taking two steps at a time as you pushed open the door to their shared bedroom.

Kiyoomi was already inside, in the middle of taking off his wristwatch when you came bustling in. Your name fell on his lips. You ignored him, too, heading for the bed with crumpled sheets from where Iris must’ve slept. You threw the pillows on the ground, the blankets balled and discarded to the side, as you looked for something – searched for answers. Her belongings all came crashing to the ground as you picked it apart one by one, hauling her suitcase from the drawer before kicking it to the floor.

“Princess,” Kiyoomi sounded worried, his hands coming up to reach for you when you slapped it away. Concern flashed over his face, more so when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

“She’s hiding something. I know it.”

It didn’t take much effort to open her suitcase. Clothes, shoes, her makeup bag – you emptied it of its contents and felt around for any hidden zippers. None. It was empty, save for some unused tampons scattering right beneath your feet.

Your vision began to grow blurry.

Pushing past Kiyoomi, you dashed for the bathroom and knelt on the ground, opening the trash bin and digging through the heap of dry paper towels. You stared at it, confused. Why throw away perfectly good and unused napkins? Determined, you flipped the bin upside down. A white, thin object fell on the ground with a soft clink.

You reached for it with shaky hands.

It was a pregnancy test – one that read positive.

Behind you, you heard Kiyoomi’s sharp inhale. “It’s not mine,” his words faded into the background, “I never touched her.”

When you found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak and cracked.

“…I know you’re not the father.”

from the left: beach house → master bedroom → reading room

[melankkholy]

anyone who knows what love is (will understand)

✎ Legend has it that the better you spend your last day of the year, the merrier your whole year promises to be. As superstitious as it may have always sounded to you, after a night without your boyfriend Leon, who abruptly left for “work” one night, perhaps you will change your mind about that particular wisdom.

cw(s): very angsty lol, fem! reader, smut but make it established relationship, t!t sucklings, lots of praises and metaphors, some lyrics from some specific songs cuz why not, p0rn with feelings obv, fingerings, p in v, MDNI

Late December in the city, the sky is gray and the air is tacky. You find yourself drifting in and out of sleep. In the mornings, cloaked in faceless clouds, you let the pale sun scorch the grass, and sometimes the hexagonal lace of snowflakes rattle your kitchen window. They are the only friends you have alongside the bitter mug of coffee you brew after you open your eyes to the dawn. For the last few days, you’ve been no different from a protagonist who could be the subject of the words written on any page of a book in which Dostoevsky describes his essential loneliness. More precisely, since the day Leon walked out that door. Your soul’s silence is deafening, yet there’s none but you in this very house. 

Who knows where he has gone?  

The joys of a romantic relationship with someone like him at first tasted delicious, and it left a taste in your whole chassis like a rare fruit that you were sure was not even from this terrestrial world.   

And sometimes, while you lay in bed, lost in dreams only God could understand, Leon’d slip away from the four-cornered plot of land you shared, that would always be your “home.” So quietly, so effortlessly, that you’d never suspect he was silently slipping into the night.

That’s what happened a week ago, and that’s what happened for the first time in weeks. Just like this morning, your arm that you threw out to wrap him in a good morning hug landed on his pillow with an idle and poof sound.   

He’s been gone for exactly a week. Hasn’t been answering his phone; the line is always busy, and after failed attempts, you stare at your screen for a couple of hours, followed by his long, inane apology messages.

“At work. Give me a sec. I’ll call you right back.” 

Wrapped in a relapse, this endless repetition of drama brings you to your knees. You keep watching the washing machine, its whirring and spinning, like some mechanical symphony. The phone rests heavily on your lap.

The clock strikes ten in the evening, and your eyes are raw, bloodshot from hours of staring at the unmerciful glow of the screen. The beeping of the washing machine cuts through the stillness, a mocking Bronx cheer to the cavernous emptiness inside your head. You rise from your knees, groggy, and load a few pieces of linen into the dryer.

The rumbling of your stomach has no hesitation in reminding you of your worldly responsibilities. You find yourself back in the kitchen as you realize that you’ve been on a cup of caffeine all morning.  

The nagging hope that maybe Leon will show up this evening pushes you to toss a little more pasta into the boiling water. Tonight. For sure. He must show up. 

Otherwise, you’ll take your leave. 

You ladle yourself a spoonful of the meal you’ve prepared for both of you, then sit at the table with two chairs. The chair opposite you is an empty, silent sphere. 

It’s eleven o’clock, and you chew and swallow your morsel until the lump in your throat tightens, refusing to go down. A dismal dinner tonight. The wine is thick as blood, but… it’s flat, uninspiring. The end of the year, and you’re dead alone.

There’s no energy left in you to answer calls from your family, even though you’ve been repeating the same things for a week straight, doing nothing else. Wake up, drink your coffee, do your vacuuming, cook for the evening. Bet your boyfriend is on his way. 

But he’s never on his way. 

Just as the clock strikes twelve, the afterglow of the snowfall lingers in the air, blending with the flashes of thunder from fireworks meant for the Fourth of July. A riot of colors, wild and unrestrained. Every shade is tangled and merged, each hue reaching out for the other. Everything that was meant for each other finally comes together tonight.

By the casement window, you entomb yourself in a troglodytic corner. It feels as though a year has slipped away since your boyfriend vanished without a word last week. The frost-bound gusts of snow from the foothills of the mountains have descended upon the city in a blanket of fog, yet the dark gray gloom seems to have done nothing to dampen the spirits of the people outside. 

The streets are teeming with joy, faces glowing beneath bundles of fur and mohair. They hold hands or hurl balls of fluffy snow at each other—men, women, and children. Their laughter rings out in the same exuberant vein as their voices when they counted down to the new year. 

Enough with all the peeping. 

You do envy them, because you once had a heart more floriferous than theirs. Yes, it’s trivial, this foolishness of pinning your welfare on a single man. But the heart knows better. Reason and logic are pushing up daisies.

So, you close your window and crawl into the saffron-colored sheets, just in time to spend another night alone.

This is Leon for you. He’s nowhere again. He owes you countless debts for the night. He owes you, big time. 

The avenue grows quieter and comatose with each passing detail of the late night. It’s a white orchid night with the first day of the new year in January, and the sky sheds its amber harmony to a royal blue. As the sun prepares to greet the city, the sound of keys jingling at the front door of your apartment vouches for the intruder’s safe intrusion.

Leon steps into your home at five in the morning and the odd minute before dawn. The space is haunted by an ageless calm, the grey walls of the room adding a suffocating dullness to the atmosphere. Nothing is in sight—neither you nor your adorable Van Cat that you adopted many months ago. 

Hanging his jacket on the coat rack in the foyer, careful not to make a sound, Leon hangs the keys onto their holder.

He’s a piece of work; he’s a dirtbag, and to face you like this, with his sores and boils, is the most humiliating indignity he can ever indulge in. He’s thought about telling you many times. If he does tell the truth, what can it do but forge a stronger bond between you?

If the DSO regulations weren’t so fucked up, he could have told you everything that was up in his head and everything else that was weighing him down. You’d listen to him forever. Besides you, he has no one else to turn a sympathetic ear to him.

When Leon opens the bedroom door softly, the sight of the silhouette in the corner of the bed sends a cold blast of chill down his spine. Here he is, right in front of you. Every time, even though you yearn to desert him, you never quite dare, because every time, the sublime, untouchable magic of something draws you here, into this vicious spiral. Yet he… He doesn’t deserve you, without knowing, without understanding, and yet you’re condemned to stay here, voiceless and stiff-necked. 

Sleep has forsaken you, perhaps. The filth of everything beclouded in this world that passes before your eyes hangs over you like rotten thoughts seeping from every corner, and Leon’s the only one to blame for it all. But, unfortunately, you don’t even have the gumption to reproach him. Maybe the root of this whole putrefying relationship was somewhere right here, in that eerie limbo. That limbo that is ready to wrap around you like a snake, implacably heinous.

Neither the creaking of the door nor the thud of his boots bouncing inside can alert you anymore. When he sits on the edge of the bed, his unaccustomed presence forces itself on you—his strange weight, his attention that doesn’t belong to you. In that fleeting moment, you wish you hadn’t turned your face to him, in those most vexatious moments of all, when all you have to witness is that breath he takes. 

A terrible ennui has possessed him, like a pallid shadow. The blues in his eyes have taken on those scarce, moonless shades of blue you hardly ever see, as if he carries all this overload—the cumulative weight of years—inside him. In those blues, your reflection is eclipsed. 

To see your reflection in his eyes… To be privy to this singular pleasure for weeks. It’s beyond words, but to experience it is hell descending on an already hellish world.

The knots in your throat refuse to let you spill your words. Even if you could, you would be shouting at him in an embarrassingly shrill volume, which would only serve the narrative of you playing the role of his already downtrodden damsel in distress in his estimation. 

You don’t want to be forward; you don’t want to cut corners. You savor this with all that’s inside you. The bittersweet road to a possible breakup and the most precious fragments of your mind, the scenarios hidden in the corners of your thoughts, still playing out in this bed. 

You’re biding your time. 

“Are you cheating on me?”

Clear and unequivocal, but the way your lower lip quivers is another nuisance. Leon never thought he’d hate himself quite as much as he did at this juncture. Is he worth your tender tears? For that vent hesitating to flow, trembling with a mulish intonation? 

No. Not at all. 

Every second counts. You can’t read him, and the pall of obscurity is a parasite that wriggles inside you; it eats you. How poisonous. How venomous. 

“Never.” Leon shakes his head in disapproval. Funny how you’ve gotten to the point where you can now tell whether he’s fibbing or not by the look in his eyes. What an honor. 

“Where have you been then?” You pose the question with the desperation of a raving lunatic, bleeding and lost of all hope. Surely you must have startled him, for seeing him recoil pains you, too. 

“Work.” He slashes it off curtly. 

“Work? The hell are you, Leon? Fucking Batman?” 

Leon’s eyebrows carve a grimmer furrow. 

“Like you’d understand if I spit it out.” 

“I can’t understand because you won’t tell me!” 

You don’t know it, but he’s dying. You’re his salve, but your rebukes are toxic piles of tribulations that sap the life out of him. Even so, you’re in the right. Anyone else in your shoes would do the same. In fact, they’d walk away without giving any heed to all this. Why would anyone have a pash on Leon Kennedy in the first place?

He doesn’t make a fuss; his eyes are drawn to your trembling hands clutching the sheets, and he’s like a dog being berated by its owner. 

The problem is you can’t handle it. Never. You could never give up on him. Walking away is never easy anyway. 

The crude stitches on his right eyebrow, patched over a gash, attest to something he confronts every time he leaves you. You’re not blind. Your boyfriend is a man who is up to no good, but why is it so hard for him to clarify matters with you?

“What’re you so afraid of?” The question, now trickling out in a calmer whisper, reaches its destination. 

“Nothing.” He lies, looking you straight in the eyes. How dare he. 

The only thing he’s afraid of these last days is losing you. This thing, this house, that cat and everything else.

You don’t care. You pull his face closer, palm resting amenably on his cheek—your inmost sincere search. 

“You’re a big, big liar.” 

Beautiful in your hands, but out of your hands, he’s something entirely different. He’s like a temperamental child.

He sows tender kisses into your open palm. Warms your bones. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your boyfriend like this. Now he’s in your hands and in your arms, no more Potenkim villages to hide behind. All that is right and all that is wrong is yours for the taking, and nothing is meaningless with him.

“Fuck me.” A dusted whisper of his demand leaks through his kisses, tangential to your skin. 

He’s a pretty straightforward guy, to be honest. 

As you gawk at him, he lifts his head and winks at you, as if he hasn’t made you vomit blood for eons. It’s a figure of speech, surely, but he gets the gist. Truly. 

“Ride me.” Once again, he describes what he needs. Sweet talk, after all, is the snake’s way out of the pit.

It’s absurd to hold back, especially in these precious last waking hours you share. All you do is look at each other, timid, esurient, and uninhibited. The profound coveting and the overwhelming silence of homesickness and something about nostalgia.

You promptly pull back the duvet and, on your knees, and reach for him to chastise at his frost-kissed lips. 

As forewarned, he doesn’t back down. In a fraction of a second, he reciprocates the kiss and winds his arm around the delicate curve of your waist. Congratulations. You’re on his lap, ass snug against the rough palming of his maneuvers. When you retaliate by pulling up the hem of his t-shirt, he, in return, pushes a thrust of his hips against you. The sizzle of his whispered “fuck!” rips through your ear. The hand at your waist inches upwards and lingers on the outline of your breast, and he palms the supple flesh carelessly.

Frenetic pairs of hands are everywhere, pawing through each layer of clothing, solely focused on the kiss or the lingering zest of wine from New Year’s Dinner on your lips. The razor-edged gasp from your mouth wafts across his lips, and he takes a brief pause from the kiss to undo your bra. Tentative yet fulsome kisses alight at the center of your chest—a tiny mitigation for your little broken heart—one you’re more than capable of forgiving him for. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Wet and warm kisses ramp up from the center of your chest to your fleshy curves. Across your ribs and higher and higher. You expect the same treatment and reverence for your beautifully diamondized nipples, but then he suddenly bites down on your sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck you!” Your hissing voice crackles with the throes of torment. 

A characteristic grin spreads across his face as he slides his hand down the elastic waistband of your panties. He tastes the wetness on his fingers, and you already find yourself shifting your hips closer to him. Unlike his cold touch, your pussy radiates warmth, and Leon relishes it, torn between biting his tongue and stifling a little groan. 

“You’re always wet for me, aren’t ya? Even when you hate me, even when you fucking love me.” 

Reflexively, you shake your head and implore him with a mock pleading frown. Your cheeks are tinted with a mauve splash of tint, and your lips are pressed tightly together. A strange sorrow grips you, standing on the precipice between hating him and loving him—a catharsis that’s tailor-made for you. 

“Didn’t you just want me to fuck you?” You grit out.

“Mmm. No kidding. I still do. Just wanted you on my fingers first.” 

“Been gone for some weeks, angel.” His whisper burns into your skin as he gently presses his finger into your slit. “Let me take a good look at you.” It’s as if he’s testing you. Almost instantly, you greet him with a tight grinding of your hips. Leon knows he has to give it his all. And so, he pushes his ring finger inside your drenched cunt, his thumb lingering on the pillow of your clit—his muscle memory hallowed. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

It’s not that simple, of course, but right now, you’re the one sucking his fingers inside you. Blaming it all on him is silly anyway. 

The sheen of slickness, the familiar tightness stretching around his finger, and the burning desire in your eyes are more than enough incentive for him to move forward. The heat in your stomach intensifies as his pace quickens. The thought of his finger filling you with your own cum shames you so deeply. No shit. You weren’t that “enamored” of him. 

“Save it for the best, sweetheart.” 

Irrespective of the ultraviolet and blueberry bags under his eyes, his dirty humor in the early morning hours is such a Leonian rollercoaster. The sheer pressure of his erection against your thigh jolts you, a flash of realization. Oh. Shit. You’re really bouncing on top of your boyfriend, riding his fingers. 

Letting your boyfriend lap his sugar-coated finger against your lips, you don’t hesitate to take it in your mouth. Dumbstruck by the moment, Leon observes you with iridescent eyes brimming with mischief as your tongue orbits around his finger.

Now, it’s easy to get what you want from him when you want it. For the first time ever, you peel off his jeans and lift his t-shirt slightly to see the scars hidden beneath his layers of clothes. His color is so blue, the richest shade. His scars, his eyes, even his thoughts and pills—they’re all part of him. Your touch, something new and aglow, is something he ratifies you to lay on him. 

Beneath you, though, he smiles at you, pretty and unvigilant as he withdraws his finger out of your mouth. Oh, what could he be hiding from you?

If only you knew. 

“Eyes up, doll.”

There’s not a second of disgust on your face to protest him. He fishes out your panties and folds them in the palm of his hand, as you lower your hips towards him. He doesn’t move, only watches you arch, a moony curve, and the tip of his cock glides a smooth entrance.

“So tight—fuck! So fucking flawless,” he breathes, his words satiated with tenderness, slightly patronizing but wrapped in arrant affection. You adjust yourself, taking the girthy volume his cock deep inside, so so costively. The rest follows as he undulates his hips from below, making you feel like a dumb-fucked fool in the best way. 

Always supportive, always there for you—that’s his motto. But does he know how much you try to memorize how he moves inside you? The pattern of his golden lashes fluttering every time you dip your hips for him? How your heart races each time? How about you? In your warped mind, do you have the remotest idea that every time he pounds into you, of how he holds himself back and keeps you at arm’s length so that he might not hurt you? 

“You still won’t tell me where you’ve been.” You tap a sob against his chest, but it’s a façade, a mask for how much you’re affected by the situation.

So that serious talk will come in the middle of everything. He’s really going to have to do it. 

“There’s only one thing you need to know.” He’s so out of it, dyspneic. So much so that his skin is bathed in the valedictory waves of the morning sky and the blue gleams, rendering his skin milky as fig’s blood.

“Whatever I do... is for you now.” One faint whiff just after the succeeding one. Lips parted and flushed like pearl pomegranates. 

That’s what kind of an answer that is. The languor of his words just sticks to you. The cock that digs in and throbs inside you is another story, of course—are you falling in love for the first time or dying here?

Leon can’t perdure like this. He can’t. 

He pivots your body around, albeit he’s well aware that the fleshy tugs on your ass are slugs that perforate your dewy skin. 

The roles are reversed in a heartbeat; you now are thrashing beneath him, buried in your flowery-scented sheets and squelching mattress.

His teeth sink into his lips, and his jaw, working its way up your collarbone, races across the pulse-drumming veins in your unguarded throat. 

“Please. Tell me the truth... yourself.” You beg, so to speak, just against the shell of his ear. 

“Need to know.”

The words go where they are going, but Leon can’t help himself and takes a single bite of your tender skin. Hard, reckless, certainly, judging by your fingernails marring his biceps as you carve thin and grisly lunula trails. Custom-made, just for him.

“Sh-shit!” he stammers gruffly against you, where the piquant scents waft from your inner bosom. So, you really are angry with him, pinning him down and all. You’re such an asshole, Leon. That’s what he thinks. Of course, you’d grow indignant with all the shit you’ve been through because of his ebbing and flowing assholism.

Before you can pepper him with another question about where he’s been, his stroke on your cervix cuts off your breath; your sobbing and puffing sounds break into shrill whimpers. 

“Leon! Fuck!” 

His name is a litany on your lips; it’s nothing without you, nothing without your breath mingling with his. Your walls flutter around him, and he swipes his thumb across your puffy clit with a delectable token, his forehead melded with yours.

“I fucking love you—’n promise you—I’ll tell you everything.” 

You cum before him, plummeting into a deep, profound oblivion as he recognizes the ending of his languid thrusts. He can’t go on like this; it would be a miracle—the kind of miracle they write about in those religious tomes—if Leon could last much longer with your lovely pussy walls squeezing him like this.

Still, he’s not done. He churns inside you, trying to pour himself out to the last drop, give you all of himself. His breath jabbers in serrated gasps as he stills, paradoxically, and buries the sharp end of his jaw on your shoulder blade.  

Not a syllable from you or him transiently, only the soft chirp of the morning winter birds outside, the distant meow of your cat in the kitchen—everything seems to fade away in the causatum of your ephemeral serenity. 

“I’m... listening to you.” 

He can’t distract you from the subject and from finding the certain replication you’re counting on, can he now?

“I’m still inside you, and you’re still going on about my job?” 

He can barely flex his eyebrow, cross-examining you. 

You nod in response, and yes, you know you’re being ludicrous. You screw your face in a sour pitch. From him, you elicit a deep, vibrant snort of chuckle.

“Gotta make breakfast first,” he says, lulling your face in his hands dotingly. “Just for you.” 

“And you’ll tell me everything and anything?” 

“Yep.” 

“Promise?” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

With a butterfly fugacious kiss on your forehead, he pulls out of you, and then the heat of his lips brushes on the tip of your nose. Bodily-liquids do strain the newly-washed sheets as the dewiness drips down on the velvety tissue of your thighs.

“I know I’m pretty useless,” he does impeach himself and lowers his gaze between your thighs, “I’m the reason you had a shitty last day of the year, but let me make the first day of your new year extra sweet. Just this one day.” 

Upon a small pinky promise kiss against your navel, he smiles at you, and you smile back at him. This is the ultimate make-or-break moment for him and you hope he uses it wisely.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i’m almost shocked at how fast this fic got written?? thanks to anon who indulged my fun little request for a new hockey to write about (inspired by @wyattjohnston ‘s post earlier about how there’s only fics for certain hockeys in the nhl fic tag and also bc i have so much fun writing for new guys in the fic exchanges!!)- how could i resist vancouver’s own prince charming? hope you guys enjoy because i had fun writing! ☺️

word count: 2.7k

tw: single dad!brock, nanny!reader, dirty talk, minor daddy kink, fingering (f receiving), handjob, dirty talk, nipple play

summary: you’re nothing but the nanny for brock’s daughter, until one night all the lines get blurred

Kya snuggles closer to you in her sleep, blonde hair tickling the underside of your chin. Her cheek is pressed up against your collarbone and her little body is hot, making you feel all sweaty where she’s connected to you.

The TV casts the room in a faint blue light, the low volume serving as white noise along with Kya’s little puffed air snores.

You think about moving her to her bed, but she’s so soft and cuddly when she hasn’t been lately and you can’t find it in your heart to get up. Unfortunately, the four-year-old has your heart in a vice-like grip and you’d do anything for her. Including being a human mattress.

So you stay on the couch, stroking her back and humming softly when she stirs briefly. Eventually, the clock ticks over to the eleven o’clock hour and you know it’s only a matter of time before Brock’s home and your shift is over. Not that you have to go very far to get home - your pool house turned bachelorette nanny pad is practically spitting distance from the back door. If you tilted to the left a bit and angled your neck, you’d be able to see the little planter with multicolored flowers that Kya had helped you plant last week.

And by help, you mean crushed a few daisies in her little fists and ate a mouthful of dirt before you could stop her.

A+ nannying for sure.

You’re still thinking about it when a familiar voice startles you from your thoughts.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Brock’s voice rumbles through the dark room, laughter around the edges.

Without thinking, you reply, “just thinking about the handful of dirt I let Kya eat last week.” Then you wince, wondering why Brock’s presence always makes you say the stupidest things.

He laughs fully now, stepping around the couch and dropping into the armchair. He’s in his post-game look - rumpled suit pants and button down with the sleeves rolled up, bare feet with his loafers kicked off in a pile at the front door, and blonde hair darkened from his shower. His palm rasps over the few days’ worth of stubble growing on his chin and his face splits into one of those smiles that makes Twitter (and you) swoon.

“She’s gotta get vitamins and minerals from somewhere, right?” He teases and your cheeks heat.

This.

This is why he makes you say the stupidest things. Because he’s a real-life Prince Charming with the personality to match.

You smile back at him, a reflex. “There are some leftovers in the fridge, if you’re hungry and want to get in your own vitamins and minerals,” you joke back, shifting Kya on your chest when she starts to slip.

Brock shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks. I’ll take Princess Ky upstairs and you can get some rest,” he stands, arms out to grab Kya.

Weirdly, you shift and hold her closer. “It’s, um, I don’t mind. She’s been really snuggly today and it’s nice,” you shrug one shoulder. “She watched a little bit of the first.”

“Yeah?” Brock’s face lights up. He loves it when you bring Kya to games and he gets to wave at her during warmups.

“Mhm,” you smirk, “she was obsessed with Quinn.”

Brock narrows his eyes at you, scrunching his nose in disgust. “Real nice,” he shakes his head, “making fun of the guy that your best friend over there belongs to.”

Your cheeks lift in a smile, your arms holding Kya comfortably. “Don’t be jealous of my bond with Ky. Daddy’s still her favorite.”

Something flickers across Brock’s face, there and gone before you can analyze it. He chuckles, says, “I better be since I pay for all those chicken nuggets she inhales like a freaking vacuum,” and excuses himself upstairs to change.

You watch him leave, chewing at your lower lip while you study the curve of his ass in his slacks, feeling awful even as you’re appreciating his form. Kya mumbles in her sleep, nonsense words and a ‘Daddy’ and your name, eyelids twitching as she dreams.

Brock’s back a few minutes later, comfortable in sweats and a threadbare t-shirt. Still barefoot, now he smells like mint toothpaste in addition to the locker room soap. “Sure you don’t want me to take her?” He asks, sitting down on the couch with you, a cushion’s worth of space between your bodies. “Feels like I should let you off the clock and hold my kid now that I’m home.”

“I really don’t mind,” you promise him. “Kya’s…she’s exactly what I want my own daughter to be one day.” You think maybe you’re over sharing, but it’s late and Brock just looks so domestic and comfortable. It’s easy to pretend when he looks like this. His eyes soften as he studies you and the way you’re holding Kya.

“She’s a pretty cool little girl,” he agrees warmly, reaching out to run a hand over her head. His palm

makes her hair staticky, fine strands lifted into the air. You blow at them gently, giggling when they stick to your face even after you try smoothing them back with a hand.

“You know,” he says too casually after a comfortable pause, “she, the other day when you were off, she said that she never wants you to leave.”

A little piece of your heart breaks with his words because you know one day you’ll have to leave. It’s easy right now, nannying for Kya while you get your Master’s, but what happens next year when you’re finished with school and you have to find a real

job.

Your face must show your distress, because Brock coughs slightly and rushes to say, stumbling over his words, “I didn’t mean, she’s four. You know, they say stuff all the time. When you do have to leave, it’ll be okay. She’ll be okay.”

He means well, you know that, but it doesn’t help and to your horror, your nose starts to burn and tears well in your eyes. You don’t really want to cry in front of Brock, not over something that’s at least a year away, but you feel the dam starting to break.

“Um, I do think I’ll head out for the night,” you say quietly, trying to not let your voice crack. You shift Kya in your arms and transfer her to Brock’s, making sure she stays asleep. “She really should be out for the night. So, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He takes her easily, arms practiced with adjusting her weight against his chest and her head on his shoulder. You jump up from the couch and wave over your shoulder, heading for the back door, ignoring Brock’s whispered shout of your name.

It’s so silly, to get so emotional about Kya outgrowing her need for a nanny, her need for you. But you’re more attached to Ky and Brock than you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.

Right now, your best option is to play your sad music playlist and cry, just to get it out of your system before getting back to normal in the morning.

The music helps. The crying helps more. The two glasses of wine help the most.

And then there’s a knock on the door, scaring the ever living shit out of you. It’s so late your visitor can only be one person.

“Brock?” His name is a question on your lips when you open the door, your brow furrowed.

“Hi,” he looks upset and your brain works sluggishly to figure out what could be bothering him. “Can I-?”

He gestures a little and you nod, stepping back automatically. “Yeah, of course. It’s your pool house,” you say. “Is Kya asleep?”

He nods, holds up the baby monitor. You can see Kya’s little body sprawled out on her bed and a smile curls your lips - she sleeps like a starfish, arms and legs akimbo. “She’s done for the night,” he replies quietly, setting the monitor on the little table you have next to the door for your keys.

Brock’s been in the pool house before, a million and one times. But this time, the air crackles like it does before a thunderstorm, your nerves on edge.

“What are -“

“I’m sorry.”

You and Brock speak over each other, words getting jumbled in the air. You giggle a little and Brock smiles, his shoulders relaxing.

“I’ll go,” he says, still smiling. His hands run through his hair, the strands flopping over his forehead before getting pushed back into place. “I’m sorry, for what I said. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Oh,” you aren’t expecting the apology and you start to excuse him, “I didn’t -“

“You did,” Brock cuts you off. “Your eyes are all red and I’m so sorry. I just thought, Ky loves you so much, that you’d want to hear what she said about you. I wasn’t thinking about - about you leaving.”

“I’ll have to eventually,” you shrug, the wine dulling the sharper edges of your emotions.

Brock’s jaw works and you wait for him to speak, patient like he’s Kya. A few seconds go by and he scratches at the back of his neck. “I’m not good at - I want you here, as long as you want to be here. I don’t care if Kya is a grown woman with her own kids, I’d want you here.” He pauses and his words sink in, battering at the boundary you’d built around your heart.

“What?” You whisper, hands fluttering at your sides. You suddenly don’t know what to do with them.

“I…I think, no, I am. I am definitely falling for you,” Brock says, tone firm and eyes soft, crinkled at the corners. Those damn blue eyes that have starred in a fantasy or two of yours. He reads your silence as negative, apparently, because he frowns and continues, “if I just made this uncomfortable, we can forget it ever happened.”

“No!” You nearly yelp, Brock’s eyes widening at your sudden increase in volume. “No,” you repeat quieter. “I don’t want to forget this happened. I’m just … surprised. I didn’t think you thought of me as anything but Ky’s nanny.”

His smile is contagious and you’re both grinning like idiots at each other.

“You haven’t been Ky’s nanny in my head for a long time,” he confesses. “Just been hoping you felt the same way.”

“Definitely feel the same way,” you giggle, feeling hysterical.

“Can I -?” He steps forward, into your space, and you nod, knowing what he’s asking. And then all you know is Brock’s mouth on yours, his hands warm on your waist, his hair soft under your fingertips. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you open your mouth. A groan fills the air and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his.

Your chest crushes against Brock’s, bodies flush against each other. His cock is prominent against your thigh, hard and hot through the layers of fabric separating the two of you. For months, you’ve fantasised about this, wondered what it would feel like to get your hands on Brock and it’s better than you ever imagined. Hot and hard, his lips soft against yours, his hands gripping at your ass, dragging you closer and closer. Your hips chase his, involuntarily moving for relief.

“Brock,” you whine his name, surprising yourself with the neediness that colors your tone. He growls against your jaw and lifts you, arms braced under your ass, settling you on the countertop in your tiny kitchenette. He steps into the space created by your spread legs, your thighs at his hips, ankles locked at his lower back.

“Shit, wanted to do this for months,” he mumbles against your skin. His lips mark a hot trail down your neck and over the heated skin of your chest. His hands are down the back of your shorts, kneading at your ass.

His cock presses against your heated core and you moan, loudly and unashamed. Brock’s laugh is clearly delighted and he presses himself against you harder, drawing a strangled moan from your throat.

“Making such pretty noises for me,” he croons, dragging one hand up your side to grope at your breast, rolling your nipple until it’s a stiff peak. “What other noises are you going to make for Daddy?”

“Oh my god,” you keen, arousal flooding your panties. “Brock, oh my god, I need you to touch me.”

“What’s the magic word?” He replies, ducking his head to suck at your nipple over your shirt. The scrape of his teeth and the wet fabric makes you shiver, clit throbbing.

“Please,” you wail, grinding your hips against his.

“Please…?” He trails off and your heart pounds in your chest, pleasure coiling low in your stomach.

You sigh, a shaky exhale. “Please, Daddy, touch me. Please make me come,” you whisper the words in his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

Brock whips your shirt off, tossing the fabric to the floor. You’re not wearing a bra and normally you’d be self-conscious, but Brock’s staring at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever seen and you’ve never felt hotter. “Christ,” he mutters, palming your breasts and kneading them tenderly. “So fucking gorgeous. Just, just fucking stay with me forever, please?”

You nod, agreeing. “Yours, I’m all yours, I promise,” you cradle his face in your hands and kiss him deeply, leaning in as close as you can.

Somehow, his shirt ends up on the floor with yours and your fingers can trace each muscle on his chest and stomach. You drag a nail over his nipple and his skin erupts in goosebumps, so you do it again, skimming your nails over his skin and scratching at his biceps.

“Mark me up,” Brock encourages you, lifting your ass off the counter with one hand so he can tug at your shorts and panties. “Make sure everyone knows I’m yours.”

He’s certainly doing the same, sucking bruises onto your skin. There’s a bite mark over your breast and it feels like his fingers dug bruises into the flesh of your ass.

“Just want you,” you blink away a sudden rush of tears, still in disbelief that this is happening. “Been thinking about you for so long, Brock.”

Your fingers dance down to the waist of his sweats, pushing at them until his cock springs free and you can get a good look at it. It’s just as perfect as his face, thick and long and hard as steel.

“Come on, honey,” his fingers swipe at your clit, making you inhale sharply and arch your back. “Put your hands on me. Touch me.”

You obey, wrapping your hands around his cock and stroking him. Softly at first until Brock grunts and wraps his hand around yours to increase the pressure and speed. “Like that,” he instructs you, leaving his hand in place and using the other to smear your arousal over your clit and inner thighs.

“I don’t have any condoms!” You gasp, Brock’s index finger teasing at your entrance. The thought hits suddenly, annoyingly.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, kissing the moan from your mouth when he plunges his fingers into your cunt. “I’ll make you feel good just like this.”

Brock’s a man of his word.

He makes you come twice, once on his fingers and one on his tongue. The first time you make a mess of the counter, dripping all over the place. The second time he’s got you laid out on the couch, his stomach splattered with his own come from the handjob you’d given him.

And then he cuddles.

Wipes between your legs with a towel and wraps

you in his arms under a throw blanket. Kisses the crown of your head and tells you all the filthy things he’s thought about doing to you.

“Hey,” you pipe up, amusement bubbling in your chest, “do I get a bonus for every blowjob I provide?”

Brock’s surprised laughter vibrates at your back, shaking your entire body. His arms wrap around your chest and squeeze. “No,” he deadpans, sounding like he’s struggling to hold back his laughter, “but we probably should talk about your job.”

“Tomorrow,” you insist. “I love taking care of Ky. So we’ll work on a transition.”

The transition from Ky’s nanny to Brock’s wife and Ky’s mom takes about six months less than you anticipated.

“Best job promotion ever,” you tease Brock at the altar, Kya practically glued to your side and shouting her excitement when you kiss for the first time as husband and wife.

[neonovember]

Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment. 

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities. 

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders. 

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’. 

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door. 

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you. 

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face. 

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies 

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him. 

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own. 

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin” 

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets. 

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer. 

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers. 

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep. 

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

[ebodebo]

Can we please get protective Alex Keller🙏🏻🙏🏻

The Shadows

—basically you and alex have been dating for a while, and you go find him after getting attacked in an alleyway.

—alex keller x f!reader

—2.8k+

—graphic depictions of violence (like seriously) , knife cutting, choking, blood

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

It was a hot, humid evening—typical of Virginia in August, unfortunately. It was a contrast from the colder, rainy days in DC you have become accustomed to. Even though it was only a couple hours of travel between the two states, the weather made them seem worlds apart.

The only reason you were in Virginia was to visit Alex, whom you've been dating for a while. He worked for the CIA, and they were currently collaborating with one of the most elite task forces in the country, maybe in the world, T141, which your dad is the captain of.

You were quietly lying in each other's embraces on the couch in his living room before he got a call from your dad saying he needed to report to the Special Activities Center at the CIA urgently. 

"It's late." You mention, glancing out the window to the sun setting over the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, feeling the cold swoop in as he let go of you to gather his things.

"I know. But they don't really operate on anyone else's schedules," he said, his voice hushed. He walked back into his room to grab a simple black shirt, casually slipping it on as he came back into the living room.

He sat on the edge of the couch, grabbing his boots and slipping them on. You leaned in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind, lips ghosting over his ear.

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to stay?" You seductively say, pressing tiny kisses to his helix. 

"Baby... It's work." He groans out, grabbing your hand around his neck and intertwining your fingers, noticeably upset he had to leave.

"Tell 'em' you're with me." You suggest, laying your forehead on his shoulder.

"Somehow, I feel like that would make it worse." He lets out a deep chuckle before turning towards you and pressing a kiss to your temple. He moves his head down, hovering over your lips, but before he leans further, you slowly turn your head, evading him. 

"Give me a kiss." He gruffly states, bringing his hands up to cup your jaw. You lightly shake your head from side to side. "No."

"Sweetheart..." There was almost a warning tone in his voice. He tilted his head to the side, raising a brow at you.

You glance at him, impatience written on his face. A huge smile takes over your face, and you quickly turn to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Oh my God. Why are you so obsessed with me?" You jokingly laugh out, pressing your lips lightly to his. He takes the opportunity to grab the back of your head with his hand, pushing you deeper into him.

"I just am." He says, pulling back and smiling at you. You blushed, gently pushing his shoulder back. 

"Since when were you shy?" He snickered, turning back around to finish putting his boot on. 

"You're a loser." You turned your head slightly to conceal the color growing on your cheeks. 

"What kind of answer is that?" He cackled, standing up to grab his keys from the counter. 

"I'll call you when we finish. Okay?" You look back at him, lightly smiling. 

"Okay." You agree, watching him shuffle to the front door. 

"I love you." He yelled, his voice louder than needed.

"I love you too." You laughed out.

It had been two hours, no three, maybe four? You had lost track of time a little after one hour when Alex had texted you, letting you know he would be back very late, making you sigh.

You rolled around in his bed, unable to sleep since he wasn't beside you. Groaning, you decided to go to the kitchen and get some water.

Walking into the kitchen, you felt the cold of the wood on your feet, the sensation waking you up even further.

"Shit." You murmured, glancing out the living room window to the calm streets outside. A walk could soothe your mind. You thought, grabbing your keycard to the building and a water bottle from the fridge.

Although the days may be hot and humid, the nights are frigid. It wasn't unbearable, even with your simple shorts and Alex's hoodie covering your body.

You made it down the street, admiring the city's simplicity and warmth past the apartment complex. It felt nice breathing in the cold air and simply admiring the surroundings.

You were walking past a local pastry shop you and Alex go to every morning for a scone and coffee. It was closed, but even though the lights were off, it still looked so warm and inviting. You smiled as you walked past it, thinking about the scone you would get in the morning.

As your eyes continued roaming around the Greek restaurant a little past the bakery, you heard a sound coming from the alleyway behind you. You turned around swiftly, seeing no one. 

Maybe you weren't smart enough to know not to walk at night by yourself, but you were smart enough not to investigate a dark alleyway.

You continued walking, telling yourself you would only walk for ten more minutes, maybe less. The next few minutes were fine, though you felt a strange feeling crawling up your spine. It felt like you were being watched.

You shook off the thoughts as you decided to turn back around and just head straight to the apartment. You walked past the same Greek restaurant, then the bakery, seeing or hearing nothing odd until you were walking past the alleyway you heard a noise from earlier.

Your walking sped up as you passed it, but before you could comprehend anything, you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jolt forward.

"You Price's kid?" a tall, masked man asked dryly as he gripped your shoulder. You were frozen in place, unable to form words.

"I asked you a question." The man pushed, his voice becoming more agitated the longer it took you to answer. His grip on your shoulder tightened, causing you to wince in pain.

"I-uh-I." You stuttered, looking up at him, grimacing. 

Although you couldn't see his face, you could feel a smile grow on his lips.

"Oh, Can't speak?" he sarcastically said. "My boss said you were free rain if you didn't cooperate." Your eyes widen, tears already brimming your waterline.

"Like a deer caught in headlights." He laughed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pocket knife, which he quickly flips open, bringing it to hover over your cheek.

"No... please... I don't know who that is." You're surprised you even managed to get the words out. Your body was in such a state of shock and panic, and your voice and hands were shaking.

"Oh. You don't know him?" He pulls the knife away slightly, causing the tension in your shoulders to relax a little. Though, he's quick to bring the knife back to dig a vertical line into the flesh of your plump cheek, making you yelp in pain.

"You're fucking lying to me." He seethed, hands moving to grip around your neck, squeezing tightly, constricting your airways. You made a high-pitched squeaking sound as you tried to breathe in but to no avail.

"Why are you lying to me?" He brought the knife back up as your hands tried to pry his off your neck. "What? Cat got your tongue." He chuckles; the knife grazes your skin once again, this time making a horizontal line over the vertical one. 

The tears are pouring down your cheeks at the sharp sensation of the blade digging into your flesh. You almost wish he would just shoot you and make it easier. So, you wouldn't have to think about what else he has planned to do. 

"I'm gonna have fun with you." He says, hovering over your ear, bringing his face closer to yours. 

You had to think quickly. Or else you would end up God-knows-where, with God-knows-who. Your air supply was quickly depleting, so you had little time. You just thanked God this guy was such an idiot he wasn't even pressing down on the right artery, giving you some extra time.

You mustered up all the energy you had left, and in one swift motion, you swung your leg up to knee him right in the crotch, causing him to fall over in pain, dropping the knife on your face in the process.

You wasted no time sprinting to the nearest house and asking for a ride to the CIA. Truthfully, you could have sprinted to the apartment, but you had no idea if the guy was spying on you. You were also terrified. There was no safer place to be than with four special forces and highly trained CIA personnel. 

The lady who opened the door was rightfully startled. Your cheeks are garnished with fresh, deep cuts, with blood dripping down from them, slipping down your neck and pooling onto Alex's hoodie, and then your already bruising neck.

She let you hop into her car without hesitation and drove you to your destination. She refrained from asking you any questions, taking the hint that you were in too much pain to answer. 

The drive felt excruciatingly long, even though it couldn't have lasted twenty minutes. But adrenaline was coursing through your veins, and you could feel your pulse beating in your cheek. 

Once you had made it, you declined her offer to help you inside and instead thanked her for the ride. You stepped out of the car and made your way to the front door, your heart racing. 

Security is usually very tight, but the patrol units outside didn't have to be so vigilant with the specific personnel inside the building. You pressed your thumb into the finger scanner to get inside, wincing as the cold air scraped against your wound.

The door automatically opened, and you made your way straight down the hall to meeting room one. Judging from the guards standing in front of it and the lights on in the room, you assumed they were in there. 

You held your cheek as you rushed over there, guards extending their weapons as you approached them. 

"I need my dad." You pleaded, tears streaming down your face as you heard his voice bleeding into where you stood from the meeting room.

"Sorry, Miss. No one goes in." One of the guards says, retracting his weapon and letting it fall back into its resting position. The only thing you were grateful for was the dim light in the hallway. You think if they saw you, bloody and bruised, they might take a shot at you.

"I-please." You beg once again, voice trembling. 

"We have orders." The other man dryly says.

"I need to see him." You breathe out, feeling slightly dizzy.

"We already said you—" The guard was cut off by Price harshly knocking on the small window next to the door they stood in front of, signaling to be quiet. You knew he couldn't see you; where he stood, the hallway looked too dim to make out a figure. 

The knocking made for a great distraction since the guards turned to face towards the window. Letting you slip between both men and quickly reach out to open the door handle, pulling the door open and revealing the influx of people sitting around a large wooden table, with your dad standing with his arms crossed at the end of the table, closest to the door.

Your eyes widen as they all examine you: your dad, Alex, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, Kate, and a few other personnel. You twiddle your thumbs as you begin to speak.

"I-um." You stutter, feeling your eyes start watering again.

"Wha- what the hell happened to you?" Price is quick to spring over to you, meeting be damned, his eyes piercing into yours, examining the deep cuts on your face. 

"Well... this guy-" Alex was quick to stand up. He couldn't stand it; he sat back for a second while your dad talked to you, but he needed to see for himself. He made his way over to you, wincing at the cuts and bruises tainting your skin. 

"Someone hurt you?" His voice was low. You didn't know if it was because he was trying to be gentle or trying to suppress his raging anger; you guessed the latter.

"He... yes." You muttered, looking up at him. Something in him shifted; you could feel it. It was something you'd never seen from him. Something he never let you see.

"Are you... mad at me?" You shifted on your heels as his eyes widened. 

"Absolutely not." He stepped closer to you, causing Price to step away, wrapping his arms around you.

"Baby... I could never be mad at you." He whispered into your hair, gently brushing strands with his fingers to soothe you as you sobbed into his chest.

After a couple of minutes, Alex stepped back and looked at Price, nodding to him. You used the back of your hand to wipe your tear-filled eyes, accidentally grazing your cut.

"Shit." You curse, looking up at your dad.

"Let's get you fixed up, then, okay?" he gently asked, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Okay," you murmured, bringing your arms to hug your body. Price looked over at Simon, and he nodded, standing and leading you to a bathroom adjacent to the meeting room.

Ever since you were little, you had been particularly close to Simon. You didn't know why, and frankly, he didn't either. Maybe it was the mask? You were a curious kid, after all. Perhaps it was his quiet demeanor? You were a talkative kid, so you would just babble as he sat and listened, nodding his head along to whatever you were saying. Eh, that's a mystery for another day.

"Sit." He patted the toilet seat and grabbed an emergency kit from under the sink. You obliged and sat down on the toilet seat. He pulled out some antiseptic and began cleaning the area.

"Gonna hurt a bit." He gruffed, gently moving the gauze around on the wounds, causing you to wince. Once he finished and began applying some gauze pads, a heavy silence settled over the small bathroom before Simon spoke.

"Hate seeing you like this, kid." His voice was rough, almost like he was holding back some emotion, as he finished applying the gauze and began putting everything back in the kit.

"I always knew you were a softie, Simon." You smile, gently touching the fresh gauze on your cheek. 

He huffs out a low laugh. "If you tell anyone, I'll be forced to kill you." He says, so sincere, if you didn't know him, you would think he was being serious.

"You're all good, kid." He said, gently tapping your shoulder.

"Thanks, Simon." You say, standing up from the toilet and bringing him in for a hug. You don't take offense to his half-hug in response because you know how he is. But, even though he's not too fond of hugs, he would never deny you giving him one. After all you're like a daughter to him; to all of them.

You step out of the bathroom as Simon follows suit, and you walk down the hallway back to the meeting room. Turning your head, you see your dad reprimanding the guards.

"If my daughter needs me, by God, you let her see me." You catch him saying, anger lacing his voice. You let out a little smile as you walk back into the meeting room.

"Hey," Alex says, getting up from his seat, his face covered in concern and unease.

"Hey," you say, wrapping him in a hug, to which he immediately responds, pulling back only a moment to gently kiss your temple.

"Can we... um... leave?" You mutter, looking at him. You continue. "Feels too clinical here."

"Yes, baby. We can leave." He kisses your temple once again, pulling back to intertwine your fingers.

You step out of the door and are met with your dad's eyes, noticeable tension taking over his body.

"Dad, I'm okay." You assure, letting go of Alex's hand and embracing your dad. 

"You're going into witness protection." He says, taking a deep breath to slow down his heart rate. You know he's joking, but some part of you thinks he might be serious.

"It's okay. I have my own personal security detail." You smile, referring to the meeting room with Simon, Johnny, Kyle, and Kate. Then, glancing at Alex.

"Guess you got a point there." He lightly laughs. "Call when you get home." 

"Promise." You assure, as you grab Alex's hand and continue down the hallway to the front door to leave.

Safe to say, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, and your dad all extended their hotel rooms and pushed back their flights to help Alex track down the man who hurt you. Shit, even Kate was in on helping them. That man was going to wish they were kind enough to just put a bullet through his head when they were done with him. 

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[justalittlerandomartist]

Daddy’s Little Monster (4)

•Alastor x teen! daughter! reader

•Platonic, ya sickos

• What if….Alastor had a daughter that wanted to be a serial killer

a/n: chill out guys please my notifications are blowing up I want to sleep I’ve written these four chapters in 2 hours.

You took a liking to Alastor. You would try to start up conversation with him, or just hang around him. At first he was a bit confused on why a teenager was following him around, but he soon grew to enjoy your company. You were also making great progress towards redemption. Some of the hotels residents thought that maybe you should know who Alastor is before you get involved with him, since you’re trying so hard for redemption. So one day, thanks to popular demand, Charlie decided to tell you about Alastor.

“Soo, y/n, I know you haven’t been in Hell long, and you don’t see Alastor as a threat, but there are something’s you should know.” You gave her a confused look. “Like what?” Charlie sighed. “Like the fact that Alastor is a serial killer. And a cannibal. And he’s kind of a sociopath.” Charlie noticed how your eyes lit up after she said that. You seemed so excited! “Really!? That’s so cool!” Charlie looked confused “Wait, what?” She tried to question you, but you were already running off to go meet Alastor.

You saw Alastor as a parental figure. When you were alive, your parents weren’t great. They were strictly religious, and very hateful. They were emotionally abusive, and you hated the way they tried to manipulate you. The truth is, you grew up to be a sweet, kind, (insert sexuality) girl. Alastor spoke to you like he cared about you, and treated you with respect. You saw him as more of a father than you did your actual father.

You finally got to Alastor, carrying exciting new news. “Alastor! Alastor!” Alastor turned his head towards you, his perpetual grin growing ever wider. “What is it now, dear y/n?” You beamed up at him and said, “Charlie told me that you’re a cannibalistic serial killer.” His smile dropped a bit. “Did she now?” You continued smiling, extremely excited about this. “Yeah, and I just wanted to let you know that, that makes you even cooler! Also, I kinda..sorta…wanted to know if you could teach me about that kinda stuff?” Alastors smile seemed genuine for the first time since they met. “Why, of course, my dear!” The excited look on your face showed it all. This one was going to be his little monster.

________________________________________ Can I sleep now? Also request fics u want. If I can’t sleep, expect part 5.

[pickledonyun]

𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 - 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰

genre: sad... fluff? (please read the synopsis!)

pairing: gn death!reader x knight!yunho

warnings: mentions of death, blood, war. sort of major character death but also ghosts are a thing so it's not too sad I promise

summary: you are death, come to reap the soul of a pure-hearted knight. you're gentle with him as he goes.

word count: 748

a/n: this is the shortest piece I've ever written??? I didn't know how to describe the genre but my sister told me it was adorable so here's to that. it is inspired by the painting in the banner, but I have no idea whose work it is. if you do, let me know so I can credit them!! hope you enjoy xx

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

a warrior lays in the grass, his armor cold and still amidst a swaying sea of green and yellow and red. he is motionless as a stone, his body smeared with war. flowers stretch up towards the sky around him, desperate, drinking in all of that warm golden sunlight. there is silence aside from the wind and the cicadas. 

you know it; nectar and a bed of poppies for a tired knight.

you’ll paint it if the gods ever let you. 

“you can’t sit with him forever.” jongho says. “you’ll scare him. his soul will stay put if you do.”

“let it.” you respond, knees pulled to your chest. “let him rest a little while longer.” 

“you’re not very good at being death.” jongho observes. he’s not there, but his presence is. his voice. it wraps around you and ruffles your hair in the way that wind does. the way jongho does, because he is wind. 

you don’t bristle. Instead you let the soft breeze kiss your skin, let the cerulean sky settle on you. “so i’ve been told.” you say. your voice is quiet and gentle in the way that good deaths are. this boy, this knight was never made for war. you can see it in the air that surrounds him, the shimmer of energy. you reach forward, brush your fingertips across the knight’s armet, and then you tug it upwards. 

he is beautiful in his expiration. full face and thick eyelashes– rows of them that lay against his cheeks. he would look like he was sleeping if it were not for the unnatural blue color of his lips. an uncomfortable feeling tugs at your chest, right where your heart would be if you had one. 

“i did not want to take you at first,” you tell him, armet cradled in your lap, “but i think your heart is too good for war, and war gave me little choice.”

the knight’s hair shifts, falling delicately across his eyes, and you can almost see it– the faint apparition of jongho as he ruffles his fingers through the brunette tresses. jongho always does that to things he is fond of. 

“let him go.” jongho says.

you shake your head. this boy’s heart, which is pure and rare and precious, has known very little peace in its life. you will let him lie until his soul is ready to go on its own. 

it takes several hours for it to happen. the sun has dipped beneath the horizon, and the last of the light has given way to moondark. but he shimmers, blue and beautiful and made up of all the good things, all the pretty things. he is there but he is not, dressed up in a tunic and slacks, and you know that this version of him never saw battle.

“i did not think death would be patient.” he says, and his voice is gentle. soft. too good, you selfishly think, for life.

you–death– extend a hand. “come, yunho.” you say, “let me take you home.”

yunho’s fingers are warm when they brush yours. his ghost is warm as it was in life, and his skin returns slowly to its natural tone, the blue fading away beneath the light of the moon. “i want to say goodbye.” 

it never gets easier seeing someone bid their body farewell. yunho doesn’t let go of your hand as he ponders it, the breeze in his hair, the preternatural stillness of his diaphragm. “i thought i would feel scared, but…”

“death has no hold on those who can not know it.” you respond. 

yunho bows his head in reverence to his body, the very home of his soul for the past twenty four years of his life, and he thanks it. thank you, and i am sorry for not loving you more, he says, though you pretend not to hear it. 

you stay a while, and then yunho turns and he looks death in the eye. “I’m ready.” 

the afterlife welcomes yunho, gates flung wide, and there is celebration. 

“why are they celebrating?��� yunho asks, tentative as a thousand or more souls reach for him. you recognize them, those good things-- a pirate and a healer and a widow and a cellist. they know him, though he does not know them. “i didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

“you were a good soldier.” you respond. 

 the confusion in his voice is tangible. “i never killed anyone.”

you just smile at him. 

[python333]

HAI! i rlly like your platonic 141 fics and I'm wondering if we could get some more dad price and/or brother gaz sleepy cuddles? :3

stretched too thin — python333

— — — —

synopsis gaz notices you overworking yourself one night and decides to step in before you end up pulling an all-nighter.

relationships platonic!gaz & gn!reader.

characters gaz.

word count 2.05k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of pet names [love, darling], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note oh my god im so sorry i disappeared for like. a month. ill try my best to not be gone for more than a week at a time, but with all of my schoolwork and just over all stress ive been experiencing lately, i dont know if ill be able to get fics out every week :< ill try my best though! please accept this fic as an apology—its another big bro gaz one!! special shoutout to everyone else who has an older sibling thats very distant with them, you and me are in the same boat fr!! also, last thing—im thinking about making a discord server where i announce when fics are being written and published and stuff, but i dunno if yall would join or anything, so if u would pls lmk!!

You haven’t left your office in five hours. 

Recently—just about two days ago—you finished up an assignment fairly quickly and, as a result, had to write a detailed report of said assignment. It went over the mission you’d gone on, and listed off every major detail you could think of, though because you just can’t give yourself a break you were constantly thinking of other details you might’ve missed even though there was little chance you’d missed anything.

The mission wasn’t anything too important, honestly. It was originally going to be a week-long camp-out reconnaissance by an enemy task force’s base, obtaining information on their schedule and what they did throughout the day and whatnot. However, only a day into the mission, the small squad of soldiers that had accompanied you saw another small military group observing the same group you’d been observing.

So, naturally, you observed them as well. Aren’t you just the best multi-tasker?

The task force eventually found out about the other group, just a day later, while your squad was still in the clear to continue your observations. So, your mission had quickly come to a close—but, because of the circumstances under which the mission had come to a close, you were required to write an extremely detailed report on the other group and the group you’d been observing.

It would be an understatement to say you were tired. You’re exhausted.

Between the non-stop writing, the coffee sitting on your desk that’s been microwaved five times and has been refilled thrice, and the uncomfortable chair you’ve sat in that you have yet to replace, you’re extremely exhausted. Your movements are sluggish, your fingers aren’t as swift on the keyboard of your computer as they usually are, and worst of all—you still have more to write. 

Your eyes stung and felt dry, your hands felt like they were going to stop working completely at any moment, and you were overall just exhausted. 

You look over at the clock on your desk, and it reads 02:28 AM, indicating that you would only have about four hours to sleep if you went to bed now. I’m too far into this report to stop now, You tell yourself, sighing as you blink slowly at your computer screen, If only my vision didn’t keep getting blurry… 

Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and for a second you think you’re hallucinating until the knock sounds once more. 

Reluctantly, with a voice raspy from not using it almost all day, you call out, “Come in!” 

Your voice is softer and quieter than you’d like it to be, but it doesn’t matter too much to you at this moment—at least, not in your foggy mind that still begs you for sleep, even when you have far more of your report to finish. 

The door opens with a creak, and in walks Gaz. 

“Sarg,” He greets you, not bothering to close the door behind him as he walks up to your desk, “Pleasure to see you for the first time in, what… three days?” 

“Two days and eighteen hours,” You correct him, taking a moment to crack your stiff knuckles, not taking your eyes off of your monitor, “And you know you don’t have to call me ‘sarg’ or ‘sergeant’ or anything. We’re the same rank.” 

Gaz promptly ignores you, “Right, well, anything over a day is way too long for me to go without seeing you. Why’re you all cooped up in here on your computer?”

“‘Cause I need to write a report on my assignment,” You briefly explain, before lightly goading Gaz, “Not all of us need a shit ton of attention every day like you do.” 

“Ehh,” Gaz theatrically makes a thinking face, before shrugging, “Not sure what you mean by ‘us’, but alright.” 

“By ‘us’, I mean everyone but you.” 

“Surely that doesn’t include you, right?” 

“It does.” 

Gaz gasps quietly at your reply, before dramatically responding, “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely can,” You hum, finally taking your eyes off of your computer screen to look up at Gaz, “Is it so hard for you to believe that I don’t need to talk to you every waking hour?” 

“It is, actually,” Gaz scoffs, “Because I know that you do need to talk to me every waking hour.” 

“Uh, no I don’t,” You childishly argue, raising an eyebrow at Gaz.

“Uh, yes you do,” Gaz immaturely argues back, crossing his arms, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that the past two days and eighteen hours haven’t been shit because I haven’t given you any attention.”

You open your mouth to form a response but quickly close it, realizing that yeah, actually, I kind of do crave his attention. 

Fuck.

“You’re not the only person that gives me attention,” You point out, hoping to find some way to change the subject.

“Sure, but you like the attention I give you the most,” Gaz hums, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on your desk opposite of where you sit.

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell me that I’m wrong,” Gaz challenges you.

You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him for a moment before sighing, “You suck.”

“Maybe I suck, but you look like you haven’t slept for the past week,” Gaz points out, “You look exhausted, by the way. And dehydrated. Actually, you just look like the human embodiment of a headache.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I mean that in the most loving, non-offensive way possible.”

“You come into my office, accuse me of needing attention from you, then you insult me by calling me the human version of a headache?”

“It wasn’t an insult!” Gaz raises his hands in surrender, before sighing, “I’m being serious. You look dead, [c/n]. You need sleep.” 

“What I need is to finish this report,” You huff out, beginning to turn your attention back to your computer, before Gaz’s hand is quickly placed on your chin and forces you to look back at him. 

“No, what you need is some rest,” Gaz argues, more serious this time, taking his hand off of your chin—something you shouldn’t miss nearly as much as you do, the warmth of his hand fading far too quickly from your face—and bringing it back to rest on the desk. 

“Maybe you need rest, Gaz.”

“Sure I do,” He shrugs, “But I’m only going to sleep if you do.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really? You’re pulling that card?”

“I am.” 

You stare at him for a moment, mentally weighing your options, before sighing and bringing your elbows up to the table so that you can place your forehead in your hands.

On one hand, if you stay in your office you can finish up your report before four and then go to sleep, and hope that you magically feel active even with just an hour or two of sleep in the morning. On the other hand, if you go to sleep now, so does Gaz, and then you both get more than just two hours of sleep. 

After another moment of consideration, you huff out a frustrated breath and mutter, “Fine.” 

Gaz smiles down at you and walks around your desk to your side of it, holding out a hand for you to grab to help yourself up from your chair and using his free hand to save your report and power off your monitor. 

You take his hand and stand up, your legs a little weak and balance iffy from sitting down for so long, but within the next few minutes you’re sure you’ll be able to properly walk. You let go of his hand once you’re positive you won’t fall over, and once he sees that you’re able to walk, Gaz silently walks towards the door of your office. Just as quietly, you follow him. 

He turns off the lights for you and lets you walk out of the office first, locking the door from the inside and closing it once you’re out. Once he’s done, he takes the lead again and you follow him down to his sleeping quarters. It’s not too long of a walk there, only two minutes at most.

Once you’re there, Gaz opens the door and lets you walk in first. Once you’re inside and Gaz has closed the door, you shrug off your camouflage patterned jacket and toe off your already loosened tan boots, leaving you in just your camouflage cargo pants and army green undershirt.

You look down at your pants with a frown, knowing from experience that sleeping in them was incredibly uncomfortable and left you regretting your whole existence the morning after, but before you could even look over at Gaz to tell him of your situation, you felt something being thrown at you. 

You immediately turn your attention to the item that had been hurled at you—the item in question being a pair of gray sweatpants, some that would probably be a little bit looser than you’d prefer on your figure—and then look over at Gaz with a questioning look. 

“Figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in that,” Gaz shrugs, nodding to your cargo pants in response to your nonverbal confusion. 

You hum in appreciation, not wanting to talk too much at the moment, instead waiting for Gaz to look away before slipping off your pants and replacing them with the sweatpants Gaz had thrown at you. The fit isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought they’d be—they’re loose and hang low on your hips, just like you thought they would, of course, but they don’t feel nearly as weird as you thought they would.

Once you’ve tightened the strings on the waist of the pants, you get into Gaz’s bed, pulling the covers up and over yourself. Gaz quickly settles into the bed next to you, quickly getting himself comfortable under the sheets, and pulling the covers up and over his shoulders in one swift movement.

He gets closer to you, so close that his chest presses against your back and you can feel the tip of his nose ghosting over the top of your head. He wraps one arm over your body to pull you impossibly closer to him, and his other arm snakes underneath the side of your body so that both of his arms are wrapped around you.

He hums contently and his thumb rubs small circles into your clothed stomach, the action—despite being small—causing your stomach to warm up almost immediately. 

“Comfortable, darling?” Gaz asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Very,” You mumble back, trying to subtly lean your head back against Gaz in hopes of getting at least one more kiss. Noticing your efforts, he huffs out a small laugh and presses another gentle kiss right at the edge of your hairline before pressing one last one to your forehead. 

Even with the comforting atmosphere, you can’t find it within yourself to fully relax, your body still tense and stiff underneath the blanket. Gaz, just like he did with your “subtle” movements, notices and frowns. 

“Just sleep,” Gaz tiredly mumbles into the top of your head, “You have to get up in three hours. The sooner you sleep, the more sleep you get.” 

You don’t respond, instead simply sighing and forcing your eyes closed. You do have to admit, it’s nice being able to actually close your eyes for something other than blinking, and closing your eyes for longer than half a second has made you realize that they were even drier than you thought they were. 

Exhausted and ready to finally sleep, you eventually get to a point where you no longer need to force your eyes shut, and as a result, your whole body relaxes for the first time in almost six hours. 

“G’night, love,” Gaz murmurs, feeling your body relax next to his. You hum in acknowledgment of his words, not finding the energy within yourself to properly respond, instead finding yourself drifting off into a deep sleep. 

And if four hours later, Gaz wakes up and simply lies there, not waking you and instead letting you get some more sleep despite you having to be up soon, nobody has to know.

[fanficsbyme-causeimgay]

Disclaimer: Image this in the Van Helsing werewolf design, please. I love that movie.

Imagine, if you will, the full moon.

Now— you were never superstitious or believed in the supernatural, but when it is running at you on all fours in the darkness of the street, with sharp white teeth and with a single red glowing eye? Then, you do believe in the supernatural. So you do the sensible thing: You forget about putting the trash out, closes the door, and says, "Nope!" Before simply locking all doors and windows.

You stay in your room, door locked and under the blankets, just to make sure nothing bad could get you— After all, monsters don't fuck with you if you got a blanket on, that's the rules! You ignore the weird whining sounds and the weird scratching sounds, and fear gives way to tiredness once the adrenaline fades away.

You wake up the next day, believing the whole thing to be a nightmare, a figment of your masochistic mind paying tricks on you.

Werewolves don't exist!

But neighbors do. And you got a new one!

The first time you met was just a tiny little bit surprising, but normal when context was given— His dog ran into your porch. He had this beautiful Black Labrador that had a harness that read [Service Dog] on it, and her collar had [Leyla] written on it. And she was looking for something? She was sniffing everything around. Apparently, she was a new dog and was still being trained, which explained a lot about her behavior.

"Oh, hi- I apologize for Leyla!" He was tall. Definitely taller than you. Maybe 6'6? The most striking thing about his appearance was the eyepatch on his left eye, a plain black one. He walked with a limp and had a darkish green jacket over a plain white shirt and tight shorts. "I'm your new neighbor, Kata." And oh, his voice was just like the best thing you've heard - It was beautiful.

You soon find out that he used to be in the military. He worked closely with the K-9 bomb-sniffing unit to help clean the fields, and sadly, a newly trained dog missed one of the bombs, which led to his incident. He seemed pretty open and sincere when speaking about his experience as a veteran, not shy to express and answer your questions even going further and above.

When asked why, he simply answered: "You just wanted to learn more about me, so I taught you more." With a smile that was, honestly, quite breath taking.

Regardless of your little interactions, nothing seemed to be going on - much to your dismay - because he was clearly very hot and showed interest in you. Maybe it was the "don't ask don't tell" thing that the military has? You felt silly thinking about it, mostly because he never showed clear interest, so you decided not to assume anything of it.

In truth, however, he was unhealthy obsessed with you. He was constantly spending hours of his day listening to your breathing, to your heartbeat, to your little noises that you weren't even aware you made! Did you know you have this habit of clicking your tongue when you're playing games and sometimes something you didn't want to happen happens? Did you know you hum the sound of commercial jingles sometimes? Did you know that when you're asleep, you're quite vocal about your dreams, even if what you're saying doesn't make any sense? Did you know you smell like soft petrichor mixed with tulips and brown sugar when you're relaxed? Did you know he likes to watch you sleep from the window? Did you know that sometimes he breaks into your room while you're asleep and just stands beside you? Did you know he can't control it?

It's in his very nature.

Like humans can't help but breathe, tell stories, eat, and lie - Werewolves can't help but obsess over their Mates. Their Soulmates. Their one and only. Their destined - Call it what you will, but he loves you in ways you can't ever hope to understand... He wants you so badly, you should be happy he isn't laying it thick on you, that he is controlling himself to not jump you and fuck you everywhere, that-

Oh.

The full moon is here.

It happened really easily. You were asleep when you heard a pretty clear and rough sound of snoring, alongside the heavy weight of an arm on you, a weird, smooth, and wet sensation on your neck, and the heat of a body hugging you from behind. You couldn't move your body. Was this sleep paralysis? You look down and see arms of black fur holding you tight, and although you're confused, your mind finds reason: This is just a dream.

Oh, a dream! Of course this is a dream.

You huff... This might not be the exact first time you've dreamed of a big werewolf man and probably won't be the last! What? They're hot!

What was hotter, however, was waking up with a naked man in your bed. It was a shock at first, mostly because you're pretty sure you didn't have Kata sleeping in your bed last night...? Right? Was the dream about the werewolf his brain making up something to summarize or excuse Kata's presence in his bed? Dreams do that sometimes... But hey, looking at that dick was more than enough to make you forget about his presence for a few moments - It was, uhm, quite big.

"My eyes are up here..." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and like his tone of voice, he was looking very smugly at you: "Well, eye. Singular." He chuckled at his own words, poiting at his lack of eye - In fact, an unnaturally dark hole was there, almost like darkness originated from it.

You ask him what he is doing in your bed. Naked as the day he was born - but much, much hotter (and legal!)

And that is when he drops the ball.

So... as it turns out, werewolves are real... And they soulmates, and you are Kata's soulmate... Although overwhelmed at first, curiosity overwhelms you because of the fucking implications. What else is real? Magic? Fairies? Wizards!? Do they go to walmart!? Also, do werewolves follow normal wolf biology - Can they smell really far, hear really well, and do they mate for life too? And, also, do they have knots? As a rather curious person, you asked them.

"Well... I can show you." He replied, taking your hand for a moment and hesitating: "I-if you want?" He was rather nervous - the truth is, although he seemed confident, he was quite nervous. A wolf needs to be strong for their Mate. What about him? He is crippled. He is weak. He isn't good enough...

"...show me." Although a bit oblivious to flirting, you wouldn't say no to this.

As it turns out, werewolves do, in fact, have knots. And they can knot even in human form!

[yallthemwitches]

The Golden Rules

When he slipped up on the house rules they tried to be understanding. Who cares if every once in a while they heard a little breathy, feminine sigh come from the other side of James’ bed curtains? Or sometimes the shower was running for hours with sounds of slippery, awkward movements and muffled laughs floating out from under the door? Lily wasn’t some bird that James wanted to get off with, he was in love— and they knew that because he told them so many many times a day.

Sirius is having a big two days in my Jily universe! Written for @jilytoberfest day 18 Prompt :Neighbors (because bunkmates are like neighbors right?)

This one is rated T/M for one short depiction of sexual activity-nothing too crazy though.

Living side by side with a marauder was somewhat of a balancing act. Each boy had their own idiosyncrasies that needed to be attended to. Each one had a different sleep schedule, grooming habit, general idea of cleanliness…and that wasn’t even getting to the teenage boy of it all. In short, the boys had a deal: when in doubt, use a silencing charm or do it somewhere else.

This had become important to denote early on in third year when Sirius started to think that Adelaide Willow’s body looked too fit to handle. By fourth and fifth, things got even more complicated. With love notes piling up for all parties and snogging the new favorite activity, amendments needed to be added to ensure peace.

They had all been very diplomatic about it. Warn a bloke, don’t take ages, and always remember the golden rule: silencing charm or expect no mercy.

This would be all fine and good if it didn’t involve fuzzy brained, randy teens. Peter would constantly forget his silencing charm when he “felt sleepy” at 19:00 some nights, only to get berated before he did anything too crass to himself. Sirius intentionally or unintentionally forgot a few times with various shagging partners, some of which ended the date rather abruptly when books and quidditch goggles got thrown past the bed curtains. The only two that were pretty consistent were James and Remus—mostly due to the fact that Remus refused to date and James preferred other locations that didn’t involve the intimacy of his bedroom.

That wasn’t to say that either of them were angels: after Hogwarts, Sirius would still laugh about the time James was overheard saying a certain name into his pillow, presumably half asleep and unaware that his hand had wandered below the proverbial belt. But it was all good fun—they were sixteen, who could blame them? The system was working, a bit busted, but continuing the status quo nonetheless.

That is, until Lily entered the equation.

The boys knew they had a big storm coming with the onset of Lily and James’ relationship. The bloke had pined after her for years and they all just assumed he had a backlog of emotion he was going to need to dispel. 

As promised, the two were inseparable. Conjoined at the hip, the hands, the chest, the lips—and that was just when they were in public. James was never a fan of bringing girls back to the dorms because he found it too intimate, but for Lily it was a completely different demon. He wanted her in his personal world, so much so that he would do anything to get her closer to every aspect of his life—his four poster bed being just one example.

 The first night she ever stayed over was a telling moment for the Marauder’s residence. Already tucked in for the night, the equilibrium of the room was knocked off course by a frantic and mussed looking James bursting in the door, tie hanging from one shoulder and a crazed look in his eyes. 

“I love you all, but get the fuck out. Evans agreed to come up here. This is not a drill.”

Sometimes mates had to make sacrifices—like sleeping in the common room. 

The boys were happy for him—really, they were. It was a long time coming and it felt good to see their mate feel really good. So, when he slipped up on the house rules sometimes, they tried to be understanding. Who cares if every once in a while they heard a little breathy, feminine sigh come from the other side of James’ bed curtains? Or sometimes the shower was running for hours with sounds of slippery, awkward movements and muffled laughs floating out from under the door? Lily wasn’t some bird that James wanted to get off with, he was in love— and they knew that because he told them so many many times a day.

But even with love involved, everything had its limits. 

When reflecting on it later, Sirius knew that it was purely karma that led him to the dorms that day. A sacrificial moment, brought on by one too many missteps with the status quo. In many ways he considered himself a martyr.

He should have seen the clues. For one, the room was locked and silenced— but that had never stopped him from entering a room before. It might have been the golden rule, but it was his room after all and he figured anything happening at lunch hour couldn’t possibly be too scarring. 

Clue number two: James was on his knees between Lily’s legs. 

They hadn’t closed the bed curtains. Lily’s head tilted back so she had barely a view of the door, making small languorous noises that reminded him of similar muffled sounds he and the lads had once heard before behind the safety of their own beds and the darkness of night. 

With every slight movement of James’ head, her voice reacted. His hands grasped her thighs apart, head tilted upwards, watching his girlfriend’s expressions like a marker of approval. 

Clearly, neither had heard the door open. 

Sirius was there barely a second before Lily’s head rolled back to the top of her spine, eyes dilating in slow motion. Registering her audience, she let out a shrill cry. 

He relocked the door behind him.

*******

James knew he had fucked up. Did he regret it? No— but he did know it wasn’t his best hour. 

To be fair, he hadn’t intentionally set out to break the golden rules of the dorm. It was just like that with Lily. At one moment they could be listening to records and then the next she could have her hands down his trousers. It was as predictable as a game of chance…if 100% of the time the chances led to some form of snogging. 

He trudged out onto the lawn beside the lake where Sirius was lying with Peter and Remus, face tilted towards the sky. As James’ shadow curled over him, a smile pulled at Sirius’ lips.

“Alright, Let’s get this over with– how long were you standing there?”

Sirius’ grin widened, still basking in the sun.

“Don’t know what you are referring to.”

“C’mon pads, I’m not in the mood–I know you just want to hear me say it.”

His eyes blinked open and James tried to remember a time where he looked more smug.

“Oh, are we talking about you licking out your girlfriend? I’d say I was there about a second longer than either of us would have liked.”

Peter made a choking noise into his parchment, Remus sighed and closed his book. 

“Alright James. Too far—“

James’ hand jumped to his hair.

“I-I locked the door Moony, I swear it! He just came barging in!”

“Didn’t lock it well enough,” Sirius snorted and  Remus lightly kicked his leg into his rib.

“Still James—it’s kind of been escalating…I feel like I know Lily a little bit too well nowadays.”

“Yeah mate, the other day I didn’t even know she was in the room. Scared the living shit out of me when she walked to the loo with only your jersey on.” Peter said, ears turning a bright pink.

James sat down and put his head in his hands.They weren’t that bad… 

“Then there was the time where you two practically fell through the door tearing each other’s clothes off—“

“Oh–and remember the other time after NEWTS –”

Ok, so maybe they were. 

“Fine fine,” James waved his hands in the air, “—so what do you want? Do I need to swear we won’t use the dorms again, because I don’t think I can make that promise.”

Sirius turned himself on his side, sporting a grin so dangerous looking James had the urge to run. They both knew that with Peter and Remus on his side he was the essence of pure power, a rarity to have such an upperhand.  

“I just want to know if our sweet Lily got to finish—“

James' face flushed. Tosser.

“—But I don’t want to take your word for it,” he raised his voice,“Evans darling, would you say you were satisfied with Prongs’ performance today?”

James whipped his head around. Sirius must have seen her coming towards them earlier because she was more than halfway to the boys, stopped in her tracks. From around them, groups of students glanced over, knowing a good show when they saw one.

But if Lily was embarrassed, she didn’t show it. Her eyes sunk into slits.

“Why do you ask, Black? Do you need some lessons? I’ve heard your head is shite.”

[thehypnone]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 7

WC: 2,8k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Fluff, SPA Treatment, Bubble Bath, Massage, Non-Sexual Nudity/Intimacy

“We are stealing you, Swiss Ghoul,” Cirrus says, “for a mandatory SPA day.”

Notes: This chapter was co-written by @jimothybarnes!!!

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 7 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss wakes up. Stretches with a purr. Bends down to kiss still sleeping Mountain’s nose. Checks his phone. Sees the notification.

Three months.

He is three months pregnant.

The multi ghoul grins—filled with happiness and pride—and puts his phone away before hopping out of bed to go to the bathroom. Well, hopping might not be too fitting of a word considering Swiss’ back still has no mercy in store for him.

And Mountain’s enthusiasm about trying to put even more kits into him two days ago most certainly didn’t help the situation.

Anyways, Swiss gets out of bed to relieve the pressure on his bladder. He’s been having to do that quite a lot lately—the kits are barely fig-sized, but relentlessly kneading on his insides already.

When he comes back to the nest Mountain is still asleep, but beginning to stir—probably having sensed Swiss leaving his arms, so he goes right back in, snuggling against the earth ghoul’s side.

He lays his head on Mountain’s chest, right above his heart to listen to its steady beat, and takes the sleeping giant’s hand to intertwine their fingers and put their hands over his stomach. Over their kits.

They’ve been doing that a lot lately, too. Just touching; holding.

Proud of themselves.

“Hmph…good mornin’,” Mountain rumbles after a few minutes, still so very sleepy.

“You know what day it is today?” the multi ghoul jumps straight to it, barely able to contain his excitement.

“‘S too early to know the year, m’darlin’,” Mountain replies and it’s a…fair point. Instead of explaining, Swiss chooses to show him his phone and the pregnancy milestone notification—after turning the brightness all the way down—and his mate lights up. “Fuck, already? I’m so proud of you, my heart. I love you so much.”

Swiss attempts to reply in a similar fashion, but Mountain doesn’t let him—he rises up on his arms and all but crashes his lips into the multi ghoul’s. They both giggle into the kiss and both their eyes might be a little damp.

When they’ve had enough, they decide to update the pack, too. Swiss pulls up their group chat and hums.

“Okay, what about…” he starts, reading out loud for Mountain as he types, “Hi, everyone! Me and Mountain are pleased to announce that our kits have been cooking for 3 months already and that it’s no longer a secret. I know some of you (*cough* Aurora *cough*) have been waiting for an opportunity to gossip with some of the Siblings, so here’s your cue.”

“Sounds perfect,” the earth ghoul chuckles and Swiss hits send. He puts the phone away, but it’s no longer than a few seconds before a series of pings sounds from it; surely congratulations. And maybe one offended ‘hey!’.

Mountain and Swiss snuggle for a little bit longer before the multi ghoul’s stomach begins to loudly rumble and the pair decides it’s time to go feed their kits. They’re alone in the commons for the most part and only stumble upon the ghoulettes a few hours later—closer to lunchtime—when they go out for more food. Swiss has to eat for four, after all; although now his appetite is more like of…fifteen.

“That was unnecessary!” Aurora points out, referring to Swiss’ morning message. “I am not that much of a gossip monger, thank you very much.”

It prompts a series of chuckles and raised eyebrows from ghouls and ghoulettes alike, and Aurora gives up. “You’re the worst.”

“We love you, too.” The multi ghoul blows her a kiss before turning—or rather attempting to turn and getting stopped by a sharp pain in his lower back and wincing. Mountain immediately puts a gentle hand on his waist.

“Hey, are you alright?” Cumulus is the first to ask with worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s just the kits are starting to get heavy,” Swiss chuckles as he gets on his tiptoes to kiss Mountain’s cheek, “and my beloved mate got too excited about calling me mommy and blew out my back on Friday.”

“Mountain, you brute!” Aurora gasps, hitting the earth ghoul on the arm. “How could you treat him like that!? He’s pregnant!”

“Ow!” he whines. “It’s not my fault! You should’ve heard him teasing me!”

“Unbelievable,” Sunshine shakes her head dramatically. “Unbelievable!”

Swiss laughs, “It’s not that bad, honestly, I just–”

“Nope,” Cirrus interrupts him. “We are stealing you.”

“What?”

“We are stealing you, Swiss Ghoul,” she repeats, “for a mandatory SPA day.”

“Yeah,” Cumulus adds, “cause apparently someone has forgotten to take proper care of his pregnant mate!”

“Look at his hair, too!” Sunshine exclaims, grabbing one of the multi ghoul’s locks for an even more dramatic effect.

It’s all jokes, of course. They all know how much Mountain is doing for Swiss, how much he worries and how good he is for him. Still, a day with the ghoulettes most certainly can—and will—benefit the multi ghoul.

He turns his back to the girls for a second to whisper into Mountain’s ear, “I don’t care what they say, you take the best care of me, my love. Always.”

When Swiss pulls away, the earth ghoul is blushing lightly. He leans down in a request for a proper kiss before his mate actually does get stolen away. It is granted, and the ghoulettes all roll their eyes at the pair.

“My hair does need some attention, though,” Swiss giggles, looking up at Mountain apologetically. He pouts and whines dramatically, slumping over—Swiss knows it's an act but his heart still aches a little. He’ll definitely make it up to him later.

“Fine,” the earth ghoul grumbles. “Are you gonna come back for the night?”

“I will, my love,” he smiles, “I will.”

With that Swiss’ arms get grabbed and then he’s being quite literally dragged away into the ghoulette’s room. The girls are giggling and it's contagious—the multi ghoul joins in soon enough.

“Bubble bath first,” Cumulus orders, “then hair and…the rest, and the massage at the end.”

“Hey, I’m not that neglected,” Swiss grumbles with faux offense as the ghoulettes look him up and down; planning.

“I’m gonna run that bath,” Aurora giggles and disappears into the bathroom, with Sunshine following closely behind.

“Can you still lay on your stomach or are you too far along for that, spark?” Cirrus asks the multi ghoul and he blushes when he realizes he doesn’t know the answer. He’ll have to ask Omega about the acceptable sleeping positions. “Okay, we’ll play it safe. Give us a second.”

Swiss nods and moves back to give some space to the bustling about ghoulettes. They’re preparing cosmetics and clothes and bedding and–Swiss doesn’t know what half of these things are.

“The bath is ready!” Sunshine calls out and it makes Cumulus pause whatever she’s doing to herd the pregnant ghoul into the bathroom. His eyes widen when he gets in; first of all it’s huge—the ghouls are allowed to visit the girls there rarely enough that Swiss has forgotten just how spoiled they are—but second of all, it smells divine.

“Damn,” he sighs, “I don’t know what y’all put in there, but I might just start drooling.”

The girls giggle, proud of themselves, and urge Swiss to undress and get into the bath. He just about melts when he does get in—it’s so hot and comfortable and smells so good. He moans dramatically as a big portion of the tension in his muscles evaporates, making the ghoulettes giggle.

“Relax for a moment,” Aurora tells him, “we’ll come get you soon.”

“Uh–huh,” Swiss nods, already well past relaxed. He might as well doze off for a little bit as he waits for…whatever it is that he’s waiting for. He sighs and slides down deeper under the water.

Swiss moans as he feels Sunshine’s fire magic swirl around him. He smiles as it mixes with a gentle air current, Cirrus’, if he’s not mistaken. It spins and curls, gently pushing on his tired muscles and wrapping around sore joints. It feels like molten honey, a soft wave of almost-too-hot lava getting into all the tender spots in his body and melting every ache away. Swiss lets out a deep, contented sigh and lets his mind drift to the soft music playing in the background.

The bathroom door opens quietly and Swiss hums in acknowledgment of whoever is poking their head in.

“How is it going in here? You feeling up for some company and haircare?” Cumulus asks softly.

“So good,” Swiss moans, “and yeah.”

Cumulus chuckles and opens the door wider. Sunshine follows, closing the door again before they both come over to settle on the edge of the tub where Swiss is resting his head on the most comfortable bath pillow imaginable. 

He keeps his eyes closed, listening to the ghoulettes getting ready to take care of his hair. He hasn’t been exactly neglecting it—far from it—but he hasn’t been really prioritizing his hair care routine, either, the last few months. He thinks that it’s fair, all things considered. 

“I’ve been tinkering with some hair and body products since I retired. I want to make personalized products for everyone, and when you told us you were pregnant I decided to focus on perfecting yours first,” Sunshine says, on his right.

She taps his shoulder lightly and Swiss cracks an eye open as she pulls up what looks like a bar of soap the color of a late august sunset. Swiss takes a deep breath and can’t help but let out a deep groan. It smells fantastic; like oak barrels washed with pine and orange blossom. There’s even a hint of jasmine in there.

“This is a shampoo bar I’ve made specifically for your hair and your locks. The scent should complement your natural one, bring out the whiskey and musk. What do you think?” 

“You’re absolutely incredible, Sunny,” he gasps. “Don’t be surprised if Mountain sends you a gift basket, because this smells amazing.”

The ghoulette’s trilling laugh makes him smile as his eye falls shut again. His hair gets soaked, and he hears the girls lather the shampoo on their hands and then he’s on the receiving end of a truly spectacular scalp massage as Cumulus and Sunshine wash his hair. He’s in bliss as they wash, rinse, condition, rinse again, and then go over retwisting his locks at the roots, so they are nice and neat. He feels truly pampered.

“Are you okay with me trimming that bush you managed to grow between your legs?” Sunshine asks with a raised eyebrow—a clearly judgemental look—at some point, when he’s about to get out of the bath.

“That’s one way to put it,” Swiss giggles, “but yes.”

“Listen, I have no idea how Mountain isn’t spitting out hairballs after every time he eats your pussy, dude,” she throws her arms up with a laugh. “You’re hairier than Aether!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cirrus throws in, “but I am curious…how does this not work like velcro with Mountain’s pubes when you fuck?”

Swiss can’t hold it together anymore. He bursts out laughing so hard the muscles of his stomach start to hurt and the ghoulettes aren’t looking much better. None of them can calm down for a good while.

Sunshine does take care of Swiss’ bush—and his body and facial hair in general—when they do calm down, though, and the multi ghoul appreciates how casual it is. He loves his family so much.

Lucifer really couldn’t have chosen a better pack for these kits to be born into.

The girls get him into the bedroom again and move onto his nails, next. Swiss feels a little silly with four ghoulettes sitting at four of his limbs and taking care of his hands and feet. His nails get trimmed and cleaned and his cuticles get pushed back and they put some kind of slime on it…Swiss doesn’t ask, but it all feels nice.

He also doesn’t ask when his whole body and face get covered in different textured cosmetics. The multi ghoul feels as if he has been dipped in oil, but thankfully it absorbs into his skin soon enough, leaving it incredibly moisturized.

Soon enough Swiss gets covered in actual oil, though. The ghoulettes put him down on his front on something that is, essentially, a big donut made of their bedding, so his baby bump is safe and not squished. When he’s settled, they pour a warm massage oil onto his lower back and get to the massage part of their SPA day.

Two sets of hands cup his ankles, moving slowly up his calves to the backs of his knees. The warm, gentle pressure feels amazing as the oil is spread out. The hands move back down again, thumbs digging in slightly as the smooth movement forces his muscles to relax. They rub slow, gentle circles into the back and side of his calves, dipping carefully into the divot behind his knees when they’re at the top and then pinching softly at his ankles when they go down again. Swiss’ calves feel like they’re made of butter and the girls move down to his slightly swollen feet.

There are two sets of hands on his shoulders, too. They move slowly down his arms, firm and steady pressure going all the way from his broad shoulders down to his wrists. Just like with his calves, there are thumbs digging into his muscles, going in gentle circular movements on the way back up. 

He can’t help but moan as deft fingers press into the arch of his feet and the center of his palms, moving in patterns he can’t possibly follow with his mind right now. He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell Mountain that this might actually feel better than sex, but right now Swiss is certain he has never felt better. 

When he’s sure he couldn’t possibly move his limbs, the hands on him do move. The ghoulettes at his feet slide their hands up to his thighs, and the two up by his head move onto his shoulders and back. The back of his thighs, and even his ass, get the same treatment as his calves. Gentle, big movements going up, and strong clever fingers working out knots—he didn’t even know about—going down. 

His soul leaves his body when the hands on his back start their magic. As incredible as everything has been up to now, this is way beyond any bliss he has ever experienced. Four strong hands that must belong to Cirrus and Cumulus, he now realizes, rub firmly up and down to warm him up before they start to gently knead every sore part on him so good that his whole body is vibrating with the strength of his involuntary purrs.

Thumbs and knuckles move in circles and arches, they twist and drag over his muscles with perfect pressure. The ghoulettes must have a lot of experience doing this because with perfectly synchronized movements they use their knuckles to move up along his spine from his tail to his shoulders where they spread out and dig into his shoulder blades. This must be what it is like to have wings and fly, Swiss thinks.

Cumulus and Cirrus keep up this movement while Sunshine and Aurora mimic them with the pads of their thumbs up and down Swiss’ tail and across his lower back.

A solid six hours after Swiss has been snatched, he is nothing but a pile of purring goo. He still insists on returning to his mate for the night, though. The ghoulettes shrug—when they deem him pampered enough—and let him go, pleased with the outcome of the kidnapping.

Mountain seems to have attempted a nap, which didn’t quite work out, because when Swiss slips into their bedroom the earth ghoul is drowsy, but perks up immediately. His mate joins him in their nest.

“How was your SPA day?” Mountain asks before breaking out into a yawn.

“Oh, dear Lucifer, my love,” Swiss sighs dreamily, “I think when the kits are born we need to figure out a way to get you knocked up, so you can experience the utterly unreal and soul-shattering bliss of a SPA day with a four ghoulette full-body massage obliterating all the aches and pains pregnancy causes.”

“Good to hear,” the earth ghoul chuckles and nuzzles his nose into the dip in Swiss’ neck. “You smell so good, darling. I missed you.”

“Oh, come on,” the multi ghoul giggles, “it’s only been a couple hours.”

Mountain doesn’t confirm, nor deny—he grumbles under his breath and latches onto his mate with no intention of letting him go. And he will not; at least not until the morning.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus

[reidspharb]

part two on the angst spencer reid (happy ending if u want) 🤞🤞

How You Get The Girl

*Part two to The moment I knew

Summary: After four days of no calls, Spencer tries his hardest to fix things with you

Word count: 1.14k

Warnings: angst, fluff, lead by pure vibes idk

Note: idk whats with me and writing at ungodly hours of the night but this one was written mostly at like 1am so any errors are due to sheer sleep deprivation! also thank you so much to anon who submitted this it was really nice to give this little story a happy ending :) also first anon ask super cool on enough of this now.

It had been 3 days 2 hours and 43 minutes since you had last spoken to Spencer. He knew because he couldn’t stop thinking about that short exchange, how you were so upset you didn’t even let him explain. 

Spencer couldn’t stop staring at his phone, picking it up every few minutes, maybe I missed the notifications he told himself.

The truth was, he knew he fucked up and he knew he hurt you and missing that party was the worst decision he had made in a long time. 

Thinking about you had consumed him so much that he found it hard to complete his work. He never used his phone at work, unless he needed to call someone for something work-related.

Of course, working with a group of profilers, people began to pick up this odd behaviour. The first to notice was his best friend JJ. 

She immediately recognized his anxious demeanour, but she just didn’t know why. After a while, she ruled out problems with his mother, and that didn’t really leave many options.

Spencer didn’t have many friends - at least that they knew of- and most likely didn’t have a girlfriend either, so what was it?

JJ approached him after their round table meeting on a case just a few miles west of Quantico. 

“Hey, Spence,” she sighed settling her hands on her hips.

“What’s up JJ?” He replied, obviously trying to act as normal and natural as possible, but it wasn’t really working. 

“Nothing, I was just wondering how you’re doing,” Immediately Spencer blushed, obviously embarrassed that his co-workers were noticing his new habits “You just seem… off. Worried. Is everything alright?”

Spencer had tried to hide his shame but clearly, it wasn’t working and he just couldn’t keep it all contained anymore.��

“No, I-“ he sighed and looked down at his feet, trying to decide what to say next. Jennifer didn’t even know about his girlfriend, how would she react knowing he hid that from her all this time and also did such a heartbreaking thing to an innocent girl.

He faked a laugh and a dull smile, “No, JJ everything’s fine! I've just been a little anxious because,” he swallowed and tried to come up with a lie as realistic and believable as possible, “I’ve just been awaiting an interview for this teaching job at Virginia Tech, and uh, they haven’t told me the date yet.” He said in a nonchalant tone, praying that JJ wouldn’t push harder.

She obviously knew he was lying, the guy was a genius but he wasn’t a very good liar. Even though she knew there was something deeper, she thought if he wanted her help, he would be honest. 

“Oh, cool! I’m sure you’ll get that response soon.” She said cheerfully before walking away and clearing the conversation out of her brain.

After the fourth day had passed Spencer knew he had to do something to make this right, the regret had nearly swallowed him whole. 

When he got off work, he drove over to the closet flower shop and purchased a rather large bouquet of your favourite flowers. He remembered when you told him that a bouquet of flowers was always the best apology.

To go along with your flowers, he purchased you a birthday card, to make up for missing the party. It was a rather cute thing, with a pop-up kitten inside, he knew you would love it even if you didn’t say it. 

He scrawled a short birthday wish into the card before starting up his car and heading in the direction of your home. 

As he drove towards your house in the darkness and rain he couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when he arrived. Would you be so angry you would throw it all in a puddle? Or would you welcome and forgive him and this would all be over. Of course, he hoped for the latter, but he would understand if you were upset by seeing his face again.

Once he had arrived, his heart raced as he stepped out of the car and headed towards the front door. When he walked up the stairs, already wet from the rain, he thought of the first time he ever strolled up those short steps and your first kiss standing right there in front of your front door.

He rapped on the door two times fast and two times slow, just like he always did. He could feel himself nearly shivering as his hands just about vibrated while he waited in that infinitely long moment for you to open the door.

He heard the chain on your door unlock and as the door swung open, he saw your face. Your tear-stained, puffy, red face. Seeing you like this almost brought tears to his own eyes.

The way you looked at him ate at him from the inside.

You sighed and looked him up and down, inspecting the flowers he was holding.

“Oh my god, Spencer. Are you insane?” You practically shrieked when you realized he was standing outside your door at 9 PM in the pouring rain. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have called first before I just showed up, but I nearly lost my mind missing you.” He said truthfully. “I was just too afraid to see you and tell you that what I did was so fucking stupid and I just really h-“

Just like you had on the phone those few days ago, you cut him off, but instead of with a snarky remark, with a hug. You nearly jumped into his arms. You didn’t care if you got wet or if the flowers got ruined, you just wanted to feel him. 

After the lengthy embrace, you let your boyfriend in. He gave you your flowers and your, now wet, card and made you both tea while you placed them in a large glass vase.

The two of you sat down on the couch and you let him explain this time, fully explain. You could feel his remorseful aura, and even though what he did sucked, you didn't care anymore, you were just so happy to have him with you.

After your long discussion, you ate leftover cake, then celebrated your birthday by binging your favourite tv shows and remembering old memories.

The following morning, Reid decided to move in with you, telling you he never wanted to be away from you at a time like that again. He hung up framed photos of you all over the house of kisses on cheeks and happy memories. He would remind you nearly every morning how much he loves what you have and wants you no matter what, for worse or for better, nearly like wedding vows.

And you can say proudly he never missed another birthday.

[asexxxualauthor]

So, my brain did not shut up at all last night, so I’m gonna go ahead and subject you to the horror I created instead of sleeping that is D&D-accurate(-ish) Ruby Rose

First things first—the caveats. What do I mean by accurate(-ish)? Well, in order to truly build Ruby to be the utter nightmare that she is, we need to accept a few…house rules.

Rule 1) All characters start with a bonus Feat. This is a carry-over from D&D2024, and is to help flesh out the character beyond their basic race and background feats.

Rule 2) All RWBY characters start with an Epic Boon. This is a stand-in for Semblances, as reading through them shows they really are just Semblances codified for D&D.

Rule 3) Weapons and Features can be adjusted for rule of cool. If something isn’t supposed to work that way by the rules as written, but it’s cool as hell, it’s now the rule.

Now, with those three little rules out of the way going forward, let’s talk about our lovely little Red Reaper~

First things first—if we’re going to make Ruby, we have to prioritize speed above all else, because speed is the name of the game with her. Because of this, we’re going to be a little cheaty and make her a Tabaxi—or at the very least, give her the Tabaxi’s Feline Agility so she can double her walking speed. Along with that, we’re going to give her the starting Feat of Mobile, so she gets a +10 to that speed, and then the Epic Boon of Speed, which gives her an additional +30.

Which means at Level 1, Ruby has a base Speed of 70ft, 140 with Feline Agility.

We can get faster, though, because that’s just the base stats—let’s talk about Classes now. After doing a bit of analyzing and planning, I came to the following build: Fighter (11), Monk (2), Rogue (2), Warlock (5). The way I argue this is Fighter/Rogue is Ruby’s base class during Beacon, before getting Warlock when she awakens her Silver Eyes, tapping into that Celestial Patron. She picks up some hand-to-hand training in Haven for Monk, some additional levels in Warlock as she learns to harness her Silver Eyes, and then everything else is Fighter.

So, now that I’ve said my piece, what does this do for Ruby? Well, by taking two levels in Monk, she can get Unarmored Movement, which adds another 10 feet to her speed. And with two in Rogue, she gets access to Cunning Action, which means she can take the Dash action as a Bonus Action on each of her turns. That means, with just those four levels, Ruby would have a base Speed of 80ft, Dash of 160ft, Double-Dash of 320ft, and FA Speed of 640ft. And if she could get her hands on some Boots of Speed? 1,280 feet traveled in only six seconds.

That’s 145 miles an hour.

Suffice to say we’ve got the speed-side of Ruby’s design down, so what’s the rest of this for? Well, the other half of her whole shtick—killing Monsters. As a Celestial Warlock, she’d have access to spells like Sacred Flame, Guiding Bolt, Daylight, and Eldritch Blast—Thunder Step, Misty Step, and Spider Climb for mobility—and Hold Person for Cinder in particular. She would also get Invocations, such as Armor of Shadows, letting her cast Mage Armor at will whenever, so a constant 13 + Dex, and Eldritch Smite, to really pump the damage into her attacks.

But with Warlock (5), you can get an extra nasty feature—and for this, we must remember Rule 3.

Because at Level 5 Warlock, and with the Pact of the Blade, you can get Thirsting Blade, which lets you attack twice, instead of once, on your attack action. Now, according to the rules as written, Extra Attack features do not stack on each other—to which I say bullshit. If the rules didn’t want me to break the game, they shouldn’t left the window open to begin with—and besides, it’s technically not Extra Attack, but something else. Ergo, it’s allowed, at least in this hypothetical bullshit Ruby D&D build world.

So, with Thirsting Blade, you get an Extra Attack. With Fighter (11), you get two Extra Attacks. That means a total of four possible attacks on the Attack action—eight if you pump an Action Surge into it. But that’s not all, because we also have Feats! With Great Weapon Master (and with a scythe that huge of course Ruby is a great weapon master), if you crit or kill on an attack, you can use your bonus action for another Extra Attack. And as Champion, that crit potential goes up from 5% to 10% every roll. So that’s a potential of five attacks a turn—nine if you’re very lucky—and with Polearm Master, you’re guaranteed it with the butt-end attack!

All this, from a girl moving faster than a car on the freeway, and able strike and dash off without provoking any opportunity attacks at all.

And so there we have her—Ruby Rose, Level 20 Huntress. I will admit to a bit of stat fibbing on my part, but only so much as bumping up stats—it felt wrong to me for her Intelligence to be lower than a +1 considering how gifted she is, and I put Wis at 13…because that’s what you need for Multiclassing into Monk. Also, while Scythes (Glaives) use Str for attack and damage, I did go ahead and override the features so they used her Dex instead…because, honestly—tell me that doesn’t look Dexy as shit!

…I did keep her Str at 16 as an extra argument for why she’s so Dexy with a heavy weapon if need be.

But that’s Ruby! Any questions?

[antiromanticbaby]

Lucifer - Sweet Dreams

Lucifer x GN! reader fluff

     ✧ Not sure if this idea has been already written or not but hey, imma try. 

     ✧ second person pov. You can listen to “Dance of the witch” by Lucas King while reading 

Summary: Lucifer has a bad habit of falling asleep behind his desk. You also have a bad habit of staying up until early stages of the morning like four or five a.m. Two bad habits equal a good one. 

"Lucifer?"

You knocked on the door, a tray of coffee in your hand. Though no matter how much you waited, there was no response. You tilted your head to the side, curious. Was Lucifer asleep already? Then why were the lights of his room on.

Maybe he was really asleep, just… Not in his bed.

With a soft sigh, you opened the door to his room, slightly peeking in. There he was, your hard working Lucifer, his head on the table, the sleeves of his black button up rolled up, his tie loosely in place and his hair messier than usual.

Your lips pulled up into a warm smile.

This wasn’t the first time you saw him like this. Vulnerable, tired, and not the usual sadistic prideful demon. He had his softer moments, especially around you. 

You put the tray down on his desk and stepped closer, taking a moment to admire his features. It was creepy, but who could blame you? Seeing him so… calm and peaceful was something you could never get enough of. His muscles less tense, his eyebrows not in their usual furrow, his expression not one of grimace, it was mesmerizing. 

Running a hand through his soft raven colored hair, your gaze softened. He worked so hard for everyone. His brothers, Lord Diavolo, the other demons, and his work was barely appreciated. 

It was better not to disturb his sleep. But then again… His back and neck  would hurt a lot if his posture wasn’t fixed! 

So you made your decision and began your work. First was his back, what could you do to put it in the right posture? Looking at the avatar of pride from afar, he seemed pretty… well, heavy. You wouldn’t lie. 

Wouldn’t hurt to try.

First, you took a moment to curse his chair. How could he even keep on sitting on top of that for so many hours? The backrest seemed very bothersome, and he didn’t even have a headrest! You made a mental note to get an office chair for him later.

There was no seat tilt adjuster, so you couldn’t really help him lay back, tilt the backrest, put a blanket on him and something under his legs. With the type of chair he was sitting on, you could just put a pillow under his head. That way, at least his arms wouldn’t be sore tomorrow. 

You held him by the shoulders, pulling him up a little so you could sneak the pillow underneath his head. You put two or three pillows together so his back would be in a better position (just a little better. As good as you could.) 

Next was the blanket’s turn. However, you noticed most of the blankets were too big, or too heavy. With a soft sigh, you went back to your room and brought a lighter one from there. You put it on his shoulders and closed the balcony’s door. 

One thing you noticed through your stay was that Devildom’s weather had a funny way of changing. You never knew what to expect. And while many demons, including Lucier, were used to it, you weren’t. So while you yourself wouldn’t be able to sleep with a thin blanket, you knew Lucifer could. And putting a thicker one would wake him.

Once everything was done and put in place, you planted a soft kiss on his head. He was asleep, he wouldn’t notice. You then picked the tray of -now cold- coffee up and left the room, turning off the lights midway.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the amused smile that tugged up on the so-called ‘asleep’ Lucifer’s lips just as you left his room. 

Check it out! [cursed records] [roses] [heavenless]