#*Triumphant Exhale* WE CAN DO THIS!!!

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Working very hard to capture Aziraphale’s likeness! We’ve got a ways to go, but I think I will be very happy when I finish figuring out his structure. :)

[books-and-omens]

Rather a big thing, by the way, that many of us are probably re-evaluating right now is Crowley consistently not wanting to be called kind or nice. Especially not by Aziraphale.

In S1, that was what triggered the wall slam. ‘Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me’—but in S2 we see more about how strong Crowley’s feelings are on the topic.

In the Job minisode, Crowley vehemently insists that he is a demon. He is so angry at God. When Aziraphale tells him that he is certain Crowley does not want to destroy Job’s children, Crowley takes his glasses off to expose full-demon irises and looks Aziraphale in the eye as requested and says, “I want to”.

Aziraphale is heartbroken over that. His shoulders slump, he exhales shakily, his faith in Crowley has indeed cracked. Look at him:

And then, of course, he figures out the trick, and it turns out that he is exactly right about Crowley. “Well,” he says, and looks vindicated, triumphant, amused.

He was right. He knew Crowley would resist atrocity with everything he has. He knew Crowley would understand it’s an atrocity in a way Gabriel and Michael did not seem to (and neither did those two care). What Aziraphale sees is that, for all of Crowley’s demonic posturing, Crowley came through.

(He remembers the angel that Crowley used to be. So joyful. So happy. So unlike Gabriel and Michael, too: the angel Crowley would never have gone along with killing Job’s children.)

At the end of this minisode, Aziraphale is ready to go to Hell. He thinks he must: he lied, he thwarted the will of God. Crowley, of course, tells him that he is simply an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.

Aziraphale will process this in some way later, but… he won’t process it in the same way as Crowley. Aziraphale won’t reject the idea of Heavenly goodness—Heaven is supposed to be good, that’s the whole point—but he will take note of how, time and time again, Crowley exemplifies this idea when the actual Heavenly angels do not.

Across history, Aziraphale sees Crowley do things that are good. And then disclaim them, reject them, call them something else. A demon could get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, Crowley had warned him a long time ago.

Aziraphale will remember this.

Don’t say thank you, Crowley hisses in the Bastille. My lot do not send rude notes.

And the Victorian minisode?

Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions, Crowley tells Aziraphale vehemently after saving Elspeth from suicide. (In Christianity, certainly in the 19th century, suicide condemns a soul; one who died by suicide does not even get a Christian burial. So Crowley has actively diverted a soul from Hell by drinking the laudanum.)

And—look at how indulgently Aziraphale is looking at Crowley as Crowley insists he is not responsible for his actions.

Of course you aren’t, my dear, he seems to think. We both know you did it on purpose, to have a plausible excuse for Hell. But of course we both know that you are in fact responsible for your actions, and that, at great personal risk and cost, you have once again chosen to do good.

So by the end, from Aziraphale’s point of view, Crowley has a much better idea of Good than Heaven itself. And—oh joy!—in the finale, Metatron, the voice of God, finally acknowledges that fact and validates it. Your demon recognized me when nobody else did, Metatron essentially says.

(I just cannot with the ominous dramatic music that plays as Metatron leads Aziraphale out of the shop. Get the FUCK OUT David Arnold, this is so pointed and disturbing. In this season and in the last, the music is narration, it tells us so much without a single word.)

Anyway! Yes! In the finale, Aziraphale is being manipulated, and part of why it works is that he still does not understand Crowley’s motives in insisting he is not nice or good. He has been interpreting Crowley’s insistence solely as protective, which makes a lot of sense from what he has seen. A demon doing good deeds must hide to avoid punishment and pain. Crowley has hid for six thousand years, has gotten used to hiding. Sure, the last four years were different, but even in these years the danger hasn’t gone away, and six thousand years is a long time to set a pattern.

Aziraphale wants to see Crowley happy. He wants to see him—both of them—safe. And here, finally, is an official Metatron-offered way. Heaven is finally admitting and working on its mistakes. Surely Crowley will forgive them? Surely Crowley and Aziraphale can make Heaven better, together? Make into what it should be? (And they would be safe, they would be safe, they would be safe.)

They still haven’t talked. Aziraphale still does not understand Crowley’s choices. In the past, it might have been too dangerous for Aziraphale to know exactly why Crowley Fell, while for Crowley, it might have been too vulnerable a thing to discuss. So they haven’t talked, and Aziraphale does not know the exact questions Crowley had asked, does not know the exact reasons. He assumes.

And his assumptions, oh so well-meant, are going to be catastrophic.

[lowkeyremi]

Random haikyuu hcs bc im bored ft. mattsun, atsumu, iwa, tendou and kags

Matsukawa Issei definitely sits around looking at instagram posts with you, rating any and everyone.

"Hey stink, what do ya think about her?" He asks waiting for you to lift your head from your phone.

When you do, you're met with a picture of an elderly woman. "Bro... I am not rating somebody's grandma." You push his phone out of your face and he snorts out a laugh.

"I will, she's a ten in my book." A lazy smirk coats his lips and you smack him lightly.

"You're so annoying."

"You love it." He kisses your cheek.

Miya Atsumu will give you kisses to try and gain your attention. He's lonely without your eyes on him.

He goes for your neck this time, placing a small peck on it. When he realizes you haven't stopped looking at your textbook he tries again. Your faux blond boyfriend goes for a kiss on your jaw.

"Hm?" You finally respond.

"Look at me :((("

His pout turns upward when your cute fingers slowly close the big green textbook to give him your full attention.

"I'm looking."

"Good." His smile is so pretty. Sometimes it's hard to believe you're dating him.

Anytime you text Iwaizumi Hajime that you'll be joining him at the gym he'll use heavier weights to impress you.

"Wow Haji, are you sure that isn't heavy?" You ask watching him lift a sixty-five pound dumbbell in one hand. (idk how much guys like iwa usually lift in one hand so spare me) (i don't lift more than 25 lbs in my normal workouts 😭)

"Nah, these are what I usually use." And you find it cute that he thinks you don't notice the way his muscles strain when his arm pumps up and down and he tries to quiet his exhales.

"You don't have to impress me, baby. You're already impressive as is." He sighs in relief, dropping the dumbbell to the ground.

"I don't know who I thought I was fooling." He smiles at you.

Tendou Satori is always humming/singing a song you're thinking about.

"Tori! I was just thinking about that." He hears you gasp in shock and excitement. A cat-like smile expands on his face.

"Damn, I think we have couple telepathy." You'd never heard of that but it sound like Satori to make something like that up.

"Babe, I don't think that's a real thing."

"I made it up right now :D" How could you crush his spirit when he's so cute?

"Okay! Guess what I'm thinking!"

Last but not least, Kageyama Tobio sucks at card games because he's so easy to read.

He thinks he has the upper hand in Uno, but little does he know the mirror he's sitting in front of shows off his cards and you can see the wild card he has.

I mean, it was already obvious by the way he was smirking in a triumphant way. A proud huff escaping his lips.

So you decide to knock him down a few pegs and place your yellow skip down, his face immediately sours and he grunts.

"Uno!" You call out.

"Well good luck I'm sure you don't-"

You place down a draw four and he stops talking to look you dead in your face, "Uno out!" You giggle when he throws the cards down.

"Tch. I hate card games." He says getting up.

"Well maybe, keep your facial expressions in check, baby. You're easy to read like a kid's book." (hehe see what i did there? tendou dub line :3)

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (17/17)

Part Summary: “I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 7.600+ | Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut Author's note: Wow! Those five months went by so fast. Thank you so much for being with me on this journey. It's been my honor and pleasure sharing with you this story :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV I Part XV | Part XVI

-

“Tell me that your love is a sure thing” - Golden Vessel, Emerson Leif (“Hesitate”)

“Do you think I should ask Y/N to come with me?” Leigh asks, idly twisting a gold bauble between her fingers. She stares at it a beat too long, like she might find the answer in the curve of its shiny surface. 

It's three days before Christmas, and true to Shaw family tradition, they're just now getting around to setting up the decorations. It wouldn't have happened at all if Amy hadn't taken the initiative to remind them. She was supposed to help, but she's vanished again to meet another “friend.” Leigh and Jules are suspicious, thinking their mom might be seeing someone in secret.

Jules, teetering slightly on the ladder, twists around to give Leigh a raised eyebrow. “To the Harrison’s bash for New Year’s? Hell yeah, why not? She’s a blast. Could shake things up a bit.”

“No, not that,” Leigh exhales, now regretting even bringing it up. “I mean the comic book tour for Matt.”

Jules steps down, one rung at a time, until she’s down to Leigh’s level. “Oh. That’s…quite a step. But, why not? Sounds like an adventure for you both,” she says.

Logan zips by, a sheeny red bauble in his mouth, set on a mission to place it next to his bowl in the kitchen. He keeps fetching or chasing after the scattered Christmas balls, sending them rolling all over the house. Leigh and Jules have been running around, picking them up and putting them back on the tree.

“It’s not just that,” Leigh says, glancing out the window where the first hints of evening are brushing the sky. “Asking her to come means asking her to leave everything here behind. Her life, her responsibilities. It’s different for her—she has a real career.”

“Hold up—what we do is a real career too. We’re improving lives with healthy habits, remember?”

Leigh laughs sardonically. “Come on, Jules, we're kinda just floating, working for Mom. Y/N is a doctor, owns her clinic, has staff. That’s...”

“That’s a big deal,” Jules agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s a huge ask, for sure.”

Silence hangs for a beat, the only sounds being Logan’s light panting as he settles down, ornament forgotten. 

“Do you think she'd actually say no?” Jules suddenly pipes up, climbing back up the ladder to resume her decorating. Leigh spots a stray ornament a few feet away, points at it, and calls out, “Fetch!” 

Logan springs into action, scampering to retrieve it. As he returns, triumphant, Leigh gives him a pat on the head and passes the ornament up to Jules.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. She’d jump at the chance,” she tells Jules.

“So, what’s stopping you?”

“She might regret it later,” Leigh says quietly. “And that could mean losing her.”

Jules frowns, understanding the bind her sister is in. She stretches out a hand, and Leigh takes it, their palms pressing cold and warm together. “I’m sorry.”

“And if I leave her here, I might lose her anyway,” Leigh adds, the heaviness of two futures making her shoulders sag. 

Jules gives her hand a firm squeeze. “But what if you both end up regretting not taking the chance? It’s only a few months. Maybe Y/N can sort something out with her clinic?”

“It’s still too risky for her business. She’s poured everything into that place, Jules. Asking her to step away, even briefly—it’s…it’s selfish.”

“Life’s full of risky asks, Leigh. Sometimes, you gotta bet on what’s scary. Risk a little heartbreak on the chance it’ll bring you both something remarkable. Maybe this is one of those times?”

Leigh releases her hand and moves to another bare section of the tree. “Is that the kind of thinking that made you decide to look for your biological parents in Vietnam?”

Jules snaps the tinsel down, her response coming quick and a bit sharp. “Yes.”

Leigh winces slightly, realizing her question might have prodded an unintended sore spot. “I didn’t mean—”

“I get it,” Jules interjects, sighing as she tries to bring the conversation to a close. They’re both dealing with their own issues, and as much as she loves Leigh, she knows she’s not in the right headspace to offer solid advice—especially advice she’s not even sure works.

Leigh clamps her mouth shut. She doesn’t want this to turn into an argument either.

“Maybe just talk to her? See what she thinks? Who knows, maybe the biggest leaps make the most sense when you’re doing them for the right reasons... for the right person,” Jules says after some time. 

“You really think so?” Leigh asks, her voice threaded with hope.

“I do,” Jules nods, her hands busy rewrapping the tinsel Logan has graciously returned. “Just talk to her. It’s either a ‘what if’ or a ‘what now.’ Better to find out which.”

-

Leigh comes with her mouth open, but no sound escapes. Her body trembles as she experiences what she knows is the best orgasm she's ever had—though she remembers saying the same thing about this morning’s quickie in your bathroom. It just seems to keep getting better each time.

You slowly climb up from her pussy, trailing soft kisses along her stomach. As you move upward, you let your tongue lightly trace a stripe across one of her nipples, eliciting a shiver from Leigh. She’s still catching her breath, but when you finally reach her lips, she pulls you in for a deep, consuming kiss. The way her tongue wrestles with yours tells you she’s already eager for more, her hands tangling in your hair as she holds you close.

You break the kiss, smiling down at her. “Hi,” you murmur, almost shyly.

Leigh, still a little dazed, brushes the strands of hair off your forehead and gently traces your lower lip with her thumb. “You know something?” she asks, her eyes wandering over the marks and lines on your face.

“Hm?” 

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “You're kind of amazing,” she says softly.

“That good, huh?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Her hand, which has been cupping your face, slides down your neck before she pulls it back to herself, biting at her index fingernail.

“I’m sure you can tell,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry. To emphasize her point, she arches her hips, the slickness between her thighs evident against your skin.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” you sigh, letting your head fall to her sweaty chest. “You’ve completely worn me out.”

Leigh laughs, a soft, melodic sound. “Really? Getting tired already? What happened to your stamina?”

You don’t bother to retort, content just to lie there listening to the rhythm of her heart. “It’s hard work keeping you satisfied,” you say after some time, your voice muffled against her skin.

She tightens her hold around you, the gentle stroke of her fingers in your hair making every thought slow down. The security of her embrace makes everything seem right in the world, and it emboldens you to voice a thought that's been on your mind more and more lately.

“You know,” you start, lifting your head to catch her eyes, “I was thinking… maybe you should move in with me.”

Leigh stiffens just a bit, her eyes darting away for a moment, and you instantly regret how fast you’ve blurted it out. You sit up, trying to backpedal, “Only if you want to, I mean... it was just a thought. You're here most nights anyway, and your toothbrush is already—”

Before you can ramble on, Leigh leans in and silences you with a gentle kiss. “Slow down,” she whispers against your lips, her smile reassuring.

You chuckle, giving her a sheepish, lopsided smile. “Right, right,” you agree, settling back down beside her. 

Leigh shifts to lie on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes, still dark with want, sweep over your body—flushed, soft, and still quivering slightly from your efforts to pleasure her. She catches herself, though, and with a more composed motion, she pulls the blanket up to cover you, tucking it around your chest.

You look up at her, your expression ironically innocent, waiting for her to say what's on her mind.

“I’d love to,” Leigh finally says. “But do you really think it’s the right move?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve just started exploring what this is, what we could be, and I’m already planning to leave. It feels like I’m setting us up for...” Leigh doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Matt's book tour looms over both of you, an ever-present shadow no matter how tightly you try to cling to each other. It's as if you believe that by melding into one with Leigh, you could somehow will her impending departure into nonexistence.

Though before you can say anything, your phone rings from the coffee table beside you. You reach over and grab it, your mom's name flashing urgently on the screen. A quick glance at the time sends a jolt through you—you were to pick her up at the airport but completely lost track of time.

Leigh sits up too, clutching the sheet to her naked torso. “What is it?”

You wince, the irony of the situation not lost on you. “It's my mom,” you explain hurriedly. “I should have left, like, half an hour ago to pick her up at the airport. She’s staying with me for a few days until right before New Year’s.” 

A moment ago, you were discussing moving in together, and now you find yourself needing to ask her to leave. 

Leigh raises an eyebrow, smiling coyly as she realizes the implications of your mother’s arrival. “And let me guess, she's staying here? In your one-bedroom palace?”

“Yeah,” you say, scrambling to get dressed. “Which means I need to air out the place, change the sheets... make it look like I live like a monk.” You stop for a second, looking at Leigh with an apologetic frown on your face. “And I kind of need to ask you to leave now. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Leigh laughs as she swings her legs out of bed and starts gathering her clothes. Once she's collected them all, she steps closer, gives you a quick kiss, and murmurs right next to your ear, “I’m furious.”

You kiss her hair gently before stepping in front of the mirror to check your appearance, making sure you don't look as disheveled as you feel.

“Gives us both some time to think about everything. The tour, us moving in, all of it,” Leigh says, slipping into her jeans.

“Absolutely,” you agree, watching her.

“Change those sheets well, huh?” she teases, zipping up her bag. “You know how moms can be.”

You grimace jokingly at her comment. “Please, don't ever use 'sheets' and 'mom' in the same sentence ever again.”

Leigh laughs again, clearly enjoying you squirm. She slings her bag over her shoulder, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

As you cap your lip gloss, an idea suddenly strikes you. Seeing Leigh's expectant look reflected in the mirror, you ask, “Hey, how about you join me to pick her up at the airport?”

Meeting your mom seems like another huge step in your relationship, but she doesn't hesitate.

“Is it okay with your mom?” she asks, a bit wary.

You shrug, taking her hand confidently. “Why wouldn't it be?”

-

Apparently, you’re the spitting image of your mother.

At least, that’s how Leigh sees it as she watches you both hug it out in the arrival section of LAX. As a fitness pundit, Leigh immediately notices your mom's excellent posture, despite her petite frame. It's the first thing she observes in anyone, and your mom is no exception. Beyond that, you both share the same quick smile and the way your eyes light up in laughter—deep brown, the color of rich coffee, which Leigh finds particularly striking. Even the gestures are mirrored; the way you both tuck hair behind your ear when nervous, or the confidence in your strides.

What distinctly sets her apart from you, though, is how intimidating your mom appears to be.

As you walk to the parking lot, holding your mom’s hand in one of yours and Leigh’s in the other, your mom chats animatedly about a hot spring resort she discovered near your hometown. Leigh keeps half a step behind, doing her best to stay engaged while keeping up with your pace.

“So, how was your flight?” Leigh asks, finding a moment to wedge herself into the conversation.

Your mom barely glances back, responding briefly before turning her attention back to you. “Long, but it’s always nice to spend Christmas with my daughter,” she says, squeezing your hand affectionately.

Leigh tries again. “It's pretty nice weather here, isn't it? I bet it's a lot colder on the East Coast right now.”

“Oh, it’s freezing out there, Leigh,” you chime in, completely oblivious to the awkward interaction between your mom and your girlfriend. 

Your mom nods but doesn't elaborate, her focus still on you. “We should stop by that bakery you always gush about,” she says, eyes bright with excitement.

Leigh's grip on your hand tightens slightly, and she lags further behind. “Oh, that store closes at five. It’s seven already,” you say. 

Desperate to connect, Leigh tries for the final time. “There are special light installations in the park for the holidays. Would you like to go see them?”

Your mom finally looks back, but her smile is thin. “I’m not much into these ‘light installations’. Too much walking.” She quickly shifts back to you. “How’s work been?”

“Work’s been busy, but manageable,” you say, glancing back at Leigh, who offers a small, strained smile.

The three of you continue to the parking lot, the conversation feeling increasingly one-sided. As you reach the car, you open the trunk and help with the bags, all the while trying to think of a way to include Leigh more naturally.

“Leigh and I were thinking of checking out that new restaurant downtown,” you say, making an effort to draw your mom's attention to her.

“Sounds nice,” your mom replies. “But actually, I'm not hungry—just a bit tired.”

Leigh’s expression falls just a bit, but she quickly masks it, helping with the last of the luggage. She figures that’s her cue to leave. 

You can’t hide your frustration. Your plan was to have a nice dinner, a proper introduction. “Are you sure, Mom? It doesn’t have to be a long meal,” you push back gently.

“Let’s just get your mom home, she’s had a long day,” Leigh tells you softly.

You glance at your mom, silently pleading for her to reconsider, but she only smiles. “Maybe another time, dear.”

Reluctantly, you agree.

-

You lead your mom into the living room, urging her to make herself comfortable while you hurry to get the bedroom ready. The sheets need changing, the windows thrown open to freshen the air, and the whole space needs a bit of tidying. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mumble, disappearing into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, you work quickly, stripping the used sheets and flinging the windows wide. You hustle, smoothing on fresh sheets, fluffing pillows, and straightening up—getting rid of all the evidence of what you and Leigh had been doing all week. 

Meanwhile, your mom isn't one to just sit around. She takes in the scattered magazines, the couch cushions askew, and the dishes piled up in the kitchen. With a small sigh, she gets up and starts putting things in order. She straightens up the living room and moves on to tackle the kitchen. Before long, the sound of running water and clinking dishes fills your tiny apartment.

When she’s done setting things in order, she starts rummaging through your fridge and pantry. With only a few ingredients at hand, she decides to make do with what you have. Soon, she's boiling spaghetti and slicing hotdogs to toss into the mix. This dish was a childhood favorite of yours and remains a go-to comfort food. As soon as the familiar aroma wafts through the air, you find yourself irresistibly drawn toward the kitchen.

“Is that...?” you start, a delighted smile spreading across your face at the sight of the generous layer of shredded cheese melting over the thick red sauce.

“Sit down and eat while it's hot,” your mom commands with a warm smile.

You don’t need to be told twice.  Fork in hand, you dive into the spaghetti as though you haven't eaten in days. Considering your usual diet of takeout and quick fixes, that's not too far from the truth. You chat about small, inconsequential things—the new coffee shop you tried last week, the remarkable cases you’ve encountered in the clinic this month, the shows you’ve been watching on Netflix. 

Finishing your meal, you lean back with a satisfied sigh, feeling truly content for the first time in a long while.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“So... what do you think of Leigh?”

“So that’s Leigh, huh?” Your mom pauses, setting down her cup of tea with deliberate care. “The widow of the guy you unknowingly dated for a while, not realizing he was married?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirm, nodding slowly as your nerves start to build. The last time you brought up Leigh to your mom, you were almost ready to throw in the towel until she urged you to give it another shot. Now, more than anything, you're hoping she'll give her approval.

She nods thoughtfully, then with a sly grin, says, “Well, she's definitely out of your league.”

“Mom!” you exclaim, embarrassed.

She chuckles, clearly pleased with her little joke.

“Come on, be serious,” you plead.

Your mom clasps her hands on the table, and gives you that look—the one that means business. You can't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, clearly aimed at getting a rise out of you.

“Leigh seems lovely,” she says. You can tell she’s sincere and that makes you sigh in relief. “And I really appreciate how she tried to engage with me earlier.”

You relax slightly, but then, as you replay the earlier interactions in your mind, you realize Leigh seemed frustrated and your mom wasn’t as welcoming as she usually is. Your face scrunches up as this sinks in.

“Wait, you were really standoffish to Leigh earlier!”

She holds up her hands in a half-shrug, her smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to come off that way at all,” she says. “I guess I was just being overprotective. You know, considering how everything started between you two.”

You appreciate her motherly instincts but wish she'd given Leigh a fairer chance from the start. “I get it, Mom. But Leigh is really important to me now. It would mean a lot if you could try to get to know her better. For me?”

“Of course, sweetie,” she says. “What do you need?”

“Well, for starters…” you start, pausing as you try to find the right way to explain. You're about to share that you'll be spending Christmas dinner with the Shaws this year. It's always been just the two of you for the holidays, so you're not sure how she'll take the news of including others she hardly knows. “You’ll have an opportunity to bond with her the day after tomorrow.”

“What’s on Tuesday?”

“Christmas Eve dinner,” you reply. “At the Shaws.”

“Dinner at your girlfriend’s?” she clarifies.

You nod, your lip catching between your teeth. It still feels a little surreal—exciting, actually—being able to call Leigh your girlfriend. “Yeah, Mom. I thought it’d be nice for us to join them this year.”

Instead of giving an outright yes, she asks, “What should I bring? I want to make a good impression.”

You stand up and walk around the table to give her a hug. She wraps her arms around you and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you,” you mutter into her shoulder. “Maybe bring your blueberry pie? Everyone loves that.”

“You love it,” she says cheerily. “Consider it done.”

Slipping back into old habits, you start clearing the dinner dishes, just like you used to when you lived with her. As you stack dishes and run water in the sink, your mom begins unpacking her bags in your bedroom. As you scrub the dishes, thoughts of following Leigh and leaving everything here behind start to overwhelm you. Once the kitchen is spotless and the last dish is put away, you realize you can't keep these feelings bottled up any longer. 

You call out to your mother as you dry your hands on a kitchen towel. A few seconds later, she reappears in the living room, her face expectant.

“Hey, uhm,” you say, not knowing how to start. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Go on,” she urges gently.

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Matt’s comic book is getting published posthumously. The publishing company wants Leigh to join a tour to promote the book, and I'm… I’m thinking of joining her.”

Your mom's expression becomes inscrutable as she processes the information. She walks to the couch and takes a seat. After a long pause, she asks, “What will happen to your clinic here?” 

You look down, fidgeting with the towel in your hands, and then meet her gaze. “I’ve thought about that,” you say. “I’d need to find someone to cover for me. It wouldn’t be easy, but... I feel like I need to be there for Leigh. This is important to her, and… she’s everything to me.”

You try to read her reaction, but every line on her face remains perfectly still and composed. “Is it because you want to be there for her,” she says slowly, “or because you're afraid that if she leaves, you might lose her?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and that's answer enough for your mother.

“Come here,” she says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to her. Wordlessly, you oblige.

“It's okay to be scared,” she whispers. “Loving someone means taking risks. Just remember, you need to be true to yourself as well. Leigh is important, but so are you.”

“I just don’t want to regret not giving my all to see this through with her,” you say.

“You love her,” she states, not as a question, but as a fact.

“I really do,” you say quietly.

“I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

-

Your mom's words stay with you throughout the night. As you lie in bed, you can hear her soft breathing, her back turned to you.

You’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.

Your phone vibrates gently beneath your pillow, and you smile when you see a message from Leigh.

Leigh [10:45 PM]: Can’t sleep. I miss you.

You [10:45 PM]: Miss you too.

She doesn't reply, but she fills your head well into the night. The future is uncertain, but one thing feels right: going with Leigh on her tour is the decision that brings you peace.

-

Christmas Eve dinner arrives sooner than you expected.

Pulling up to the Shaws' house, you're amazed by the decorations that the siblings have tirelessly worked on for the past two days. The house is transformed into a festive wonderland, with twinkling lights draped over every surface, garlands of holly framing the windows, and a towering Christmas tree visible through the living room window, adorned with shimmering ornaments and tinsel.

You watch your mom's reaction as you both step out of the car, seeing the lights reflected in her awe-filled eyes. You beam at her, proud of your girlfriend's decorating skills and holiday spirit.

You and your mom walk up to the doorstep. She clutches her much-loved blueberry pie, which you’re looking forward to having a hearty slice of tonight, while you carefully hold Leigh's gift—a Lego typewriter modeled after a vintage 1950s design. You feel a twinge of nervousness about how she’ll receive your gift.

Moments later, the door swings open to reveal Leigh, all dressed up, and for a moment, you're speechless. Leigh has always been beautiful. No matter what she wears—be it casual joggers, sleek dresses, or even just her underwear—she never fails to leave an impression. Tonight is no different; she takes your breath away all over again.

“Merry Christmas!” Leigh greets brightly. “Almost, anyway,” she adds with a nervous laugh.

“Your decorations are incredible,” your mom says, smiling at her.

“Oh, thank you!” Leigh replies, her cheeks flushing at the unexpected compliment. 

“Where should I put this?” your mom asks, holding up her pie.

“You didn’t have to, but wow, that looks amazing! Come on in, I'll show you,” Leigh says, stepping aside to let you both in. She leads you to the kitchen, where the smells of holiday cooking are even stronger. “You can set it right here,” she points to a spot on the counter already laden with various dishes and desserts.

Just as your mom sets the pie on the counter, Amy walks in. Leigh introduces her mom, and the two women share friendly greetings before Amy’s attention quickly turns to the blueberry pie. They dive into a lively discussion about cooking, swapping recipes as if they’ve known each other for years.

Leigh turns to you, her eyes shining. “I'm so glad you’re here now,” she says softly, her fingers lightly brushing against yours. Craving more contact, you gently grasp her hand and guide her to the backyard where Logan is nonchalantly marking a geranium. With no one around now, you draw Leigh close and kiss her deeply. Leigh responds just as fervently, her hand coming to rest on your waist and then squeezing, making you moan into her mouth. She takes advantage of the moment, slipping her tongue in. Her other hand finds its way to your neck, pulling you even closer. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Leigh's eyes are half-lidded, her lips slightly swollen, tempting you to lean in once more. Just as you're about to, she finally takes notice of the enormous box under your arm.

“Is that for me?”

“Yes,” you say, handing it to her. “I hope you like it.”

Leigh's eyes widen as she takes her gift, her excitement further lighting up her soulful green eyes.

“I've got something for you too,” she says, giving the box a little shake. “It's upstairs in my bedroom. Want to get it now?”

You shake your head, matching her giddy smile. “Maybe later. If you take me to your bedroom now, I can't promise we'll be back in time for dinner,” you say.

Leigh chuckles. Honestly, she feels the same way. “Well then, can I open this now?” she asks.

“Absolutely! Go ahead. I really hope you like it.”

Leigh quickly starts unwrapping your gift, her fingers deftly tearing through the wrapping paper. As the paper falls away, her eyes widen in pleasant surprise at the sight of the Lego typewriter.

“Oh my gosh, it's perfect! Thank you so much!” She carefully places it on the ground before wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You're welcome,” you whisper, circling your arms around her waist and pulling her close.

When she pulls back, her eyes are brimming with happiness and something deeper—pure, unfiltered love. She stares at you, her gaze soft and intense, as if she's seeing you for the first time.

“I can't believe you remembered,” she says, referring to a conversation you had weeks prior. “This means so much to me.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

Something in your words strikes a chord within her. Without thinking, she blurts out, “Come with me to Matt's comic book tour.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she's just said. But she doesn't take it back; instead, she buries her face in your neck, breathing in your scent. With each breath, she finds the idea of being apart from you increasingly unbearable.

“I want you to be there with me,” she continues with more conviction. “I can't imagine doing this without you.”

She pulls back slightly, needing to see your reaction. In your eyes, she finds the same depth of love she feels for you, mirrored back at her.

“As you wish,” you whisper, leaning in to seal your promise with a kiss.

-

Dinner is a success, largely due to Amy's and your mom's excellent cooking skills. The pasta prepared by Leigh and Jules wasn't a total disaster, but it had its mishaps. After the first batch turned too soggy—practically mush—Jules had to dash out in the middle of dinner to buy another pack of pasta.

Leigh’s father made a brief appearance with his new family, stirring a bit of awkwardness between the exes. Luckily, your mother defused the tension by suggesting a family game. It wasn’t long before laughter filled the room, with Jules energetically shouting clues at those struggling to guess the words on their foreheads.

In the middle of the game, Leigh volunteers to do the dishes. You offer to help, but Jules quickly drags you out of your seat to be the next one to guess the word. While you’re preoccupied, your mom quietly slips out of the living room and follows Leigh into the kitchen.

Leigh is surprised to see your mom. “I've got this,” she assures her with a polite smile. Despite your mom having considerably warmed up to her, Leigh still feels a bit anxious in her presence.

Your mom simply picks up some dinnerware that has already been washed and starts wiping them dry with a towel. “Do you know why Y/N became a veterinarian?” she asks casually.

Leigh smiles, recalling your story about Max, the first animal you ever helped. “Yes, she told me about rescuing a pup. It was really touching,” she says, her eyes softening at the memory.

Your mom observes Leigh, who has already returned to busily washing the dishes. “That’s right. But there’s more to it,” she says.

Leigh stops what she’s doing and tilts her head. “What do you mean by that?” she asks.

“Y/N did get into veterinary school,” your mom begins, placing a dry plate on the stack. “But she dropped out after the first semester. She had this deep-seated dream of traveling the world.”

Leigh listens attentively, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“Her father and older brother are both veterinarians, running a small clinic in our town. Naturally, they encouraged her to follow the same path,” your mom continues, “and while she loved animals, she also wanted to explore every corner of the world ever since she was a kid.”

Leigh's hands pause in the sudsy water as she absorbs every word.

“Her father gave her his blessing, and off she went. She traveled the world for two years.”

“What brought her back?” Leigh asks.

Your mom takes a deep breath, her knuckles whitening as she grips the towel more tightly. “H-Her father and brother were killed in a car accident,” she says, each word seeming to be painfully forced out of her.

Leigh's hand flies to her mouth in horror. “Oh no, I... I didn’t know,” she stammers, feeling a rush of guilt and confusion. Why hadn’t this crucial detail come up before?

“It was a terrible time,” your mom says quietly, “but it brought her back home.”

Leigh is silent, guilt gnawing at her for not knowing such a significant detail of your life. She’s been so caught up in sharing her own thoughts and plans, and you’ve always been the listener, never pressing her to ask about your past. She realizes now how little she’s asked about your family.

Leigh abandons her chore altogether. “W-What happened then?”

“After the accident, without their expertise, we couldn't keep the clinic running,” your mom replies, her voice steadier now but still tinged with sadness. “We had to put it up for sale. It was devastating to lose what they had worked so hard for.

“For a long time, Y/N was depressed. She blamed herself for not being there in the last two years, for putting her own interests first. And with the clinic gone, she felt like she had failed to preserve their legacy.”

Leigh is at a loss for words, her eyes growing bleary. “I’m—” 

“Being a housewife all those years, I suddenly found myself needing to help put food on the table so Y/N could go back to school,” your mom explains. “For a year, she was just a shell of herself, hardly the vibrant person you know now.”

Needing a moment to process all these revelations, Leigh moves to the dining table and sits down. Her legs feel weak at the thought of you being so heartbroken. She knows grief all too well. Losing one person she loved nearly destroyed her; she can't imagine losing two at once.

“Y/N is the most… beautiful, wonderful and well-adjusted person I know,” Leigh says after a while. “I wouldn't have guessed she went through all that.”

“My daughter is a miracle,” your mom states with a soft smile.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” Leigh says sincerely.  “It means a lot to understand what she’s been through.”

Your mom nods and says, “I'm not telling you this just because you're her girlfriend. I'm telling you because I know she’s planning to follow you and leave her practice here in LA behind.”

Leigh's breath hitches as she takes it all in. Learning about your father and brother, she realizes she nearly forgot what she asked of you just hours ago. It's not just a job or a business you're leaving behind—it's a dream that keeps their memory alive, a part of you where they still live on.

“Please, don't ask her to leave everything behind,” your mom says, her voice almost pleading. “Just promise her that you'll come back for her.”

It’s not an easy promise to make—or keep. The mere uncertainty of what lies ahead holds her back. She can't stand the idea of breaking a promise to you or betraying your trust in any way.

Leigh's silence stretches on, and your mom speaks again. “If you can't promise to come back for her, just end it. Don't let it drag on. She's tougher than she knows. It'll hurt, but she won't be alone—I'll be there, and so will her friends and coworkers.”

Leigh balks at her. “I don't want to rush into a decision.”

But your mom isn't listening. Her concern cuts through her caution, compelling her to share more. “After we lost half our family, she was never the same. She’d sacrifice everything for someone she loves, always skeptical of a second chance. She loves like there's no tomorrow.”

It’s the one thing your mother said tonight that rings truest about you. You do love as if it's the last thing you'll ever do.

Before Leigh can respond, Amy walks in, sensing the tension immediately. “Is everything alright?” she asks, her eyes darting between Leigh and your mom.

Leigh suddenly realizes she's been crying, and so has your mom. Your mother excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Amy looking concerned and bewildered.

“What was that about?” Amy asks.

Leigh, shaken and overwhelmed, struggles to speak. “I-I need to get the gifts for everyone. They're upstairs,” she stammers, then quickly heads to the bedroom, needing to escape and collect herself.

Amy watches Leigh leave, then reaches for the blueberry pie, trying not to read too much into the haunted look in her daughter’s eyes.

-

It’s a cold January evening when Leigh finally gathers the courage to talk to you. Your mother flew back to Maine three days after Boxing Day, and the rest of the holidays passed by in pure bliss. The two of you are curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, the remnants of dinner still on the coffee table. She’s been avoiding this conversation, clinging to the hope that something might change. But the more she thinks about the family you lost when you were younger, the more convinced she becomes that your mother was right.

“Can we talk?” Leigh’s voice is soft, almost drowned out by the movie playing in the background.

You mute the TV and turn to her, a look of concern immediately crossing your face. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future,” Leigh says slowly.

It doesn’t immediately ring any alarm bells in your head, but your heart starts to race. “Okay…” you murmur. You can't help but notice her hands twisting nervously in her lap. You reach out to steady them, and as she looks up, her resolve breaks.

“I love you. You mean the world to me, but…I don’t know if it’s right for you to come with me.”

You frown, eyebrows stitched together in confusion and denial. “Leigh, what are you talking about?”

She looks away, her hands slipping from your grasp as she inches further into her corner of the couch. “I can’t be the reason you give up everything you’ve worked so hard for,” she says.

“I’m not,” you reassure her, trying to keep calm. “It’s just for a little while, right? Less than six months on tour. And it's not like we'll be non-stop; the schedule allows breaks. We can come back home in between. We’ve discussed this, remember? We have a plan in place.”

Leigh grows quiet, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. She takes a long breath through her nose, as if preparing herself for something even harder to say. “That's the thing,” she whispers. “I might not come back.”

Everything around you stills.

“What do you mean, you might not come back?”

Leigh’s eyes remained glued to the floor. “For the longest time, I’ve thought about leaving. Now that Jules is embarking on her own trip to Vietnam, and Mom is planning a long vacation in Europe, it feels like the best time to explore what's out there.”

“Leigh, we've been planning this together. It's just a tour. We'll be back,” you reiterate in frustration, starting to grasp at straws.

She merely shakes her head. “Everything about this place reminds me of Matt—both the good and the bad memories. Maybe I—”

“Great. The Matt card again,” you snap.

Leigh bristles at your comment. She stands abruptly and begins to pace. Seething. “Card?” she retorts sharply. “This is my life, my pain—”

“And you’ve just been running away from it all!” you counter, standing up too. “Running away from me!”

“Didn't you?” she fires back, her voice breaking. 

“What—”

“Didn't you do the same thing when you lost your—” Leigh can't finish the sentence. It hurts too much to even say it.

You take a step back, shocked. “How did you—”

“Your mom told me.”

The room certainly feels like it's closing in. Unable to stand any longer, your legs give out, and you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in your hands and massaging your temples. Leigh watches you for a moment, then sits beside you. She reaches out tentatively but pulls back, unsure of what to say or do.

Your hands fall away from your face, and you turn to her, your eyes filled with pain and betrayal. “You learned about me losing my dad and my brother, and your response is to... leave me as well?”

Leigh's eyes fill with tears again, and she looks away, unable to hold your gaze. “It’s not like that,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“What if I promise that the clinic will be okay? Foreman can manage things while I’m away, I trust him,” you suggest, your voice wavering as the reality of the situation starts to consume you.

Leigh shakes her head, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can't,” she murmurs. “I can’t feel good about myself knowing I'm pulling you away from something important to you.”

“But you're what's important to me, Leigh,” you argue weakly.

“That’s not how it works, Y/N,” Leigh says, trying to fight more tears threatening to spill over. “It’s too imbalanced. We don’t need a relationship where one of us is sacrificing too much. That’s not healthy for either of us.”

You sit in stunned silence, her words sinking in. You've always been willing to sacrifice for the people you love, but now you see how it could be a burden for Leigh. 

You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, the words sticking in your throat. “And you think the best for us is to be apart?”

She nods reluctantly. “I think the best for you is to not have to choose between your love and your life's work. I can't ask you to put anything on hold, not for me.”

“But I choose you, Leigh,” you say, tears now streaming down your face. “Doesn't that count for something?”

Leigh can’t help herself any longer. She moves closer, needing to comfort you despite being the source of your pain.

“It does,” she whispers, gently wiping away your tears with her thumb. “It counts for everything. But I need to know that you're not losing yourself to be with me. I can't live with that.”

With that, she pulls you close. You hold each other tightly, falling asleep on the narrow sofa, clinging to each other as if letting go would mean losing everything.

But by the time the sun has risen high in the sky, Leigh is already gone.

-

There are days when you feel bitter about Leigh deciding to break up with you, especially with weeks still left before the tour begins. You oscillate between anger at her decision and a reluctant acceptance that it might have been the right choice for both of you. More often than not, the anger prevails, leading you to drink yourself to sleep, only to wake up the next day to discover that nothing has changed.

Leigh is still leaving.

-

To your surprise, Amy willingly provides you with Leigh's flight itinerary out of Los Angeles. In the days leading up to her departure, you find yourself constantly formulating and discarding plans. Will you show up at the airport and whisk her away? Convince her to change her mind? Perhaps even show up with your own suitcase, ready to join her if you can persuade her at the last minute that she’s making a huge mistake?

Ultimately, none of your scenarios play out. However, you do find yourself at the airport, arriving ten minutes before her boarding gate closes. There, you spot Leigh standing in the lobby with a small suitcase. In that instant, you feel like you’ve accepted—for real this time—her decision to do this on her own.

You watch from the shadows as her gaze darts around as if searching for someone. Your heart swells with a mix of hope and sorrow, realizing she might be looking for you. You stay hidden, watching as she pulls out her phone and dials a number. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. With your eyes still on her, you answer it.

“Hey, it's me,” Leigh starts awkwardly, as if implying that you might not remember how she sounds. You haven’t spoken to each other in weeks.

“I know it's you,” you reply softly.

“I'm about to board,” she says, and you can hear the reluctance in her voice.

“I see,” you say, struggling to contain the emotions that might slip through the cracks of your nonchalance. “Did you pack some food for the flight?”

She laughs, a tearful sound that squeezes your heart. “Yes, I picked up some donuts.”

“Sounds unhealthy, Ms. Shaw. Try to order some broccoli in-flight,” you tease her lightly.

“I hate broccoli,” she deadpans, her voice layered with a stubbornness you know well.

Then, she asks the harder questions, “Where are you? What are you doing?”

You mull it over, caught between honesty and the need to protect her decision. “I'm just hanging out in the clinic,” you lie, unwilling to reveal that you are there, watching her last moments before departure. “Will you call me when you land?”

She sounds like she wants to protest, but you cut in, “I need to know you're safe. It would really help me to know you're okay out there.”

After a few seconds, she agrees softly, “Okay, I'll call.”

“I’ll wait,” you say. “However long it takes,” you add, leaving the meaning of those words open for her to interpret.

They announce final boarding.

“Listen, I—I have to go,” Leigh says quickly. “Please, take care. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Leigh,” you manage to say, your voice catching as you watch her walk away.

You end the call and pocket your phone. Watching her wipe away a tear and head towards her gate is almost too much to bear. You allow yourself a moment, a small smile playing on your lips, proud of her courage and saddened by her departure. You’ll be waiting for her call, but if it never comes, you'll understand. These moments don't erase the past several months you've spent getting to know Leigh.

And you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

-

At exactly ten in the evening, Leigh calls you from Boston.

[crystallinesilk]

✧ “My Precious Lightweight…”✧ 

Synopsis: After a trip to the laundromat, Choso and his girlfriend [you!] settle on the couch. You previously discovered your misplaced THC vape pen before the wash, and playful teasing turns into an intimate, loving, and intensely passionate encounter as you trade vape hits and become consumed by each other.

Pairings: Choso x f!reader

Content: Explicit content { { MDNI } }, switchy/ lightweight/ possessive Choso, established relationship, post-laundry relaxation, new living arrangements, fluff, teasing, some biting, kissing/ making out, shotgunning THC vape pen, heavy petting, pet names (baby, baby doll, pretty princess, etc.).

Word Count: 2.3k+

Author’s note: This is my first one shot. I’ve been pretty obsessed with Jujutsu Kaisen lately so I hope you guys will enjoy what I think Choso would be like in this specific situation! I love him ,_,

You and Choso bustle around the apartment, sorting out the last bits of laundry before heading to the laundromat. As you shake out one of your hoodies, a small object tumbles out and lands on the floor. You pick it up, realizing it was your long-lost THC vape pen.

"Look what I found!" you exclaimed, holding it up with a triumphant grin, “And it’s still got a lot in it!”

Choso glances over curiously. "What? Where did you find that?”

"Found it in my hoodie! Just in time before it went through the wash," you say. "Want to get a little zooted when we get back?"

“Zooted?” he laughs and then nods while giving you a tentative smile, eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Sure, why not."

✧✧✧

After finishing the laundry, returning home, Choso adamant on not letting you carry the heavy basket, you two come up to the door. “You don’t always gotta be such a sweetheart, you know that, right?”

Choso smirks contentedly and leans in to give your nose a sweet lingering kiss, “I’d do anything for you, my pretty princess.” He kisses your cheek. A sweet loving kiss that seems to everlast.

✧✧✧

As you both walk in, he sets the basket next to the couch arm and plops down. His left arm splayed to make room for you. You set your keys down on the coffee table, toss your sweatpants off and plop down right beside him, cuddling into his large masculine frame. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek. His nose– tickling your ear. He kisses your temple firmly and leans his forehead against yours. You both let out a relieved sigh as you press your face into the nook of his neck.

Choso runs his fingers through your hair, “So about that vape pen?” he asks.

You straighten your posture a bit as you fish the pen back out of your short pockets. You held it up again, your excitement palpable. "Ready?"

He nods, watching you intently, curiously, innocently. You took the first hit, savoring the uplifting effects of the hybrid strain. The plumes escape your nostril and his eyes glimmer watching your eyes dilate and your shoulders lax.

Leaning forward, you align your face and cradle your boyfriends’ face in your hands as you kiss him, lingering on his bottom lip. You trace his lip with your tongue, eager for him to taste the herbal citrus of your recent vape hit. He eases his lips into yours and slips his tongue against yours. Velvety smooth and hints of orange citrus saliva intertwine with the sweetness of him..

You pull away, leaving that sloppy saliva strand that you lick back up to give him a more clsoe mouthed, tame kiss. Choso shifts constantly under your kiss and holds back a moan as you ask in a whisper, “Can I shotgun it into your mouth from mine?”

He looks at you hesitantly before a wide smile forms on his sweet pale face, “Of course, my pretty girl.”

He pulls you closer by your waist as you take a heavy pull off the vape. You align his face with yours, kissing him once. He opens his mouth eagerly for you as you exhale the vapor back into his mouth, the intimate shotgunning making him slightly dizzy. His eyes become glossy, a dreamy expression takes over his features, “Oh, ahah–aa Y/n, this is what it feels… like.. huh?” he stammers out.

You dote on him as you plant kisses on his face again. He’s sweetly delirious just from a single hit. You tease him, your lips lingering on his as you playfully nip at his lower lip. "My precious lightweight, already so affected..."

Choso's breath hitches, his body responding to your touch as you palm his already growing hardness. His heart flutters wildly. “Cho… already worked up, huh?”. He tries to murmur back something, but the feeling of his cock twitching underneath your hand leaves him effortlessly docile, hot under his clothes, and too flustered to string together words. He nods, swallowing hard.

You sits more firmly on his sharp hips, dragging back as you begin to kiss and nip down his jawline, finally finding a spot to leave your love bites. Between moments of him squirming and your acute hickies, you ask, “Think you can handle more?”

He shivers, his hands roaming your sides, switching between gentle caresses and needy gropes. "I can handle more than you think," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire and intoxication. His hands starting to wander from his iron grip on your waist.

You coo softly, “I know you can handle more, my sweet Cho", giving his hardness a firm grind between the heat resonating between your legs… He let out a low whine, his need for you intensifying.

 His hardness pressed against you through his pants, and you began to grind against him, moving back and forth with deliberate, slow movements. His breath hitched, and his hands found your waist, gripping you as if to anchor himself.

Leaning down, you took another hit from the vape and held it as you looked into his delicate doe eyes. His eyes lock swift yours and he leans in for another shotgunned hit.

Choso complied, his eyes half-lidded and filled with desire. The intimacy of the act makes you both shiver. He deepens the kiss, the shared vapor making your heads spin. He ruts sloppily up against your clothed cunt with a suppressed moan into your mouth.

"You're doing so well, baby," you murmur against his lips, feeling his hips buck more beneath you. "You’re my sweet lightweight, huh?"

Choso groans at your words and his breathing deepens as he stammers out, “Yo–your sweet light weight”. He grips on your waist, suddenly tightening his fingers as they digging into your skin with a possessive need. You huff pushing your ass onto his lap even harder as you lick and kiss up the side of his face, “All fucking mine…”

You pull back, following his hazy glazed eyes of need. His hands snaking from your hips, over your cute tits, to your neck, "And you're mine," he growled softly, his voice a mix of sweetness and feral intensity. "And I.. mm.. w–want all of you, baby"

You felt a thrill at his words, your own desire further heightening– unable to contain yourself. The daze makes your eyes half mooned. They close as you lean against his toned chest, "All yours, Cho," you whisper back, leaving fervent love bites on his chest. He grabs your jawline for a savory kiss reminding you both of how stoned the two of you are– the taste of citrus lingering . Still, his response was immediate, his mouth moving against yours with a sloppy hunger that made your toes curl and his grip slip against the fabric of your shirt.

You continue to grind against him, feeling the friction build between you. His breath hot and heavy as he moved down. In turn, he bites and sucks the divots of your collarbone and shoulders. His need for you evident in every hazy twitch of his cock, and every dizzy whimper that escapes your mouth, you could feel him grow below, “You do things… to.. me.. baby girl..”

You smile slyly as you reach between you, tugging down his pants and boxers just enough to free his hardness. The sight of him, swollen and ready, slapping against his meticulously chiseled abs make your eyes completely mesmerized– your need to touch, lick up and kiss and and and…

With a deep breath, a tight readiness below your stomach, you lean in closer, almost face-to-face with his sleeper of a hardness. Your fingers and palm centimeters away, the heat emanates wildly off him, matching your own fire.

As you reach out to grab his burning hot cock, he smirks deviously and grabs your wrist, “Tsk, tsk, I think we both need a little more…” his voice trails off as you watch him pull the vape pen out again, “don’t you think?”. He smirks as you watch him take a heavier hit than you did before. “Cho– don’t– be careful with that!”

He nods his head– a signal to veer closer. He grabs your chin, his finger trailing the underside of your jaw. You ease against his lips and breath in the sweet citrus. He follows by giving you a sloppy fucking kiss, his tongue eager to fight against yours. The smoke plumes between the subtle empty spaces between your interlocking lips and tongue. Both of you melted in the deliberate kiss– making your hearts zuzz, your minds’ empty, your bodies lost, and your eyes further reddened.

You sat back on to his firm hips, trapping his freed hardness between your wet thighs and soaked panties. Neither of you broke away until you felt the pulsating of his eager member against you. You breathed unsteadily with the feeling. He gasped, barely audible, but his stoned doe eyes looking down in disbelief and then back up to you tells you everything. So eager, so excited, so ready to burst already.

“Y/N, p– please?” Choso sputters out. You reach for both his hands at your waist. Bringing his left to your sacral, making him hook his fingers at the waistband of your panties, and his right hand, a shaking mess, back to enrich his fingertips and palm with your soft tits. He traces over your nipple softly, overwhelmed with the plethora of sensations.

“Slide ‘em to the side f’me, won’t you, Cho?” you says with a breathy, twice as eager moan. His half lidded eyes, opened wide, “You uh–ya sure, baby?”. You nod, your hands wandering down his iliac crest to meet his left hand stammering as he pulls your drenched panties to the side. 

Positioning yourself, you slowly guided him into you, the sensation making you both gasp. His eye lids barely closed, the white of his eyes noticeably reddened… You moved with deliberate slowness, wanting to savor every inch as he stifled his moans. His hands gripped your hips, helping to guide you as you take his entirety, barely with ease. Your wetness making it easier, but his size makes you stretch. He lets out an uneven breath as you start to set a steady rhythm.

Choso's breaths were ragged and completely broken, each movement driving him closer to the edge. "You’r— you’re fucking mine," he repeated, his voice trembling with need. "I– I can– never get– enough– of you, my slutty pretty–"

You grinned, leaning down to kiss him deeply. "I– I can’t either, Cho.." you say, your voice filled with affection and sultry desire. You increased the pace slightly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

As you rode him, you could feel his body tensing beneath you, his breathy moans filling the room. You slow down each time he seems a little too close to release, edging him and drawing out the pleasure. "You're so fucking responsive," you murmur, your lips grazing his ear. "I love how you react to my touch."

Choso lifts his shakily head from ecstasy, his mouth slightly agape from watching as his cock disappears and reappears covered by your needy pussy with your slick honey. He smiles so fucking wide, quickly changing into dark desire as his hands roam your body, his thumb tracking over your clit, his other hands groping at your plump ass, his touch desperate and reverent. "Please," he begged, his voice barely audible. "I need you."

"I– I need you too, my love," you reply, your movements becoming more urgent. You could feel the pressure building within you, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

You continue to edge him, the sensation of being so close yet not quite there driving him wild. His moans become more frantic, saying your name, your full name between his sloppy pumps up, his grip on you tightening more and more and more and more and…. "Please," he groans again, his voice evidently breaking. "Baby– girl– I– I can't hold on much longer."

“Hold on, baby… just.. alittle..” , you moan back reaching for the vape pen once more, taking a quick hit as he watches in further disbelief. His mouth still agape, you lean in and blow it into his mouth.

He breathes in and then out, “F-f–fuck”, our own release just within reach. You move with him, your bodies perfectly in sync as you finally allow yourselves to tip over the edge. The release— he caves first, pulling you close to him, his hands grabbing all over you searching for nowhere in particular just as long as you're close… The release so intense, waves of pleasure crashing over both of you as you held each other tightly. The sun fluttering on your skin from the window, a realization of his cum deep in you, connected in the most intimate way possible. You grind against him, dead set on making his face completely red, “S–so.. S–so sensitive, baby girl…”

As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed onto Choso's chest, both of you breathing heavily, hearts still a racing, pounding mess. He kisses you softly, his lips tasting you. "You did so fucking well, my girl" he murmured, feeling the love and connection between you.

You smile with ease, biting his lower lip. His eyes still glazed with the remnants of the high, still lost in your tender space. "Still needy, my sweet girl?," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude, adoration, and intrigue.

“Should I manipulate the blood back into my cock?” he smirks breathlessly.

You slap his chest lightly with a smiley giggle knowing he isn’t joking… because you can feel him twitching even more still buried in you...

© crystallinesilk2024~ reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Do not plagiarize my works and not translate/modify/copy. We can chat about it though!

(dividers by @cafekitsune)

[gothlcsan]

could you write a kind of pt.2 to myung jaehyun "puppy play" where taesan later admits to hearing reader and jaehyun, and possibly joins?

꒰ PLAY DATE ꒱ 태산 - 재현

when your and your boyfriend’s best friend admits to hearing the two of you have sex.. and wants to join

genre smut, subs!taesan x jaehyun x fem!reader tws pet names (puppy/kitty), threesome, dom!reader, jealous and very possessive jaehyun, no protection (use protection), not proof read .. ⠀⠀⠀⠀ author note thank you for the request, hope this serves you well, hehe ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ word count 2370

There’s a knock against your bedroom door, turning to look over your shoulder.

“Come in.”

Taesan cracks the door open far enough to poke his head in, a shy smile on his face.

“May I come in?”

Looking down at Jaehyun who gives you a pout, you face back to Taesan and nod.

“Come in, baby.”

That gains an annoyed squeeze on your arm from Jaehyun.

Taesan walks closer to where you and Jaehyun were sitting, attempting to wedge himself in between the two of you.

“Let me sit here too,” Taesan whines, fighting against Jaehyun who was trying to push him off the bed.

“Why do you want to sit here anyways, go away.” Jaehyun quipped as he gave a final forceful shove that made Taesan stumble off the bed and onto the floor. Quickly he stands up and turns around to angrily face Jaehyun, shoving him backwards.

“You’re not the only one who gets her attention, you clingy baby.”

“She’s mine.”

“She’s ours,” Taesan yells, eyes welled up in his eyes as he turns to face you for help. With a snap of your fingers, Jaehyun apologizes to Taesan and curls back into your side, telling Jaehyun to move over so that you can make room for Taesan on your opposite side. He tries to protest but with a simple expression he quiets instantly, huffing as he scoots over. There’s a triumphant smile across Taesan’s face as he climbs into bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that he can nuzzle into your neck easier.

There’s finally peace within the bedroom as both men laid snuggled on each side of you, until Taesan lifts himself up so that he’s resting on his elbow staring at the two of you.

“If you need to say something, speak.”

A blush decorates his nose and cheeks, his fingers anxiously playing with the strings to your sweats.

“You remember the other day?”

“More specific,” you say with a sigh.

Taesan whines, clearing his throat before trying again.

“The other day when you and Jaehyun played-“

He’s cut off as Jaehyun sits up with a loud, “hey,” you pushing Jaehyun back down telling him to quiet down so Taesan could finish what he was saying.

“- I’m sorry I listened and,” he whines with a pout, “I want to play with you too.”

An accidental smile forms on your lip, exhaling through your nose as you nod at his confession.

“You want to play with us, hm?” You reiterated, trailing your fingers up his thigh to make him squirm, successfully doing so as he whines from your subtle touching. Nodding, he asks if he can, pretending to ponder on the idea before agreeing, telling Jaehyun to stop whining who was grumbling at the idea of sharing you. Taesan goes to climb on top of your lap, pushing him off with a shake of your head. He stared at you in confusion, having just gotten your permission, both men watching as you sat up and crossed your legs.

“Both of you, up.”

They listen, sitting up and being sure not to break their focus on you.

“Kiss.”

They stare at each other then back at you, another confused look across their faces.

“Each other,” they questioned.

You nod.

“Prove to me that the both of you can get along, you both do want me don’t you?”

Looking back at each other, they both look nervous before Jaehyun rolls his eyes and grabs Taesan’s face.

“We both want her, let’s get it over with.”

Jaehyun pulls Taesan into the kiss, Taesan froze into place before leaning into it, tiny moans coming from them as they got into it. Sitting up on his knees, Taesan follows suit with Jaehyun, his fingers curling in the older man’s hair. You watch them try to fight for the higher ground, pushing each other not breaking the kiss once as Jaehyun groans rather loudly into Taesan’s open mouth as his hair is pulled.

“Come here, my pretty pets,” you beckon for them.

Their lips separate, a string of saliva being the last connection between them before it breaks. Turning to face you, their eyes beginning to become hooded and full of need, giggling at them in amusement.

“You two seemed to enjoy that more than you figured, hm?”

They try to deny it, waving them off as you tell them to come closer to you. Ordering them to help you strip, guiding their shaky hands to your shorts. You watch as Jaehyun walks Taesan through the process, Jaehyun sweetly asking you to lift your hips for him, doing so that he can slip the shorts down and then past your ankles. They’re discarded mindlessly onto the bedroom floor, Taesan whimpering at the sight of your thong that barely left anything for their imagination.

“Are you going to take these off for me?” You asked Taesan who stared down at your panties then backed up to gain your permission, asking if he’s allowed to. Multiple pleases falling from his lips until you give the go ahead, his fingers curling around the hands of your panties. A gasp comes from him as he pulls them off your legs, seeing your wet pussy for the first time. He chooses to ignore how hard he got near instantly, huffing at Jaehyun who tells him to stop staring so intently.

“Both of you stop fighting or I'll get off by myself,” you groaned, yanking Jaehyun to sit next to you by his arm.

He softly apologized as he helped pull your sweater off, kissing from your neck down until he could lean forward, his warm tongue licking your nipple before wrapping his lips around it. This brings a satisfying hum from you, petting the back of his head as you have Taesan your attention.

“You want to eat me out, kitty?”

The newly given nickname makes Taesan burst into an intense blush, something unlocking in his brain. Asking him again, he eagerly nods, inching closer to you so that he can lay down onto his stomach. He’s never given someone oral before, excitedly anxious as he stares up at you before leaning down to lick your clit. Giving him an encouraging nod paired with a moan, he begins to grow confidence bringing his fingers to tease your hole. Having them both work on you makes your head fuzzy, jumping back and forth complimenting each of them. Jaehyun grabs your chest, his fingers rolling the nipple in between his thumb and forefinger whilst his tongue works the other, your head rolling to the side watching.

There’s not much going on through your head besides pleasure until Taesan suctions his lips around your clit, making you instinctively grab at his hair. He’s a messy eater but that only intensified the feeling, moaning deep from your throat.

“So good, baby, so good,” you wistfully sighed, bringing Jaehyun up into a deep kiss. They’re soft against yours, giggling as he bites down onto your bottom lip, pulling back so that it snaps back from his teeth. Shared gazes soft yet full of mutual need, grabbing the back of his neck to continue the passionate kiss. Wet lewd noises fill out the bedroom and your ears, moaning into Jaehyun’s mouth due to Taesan slipping his fingers into your drenched pussy. It causes you to lose focus on the kiss, looking down at Taesan with your mouth agape, moans flowing from you. He stares up at you with a proud smile on his face, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit adding to the pleasure given by his fingers. Need filled out your veins, whining with a pout, tipping your head back to rest against the headboard giving yourself a few seconds to collect your thoughts before returning your attention back to Taesan.

“Come here, kitty.” Your voice is no more than a whisper as you speak.

Pulling his fingers out from you, you shiver from the sensation, sweating under your breath, Taesan crawling in between your legs. You reposition yourself so that you’re laying flat on the bed instead of sitting up, your head comfortably on the pillow, Jaehyun following suit with you. Staring at Taesan you gently reach for his wrist, giving him a sweet smile as you bring him closer.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, yeah?”

Jaehyun shoots an annoyed look at Taesan, giving Jaehyun a pet on the back of his head, as excitement fills out Taesan’s face. His dream was about to come true and he wasn’t going to let his overly possessive best friend stop him. He listens as you guide him, slowly slipping into you but not yet bottoming out so you’re able to familiarize yourself with him. Pulling out and returning back to his previous position, he continues doing so until you tell him to go ahead, flinching as you dig your nails into his wrist.

“Please, don’t move yet,” you pant in between each word, Jaehyun pressing encouraging kisses across your neck and cheek, nodding to let Taesan know he can start moving. His thrusts aren’t coordinated by any means but it’s not unpleasant either earning several moans from you. Facing Jaehyun, he blushes due to you telling him to strip off his sweats, not once glancing away as he does so obediently. Slipping off his shirt and discarding it onto the floor, he crawls back next to you, gasping as you latch onto one of his nipples with absolutely zero hesitation. The pretty soft pink bud hardens under your tongue, tugging it between your lips as you pull your head back. Jaehyun whines so softly, his eyes dancing to study the entirety of the scene before him. Removing your grip on Taesan’s wrist you bring it to wrap around Jaehyun’s dick, moving your thumb pad to repeatedly brush up against his slit. A raucous moan erupting from his chest as you squeezed the head of his dick between your fist.

“It hurts,” he struggles to get out, his breath getting caught in his throat by the intensity of your grip. Jaehyun adored the addition of pain, a sadistic smile that shined on his face, by giving just his tip a few rough strokes. The need for more swelled in the pit of his stomach but he didn’t dare to voice that, not yet, not wanting to lose your touch due to his impatience. Taesan's sudden quickened thrusts yank your focus from Jaehyun, your hand pressed up against his stomach telling him to slow down. Scrunching your eyes trying to swallow your shaky moans in an attempt to collect yourself bringing your hand back to wrap around Jaehyun.

“Be a good puppy and I might just let you cum,” you whisper into Jaehyun’s ear, giving his dick full strokes from the base to the tip, his lips pursing as he collects the sheets in between his fingers. Pleasure flowed throughout his veins like hot magma making him moan frantically not being able to hide his intense response. You giggle at Jaehyun’s reactions loving the way he squirms under your touch, glancing at Taesan with a smile.

“You’re doing such a good job, kitty, making me feel so good.”

Taesan manages a “thank you” before leaning down to place a hand on each side of you, deepening his thrusts. Tossing your head back on the pillow you laugh in a mixture of both pleasure and disbelief, the growing sensation in your abdomen becoming noticeable.

Tightening the hand around Jaehyun, you tease him asking if he was going to cum already, watching in amusement as he shakes his head no, promising to hold out for you.

Everything was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on, your strokes messy as Taesan began to messily rub your clit with his thumb, moving your head to mark Jaehyun’s neck as a distraction. You were determined to let this continue longer, loving having both men under your control but it was all too much, Taesan hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and becoming less coordinated as he begged to cum. Desperately you swallowed hard trying to collect your composure, quickening your pace around Jaehyun who began moaning and squealing in surprise.

“Be good boys and cum with me, okay?”

They both agree, Taesan’s bangs halfway sticking to his face as he pulls his hand away from your clit and to hold both your legs together over one of his shoulders. That deepens his thrusts, gasping as you pressed your lips against Jaehyun’s. It tastes salty, his tears cascading down his cheeks and onto his lips, moaning at the taste. Jaehyun’s hand clings to your thigh as you three collectively reach your highs, squealing into Jaehyun’s mouth as you cum around Taesan who in return, cums in you. Warmth spills over your closed fist indicating that Jaehyun came as well, his chest heaving trying to find his breath.

“Fuck..,” you whimper as Taesan slowly pulls out, your body sensitive and trembling as he crawls to lay next to you. His arm naturally wraps around your torso, inching closer as you three laid there trying to catch your breaths not speaking a word.

Taesan is the first to break the silence, pressing several kisses on your cheek.

“Did I do good?”

The question earns a giggle from you, nodding.

“Yes Kitty, you did so well for me.”

The praise earns a grunt from Jaehyun, turning to look at him, sighing with a laugh. Giving him a playful smack on his bare thigh.

“You did really good for me too, pup. No need to be all pouty and bratty.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder in response.

“No sleeping just yet, we got to clean up, okay?”

Both of them whine simultaneously, shaking your head telling them that you three can shower together. Swearing if they had tails they’d be wagging from how quickly and excitedly they climbed over each other and yourself to get to the bathroom.

You sat there until they came running back to the bedroom, both of them grabbing a hand each to help you toward the bathroom, giggling at their behavior the entire time, reading yourself for another round.

[matcha3mochi]

gojo satoru x reader

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

“Catch me if you can, Satoru!” you shouted, your laughter ringing out like a bell as you darted away, the thrill of the chase igniting your spirit.

Gojo’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he sprinted after you, a wide grin spreading across his face. His body moved with a fluid grace, each stride long and confident, arms swinging rhythmically by his sides. You felt the rush of adrenaline course through you, your heart racing as you glanced back to see him gaining on you, his playful determination evident in the way he narrowed his gaze, a determined glint lighting up his features.

You glanced back, a competitive smile on your face, feeling the wind whip through your hair, carrying the scent of grass and adventure. The moment felt electric, the excitement of the chase igniting a fire within you. With a burst of energy, you dodged a swing, your footwork nimble and agile, and the carefree joy of the game radiated from your every movement.

As you dashed through the playground, Gojo’s laughter filled the air, an infectious sound that made you grin even wider. You could feel his presence behind you, the thrill of his pursuit fueling your speed. He was close enough that you could hear his breath, each exhale a mix of excitement and determination. His long legs covered the ground effortlessly, but you were determined not to let him catch you easily.

In a burst of energy, you stumbled to a halt, pretending to catch your breath. “You’re slow, Satoru! You’ll never catch me!” you called, giggling as you bent over, your hands resting on your knees, chest rising and falling with each breath.

He paused, panting, his expression a playful mixture of mock offense and determination. “Is that a challenge?”

With a sudden movement, he lunged forward, every muscle in his body working in harmony as he darted toward you, a look of pure joy and mischief in his eyes. You felt a thrill rush through you, and as he reached out, his fingers barely brushing against your shoulder, a surge of exhilaration shot through your body.

“Gotcha!” he declared, his voice a triumphant shout as he tagged you.

You squealed in surprise, your laughter echoing around you as you fell back onto the grass, breathless. The world melted away as you both collapsed, staring up at the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. The soft rustle of leaves and distant giggles of other children created a serene backdrop, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“Y/N,” Gojo started, turning his head to look at you, his expression softening. “Do you think we’ll always be friends?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Of course! We’ve been best friends since forever. Nothing could ever change that!”

His heart swelled with warmth at your words, yet a shadow of doubt flickered in his chest. “Yeah, forever,” he repeated, though the word felt heavy with unspoken feelings.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the grass, you both lay back in silence, watching the first stars twinkle into existence. The tranquility of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, but Gojo’s heart raced with the weight of unconfessed emotions.

“Hey, Satoru,” you said softly, breaking the stillness, “do you ever think about what we want to be when we grow up?”

He turned to face you, his heart racing. “All the time. I want to be strong, to protect the people I care about,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “I want to help people too. Maybe as a teacher or a healer.”

Gojo’s heart soared at the thought of you making a difference in the world, yet a pang of longing hit him. “You’ll be amazing at whatever you choose,” he said, his gaze intense, wishing you could see the depth of his feelings.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you said, staring into his eyes for a moment, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. You then looked back up at the sky, chuckling softly. “And I believe you’ll do great things too, you’re destined for it!”

Your genuine smile lit up your face, and he felt a warmth spread through him, yet it was tinged with sadness. He wanted to tell you how he truly felt, how much you meant to him, but the words eluded him.

As the evening wore on, the playful banter continued, weaving through dreams and secrets, each laugh shared a treasure to be cherished. But with every passing moment, Gojo felt the weight of his hidden feelings pressing down on him, a bittersweet ache that wouldn’t relent.

Finally, as the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle brightly above, you both decided to head home. As you walked side by side, the air was filled with an easy familiarity, yet Gojo felt an urgency rise within him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “I really like spending time with you. You know that, right?”

You turned to him, your expression bright and completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind his words, laughter bubbling up as you said, “Of course! I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me!”

Gojo’s heart fluttered at your words, a mix of relief and affection washing over him. “Good,” he replied, managing a playful grin, though his gaze held a deeper intensity. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Just promise me you’ll still want to hang out when we’re all grown up.”

You chuckled again, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “As if I could ever get tired of you, Satoru! You’re like my annoying brother.”

“Annoying?” he feigned offense, crossing his arms dramatically. “I prefer to think of myself as your charming protector.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing. “Right! The charming protector who always loses at video games!”

He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m just letting you win. It’s all part of my master plan to keep you around.”

Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the shared moment deepening as you both walk through the streets. The stars above began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry. In that peaceful quiet, Gojo felt a surge of emotions he could no longer suppress.

“You know,” he began hesitantly, his tone shifting to something more serious, “I really mean it when I say I like spending time with you. You make everything better.”

He felt the familiar ache return, but this time, it was laced with hope. “Maybe… maybe one day, you’ll see me as more than just a friend.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he quickly added, “But for now, I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

You smiled, sensing the weight of his words, yet unaware of their full meaning. “Always, Satoru. Always.”

Gojo silently vowed to himself to find the courage to share his true feelings. For now, he would cherish the laughter and moments you shared, holding onto the hope that one day, you might see him in a different light.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Star.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka is waiting for a supernova to appear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, implied future kidnapping, not SFW implications, and stalking.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lust for a Vampyr by I Monster

Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Merry-Go-Round of Life - from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ by Joe Hisaishi

Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart

The Four Seasons - Winter in F Minor, RV. 296: I. Allegro non molto by Antonio Vivaldi

BLOODMONEY by Poppy

Fight of the Crows by Jhariah

Bernadette by IAMX

Smells Blood by Kensuke Ushio

Enemies to Lovers by Joshua Kyan Aalampour

“She's a Killer Queen; gunpowder, gelatin; dynamite with a laser beam; guaranteed to blow your mind (anytime).” – Queen, Killer Queen

*~*~*~*

“Hey, I like them!” You huff, grasping the bouquet of spider lilies closer to your chest, making the paper wrinkle up. At your response, Aina crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the other flower arrangements sitting on the shelves behind you.

“Those are too expensive.” Aina rebuts. She points, and you turn around to follow it, and in turn frown. 

Because of the low supply, the price of spider lily bouquets has increased to 700 credits per arrangement.

Kafka, pretending to look at the roses in the corner not facing the two of you, does not try to hide her smile and slight chuckle as you gasp at the sign’s words. “Cute…” 

Once more, you exhale with a mix of frustration and disappointment, forcefully planting your foot on the ground. Gradually, your stance transforms into that of a despondent balloon losing its air.

Utterly adorable.

“Why seven hundred? Flowers grow from the ground and they take hardly any effort to bundle up!” Aina puts her thumb and pointer finger on her temples, rubbing them like your question and exclamation just gave her the biggest headache in all of existence. She sighs.

You sigh too, grasping onto the spider lilies even harder.

“Spider lilies also represent bad luck.” She says, almost groaning. 

Neither of you know if you can be reasonable enough to let Aina be your impulse control as she always has been. “The red shade is really pretty and the tendrils are pretty too!”

“Please put them back, it is a bad financial investment.” You shake your head. “Please. [First]. [First], please. We still have to go and buy ingredients for dinner tonight. If it makes you feel better I can also help you bake dessert.”

Kafka already knows what you are going to make tonight. Pasta with bechamel sauce along with apple cake. 

“[First], at least choose a less expensive bouquet. That way we can afford everything. Plus we maybe can get something else small that is not on our grocery list.” Aina tries her best to put on a more gentle smile. “Please.”

Kafka moves to near the entrance of the food section of the store, waiting for this little trifle to be over with. She pretends to be looking at the meat aisle as that is the area closest to the flowers, ironically enough. 

“Sigh…” She purrs, imagining your hair loose and gently wrapped around her fingertips. “I wonder if you would prefer blush or velvet… maybe burgundy?” 

She imagines the way you will place your lips on hers and slowly but surely… move down.

She will do the same to you with her own.

“Maybe white.” She muses, thinking of different types of fabric to put on you. “Or perhaps black.”

Kafka wonders what you would choose if she brought you to a boutique rather than going by herself.

“Hm…” She murmurs, her mind going through many, many possibilities of the future ahead.

Then, she hears your triumphant laugh and then turns around to see you hugging Aina with the bouquet in tow. “I love you!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Aina mutters, crossing her arms and looking away from your happy face with a blush. “Just put them in the basket. We’ve used enough time here as it is.” You kiss her cheek, and her face only gets redder. “L-Let’s just go already.”

You only hug her tighter.

“Sir, yes, sir!” You exclaim, saluting, and Aina rolls her eyes.

Kafka’s smile falters.

“Tsk. Young love, I suppose.”

Of all the future possibilities, none of them will result in full success if Aina is still in the picture.

“Juliets.”

At the sight of you kissing Aina’s cheek again, Kafka resists the urge to bite her lip.

“But with great risk… comes great reward.”

She imagines how you would look under her.

Aina eventually manages to pry you off of her. “Alright, that’s enough, you’re praising me like I just saved your life or something.”

“You did!” You pout, almost cooing and still laughing joyfully. “This bouquet is the only medicine that can ever heal me of what ails me!”

Both Kafka and Aina sigh at the same time but for entirely different reasons.

But Kafka is the one who also licks her lips afterward. “I think perhaps a chemise would suit you best.”

“Let’s go to the fruits first!” You exclaim, pulling Aina along by the hand while she holds the basket.

“Which type of apple?” Aina asks, but Kafka already knows the answer. “Be sure to not get the very expensive ones this time.”

You two go past Kafka.

She takes out her phone for a split second and clicks the button.

It has been the closest you have ever been to her while you were conscious. But she hopes that soon, you will be even closer.

Wait, no. She knows that you will.

“Cute.” She whispers, booping the picture of you’s nose.

This has already become a favorite amongst the many, many photos she has of you.

Where you go, she follows. “Cute.” Surely, eventually, when you know of her, you will know that all too well. “So cute.”

She sees you pointing to the apples with a pinkish tint. Rose apples. Quite rare, if Kafka remembers correctly.

As Aina reads the sign next to them, she immediately shakes her head. “Way too expensive.”

Due to the cost of importation/exportation as well as the rarity of this species, the value of this type of product is quite high. One apple is worth 1600 credits.

You surprisingly show agreement this time, promptly diverting your attention to the assortment of apple varieties, accompanied by a hint of nervous laughter.

You end up choosing the Honeycrisps. They are good for baking cakes, you tell Aina as Kafka eavesdrops as she always does.

She imagines you baking for her and sitting on her lap.

It was only a matter of time because regardless of who is with you, one thing about you never changes; your naivety.

“All that is left is to be patient.”

[danikamariewrites]

Coronation Day

Eris x reader

Summary: Eris is nervous about being crowned. As his wife and soon-to-be High Lady you calm his nerves with a loving pep talk. @erisweek2023

Warnings: none

Eris anxiously twisted at the gold rings on his fingers as he paced over to the mirror to check his appearance for the thousandth time. You watched him from a crack in the door before you decided to enter. You wanted to catch him at a calm moment, but it didn’t seem like he was having one.

You lightly knock on the door, pushing it open just enough to slip in the room. Eris gave you a bewildered look, “What are you doing here? I thought I’d meet you in there.” You rolled your eyes at your husband, giving him a small smirk. “Eris, you’re acting like this is our wedding day. I can see you before crowning you know.”

Eris gave you a tight lipped smile while flexing his hands to calm his nerves. You rest your hands on his biceps, “Eris. It’s ok. Come sit, let’s talk.” You guide him over to the love seat in the middle of the room. Adjusting your train and pushing your open sleeves back so your arms are free. You fold your hands over Eris’s in his lap, giving them a light reassuring squeeze. “What’s wrong, my love?” Eris exhales deeply, leaning his forehead on yours. You look into his russet eyes, finally noticing all the pent up emotions of the last few weeks.

“I’m afraid, y/n. Afraid they won’t accept me or that I’ll turn into my father. Am I even worthy of this title?” You couldn’t believe he was questioning himself right now. After the hundreds of years of hard work and sneaking around no one deserved this more than him. Eris made sure this family kept it together. He was your protector. The protector of this court. How could he fail when he’s been doing this for years.

“Listen to me, you have done so much for so long. You’ve been picking up the broken pieces your father left behind since you were a boy. You are going to make an amazing High Lord, Eris.” He closed his eyes. A single tear escaping down his cheek. You tenderly wipe it away, kissing his cheek softly. “Thank you spark. You’re going to make the best High Lady. I can’t thank you enough for staying by my side.”

You giggle at the pet name. He said that you are the wild spark that ignites his flames. You pushed him to be his very best, and you’d keep doing that for eternity.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with so we can get to the fun stuff.” You pat his thigh and guide him to stand.

Standing outside the doors of the throne room you adjust his doublet making sure he looks perfect. “Now you’re sure you want to be crowned at the same time?” Eris raises an eyebrow at you, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, spark.” You both face the doors, taking in a deep breath and exhaling together.

Two sentries open the doors, music sounds and you plaster a smile on your face. You and Eris walk hand in hand toward the dias where your new thrones sat.

You could see Eris taking in the room as you went. His mother smiled brightly from beside the thrones. His brothers, even Lucien, stood waiting for him. The other High Lords and their courts were seated among your court members. Eris saw your family. Your brother and sister smiling at you with your parents in the front row.

The two of you kneel in front of the dias, facing your people. You and Eris share a small loving look before the priestess starts speaking. Her words go by quickly. Before you know it the golden leaf crown is being placed on Eris’s soft firey locks. You can’t help the grin that breaks out on your lips. It’s official. He’s going to make his home safer. Make Prythian safer.

You startle a little when the priestess lays a matching crown on your own head. Your eyes never leave Eris. The priestess announces you as High Lord and Lady and the room erupts into applause as the two of you stand.

Eris looks at you with a triumphant smile. He couldn’t wait to start this journey with you. It felt like your lives were just starting.

[serasfanfiction]

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

[jon-withnoh]

Danbea prompts, you say?! "There was only one bed" #3 - Person A waking up to Person B curled up and sleeping on top of them. (Tbh any of the "there was only one bed" prompts.)

Okay so this became a whole thing. Here is part one of two I hope you enjoy! (Beware, this is three thousand words long.)

Danny drew her coat around herself, shivering. It was snowing so heavily she could not see more than a few feet in front of her. Clutching her carpet bag in both hands, Danny began to move in the direction of where she suspected the stationmaster’s house to be. She had only gone a few steps when a figure emerged out of the flurry of snow around her, knocking into her with surprising momentum. 

“Oh dear,” said the figure. “I do apologise. I cannot see further than my own feet in this weather.” 

Danny stopped short. “Mrs Lacy?”

Mrs Lacy, bundled up so heavily as to be almost unrecognisable, did a double-take. “Miss Danvers. Now what on earth are you doing here?”

“Mrs de Winter sent me ahead on the train so I could meet her when she arrived.” 

“She’s driving?”

“Yes, Madam. She has an appointment in London today and will set out afterwards.”

“Hm.” Mrs Lacy’s exhale produced a small cloud of steam. “I doubt she will be able to set out in this weather. I spoke to the conductor just before the delay was announced. They have had reports of heavy snowfall all over the country, even in London.” 

Danny gave a non-comittal shrug. 

“What do you recommend we do now?” Mrs Lacy asked. 

“There is no chance of continuing our journey this afternoon?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mrs Lacy said. “There are snow drifts all along the way. They will have to wait to clear them until it stops snowing. It would be a wasted effort otherwise. I suggest we go to the village and beg for a room somewhere. Come, I shall take you under my wing, seeing as you are without your lady and I am without a maid.” 

Danny opened her mouth and closed it again. She could see blurry figures all around them, moving from the train in the direction of the stationhouse. Clearly, Mrs Lacy was not the only one who trusted the train conductor’s assesment of the situation. Danny found herself torn. What if Rebecca did set out from London and Danny was not there to receive her? Should she not try and make her way to Scotland via some other route?

Mrs Lacy had been watching her. “Miss Danvers, we are in the middle of Lancashire. We are entirely reliant on the train and the train will not depart until tomorrow at the very least. If Rebecca does arrive before us and gives you any trouble, I will personally vouch for your dedicated attempts to continue your journey.” 

Danny blushed. “Thank you, Mrs Lacy.” 

“Good girl,” Mrs Lacy said, interpreting her thanks as aquiescence. “Follow me, I have excellent directional instincts.” 

Mrs Lacy led the way through the stationhouse and into the town beyond. It was small, smaller than Kerrith or even Lanyon. Spotting the pub amongst the row of houses along King’s street was no difficult feat, though Danny kept this thought to herself. Mrs Lacy gave her a triumphant smile and pointed at the pub, picking up her stride. Danny hurried after her. The snow on the pavement had not been cleared. It was beginning to melt inside her boots. 

As soon as Mrs Lacy pushed open the worn entrance door to the pub, Danny realised that they were not the only passengers to think of taking shelter here, nor had they been the first. She watched Mrs Lacy’s smile faulter as she took in the mass of people crowded around the fire place, the bar, and the reception desk. Nonetheless, the two of them joined the queue by the desk and waited their turn. 

The woman behind the desk gave them a cheerful smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon,” Mrs Lacy said. “We were on the train that is currently stranded at the station and would like to spend the night. What kind of rooms can you offer us?”

“Offer? You don’t suppose you were the only passengers looking for rooms, do you? I have one room available and that is it. It is small, but neat and tidy as all our rooms are. It should have twin beds. Ethel—” The woman turned and called over her shoulder. “It’s twin beds, isn’t it?” There was a call of assent from somewhere at the back of the room. “There you have it. One room, twin beds, will that suit you and your—”

“Lady’s maid,” Mrs Lacy said. “And I suppose we will have to make do.” 

“Very well then,” said the woman. “Here is your key. You’ll want to take a left at the top of the stairs and go to the very end of the corridor.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Lacy said. “Come along, Miss Danvers, I am sure we will be quite comfortable.” 

Mrs Lacy’s easy familiarity made her blush. She was used to it from Rebecca, but that was different. They had grown up together; she had taken care of Rebecca when Rebecca had still been afraid of the dark. Mrs Lacy barely knew her. Still, she followed Mrs Lacy up the stairs and down a narrow corridor with doors on either side. As the woman had said, their room was at the very end. It was much colder here than it had been downstairs, where the logs were piled high in the fireplace and there was a steady stream of hot soup and tea from the kitchens. Danny stood back as Mrs Lacy set down her suitcase and unlocked the door.

“Hm,” Mrs Lacy said. “Hm.”

“Is anything the matter, Mrs Lacy?”

Mrs Lacy thought on this for a moment. “You see, I distinctly recall that woman downstairs speaking about twin beds, and, for that matter, confirming the existence of twin beds with Ethel, whoever she is. Do step inside this room and tell me what you see.” 

Curious, Danny went to stand next to Mrs Lacy and peered into the room. It was very neat, as the woman had said, with chequered curtains and a small peat fire in the fireplace. What did not match her description at all was the bed against the righthand wall. It too was exceedingly neat with a plain coverlet and clean white sheets, but it was decidedly one bed, intended for two sleepers. Danny’s cheeks burned. 

“She must have been mistaken,” Mrs Lacy said. “I shall go downstairs and see what they can do. Maybe they can swap our room with someone else’s. There must be something they can do.”

Danny bowed her head as Mrs Lacy turned down the corridor once more. She waited until the decided clunk clunk clunk of Mrs Lacy’s boots on the stairs had faded, then stepped eagerly into the room to stand beside the fire. However long it took Mrs Lacy to rectify the situation was as good an opportunity as any to warm up. Danny set down her bag and held out her hands. She sighed as the warmth of the fire began to envelop her frozen fingertips. She closed her eyes, feeling herself come back to life. 

“There is nothing to be done.” 

Danny whirled around. Mrs Lacy had returned, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

“It is this or finding another place to sleep and at this rate, every establishment will be completely packed by the time we get there. If only I had some acquaintance here who I could persuade to take us in, but of course, we are in Lancashire. We shall have to make ourselves as comfortable as we can.”

That was that. Mrs Lacy set down her suitcase on the stand at the foot of the bed and began to sort through her things. Danny remained standing by the fireplace, her hands folded. She tried to conceal her horror at this development. To share a room with a woman of Mrs Lacy’s standing — would Rebecca expect her to act as lady’s maid to someone who was not Rebecca? 

Danny kept her mouth shut and her eyes fixed on the floor as Mrs Lacy made herself at home. She followed silently as Mrs Lacy suggested they go in quest of dinner and ate her soup with as little conversation as she could muster. Fortunately, Mrs Lacy did not seem to require any long speeches from her. She seemed happy enough to converse without much back and forth, though more than once Danny found herself the recipient of an amused smile. Danny kept her eyes on her soup, unwilling to interrogate why the gentle curve of Mrs Lacy’s mouth flustered her so much. Finally, Mrs Lacy set down her cup of after-dinner tea and stifled a yawn behind her hand. 

“We had better turn in,” she said. “If they do get the train up and running over night we do not want to miss it.” 

Danny made to rise from her chair, but froze midway. She had carefully avoided thinking about the issue of turning in all afternoon. To share a room with Mrs Lacy was bad enough — there would be no way of avoiding each other in such close quarters — but to share a bed? Danny had not shared a bed with anyone since childhood, and never with a stranger. Maybe she could sleep in the chair next to the bed. Surely Mrs Lacy would be relieved at the suggestion. 

“Are you coming?” Mrs Lacy was halfway across the room already, calling over her shoulder. Danny hurried after her. 

Someone had come to turn down the bed and draw the curtains while they had been at dinner. The fire had been stoked and the lamp on the bedside table turned on. It would have been quite comfortable if Danny had not been so full of dread at what was to come. 

“Well,” Mrs Lacy said, “we had better not dawdle. I will brush my teeth and then we shall see about our sleeping arrangement.” She went over to her suitcase and took out a small bag.

Once Mrs Lacy had gone to find the bathroom down the hall, Danny forced herself to move from her spot by the door. She had left her carpet bag on the chair by the bed. She opened it gingerly, knowing already that she would find nothing but a few essentials. Everything else was neatly folded away in her suitcase and that had been sent up to Scotland along with Rebecca’s luggage. 

By the time Mrs Lacy returned, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing the dress she had traveled in. 

“You haven’t changed?”

“I have nothing to change into… Madam,” she added quickly. “My suitcase was sent ahead this morning along with Mrs de Winter’s things.” 

“That is unfortunate. You’ll have to borrow something of mine then.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Danny said decisively.

“Are you sure?”

Danny nodded. 

Mrs Lacy shrugged and turned to her suitcase. Danny averted her eyes as Mrs Lacy took out a nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes. Remembering that she had brought a toothbrush, Danny stood up from the bed and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Shivering in the draughty room, Danny brushed her teeth. There was no warm water. Her shivers intensified as she washed her face. When she straightened up, her cheeks were bright red. 

Back in the little room, Mrs Lacy had finished changing. She had chosen the left side of the bed and was sitting up with her dressing gown draped around her shoulders. Danny noticed the coverlet, folded carelessly and left on the floor next to Mrs Lacy’s suitcase. 

“I hope you don’t mind my taking this side,” Mrs Lacy said. “I prefer to sleep further away from the door.”

“No, I…” Danny cleared her throat. “I don’t mind at all.” Avoiding Mrs Lacy’s gaze, she went over to the right side of the bed and sat in the chair next to it, folding her hands. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Madam?”

“Miss Danvers, don’t tell me you mean to sit up all night in that chair?”

Danny opened her mouth, helplessly, but could not think of anything to say. 

“No, that simply will not do,” Mrs Lacy said fiercely. “You will wreck your back and resent me all the way to Scotland. I will not have that.” 

“I wouldn’t resent you.” Danny kept her eyes downcast. “But you must allow that I am doing what is right. You shouldn’t be forced to…”

“Forced? Forced? Miss Danvers, you do not think you are forcing me into anything, do you?”

“No,” Danny conceded, “but the circumstances…”

“My dear girl, if I had truly been outraged by the circumstances, I would have fought much harder to rectify the situation. My pockets might not be as deep as my brothers, but they are most certainly deep enough to find a suitable place to sleep, even in an overcrowded country inn. No, while this is inconvenient, I did not think it worth the effort to turn this whole place on its head merely so I would not have to share a room with my esteemed sister in law’s maid. Now come to bed. You will thank me tomorrow.” 

Unable to form another word of protest, Danny rose from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She unhooked her boots and put them closer to the fire to dry. With trembling fingers, she pulled her hair out of its twist and began to comb it with her fingers. There was movement on the other side of the bed. A moment later, Mrs Lacy wordlessly held out her hairbrush. 

“Thank you.” 

Danny wrapped her fingers around the handle of the brush. The dark wood was worn smooth, resting well in her hand. Danny brushed her hair in silence. She could feel Mrs Lacy watching her, it gave her the sensation that her skin was burning all over with a small, but strangely pleasant fire.

Hastily, Danny braided her hair and handed back the brush. 

“Thank you,” she said again. 

“If you wanted to take off your corset for the night,” Mrs Lacy said matter-of-factly, “you would be more than welcome. I won’t look.” 

Would the mortification never end? Moving as quickly as possible, Danny rid herself of the aforementioned undergarment, hastily buttoning up her dress again once it was done. Feeling rather exposed, despite the layers of fabric still covering her, Danny returned to the bed and sat on top of the covers, her back against the wooden headboard. Mrs Lacy raised an eyebrow. 

“Please,” Danny said. “You must allow me at least this. I couldn’t— with someone of your standing, it would be… please, Mrs Lacy, I will be fine.”

“Very well,” Mrs Lacy said patiently. “If you change your mind…”

“Good night, Mrs Lacy.”

“Good night, Miss Danvers.” 

The room sank into silence at once. Mrs Lacy turned onto her side and, with a small huff of exhaustion, was asleep within minutes. Danny sat up in bed, staring now at her hands, now at the fire and more often than not, she was ashamed to admit, at Mrs Lacy. She had often noticed that Mr de Winter’s sister was very handsome. Though his senior by almost a decade, her face had lost none of the youthful mischievousness that smiled down at the visitors of Manderley from pictures painted in Mrs Lacy’s youth. Her eyes were invariably kind, whether she was looking at her brother, Rebecca, or even one of the servants. In sleep, there was something else in her expression, a vulnerability Danny had never seen before. It was difficult to look away. It took an hour for Danny to convince herself that Mrs Lacy would not suddenly wake up and find Danny staring at her. Danny thought she might never look her fill. 

Before going to bed, she had wondered what it would feel like to be trapped in a room like this with Rebecca. Would Rebecca have allowed her to sleep on the bed? Would Rebecca have wanted her to? Danny could not say. Rebecca would not have looked at her the way Mrs Lacy had, though once she was asleep, Danny was certain the situation would have been the same. She would have looked and looked at Rebecca, her face as impenetrable in sleep as it was in waking. She would have warmed Rebecca’s hands during the night, leaning forward in her chair. She would have sat and burned and waited for an invitation that would not come. 

Mrs Lacy rolled over and sighed in her sleep, the covers drawn up almost to her nose. Danny’s back was aching. Moving carefully, so as not to wake Mrs Lacy, she lay down on top of the covers, first on her back and then, relenting, facing the centre of the bed. 

“Good night, Mrs Lacy,” she whispered and, pressing her eyes tight shut, drifted off to sleep. 

Danny awoke shivering. She was curled up on top of the covers, arms wrapped around her chest to trap a warmth that was not there. Her muscles felt sore from the cold. How long had she been shaking in her sleep. Danny did not notice the hand on her shoulder until it gave a gentle squeeze. She gasped in shock and turned around to find Mrs Lacy sitting up in bed with her arm outstretched. 

“Miss Danvers,” Mrs Lacy said groggily. “You’ll catch your death.” 

“Let me j-just—” Her teeth were chattering so intensely she had to break off and start again. “I will rekindle the fire.” 

“There’s nothing here to rekindle it with.”

“That f-feels like an oversight.” 

Mrs Lacy held up the bedcovers. “I would prefer if you did not freeze to death under my supervision. Rebecca would never forgive me.” 

Danny shook her head, weakly. 

“Miss Danvers, what does it matter who I am or why we are here? You can barely speak for shivering. Don’t be a fool and we will never discuss this night again.”

Danny’s eyes darted from Mrs Lacy to the empty grate and back again. It could not have been past three in the morning. It would be hours before she could go down and ask for their fire to be lit. Mrs Lacy tugged at the bedcovers, her face expectant. 

It did not feel like defeat, slipping under the covers next to Mrs Lacy. Danny was much too cold to feel anything but relief. Even under the covers, her muscles would not stop twitching. 

“There now,” Mrs Lacy said gently. She pulled up the covers to cover Danny’s shoulders, then took her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and piled it on top of Danny as well, rubbing her arm through the layers of fabric. “There now,” she said again. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

Danny could not reply. She was beginning to feel warmer under the covers, too comfortable and exhausted to speak. Mrs Lacy seemed to understand. She lay back down, facing Danny and closed her eyes. Danny expected her to withdraw her hand now, but it stayed where it was, gently brushing along her arm. 

[k-dokja]

Summary: You've managed to convince your parents to be with Daniel this Lunar New Year, now what? [Chapter 432 - New Years arc]

Daniel knows under no certain terms should he be worried about bringing you back to his hometown. For once, it's nothing you haven't seen and for another, his mother likes you. He shouldn't be worried. There's nothing to worry about.

...Except for all the plans he has in mind about his investigation, none of which he finds fitting to share with you. Not when the holidays are coming up and you'd probably tear him a new one for working again. And you'd always understand, at the end of the day, you're more sympathetic than your complaining lets on.

That's probably the worst of it. Every time it happens, he cannot help the feeling that he's taking your kindness for granted.

Especially when you go out of your way to do things like this... "Isn't this too much? You really didn't have to..."

"What? Didn't you mention you have a lot of relatives, too? I think it's enough," you cross your arms and level your eyes with his, challenging him to contradict you. It's a losing battle, he knows, and he's not in the habit of picking fights he can't win. Not after a month of getting beaten back and forth, anyway.

Daniel chews down on his lower lips while watching the stack of boxes and crates you prepared for the trip home with him. His brows furrow further while he works out the logistic of bringing this back. Supposedly, he can carry them...

"What's with the dumbfounded look?" You ask before a grin breaks out on your lips. "Wait, do you think we will carry all of this back? Honestly, you're too simple sometimes..."

Your words don't sound chiding, but he cannot help feeling silly when the delivery service arrives moments later to take the packages away. You have a triumphant look on your face afterwards that uplifts the weight in his heart, still, another matter remains. "You didn't have to splurge that much on my family, you know."

"Nonsense," you wave his concern away like it's an afterthought, "this is from both of us, we're a team, remember?"

"Right, of course," he puts on what he believes is an honest smile and does his best to mask the strain in his voice. Fortunately, you're too happy about the occasion to notice something was amiss, but he doesn't think he can deal with the guilt of keeping things from you any longer.

The car ride back home is blessed with relative peace in the short duration of it. Your giddiness with being at his side has elevated much of your mood, and Daniel knows he'd feel the same had he been transparent with you. After the recent development in his life, he cannot say he has been altogether a good boyfriend, but he'd be damned before he makes it any worse.

With how happy you are at this very moment, he'd be committing a heinous crime if he ruined your good moods by unravelling the truth.

A forlorn sigh skips past his lips at the thought. Immediately, he regrets it. Daniel turns to check if you noticed, only to see you smiling at him, your eyes narrow at his little slip-up.

"Uh..."

"If you have anything to confess, better say it before you create collateral damage~" Your tone is playful but the gleam in your eyes is anything but.

Daniel sighs again. He knows better than to argue with you. "Uhm, well," he swallows, suddenly nervous, "you know about the whole business with the Park Jinyong, yes?"

He takes your hand into his own, fingers threaded together in the hope of assuaging whatever coming next.

"Mhm."

"Well... I haven't gotten the chance to tell you yet," Daniel rubs his thumb on the back of your hand, exhaling a long breath before facing you, "but DG recently informed me that my mother has known him since I was very young, so..."

He doesn't have to finish the sentence for you to understand. The familiar recognition in your eyes is enough for Daniel to see that you've comprehended the gravity of the situation. He watches you carefully, waiting for any infinitesimal change in your expression. And yet, he's caught completely unaware when you flicker his forehead.

"Ah!"

"What have I told you about transparency?"

Daniel pouts, "That I should be honest with you no matter the bad and the good?" He quickly adds. "Sorry, I just, I know this is the holiday after all and I shouldn't be caught up with work but—"

You flicker his forehead again, "Seriously, you, don't fret," you smile indulgently. "It's fine, okay? Things like these come up, as long as you're honest about it, there's no problem."

"But..."

"I'm not happy, don't get me wrong?" You keep your voice even, but he can hear your displeasure in the matter-of-fact tone you put on. "But no matter, it's not like I'll be wanting for things to do. Lunar New Year tends to be busy, after all."

"I'm sorry..." He apologizes anyway, despite your reassurance. The words come out of him on instinct.

You huff, face upturned, "Yeah, you'll be sorry when I become your mom's favourite. Get ready to lose your spot once you're done with your silly investigation."

"Hey, now—"

Once again, you catch him by surprise with your attack. This time, it's gentler, a kiss on the nose that leaves him gobsmacked and stuns him into silence. "So don't worry about me, worry about yourself first please."

"Hmph," he smiles with pressed lips, "honestly, you're too good to me."

Once again, the triumphant grin returns to your face and pride surges in his chest at the sight. "Yeah? If you know that then you better do your best to cherish me."

"But I already do~"

"Not enough, you don't!"

"Aw..."

And despite your protest, seeing the cheer remaining on your face even after he has come forth with the truth relieves him somewhat.

Although he cannot say all will be well in his further investigation, he knows that he has to do his best when your support means the world to him. You're his most precious, whether you know it or not, and the world would end before he intentionally gives you cause to think otherwise.

He just hopes that all of this will blow over soon, for you as much as it is for him.

[missjanjie]

29 with miranali?

29. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

-

Denali shook her head as she guided Mirage off the rink and sat her down on the bench. “I think you’re being a little dramatic,” she remarked, though there was no malice or judgment in her tone. She taught kids, after all, she had enough patience to spare.

“I could have broken my ankle! How am I supposed to dance if I’m hobbling around? Hobbling isn’t sexy,” Mirage insisted, propping her leg across her girlfriend’s lap so she could take her skates off. “Is it swollen? Am I bleeding? Do we need to go to urgent care?” 

She exhaled deeply as she took off Mirage’s skate. “You’re so lucky you’re pretty,” she muttered under her breath. Out loud, she replied, “you’re fine, not a bruise or a scratch.”

“You don’t think I need an ice pack or anything?” 

Denali pinched the bridge of her nose, reminding herself how much she loves her girlfriend. “Go return your skates before I tie you to the zamboni,” she instructed as she put her own back in her bag and slid into her sneakers. 

“Hey, don’t be rude,” she pouted, “¿Todavía quieres que te lance más tarde?” Given the amount of time Denali spent working with kids, developing the system of speaking in Spanish whenever they had something ‘adult’ to say to the other in public became an easy one to maintain. 

That was enough to make her put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Go on, I don’t want you to hurt your poor leg any further.

Mirage decided a win was a win and returned her skates, walking back with her shoes on her feet and a triumphant smile on her lips. “Can we get hot cocoa from the snack bar before we leave?”

Denali chuckled as she got up, throwing her bag over her shoulder and wrapping her free arm around Mirage’s waist. “Anything for you, dear.”

[enchantedchocolatebars]

The Zombie Outbreak Part 1 of 3 (This fic is canon divergent. Also, it's based on this headcanon)

It was the night of October 31st as the "witches" who were publicly hung were coming back from the dead.

They stumbled and staggered through town, searching for human flesh to feast on.

Each year, this curse had a significant impact on Gravesfield, as the residents who lived there would immediately hide inside their homes and shops when the news of the zombie outbreak came out.

...

Patience Wittebane remained safe and secure in her husband's protective arms as the two kept quiet and concealed themselves behind the counter of a dark bakery as a robotic being with rotting flesh shambled around the shop.

They both could feel their heartbeats quicken with each slow step the monster took, its footsteps creaking on the wood floor.

Running didn't seem like the safest option for them since it was better to stay inside than it was to be outside with the undead.

As they continued to sit on the floor in fear, the couple closed their eyes and began to pray a silent prayer to the Lord.

They pleaded not only for their own safety, but also for the safety of their sons who were at home.

They concluded their prayer by requesting God to grant their sons the courage necessary to endure until sunrise.

...

As a zombified woman who Philip and Caleb used to know eeriely clawed at their window, Little Pip started to make faces at her.

Caleb quickly yanked the blinds shut.

"Philip, please don't do that," Little Caleb told his younger brother in a stern voice.

"We want to do our best to keep the dead away from our home, doing that will most certainly attract them here."

As the oldest, it was Caleb's job to ensure that none of the creatures from the grave could see inside their home.

He was very thankful that their father had decided to board up the entrance and other windows to prevent the dead from entering inside before he and his mother left together to buy something sweet at the town bakery before the apocalypse.

Speaking of his parents, Caleb hoped they were doing well and not in any danger.

Suddenly, sounds were heard coming from the kitchen.

"Hey, Caleb, what are those sounds?" Philip asked with a whisper, looking to his brother for a possible answer.

"I'm not sure," Caleb quietly replied, trying not to squeak.

As the two go to investigate the noise, they immediately gasp as their eyes widen when the boys spot a severed zombie hand raiding their cupboards like a raccoon.

"H-How did that hand even get in here?" Caleb asked, his voice shaky.

"I don't know," Philip began, giving a glare at the menace in their kitchen. "BUT LET'S GET HIM!"

Hearing that, the hand jolts up in fear and immediately crawls up to the ceiling before crawling away.

Philip and Caleb chase the hand around the house in a small montage, but they are unsuccessful in their attempts to catch it.

By the end of it, both boys are extremely out of breath.

"What do we do now, Pip?" A short-winded Caleb asked, exhausted.

"Hmm..."

As Philip starts to think, his blue eyes begin to light up.

"Ooo, I know!" He exhaled, eager to put the plan he had thought of into action.

...

When the hand returns to the kitchen, it finds a plate with a raw fish sandwiched between two slices of bread on the floor.

Curious, the hand slowly creeps up towards the sandwich.

"Gotcha!" Caleb shouts and jumps out of his hiding place to trap the hand in a brown sack before tying it up.

A triumphant smile spreads on the blonde's face.

"Yay, Caleb!" Philip cheers, coming out of his hiding spot to praise his super brave big brother.

"You did it! You got him! See? I told you my sandwich making skills would come in handy! Can we keep him?"

He could be their little pet!

Philip wants to teach him about bathroom rules.

"Probably not, Pip," Caleb chuckled, patting his brother's head.

"I don't think mother and father would allow it."

[quillscales]

Astarion could hear Gale's heart pounding, its rhythm a desperate echo of their frantic footsteps as they raced through the dark woods. Not even the moon lit their way; the woods were shrouded in near-complete darkness. He gripped Gale's hand tighter, practically dragging him now, as the human's breath turned into ragged wheezes from the relentless pace.

Gale's legs seemed to barely keep up with Astarion's pace, his footsteps uneven and dragging across the wet, leaf-covered ground.

Just a little more. Just a little further, and they would be free.

Gale's foot slipped on the leaves, falling to his knees and jerking Astarion's arm painfully. When Astarion turned to look at him, to grab him, to lift him and urge him that they had to keep moving, he paused. Gale was looking up at him, his brown eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Then he glanced at the spreading stain of blood soaking his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt torn jaggedly.

"I'm sorry," Gale gasped, the words catching between laboured breaths, his voice thick with guilt and sorrow. "I'm sorry, Astarion." He swallowed hard, the effort audible in the quiet of the dark woods. "You need to keep running, love."

Astarion turned fully, dropping to his knees in front of Gale, his decision made instantly. "Not without you, darling," he declared, his voice firm despite the tremor of fear. He cupped Gale's cheek gently, his gaze darting around the shadowy forest. They weren't safe here; there was no time for rest. But he couldn't—and wouldn't—leave Gale behind, not like this, not ever.

"Come now," Astarion urged, his grip on Gale's hand tightening. "Just a little further; I know you can do it." he coaxed, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. He grabbed Gale's arm, pulling him up to his feet with a gentle yet firm tug. Gale swayed, the light in his eyes dulled, and his heartbeat was slowing.

"We need to go," Astarion pressed. "A little more. We're getting out together." Then they'll be free. Both of them.

Gale nodded weakly, leaning heavily on Astarion. Their pace was significantly slower now, but they stumbled their way through the forest until they reached the treeline. The gentle breeze wafted the scent of salt, the smell of freedom, towards them. Astarion breathed in deeply despite the lack of need to. They made a smile stretch on his lips.

They had made it.

"Gale," Astarion breathed out, turning to share a triumphant look with his love. But the words died on his lips as he caught sight of Gale's condition.

Gale’s skin had turned an alarming shade of pale, his breaths shallow and his heartbeat a faint flutter against Astarion's heightened senses. The movements that had been lethargic were now barely perceptible. Astarion's heart sank as he realized he had been so focused on their escape that he hadn't seen the signs of Gale's decline.

Gale’s knees buckled, his body giving way as he slumped into Astarion’s arms. Astarion caught him instinctively, his arms wrapping around Gale to brace him against the fall. "No," Astarion whispered, his voice breaking as panic clawed at his chest. He scanned Gale’s face, each feature he had come to adore now slack with exhaustion and pain. "Gale, stay with me," he pleaded, his tone a mix of command and desperation.

Gale managed a weak nod, his eyes flickering with a fading light. There was an inhale, a laboured exhale, and then… silence.

[milflewis]

schuclerc + restaurant

probably not what you want but is what came out

“How is Seb?”

Mick glances at him. Charles doesn’t look as tired as he did last year, DNF after disappointing race after DNF, biting his mouth in a smile with every interview. He’s P2 in the championship right now, or maybe P3, Mick can’t keep up. George and him keep trading it back and forth, Lewis firmly in P1 for the past two races. Charles, at least, finished in Monaco this year in the points.

“Alright,” Mick says, shrugging. He moves his bag off of the chair beside him when it looks like Charles is going to stay and hover. “But bored I think. Baking a lot. Gardening. He said something about sustainable farming in Mexico last week that I think he’s going to check out.”

“Ah.” Charles folds himself into the seat, graceful in his ungracefulness. There’s a pink mark along the top of his left cheek. Mick wonders if he fell asleep in the drivers briefing again, chin in hand. “That sounds like him.”

The paddock is slowly emptying. It’s getting late. Mick should head soon. He’s not racing tomorrow but he is supposed to casually appear in the Williams garage to say hello to Alex. He’s hoping to leave earlier enough that he can pop in to see Guanyu before his practise session.

He stays where he is.

“Has he.” Charles stops, chewing at the inside of his cheek, mouth pursing. “Has he been talking to Lewis, do you know?”

Jenson was doing post race interviews last week and he made Lewis, grinning and sweating and triumphant, laugh for most of his five minutes. Mick sent it to Sebastian who left it on read.

“No, I don’t know.”

Lewis could very well win this year. He could win his eighth which, Mick would’ve thought, Sebastian would want to be here for, after everything, especially after what happened last time. Charles doesn’t look at him for a long moment before exhaling, fingers rubbing at his mouth.

“But I don’t think he has,” Mick says and when Charles does look at him, his eyes are very brown and very wide and very sad. Like, twenty percent of my problems would be solved if you would keep your eyes closed and never look at me like that, Mick wants to say to him. It’s distracting.

“I should say it to him.”

“Yes.” Charles brightens, smile tucking into his cheeks. Mick despairs over himself. “You should, and then maybe I could? Subtly, of course, but it would be a shame for Sebastian not to be here. No matter what happens. They — there is a lot to lose here.”

He waves a hand, watch flashing, and Mick doesn’t know if he’s talking about Formula One in general or the title or Lewis and Sebastian but he does know that Charles Leclerc has never been subtle a day in his life.

“Right. Sure.” And when Charles smiles at him, teeth bright, eyes wide, Mick is helpless to not smile back.

“Don’t worry, Mick,” Charles says, swaying into Mick’s space, bumping his shoulder against his, and swaying back out. He’s smells of warm air and sweat and expensive cologne. “We won’t be like them. I promise to call you everyday after we retire.” He crosses his chest.

Mick kind of wants to reach out and break those fingers for carefully saying retire instead of not racing. He wants to hold them close and press his mouth along the curve and slope of his knuckles, sucking them into his mouth until they’re all he can taste. He also just wants to hold them between his, memorise their shape, and pretend that he knows how the car feels under them when he sees Charles’s onboard.

“And is that supposed to be an incentive…..?”

Charles laughs, heheing his hyena laugh that Carlos loves to mimic whenever he can, moving into Mick’s space again, warm and solid, hand on Mick’s elbow.

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Mick shakes his head and lets his mouth curl up at the corners, looking up through his lashes like he watched Sebastian do all ROC. “Bet you say that to all the boys.”

Charles coughs, spluttering, cheeks flushing red as his polo, and Mick’s smile widens.

—

“So.” Charles falls into step beside him. He’s wearing black and white checkered pants and a Ferrari branded jacket, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It’s unzipped at the throat, necklace glinting in the sun. “Have you talked to Seb like we said?”

Mick looks up at the sky. It’s very blue and very clear, yawning wide above him. Roscoe trots ahead of them, cameras following him more than either of them, though a few break of to snap a few pictures of Charles in all his world championship leading glory. Mick is fairly sure he forgot to brush his hair this morning.

“Yes,” Mick says because Charles looks like he’s about to ask the question again. “I have.”

“And?” Charles is half walking sideways to watch Mick’s face. He would’ve nearly bumped into three people already if they hadn’t moved out of the way. He looks ridiculous. Mick wants to pull him at his collar and press his nose under his ear, breathing him in.

Mick shrugs. “He hasn’t talked to Lewis.”

Charles visibly deflates, shoulders slumping, mouth turning down. He perks up again, like a cartoon character and not a real actual living person who drives Mick insane on a daily basis, when Mick continues, “But he says he will.”

“Okay, great!” Charles smiles at him before squinting, dimming a little when Mick doesn’t keep talking. “Is that not great?”

Mick hums, tilting his head from side to side. Roscoe looks back at them before continuing on, content that he is still being diligently followed. “Depends. He says that he will talk to Lewis if he wins this weekend’s race.”

Charles stops short as Mick keeps walking. Esteban spots the two of them as he heads their way, raising a hand in hello, before he sees whatever is on Charles’ face and ducks into the Alpine garage.

Charles jogs to catch up. “That wasn’t very funny.” He is smiling anyway, which, Mick knows, isn’t how to tell if Charles Leclerc is upset or not but he isn’t doing that horrible thing with his eyebrows that makes Mick want to cry when he sees it so Mick thinks it’s probably alright.

“Yeah, it kind of was,” Mick says. “It was Sebastian’s idea, anyway.”

Charles rolls his eyes, waving a hand, watch flashing. “It’s always Sebastian’s idea. He thinks he is very funny, that man.”

“To be fair, he often is.”

Charles grins, easy and casual and all old school Hollywood, hair falling into his eyes, lashes dark. He pushes it away. “That is true.”

They walk in silence for a while, the snap shutter of cameras in the background. Mick watches Roscoe’s little legs eat up the concrete. He wonders if Angie has had her walk yet today.

“What will you do after all of this, do you think?” Charles has that look on his face that he gets sometimes, distant and remote, mouth a sharp line.

“I don’t know.” Mick eyes him warily. If Charles says retire again Mick might have to kill someone just so he doesn’t scream himself hoarse.

“Yes.” There’s a little divot in between Charles’s eyes, perfect and small and devastating. Mick’s thumb could cover it if he reached out and touched it there. “Neither do I.”

This championship race isn’t like last year, easier and harder in very different ways. Easier because Ferrari seems to have more of its shit together, quicker in the pitstops, smarter with the strategy. Harder too because now it’s more on Charles, now, somehow, there is even less room for error when it is all on you. And then of course, he is racing against Lewis which is a whole other thing. Not that George, this year, or even Max, last year, arent difficult opponents but. Still.

“Maybe I will do what Yuki keeps talking about,” Mick says, desperate suddenly for Charles to stop looking like that. For him to go back to smiling. Toto will not be impressed if there’s pictures circling where Mick is talking to Charles who looks like he’s about to cry.

Charles looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Yuki?”

“Yeah.” Mick shoves his hands in his pockets. Roscoe is starting to slow, the heat and the long walk beginning to get to him. Mick will have to head back to the garage soon. “Start a restaurant, you know? Good food. Maybe some love music. Outdoor seating.”

Charles throws back his head when he laughs, neck a long tanned line. A few people stop to stare. Mick tries not to roll his eyes. He doesn’t try to bite back his smile.

“That is not a bad idea, mate.” Charles says, nudging Mick with his elbow. “I would go. Bring Arthur.”

Mick exaggerates a horrified expression to see Charles laugh again. It’s a nice sound.

“What kind of food would you make?” Charles is seems very invested in an idea that Mick is still very unsure about and nearly mostly a joke.

“French. To make my ancestors proud.”

This time when Charles laughs, Mick laughs with him.