#I started sleeping in the guest room to see if the old bed would be better

[blujayonthewing]

waoh boy I love to sleep in my bed in my bedroom with my husband and just simply not actually sleep even a little bit because my body is hurts

[ashtheketchum]

● Bad girl ●

Daryl Dixon X FEM.Reader

Era: Season 2, farm

Summary: Daryl had been badly injured while searching for Sophia and your daddy had ordered Daryl to stay overnight in your house. The archer had his own room with a bed and you took care of his wounds. But one time you had sneaked a peek into his room while he was jerking off and he caught you.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, FEMALE Reader, spanking, fingering, AGE GAP (Daryl is in his late 30s, Reader is 20 years old), teasing, perv Daryl, masturbate, Reader watches Daryl masturbating

Words: 2.5k

Masterlist!

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PoV (Y/N):

The world was ending and, as my daddy would call it, "sick" people were running around. But suddenly a group of survivors came to us and they brought an injured boy to us. Apparently Otis had shot him and another girl was missing. My daddy took care of the injured boy and meanwhile the survivors were allowed to live with us in the front yard. They were not allowed to enter our house except for Rick and Lori, the parents of the injured boy.

I was the middle daughter of the Greenes. Maggie was my older sister and Beth was my younger sister, but I still wasn't allowed to do much with the survivors. It kind of annoyed me, but I could understand my daddy, after all we didn't know these survivors. But one survivor seemed very interesting to me. I think his name was Daryl, but I didn't see him very often. He looked for the missing little girl every day and only came back late at night. Inside, I already gave up hope of getting to know him better, but one day I got my chance.

One day Daryl came back badly wounded and he had also been shot by Andrea. Apparently he had also received one of his arrows in his side. My daddy took care of his wounds and now he had to lie in our guest room. While my daddy took care of his wounds, I brought him food and towels to wash himself with.

But while I was with him, I hardly spoke to him. I came in with a "Hello" and left with a "Ask if you need anything.". But not because I was afraid or because I didn't want to talk to him, I just didn't dare. Even though he sometimes looked at me with a non-grumpy expression on his face, I didn't dare say more. But it didn't seem to bother him, he actually seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet. But I really wanted to talk to him.

But today I wanted to do it differently. I had some food in my hands for Daryl and I was about to knock on his door when I suddenly heard a soft moan coming from his room. At first I thought he was moaning because of the pain, so I quietly opened the door so it was ajar. I quietly looked in to see if Daryl was really moaning because of the pain. But when I saw why he was really moaning, I turned bright red and my cunt started to throb and tingle.

Daryl had his back turned to me, I could see his bare back, which was covered in scars. I had noticed these scars many times, even though he constantly tried to hide them. Sometimes I had to come into his room when he was sleeping to bring him new clothes or leave his food there. My eyes sometimes fell on his broad back and, accordingly, on his scars.

Daryl's right arm moved up and down very quickly, while in his other hand he held a white cloth. He pressed it close to his face, probably to muffle his noises. Although I didn't have much experience with sexual things, I knew enough to know that Daryl was jerking himself off. Although I couldn't see anything, his noises were enough to make my panties wet. I put the food I wanted to bring him on the floor and then my hand wandered between my legs, under my skirt. I slowly pressed my middle finger against my clit, through my panties, and a quiet gasp escaped me. I did my best to be quiet, since everyone was still near the house. Not inside the house, but close. And Daryl was still behind the door.

The sound of skin slapping against each other became faster and faster and Daryl's breathing became faster too. As his hand moved faster, my movements on my clit also became much more faster. I closed my eyes, completely lost in the feeling of masturbation. My panties became wetter and wetter and my legs began to shake while I wished and imagined Daryl was moaning my name. My legs eventually gave up and I slowly knelt on the floor. On the other hand, I could briefly hear Daryl moaning very loudly before I heard nothing more. But I couldn't stop touching myself and imagining Daryl moaning my name, his rough fingers massaging my clit and stroking my skin. With my eyes closed, I gasped a little louder, his name also escaped my lips sometimes.

God, I was so lost in thought that I actually heard him say my name. "(Y/N)?… Hey…" But soon I was surprised by reality when I felt a rough hand on my shoulder. I immediately jumped and looked up at Daryl, his cheeks bright red. He looked at me confused and a little annoyed and I already knew that he knew what I had just done. But he also seemed uncomfortable, because his cheeks were bright red and his hands were shaking slightly. Maybe this was just the aftereffects of masturbating. "D-daryl…!?" Shocked, I pulled my hand away from between my legs and looked at his plate, which was next to me. The food had probably gone cold by now.

"I-i…! I can explain…!" I stuttered harshly, while I held my hand that had been satisfying my clit until recently. My fingertips shone slightly from my arousal seeping through my panties. But I didn't want Daryl to see them, even though he probably already knew what I was doing.

The archer remained silent, he just looked between my legs. There was something sparkling in his blue eyes before he turned around and looked down at me. At first I was afraid he would tell my daddy and I would get into so much trouble. "Come with me." Daryl then said suddenly. Without waiting for my answer, he went into his room and sat down on his bed. Swallowing hard, I got up anyway, taking the plate with me so that no one would get suspicious. Once inside the room, I put the plate on the bedside table and stood in front of Daryl. He looked down briefly before looking up at me, I couldn't even read his expression. "Ya were watchin' me, righ´?" He asked suddenly.

I didn't think it was possible, but my face turned even redder than it had been before. Swallowing hard, I looked down at the floor, feeling incredibly uncomfortable that he was now confronting me like this. The last time I had felt so pathetic was when Maggie had caught me kissing a picture of my favorite actor at the time. But this situation was a whole new level. But I didn't wanted to lie to Daryl, he was a good man. "Y-yes… I-I'm sorry, I didn't want-!" "Lay over ma lap. Now." His words confused me even more. Had he just told me to lie on his lap so that my butt was in the air? But I didn't contradict him, I just nodded silently.

I moved hesitantly towards him and knelt down on the bed next to him. At first I looked at Daryl quietly to make sure that this was really what he wanted. But his dark blue eyes looked at me stubbornly, as if they were telling me even more forcefully that I should finally lie across his lap. So I nodded slightly before I lay across his lap, my hips now over his thighs and my butt was stretched up a little. "'S yar family in yar house?" He asked as he lifted my skirt. Now I felt completely naked in front of him and my shame grew more and more. Daryl could now not only see my ass, but also my wet panties. "N-no…" I answered his question anyway. "W-why-!? Ah!” I gasped loudly when I felt him slap my left butt cheek.

It wasn't a hard slap, but he wasn't gentle either. It was hard enough to make me gasp and whimper, but not hard enough to hurt me. Another slap, this time on my right ass cheek. Whimpering, I dug my nails into his bed cover that was underneath us. "Yar dirty, ya know tha'?" He suddenly asked. I couldn't even answer his question before he slapped my ass again. I pressed my legs together tightly, even though these slaps hurt somehow, they also aroused me at the same time. I felt myself getting even wetter and my lower abdomen tingled strongly as I felt his slap on my ass again.

Whimpering, I pressed my face into his bed, but this was also a mistake. The bed smelled like him. How could it not smell like him, he was lying in this bed the whole time. Daryl's smell made my eyes roll back slightly and my whimpering turned into a quiet moan. While he slapped my now red skin with his right hand, his left hand held my legs down, as I sometimes lifted them out of reflex. "Dirty girl… ya like tha'?" He asked suddenly. A quiet whimper escaped me again, but I didn't answer him. Yes, I liked it, but I didn't want to admit it. Daryl remained silent for a while before he lifted some of the fabric of my panties and let it slap against my skin again. "Yar so goddamn wet…" He growled quietly.

Before I could react, Daryl pushed my panties aside, now he could see my wet pussy. "D-daryl…" "Shhh… be quiet." He said, in a stern but at the same time gentle tone. I hadn't known Daryl for long, but I believed and trusted him. It was dumb, yeah. But I didn´t really care. I could have pushed him away at any time, his grip wasn't firm or hurtful. He slowly let his finger slide through my wet folds before he pressed his rough finger against my clit. Panting, I pressed my legs together tighter and whimpered a little louder. For a while, Daryl massaged my clit in circular movements and I kept moaning and whimpering quietly. "D-daryl, please…" My voice came out quietly. At first I thought he hadn't heard me, but when he slid his fingers to my entrance, I got a cold shiver.

"Ya wan' it here?" He then asked, circling his finger around my entrance. Breathing heavily, I nodded slightly before pressing my face into his bed covers. His scent immediately filled my nose again, and he slowly pushed his finger into me. "Fuck, yar tigh'…" Daryl murmured quietly as he slowly began to move his finger. I was wet enough that he could start right away and I didn't feel any pain, it just felt weird. "D-daryl…~! G-god…" I murmured quietly as my grip on his bed covers became tighter and tighter.

Daryl just growled softly before he curled his finger slightly. He gently pressed his fingertip against my wet, tight inner walls and the hairs on my neck stood up. At some point Daryl added a second finger and he moved his fingers much faster now. Moaning, I pushed my ass even further towards him, which made him slap my ass with his other hand. Little tears of excitement came to my eyes, the mixture of his fingers inside me and his slaps on my ass provoked an orgasm in me. My breathing became faster and stronger while my legs trembled more and more. "Ya cumming?" The archer asked as he slapped my ass again.

"Y-yes…! P-please~…!" "Please wha'?" "P-please, make me cum~!" I moaned loudly and trembled even more. Daryl moved his fingers as fast as he could and pressed his fingertips against my special spot, which made me see black for a moment. Daryl slapped my ass once more and hit my special spot once more before I moaned loudly into his bed and came around his fingers. My head was spinning as Daryl slowly pulled his fingers out of me and gently stroked my ass. "'re ya good?" I heard Daryl ask in a soft voice.

Humming, I nodded slightly, but I was still trying to recover from the orgasm. I had touched myself before, but I had never been so overwhelmed by an orgasm, if I ever had one. "Yeah, yeah… I'm good…" I murmured quietly. I lay still for a while, Daryl adjusted my panties a little and pulled my skirt down again so that it covered my ass.

When I finally got myself together, I slowly climbed down from him. My face was still bright red and my legs were shaking a little. Daryl just looked up at me quietly before looking down at his food. "Can we… do this again?" I asked uncertainly and then looked at him. Daryl remained silent for a moment before turning back to me and looking at me again with his unreadable expression. "If ya wan´? Jus´… don´ tell yar old man." A certain joy and hope spread through me, but I didn't show it, I just nodded. Then I left his room again and closed the door behind me.

Somehow everything went a little too fast for me, but I didn't regret it for a second. So I went back to my room with a big grin to change my panties.

PoV Daryl:

I stayed in bed for a while before looking at my fingers, which were still wet from her orgasm. Something stirred in my pants again as I hesitantly put my fingers in my mouth and tasted them. God, she tasted as sweet as she looked. Of course I knew that she had been interested in me for a long time, but I never dared to speak to her properly because of our age difference. But this situation that happened recently made my heart beat faster and I could now dream about it every night. How her pussy wrapped tightly around my fingers, how her ass slowly turned red with every slap and how she moaned my name. God, I was already looking forward to the next time.

[thehmn]

The oldest inn in Denmark sounds like something that was taken straight out of a horror story bordering on being too cliche or weird to be believable.

I present to you Bromølle Kro

We don’t know how old it is because it was first mentioned in a text from 1198 when it had already been open for years. I could go into detail about how it also used to function as a mill and store but that’s boring.

The first strange part is that the current building isn’t the original. You see, it was build on a bog and slowly each incarnation of the inn would get more and more damp, the floor would become soggy, mould would spread and the walls would bend as the whole thing sank into the ground. Eventually the owners would tear the whole thing down and build a new inn on the rubble. They did this over and over again, leaving everyone to wonder why they didn’t rebuild it somewhere else.

Then in the 1700’s guests started to disappear. It took a while for people to notice because most guests were travellers who were expected to be gone by morning anyway, but eventually so many people disappeared it couldn’t be ignored.

The couple who owned the inn were accused of getting rich patrons senselessly drunk, dragging them to their room and beating them to death with a club hidden under the bed. They then threw the victims out the window into the river that ran behind the inn.

For years people weren’t sure how true the story was. Did they really kill that many people? How would that even be possible without anyone seeing or hearing it?

Then in the 1950’s people wanted to straighten the river out for convenience and after they temporarily dried it up they started digging and found a skeleton. And another. And another. And another.

In all they dug up 28 skeletons from one small stretch of the river very close to the inn. And those were just the ones they found.

And despite all this the inn stayed in business. It wasn’t closed despite repeatedly sinking into the ground. It didn’t close when the owners were hanged for being serial killers. And it didn’t bother anyone that they had been sleeping and dining next to murder victims for years.

Today the ground has dried up and you can even enjoy the view of the river while you have lunch. They keep two of the skulls in the reception and named one of them Frede (a name that means peace/rest) for your viewing pleasure.

And somehow Bromølle Kro just keeps going and going…

[fayes-fics]

A Welcome Intrusion

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A drunken Bridgerton in the wrong room could be the start of something...

Warnings: none really... flirtatious drunken fluff, meet-cute.

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors Note: This idea has been lingering in my "wtf is this" pile of scenes I sometimes scribble down idly. I decided to add a little polish and make it a little one-shot, as I could not see it having a natural home in my other WIPs. I also have vague plans to do the same scene setup with Anthony as a character study of how their reactions would differ. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy <3

You are sleeping fitfully - a stifling summer night makes even a thin cotton sheet too much to bear on your overheated skin - when your bedroom is rudely invaded. 

In your half-awake, bleary state, you are not even certain someone is in the room at first, your back being turned to the door. Indeed, it’s only when the mattress dips that you truly startle. You freeze, facing away, completely uncertain what to do with a stranger perched on the edge of your bed. 

Behind you, you hear someone undressing haphazardly, Clothing hitting the rug in soft whumps. Bile rises in your throat when the effort-filled grunt while doing so is decidedly male. 

There is a triumphant noise, and then a body flops back onto the mattress with a self-satisfied chuckle. After a few beats, all is still, and you steel yourself to speak.

“Kind sir,” you murmur, not daring to move, clinging to the far side, “please leave my room.”

There is a decidedly undignified squeal of shock, more akin to a young girl, him flipping over onto all fours next to you, the movement causing you to turn over in equal surprise.

You both stare at each other as if burned; you clutch the bedding high around your neck as he pants lightly, recovering from the apparent scare you gave him, his breath carrying the rich aroma of expensive brandy. In the shaft of moonlight leaking through the curtains, you see the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Whoever he is, he is very pretty. Very drunk, yes. But very pretty, too.

“What in god’s name are you doing in my bed?” he demands, sounding alarmed but mildly slurred with intoxication.

“You are in my bed!” you squeak back, knuckles tightening around the sheet you hold, even as your traitorous eyes roam lower, entirely without meaning to. A slice of lithe, freckled chest muscle flexing over ribs as he draws heavy breaths makes something deep inside you quake. You quickly dart your eyes back up to his face. 

“I think not! This has been my bedroom since I was three years old!” he attests with the blithe certainty alcohol provides.

Oh, so he must be a Bridgerton. That is perhaps an easy guess, seeing as you are staying at Aubrey Hall ahead of tomorrow’s midsummer Hearts and Flowers Ball.

“I don’t think they would assign a family bedroom to a guest,” you answer with a flare of sass.

“Yes, I quite agree. That’s why you should not be here,” he huffs indignantly. 

“I was shown here by the head housemaid. That is my trunk there, the footmen brought in,” you point out, gesturing across the room. 

He seems to ignore your argument but suddenly swings around almost violently, looking at the room.

“I don’t have that on my wall,” he frowns at a sizeable floral painting over a dresser.

“Maybe because this isn’t actually your bedroom?” you volley back with uncharacteristic brashness, likely a reaction to his presence affecting you the longer he remains.

He whips back and narrows his eyes at you. “Did Anthony put you up to this? Or Colin? Change my room around and hide you in my bed to fool me? Are you some doxy?” 

“How dare you, sir!!” you blanche, horrified at his coarse language and that he could think you are any sort of woman of such low morals.

“My sincerest apologies,” he immediately looks thoroughly contrite. “You do appear far too well-bred to be such. But it still does not explain your presence in my room.”

“No, it does not,” you answer through gritted teeth, annoyance flaring at his continued erroneous insistence. “And that is because this is not your room…. dunderhead!”

The ferocity with which you spit the last word has his face morphing into one of befuddled incredulity, a single eyebrow arching.

“Sorry, that was impertinent of me,” you flush, dropping your gaze ashamed.

No!” he rushes out, “I… I liked it,” the confession apparently takes him by surprise as much as it does you, judging by his confused frown at his own words.

But then he seems to shrug and nod decisively as if agreeing with himself before he looks back to you, shifting so the light colour of his eyes catches the moonbeam.

“Who are you?” he inquires, cocking his head to the side.

“Miss y/l/n,” you respond.

“I’m Benedict…”

“...BrIdgerton,” you finish for him. “I assume, based on the fact you have a childhood bedroom here.”

He laughs; a rich, resonant sound that makes your insides jolt.

“Indeed,” he smiles, the ivory of his teeth catching the light. Again, you are drawn to how pretty he seems to be. “I am… quite intoxicated, Miss y/l/n”, he confesses, clutching a hand to his chest as if holding a doffed cap, “‘tis entirely possible I am indeed not in the correct bedroom.”

“I would venture that to be the correct assessment,” you offer with a meek smile.

“I sincerely apologise, yet again,” his face contrite as he shuffles into a kneeling position, his palms resting upturned on his thighs as if seeking forgiveness. 

The problem is all your eyes can do is slide down his bare torso, lingering in places they shouldn’t—like the swell of his pectorals, the dip of his waist, and the pull of material at the junction of his thighs just a few inches above where his palms rest….

“I suppose it is only fair I let you look, seeing as I so rudely interrupted your sleep,” he comments dryly.

Your eyes jerk back to his face, met with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a knowing crooked smirk. You feel your cheeks aflame and bow your head, biting your lip, knowing you have been thoroughly caught in your ogling.

“I… I apologise, sir,” you mumble quietly, “I… I have not seen a man without a shirt before…” you admit in a whisper. 

“And do you like what you see?” he teases, tone etched with beguiling menace, his mouth twisted into an intrigued pout as you dare to raise your gaze again.

“I… I…,” you falter, knowing that admitting such would be scandalous.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miss y/l/n,” he winks, “and I hope I am forgiven.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you bustle out, tugging the bedding high under your chin again, wanting desperately to conceal the flush you know is creeping over your skin with every second spent in his half-naked presence.

“I suppose I should take my leave,” he sighs, his cadence reluctant, perhaps hoping you will dispute his assessment.

“That would be… the most prudent course of action,” you nod even though your fingertips itch to grab his hand and ask him to stay for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

He slides off the bed and scoops up his discarded shirt, a moderately unsteady gait as he tugs it back onto his body. 

“Goodnight, Miss y/l/n,” he bows with a touch of comedic chivalry before he takes his leave. You cannot help but stare at his shapely rear as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight, Mr Bridgerton,” you call softly, and before you can stop yourself, more words are spilling from your lips, something about this man making you daring. “I do so hope you will offer me a dance at the ball tomorrow to make amends for this intrusion.” 

Even you are astounded by your words. Benedict pauses, his hand frozen on the door handle as he turns back around slowly, his mien surprised.

“It would be my pleasure,” he rumbles after a pause, a tingle running through your being.

“Until tomorrow, Mr Bridgerton,” you offer, heart pounding. 

“Until tomorrow indeed, Miss y/l/n,” the velvet of his voice tickling your skin long after the door snicks closed behind him.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaa @urfavnoirette

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC xDP idea: Misplace Baby

Danny makes a mistake.

He was messing around in Clockwork's lair-specifically the one with all the various clocks- when he accidentally broke a glowing gold hourglass on himself. It was the size of a house, so as the sand practically drowned him, he didn't notice his body shrinking until he dug out of the shimmering sand.

Danny stumbles on chubby little legs, panicking when he notices his clothes are suddenly too big and his hands are tinny. He fumbles to one of the old grandfather clocks to check his reflection in the glass. A small three-year-old stares back at him.

Danny screams, pushing away from the old clock. His actions cause him to trip over the leg of his pants, and he falls. Just as he tries to catch himself, the clock starts to ding.

Danny briefly recognizes the old melody of a Westminster before the clock's glass case swings open, revealing a portal, and he falls through. He catches a glimpse of Clockwork with a hand on his forehead, shaking his head in the doorway as he falls.

His face is dragged against the carpet as the Westminster chime rings behind him in the otherwise silent room. Groaning at the burn on his nose and cheeks, Danny sits up.

He turns around, watching in horror as the portal closes.

"No! No, no, no!" He opens and closes the glass door, but all he sees is the slightly swinging pendulum. Repeats his actions again and again. "Clockwork! Help! Clockwork!"

His mentor does not answer, and Danny can't feel him in the air. Can't sense his new father figure's gentle control over the flow of time. If he's learned anything in the last year he's been working as his appearance, this means Clockwork isn't in charge of this timeline.

He's in a universe so far from his original that not even the god of Time is the same. Moby Dick, he's gone and goofed now.

"Who's there?" A voice demands, and Danny whips around to see a startled man in a suit. A fine black two-piece suit that looks more expensive than Danny's house and car. Oh no, a rich man.

The man's blue eyes soften when he sees Danny. "Hey there, chum. What are you doing in my study?"

Danny blinks up at him as the man walks closer. At the closeness, the halfa's body betrays him. He starts to sob. Strong, painful sobs that wreck his whole body, and he can't breathe from how much he's crying.

The man's arms are around him in seconds. "Oh, Chum, it's okay. You're okay."

He lifts him up, pressing his wet face against his neck as he pats Danny's little back. It is humiliating, but Danny can't help but cling to the strong shoulders and curl against the warm chest as he cries. His tears and snot are all over the man's suit, but he doesn't seem to care as he comforts Danny.

Eventually, he cries to sleep, tear-stained face still pressed against the stranger's neck and his little head leaning against a strong shoulder. The rich man carefully tilts his head to ensure the toddler is fast asleep.

Once confirmed, he takes the small boy to the guest rooms. He needs answers- who is the boy? Where did he come from? Is he the son of one of the Gala attendees? What had the boy been doing at the clock guarding the Batcave?- but he will find those later. Right now, he needs to tuck this small child into bed.

"Master Bruce, your guests are waiting for you to give the speech," Alfred says, catching him at the stairway. The butler's eyes zone in on the small child in Bruce's arms before nodding. "I shall inform Marster Dick to speak for you. Who may this young lad be?"

"I'm not sure. I just found him crying in the main study." Bruce tilts his head to the upper floors. "I'm going to tuck him in."

"I'm afraid I only prepared the room next to Master Damian in preparation for Master Jon's visit. Thankfully the lads would not be opposed to sharing a room for the night if I request it of them."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'll be down as soon as I-"

"Who's child is that!?" Jason demands, stomping his way up the stairs. He's missing his suit jacket, and there is a nasty red stain on the front of his white shirt. Likely he's come for a change after "accidentally" dumping it on himself to get away from the Gala.

The toddler's nose wrinkles, indicating his sleep may be interrupted. Quickly, Bruce pats his back, humming a lullaby before the child can wake. The boy settles after a small sigh. He gives Jason a warning glare that the young man has the decency to look remorseful.

"Jason," Bruce starts, voice hushed. "I found him in the main study. He looks distressed, but a few minutes ago, I got an alert that someone had gotten into the manor. When I followed the motion detectors, it led me to this little guy."

"A baby broke into the manner? That's hardcore." Jason replied, peering at the sleeping child only to gasp. "It's another mini-you!"

"No," Bruce tells him, but secretly he thinks the same when he first finds the little boy in the main study. He had already taken a lock of the boy's hair. Just, you know, in case.

"Nice try, old man." Jason pulls out his phone, his thumb flying over his screen. A soft ding comes from the pockets of Bruce and Alfred. He doesn't have to look to know his son has just told all his siblings about the child.

A series of dings follow shortly after.

Bruce sighs, choosing not to answer, nodding to Jason and Aldfed as he quickly goes up the stairs. At least Alfred delays Jason from following by scolding him over the red stain.

Once the boy is safely placed into the bed, he carefully changes him into a pair of Damian's smallest pjs. They are still far too big for the boy but better than the jeans and white shirt he wore. He's happy to find that besides the red on his face- it looks like carpet burn- and a small bruise on his knee, the boy is unharmed. He places a stuffed octopus in the toddler's arms- smiling as the little one automatically clings it to it - before rushing down to the Batcave.

There he runs the DNA tests just as he reviews the camera footage. There he catches the toddler walking out of the woods, pushing himself through a small gap in the metal fence and wandering around the manor until he finds an open window and crawls in.

The window was opened by one of his Gala guests taking a smoke break. Bruce felt a small annoyance that they didn't follow his "no-smoking" rule even when he had explained on multiple occasions it was due to Tim not having a spleen and being worried about his health. He'll have to blacklist that man.

The child had not gracefully fallen into the manor, and Bruce winced as the boy slammed against the carpet floor as tripped. It explains the marks on his face. The boy had then cried for a few minutes- his cries must have been drowned out by the music of the Gala- but then he must have realized that no one was coming for him, so the baby had gotten up and wandered through the house crying.

He had found himself in the main study, where a few minutes later, Bruce had seen him.

Rewinding the camera, Bruce's eyes narrowed at seeing a piece of paper pinned to the boy's clothes. It looked like it fell off when he crawled through the window. Checking on the DNA test, Bruce left the cave to look for the paper.

He found in the hands of Cass, whose eyes were going over the words with fascination. She looks up at him, unsurprised by his approach- no one could sneak up on Cass- and smiles widely. "Baby brother?"

"What?"

She hands him a letter. It's short and to the point; it claims to be an old fling that gave birth three years ago, but she doesn't want anything to do with the child. She's sending the boy to the manor and is out of the country by the time he arrives.

She leaves no name.

Bruce can't remember anyone with whom he had a fling three years ago, so he knows it's a lie. Still, he would rather not find her if the child was abandoned like this. He's not sure he wouldn't break all her bones.

"I don't think he's mine," Bruce tells Cass. She tilts her head with a frown, staring at him with a soft glare until he sighs. "But I won't mind keeping him."

She beams.

The two make their way to the Batcave and find Dick already there. He's staring at the screen displaying the DNA results with a stupefied expression.

"Chum?" Bruce asks, but Dick doesn't respond. He only gapes at the screen. Cass skips next to him before she, too, freezes, and Bruce is slightly worried about what he will find.

There is a match between the boy and someone in the manner alright. But it's not with Bruce.

It's a match with Dick.

"Holy rapid-ranging ravens, I'm a father." Dick gasps.

Clockwork runs his fingers through his idiotic son's hair three floors above them. Kronos stands guard at the door, arms cross as he watches the visiting time god carefully whip the dimension travelers' memories.

Kronos is in charge of this universe timeline, but when he was approached by Clockwork asking for a favor, well, it was not hard to shift some events and make Danny a legit background.

He was now the son of Dick Grayson and Stacy Quinell. One was a boy who had been born in a circus but was forced to leave it after the death of his parents. When life got too rough, the boy would join the circus for short trips under the name Dan Danger.

The other was a girl whose parents were so determined to control every aspect of her life and were going to force her to marry a man twice her age she left home at sixteen.

She joined a traveling circus-Haley Circus- where she had a fling with Dan Danger. The night Dan was meant to go, she had seen him without his mask and learned it to be Dick Grayson.

Upon discovering her pregnancy, Stacy feared being kicked out of the circus, so she took a short break, gave birth to the boy, and kept him until he was three, thus demeaning him old enough to be without his mother.

She took him as close as she could to Wayne Manor and left. She intended to return to Haly's Circus, unaware of the fate that waited for her. Unaware of the Cout that needed new talons.

"Are you sure about this?" Kronos asks, "I'm all for discipline, but having the boy forget everything about himself for going into the timeline room?"

"It's not a punishment," Clockwork says. "It's a gift. Danny had lost so much when his parents learned the truth. His sister died trying to get him out of the house. His best friends were crippled when trying to hide him. His town was blown to pieces when his parents decided that no one in Amity Park could have a family if they could not have their children. Danny had spent years wishing to forget but mostly wishing to be a normal child. I will forever be grateful if a lifetime here grants him that."

Kronos frowns. "You have no power here. You do not know what awaits him."

"True, I know not of the trials and tribulations Danny will face, but I know you do. And you would not let anything happen to him, won't you." Clockwork looks at Kronos through his lashes and the other god of time swallows.

"Of course, my love. I will protect him. But unlike you, I can not get involved with mortals as easily. I will not be able to shield him."

"His new family will," Clockwork says, pressing his face against Danny's hair one last time to breathe him in. It will be a lifetime before he can hold his son. "The bats have faced worst odds."

Kronos tilts his head in agreement. "They have rewritten fate on numerous occasions. Even the Flashes have only been able to overturn fate but never truly go against it."

"The Court of Owls?"

"Danny will deal with them in time. His new mother is on her way to becoming a Telon. He will erase them from the timeline once he learns what they have done to her." Krono answers, eyes glowing as events of the future play before him. He watches a glowing figure battle against the king of the dead, his white hair shining brightly. "He seems to take the throne from the king of dead even here. Remarkable."

"My son is the most remarkable being around," Clockwork says proudly. He flouts from the bed, leaving behind a child with only memories of three years and a few false imprinted glimpses of the circus trailer his mother hid him in. He presses a kiss against Krono's lips. "I find myself wishing for another child. Will you assist me with that love?"

Kronos snaps them out of existence just as Danny opens his eyes and feels a small loss. It's quickly forgotten as his new father runs into the room to gasp. "Hey there, buddy, do you know who I am?"

Danny Grayson is introduced to his uncles and aunts later that night. He also meets John Jones and his niece Megan Morse who ask him a few questions about his past. Danny gets a funny feeling around them, as if someone was running their fingers through his hair but inside his head.

Thankfully they find everything to be alright.

And a new generation is born.

[delfiore]

—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child

“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.

You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”

Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.

It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.

“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”

You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.

“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”

“You’re welcome, Mama.”

When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.

You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.

“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.

“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.

The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”

You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.

“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”

“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.

“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”

“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.

It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.

“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”

“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”

This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.

“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”

The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.

“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.

“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”

“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”

“Why not in England?”

“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”

You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.

Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.

The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.

You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.

She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.

“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”

“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”

“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.

You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.

“Long time no see,” you said.

“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.

“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.

“Don’t what?”

“I know you’re giving me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.

“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.

“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”

You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.

“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.

“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.

Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.

You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?

“Mama, why are you crying?”

You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.

“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”

“What do you mean, bub?”

“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”

The revelation left you speechless.

Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”

“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.

“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”

“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”

“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”

You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”

Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.

The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.

“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.

She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.

“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”

Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.

“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”

You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.

“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”

By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.

“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.

“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.

Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”

You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.

Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.

“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”

You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.

“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.

“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”

“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”

epilogue. A month later.

A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.

“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.

“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”

“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.

“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”

Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.

[softbeej]

alastor cumming from just getting his ears touched by reader?

oh you may!!

Jazz & Liquor (Alastor x Reader smut)

“Ah, whiskey is your poison, I see? Mind If I have a glass? Always puts me right to bed.” Alastor asked, as you were curled up in the library with a scratchy record playing in the background.

“Be my guest!” You insisted, pouring him a healthy glass which he took with a wink before sitting beside you on the sofa.

“Reading anything interesting?” He questioned. He must be really sleepy; he always got a bit more touchy feely and talkative with exhaustion.

You shook your head no, closing the book and giving him your full attention.

“Just a old mystery novel, is all...”

He nodded, listening but clearly uninterested, “What brings you down here? You’re usually up in the radio tower at this time. Is everything okay?”

The attention was finally on him, and he visibly perked up at this.

“I’ve not managed to get much sleep these past few nights. Just wanted a little change of scenery, you see. Oh, how boring it can get up there all on my lonesome. You can visit, you know?”

You smiled, he was basically begging you to spend time with him. If you were to go up there, what would he even have you do? There’s only one chair up there - strictly his. There’s not even a sofa up there, it’s almost as if he specifically designed the room to deter anyone from loitering up there. You supposed, he could have you sit on his lap as he worked. Or he could have you just sit cross legged at his feet.

You almost shook your head to get rid of these thoughts, “Well, thank you, Alastor. I’ll certainly keep that in mind- Oh!”

With that, Alastor’s head was on your lap. He’d slowly been sinking into you as you were speaking, before his head just grew too heavy and landed in your lap. Almost immediately after he realised, his lazy eyes shot open, blushing and utterly embarrassed as he started blabbing a string of apologies at you.

You shushed him immediately of course.

“Al, Al, it’s fine! You sleep, you clearly need too...” You insisted as you gently lowered his head back down. He pulled his legs up on the sofa too, getting more comfortable. You scanned the room for a blanket for him, but didn’t want to disturb him.

Your nails raked through his hair as his eyes fluttered closed. Then, he purred as you continued. Your face reddened and you almost gasped.

“You like that? Feel nice?”

He nodded, “Mm...”

He probably wanted to downplay how much he liked it, but his involuntary purring clearly gave him away.

You kept scratching his head, moving closer to the base of his ears, where his hair changed into fluffy fur. His purring grew louder and rougher, giving you butterflies. His breath caught in his throat, and he let out a strange noise.

“Keep going? Feels... Good...” He said. Whatever butterflies you were feeling, he was clearly feeling tenfold, if you had to guess by the strawberry red blush covering his cheeks.

“Relax, Alastor... I’m here, relax...” You cooed.

You smiled to yourself as you saw his cock hard in his pants, straining the fabric and threatening the seams. Would he will it to go away? Excuse himself as he sorted his situation? Or just lay there seeing it through to completion?

His heavy eyelids fluttered open a little to watch you with blown pupils as you continued scratching, paying special attention to his ears now. You smiled as they flitted and twitched at even the lightest touch, and how he shivered in sync. You noticed he started to buck his hips up ever so slightly, as a nice wet patch of precum began seeping through the crotch of his pants.

Not like he cared, though. Instead he bucked his hips up harder, eyebrows knitting together as his tummy grew hot with arousal. With a final couple of rubs of his ears, he came hard right in his pants with an almost pathetic moan. His face relaxed, but his hips kept twitching involuntarily with aftershocks of the intense orgasm. The next thing you knew, you heard a deep breath and looked down to see him fast asleep. He’d have to deal with that mess in the morning, you thought as you drifted off.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”

[roosterforme]

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[vscabarca]

social media manager p2 - pablo gavi

summary: p2 of gavi falling for his social media manager; here is p1!

genre: fluffff🌟

———

The date had already been a week ago. Ever since that night both you and Gavi laid awake in bed at night, thinking about each other.

The dinner had been great. Gavi took you to a restaurant he knew very well, La Cúpula Garraf, a beautiful place known for footballers to be their guests.

You weren’t interrupted or seen by any fans, making you feel a lot more relaxed. Not that it would’ve been bad to be seen with Gavi, but you knew people would start talking once they would see you two together.

Gavi and you were immediately on the same page, sharing the same interests and passions, laughing about silly things the other person said. The nerves you two had at the beginning were quickly gone once you realized how similar you were. In the end Gavi was just a normal nineteen year old with an insane amount of talent, making you grin and blush all night long.

Since that night you two were texting and calling, exchanging quick glances at the facilities if you had the chance to. You told Sarah how you felt like you were slowly falling for the midfielder, feeling enchanted by his good morning texts and silly snaps he was sending you at a daily basis.

You tried not to get too attached to him, after all you did not know how it would end. In the end that did not work, and that’s how you laid awake in bed at one in the morning on a random Saturday night.

You twisted and turned around but gave it soon up and looked at your phone. Gavi had sent you a snap twenty minutes ago. He was in a black hoodie, replying to your previous message, having that adorable smile on his face that made you feel weak in the knees. You replied, thinking he already went to bed, but your snap was opened seconds after you sent it.

pabloo

why are you not asleep?🤨

You grinned at his text, shaking your head softly.

could ask you the same thing🤔

Shortly after your phone rang, Gavi appeared on the phone wanting to face time. With a smile you picked up, seeing him lay in bed too.

„I drank a coffee a bit too late I guess.“ He said, making you giggle.

„Why were you drinking a coffee anyway?“ You asked with a small laugh, happy to hear his voice again.

„Don’t know, impulse decision I guess. Now but why are you not sleeping? you told me you were an early to-bed-goer?“ He said, crooking his eyebrow at you.

„I am! I just have a lot going on at the moment.“ Work had been a bit more stressful lately and your feelings for Gavi didn’t make things better.

„Oh… you can tell me if something is bothering you.“

Your heart warmed at his words but you couldn’t exactly tell him he was one of the reasons that made you feel stressed.

„Don’t worry, it‘s nothing bad, just life. But I appreciate it. Same goes to you.“

Gavi smiled, nodding at your words.

„How about… you come over now?“

You were quite a bit stunned. It was almost two in the morning and Gavi wanted you to come over?

„Now? Don’t you wanna sleep?“ You asked with a laugh, trying to understand his intentions.

„It’s not looking like I‘m going to bed anytime soon and I thought we could go to my terrace. I‘ve read somewhere that there’s a special phenomenon tonight, there will be an unusual amount of shooting stars. I was about to go outside anyway.“

Your stomach did somersaults again, cheeks immediately heating up when you thought about it. Gavi and you on his terrace, talking about anything and everything, looking at the stars together.

„Sure, I‘d love to come around.“ You said, seeing a reddish tint spread across his cheeks too.

„Great, be ready in twenty? I‘ll come and pick you up.“

„Oh I can grab myself a cab so you don’t have-” You tried to reason but Gavi didn’t let you finish.

„Yeah no. I‘m not letting a pretty girl drive through half Barcelona alone at two in the morning with a stranger.“ He said, already getting up and walked around his room.

„If you insist, that‘d be great.“

Right after you two hung up, you immediatly got up, looking at your disheveled state in the bathroom mirror. You opted on putting on makeup but decided against it, you didn’t want to seem too dressed up. In the end you just curled your lashes, applied lipgloss and brushed your hair.

Gavi was not soon later at your house, waiting in his black Audi for you. He was a tad nervous but happy to see you again. If it was up to him he would love to ask you on a date every day, he never was so infatuated by a girl like he was with you.

———

Once you arrived at his place, Gavi gave you a house tour which ended at the terrace.

When you reached the lounge chairs, a silent gasp left your lips.

„You didn’t have to Gavi…“ You said in a whisper, turning towards him. A little tray with two cups of tea and various cookies decorated the table.

„It’s no big deal but I thought we could have something to snack on.“

After sitting on the lounge chairs for some minutes both of you realized you couldn’t really watch the stars that way.

„I think-“

„Dont you-“

Gavi and you started laughing, both being embarrassed that you talked at the same time.

„You go first.“

„I think it’s easier for us to watch the stars if we lay down.“ You giggled but Gavi stood up and laid down on the floor before you. You plopped down next to him, your shoulders touching. A warm feeling spread through your bodies at the touch, both of you turning your head towards each other only to smile softly.

It all felt like you were fifteen again, hanging out with your crush for the first time.

„What will you wish for when we’ll see a shooting star?“ You whispered, looking at Gavi‘s side profile.

„That you will go on a third date with me?“ He flashed you his cute smile, his big brown eyes gazing into yours.

„You don’t need a shooting star for that.“ You grinned, scooting a bit closer to him.

———

That’s how you ended up on your third date with the midfielder.

Him and you spent a whole afternoon at the beach of Castelldefels only two days later. Sunset approached and you couldn’t be happier.

You and Gavi had been laughing all afternoon, playing football in the sand (you were terrible at it but he was kind enough to not go too hard on you) and snacked on some fresh fruit you brought with.

The water was cold on your skin but Gavi‘s hand in yours made up for it. You were diving, having a handstand competition and swallowed a lot of seawater until you both stopped and looked into each others eyes.

Gavi took a step closer, still flashing you his signature smile once you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. The seawater drizzled down his face, his hair sticking up in every direction. You could feel your heart beat faster, your smile widen as you felt Gavi‘s hands on your waist.

„Is it too early to say that I really like you?“ Gavi asked, his eyes flickering from your one eye to the other.

„No, because I really like you too.“ You said with flushed cheeks, clasping your hands together behind his neck.

He smiled at your words, his gaze moving down to you lips like he was silently asking for permission to kiss you. You leaned in, pulling him down as you finally felt his soft, salty lips on yours.

Everything in that moment was perfect. Gavi, the kiss and the sunset. You wouldn’t have wished for anything else and were excited to find out what the future held for you and Gavi.

[moonlightazriel]

When no one hears your calls /// Eris X F!Reader

Summary: When the unbearable feelings of her mate start to mess with her life, Y/N decides to put an ending to their misery.

Warnings: Torture and abuse, Beron being the bastard he is.

Word Count: 3K

Notes: Yeah, i missed writing for my baby Eris. And I'm warning in advance that reader is Azriel's sister and he's mated to Gwyn in this, so please, if you don't stan Gwynriel, scroll past it.

Main Masterlist

She weeped, the feelings flooding her chest too overwhelming to keep controlled. It started with small waves of anxiety, increasing to pure agony, pain erupted through her chest. She tried to keep the tears from spilling, but now she sobbed, broken pleas for it to stop leaving from her parted chapped lips. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, let me make it stop.” Azriel begged his sister. Holding her broken frame in between his arms.

“It hurts so much Az, it’s not fair.” She managed to speak in between the sobs that got more hysterical. The shadowsinger just held her tighter, seeing her in such distress broke him, she has always been his greatest weakness. 

“Here, take this.” Gwyn offered, her warm hands holding a mug towards the female. “It will help you sleep.” Azriel nodded to his mate, taking the mug from his hands and bringing it to his sister’s lips. He forced the content down her throat, watching as the tea slowly worked, her body relaxed and the tears stopped and she fell asleep against him.

“Thank you.” He said, and Gwyn squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring grip. Azriel grabbed Y/N, taking her to the guest bedroom that Gwyn had set for her, placing her sleeping form carefully on the bed. The red headed female grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the living room again.

“I don’t understand.” He breathed. “She has had these episodes since the High Lord’s meeting, it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Maybe she’s sick?” Gwyn suggested and Azriel shrugged. 

“I took her to Madja, and she’s been as healthy as ever. There’s nothing wrong with her besides that.” He looked towards the room, to the shadows guarding his sister as she finally rested. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll find a solution Az, I know that.” Gwyn smiled at him, and he pulled the female for a hug. 

“I pray to the Mother that you’re right.” She kissed his temple and he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her love soothe his heart. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Whenever an episode approached, it always had small signs indicating it, the uncomfortable feeling in her chest, the rapid breathing and the dizziness like someone hit her in the head with full strength.

She hated that she worried her family so much, but not every time she was able to control how her body would react to it. It angered her how they would look at her with such pained expressions, how much Azriel wanted to help and she didn’t even knew how to ask for his help. 

So everyday, Gwyn would take her to the library and she would search the cause of her troubles, her nose glued to the pages for hours until her vision was blurry and her head was pounding. She never felt such agony, only when her half brothers and her father ripped her wings from her back, making a small cut and pulling it until the skin gave up and she blacked out due to the blood loss. 

It was Azriel shadows who helped them, sneaking supplies to their cell until they could get rid of the infection that almost killed her and healed his hands. She was glad for them and her brother, they saved her. She always tried to be as less of a burden as possible to not worry Azriel, but now she knew he was distressed about her situation, so she wanted to fix it, for her and for him. 

Shadows gathered in a corner caught her attention, she got up, despite not being able to hear them, they always tended to her and her needs. As she approached the shelf, the shadows disappeared, leaving only a copy of an old dusty book behind. She pulled the book out, blowing the dust off, sneezing a bit in the process. Allergic just like Cassian. 

She plopped herself in her seat again, scanning the book cover, no name, no nothing, this sparked her curiosity. She opened the book, in a fancy handwriter she could read “MATING BONDS: The complete guide for the matters of the heart.” She smiled at the title. 

Just like her brother, she was sometimes too shy to ask about things. Besides having her past lovers, mating bonds are something she was never that curious about. So she sat there, reading the whole thing with attention. If the shadows thought this book would help, she was sure it would. 

“Sometimes, strong feelings can leak through a one sided bond. And the other mate can feel it just as clearly as they would if the bond was shared by both mates.” That passage stuck with her, and she organised the books back on the shelf as she saw Gwyn approaching. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

“How do we know if the bond snapped or not?” She blurted at the dinner table, the eyes of the inner circle turning to her.

“Well, it’s different for everyone and you would mostly just know.” Rhys said, looking at the female, the three Illyrians treated her like they were her brothers as well. So, the three have been looking for ways to help their little sister to get rid of those episodes. 

“What if the bond had snapped for me and I just didn’t know it was it?” She inquired again and Azriel turned to his sister, his shadows stopping to look at her curiously. 

“Do you think you found your mate?” He asked, eyebrow raised, who she thought she was mated to?

“I found this book that said that feelings can leak through the bond.” The couples nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s very common.” Feyre replied.

“That’s the only explanation for what’s happening to me.” They all stopped for a second. “These emotions are not mine, but they’re strong enough for me to feel it.” Suddenly it all made sense.

“I pity your mate then.” Nesta said with sincerity, whoever it was, was going through great pain for her to feel it so intensely. 

“Me too.” Feyre agreed. “But as for the bond, you can feel like a tug in your soul, like no one else matters to you anymore besides that person.” The High Lady concluded. 

“Do you think you ever felt like this?” Elain asked and the female nodded.

“Yeah, I think I have.” 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

She couldn’t sleep, her mind filled with too many memories to rest. But one in particular caught her attention, and she closed her eyes, focusing on that memory until she could see it clearly.

“I didn’t know the Night Court had such beauties by their side.” His voice purred, and she turned around to see the well dressed autumn male. He had a smirk adorning his lips, his hair slicked back, leaving a clear view of his face.

“The autumn males aren’t that bad either.” She sheepishly replied, eyes glued to his amber eyes. Eris Vanserra was a dangerous male, as her family had alerted her, but what a beautiful disaster he was. Stealing her breath away and making her lose all of her focus.

“If you ever give me the pleasure of your company, I'll show you how bad we can be.” He winked at her, leaving her standing still in the hallway. It was Nesta who found her, looking at nothing, frozen in place as her chest sparkled with life, like she was taking her first breath of fresh air after getting out of her father’s dungeon. As she was finally free. 

She kicked the covers away from her body, not caring about her clothing as she winnowed away. It was him, he was what was troubling her so much. She just needed to ask him to stop whatever this was and she would go back to normal. The shadows covered her as she sneaked through the Autumn Manor. 

Everything was pitch black, and she just followed the shadows, taking her to the only illuminated room. She pushed the door open, spotting Eris by the bed, looking in a small mirror as he stitched a very ugly wound in his chest. His eye was purple and his lips were bruised. 

“Who did this to you?” She breathed, her hands shaking in anger, how could someone do it to another being? She saw how cruel people could be and she dedicated her time to protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked startled, dropping the mirror from his hands and wincing in pain. Surprised to see her there, and even more curious to know why she was there.

“I came here to talk to you.” She walked closer to her. “Here, let me help you.” Eris raised an eyebrow towards her, what was happening? She picked the needle from his hands, her warm skin brushing against his, it was a nice feeling. He didn’t say anything as her soft touch rested against his heart, while her other hand worked on closing the wound.

She finished the stitches, reaching for the bowl of water, taking the cloth and with one hand she lifted his chin, eyes locked together for a second. She started to work on the dried blood that smeared across his lips and nose. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and letting her take care of him. 

“What do you want to talk about that was so important that you invaded my room in the middle of the night?” He watched as she got away from him, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the corner of his room. She pulled her legs close to her chest. 

“I wanted you to stop.” He leaned forward.

“Stop what exactly?” She took a deep breath.

“With your overwhelming feelings, it’s been a fucking trouble to me. But you’re clearly going through something, so if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to reach out.” Eris sneered.

“Why would I ever seek your help?” He watched as she got up, her expression serious as she held the doorknob. 

“Because who’s better to help you than your own mate?” And with that she left. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Mate. 

Mate.

Mate.

She was his mate. Her words got caught in his mind, she had no reason to lie to him. But he also had no reasons to believe her, he just did. He chose to believe that the female who came to him in the middle of the night and showed him more kindness than his own flesh and blood was telling the truth.

So when another round of torture was over, he winnowed to her house, he had memorized the address she had sent to him. He could barely hold himself together, so he almost collapsed on top of her as she opened the door. She looked like she had been crying as he managed to take a look at her face, and he wondered if it was his emotions that led to that.

“I didn’t know where else to come, and I didn't want to be alone.” She didn’t laugh nor mocked him, she just nodded and left the room. He could hear her, moving around in a hidden room, he wondered if she regretted offering him shelter. 

All the doubts died down in his throat when she came back, leaning to help him stand, guiding the way towards a bathroom. She sat him in her toilet and helped him out of his clothes. He sank in the water, trying to ignore the fact that he had to be naked in front of her, she looked like she was trying her best to ignore it as well.

“I put some numbing herbs, to help with the pain.” He nodded, feeling very thankful for her kindness. “And I have some of Azriel’s clothes here if you don’t mind. Yours are very dirty and could infect your wounds.”

“I would like that, thank you.” She nodded, getting out of the room and only appearing again to drop the clothes. Eris sighed, feeling his body relax and his wounds starting to close. As the water got cold, he got out. He felt weird wearing the Shadowsinger’s clothes but nothing about this situation was usual for him. 

“I figured you’re probably hungry.” She placed a plate in front of him, no one had ever taken that much care of him before. “I didn’t cook it, Feyre told me it's a way of accepting the bond.” She smiled and he could swear that all the pain and sadness was lifted from his chest with that bright smile directed to him. 

“Yeah, we don’t want you accepting this bond by accident.” Why would she want to accept a life tied to him?

“Yeah, we have to get to know each other first.” She giggled, taking a bite of her own food. “You don’t even know my favourite colour!” Eris laughed, feeling the sound reverberate through his chest, how long it was since he truly laughed with someone? 

“Do you plan on accepting?” He asked, testing the waters.

“To be honest, I think about it, but as I said. First we get to know each other, we think about the bond later.” Eris nodded. 

“Does your family know?” He dared to ask, assuming that they didn’t, or else Azriel would have already threatened him. 

“They do!” He looked at her in shock. “They weren’t happy at first, but they respect my choice.” 

“Did you tell them?” He gestured towards himself and her smile faded.

“Your secret is safe with me, it’s not my story to tell.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Thank you, for everything.” She smiled again.

“Nothing to thank me for.” He grabbed her hand, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“I have everything to thank you for, you just don’t know it.” They finished the meal and she got up to do the dishes, he quickly pushed her away. “It’s the least I can do.” She nodded.

“I’ll get the guest room ready for you then.” That night Eris slept like he hadn't slept in ages, soaking in the comfort of her home and her affection. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Her fingers started to shake, and that wave of anxiety came, as overwhelming as ever, it has been a whole month that she didn’t feel it, but Eris still came up to her beaten every week, she knew he was holding back his pain for her. But today, it was just as unbearable as it was when he didn’t know about it.

She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists under the table. The dinner went nicely, everyone engaged in conversations and smiling. She couldn’t ruin it, not again. But it was too late, as tears started to stream down her face.

“Are you okay?” Gwyn asked. Concern lacing her delicate features. Y/N shook her head, a scream ripping past her lips and scaring the whole family, Azriel was by her side in a second, tending to her. 

“What’s wrong?” It wasn’t pain that filled her veins tonight, it was anger. The house shook with her power. She screamed in rage, if she didn’t act now, he was going to get killed. She grabbed the truth teller away from her brother.

“This ends tonight.” She announced before she winnowed away. The pain guided her, towards mouldy walls and putrid floors, the smell of blood making the air rancid. 

He groaned, the pointy blade opening his flesh as it was dragged across his skin. He tried to hold back his pain but it was too much tonight, the ash in the weapon making everything more painful. He tried to hang on for her, for the life he wanted to have with her, for everything they haven’t lived yet. But it was too painful to keep going. 

The cell door was forced open, with unruly hair, wet and red cheeks, holding a blade in her hands, his guardian angel came. The blade being pushed into Beron’s neck, blood splattering against her face. She pushed the blade to the side, Beron’s head being detached from his neck, his lifeless body collapsing to the floor. 

“Hey! Open your eyes.” She demanded, kneeling in front of him, cradling his face in between her hands, and in that moment, the bond in his chest sang with life, welcoming her unmistakable love for him. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The first thing he saw was the black curtains of her guest room. And the looming presence of the Shadowsinger himself, watching him intently. His body didn’t hurt anymore, all that was left was the warming feeling of the bond alongside his soul. 

“Where is she?” He asked, sitting straight up in bed, his muscles felt tingly from being in the same position for long.

“She’s out in town, getting some things.” Azriel sat in the chair facing the bed. “How are you feeling, Eris?” True concern filled his voice.

“I’m fine, she saved me.” He could never forget this.

“Use this gift she gave you to make her the happiest female alive.” Azriel said, and Eris knew this was the closest of his blessing he would ever get. “Keep her safe.”

“With my life.” The male promised. A door opened somewhere and her soothing voice filled the room.

“I’m home!” She announced, and it took her a few minutes to go to his room, pushing the door open, she watched him. Blinking the tears before rushing to him, jumping on top of him. He held her, and he felt  her lips pressed on his. His heart beated faster, as he retributed her kiss.

“Hey, stop that, that’s gross.” Azriel groaned, and she parted their kiss, laughing to her brother from Eris’s lap.

“You’re no fun.” She complained, showing him his middle finger. He rolled his eyes and left the room. “What do we do now?” She asked, but Eris didn’t want to think about the chaos that awaited for him at home, so he looked her in the eyes, sending all the love he could down the bond and asked.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

[slytherinshua]

YOU WERE ALWAYS CUTE

genre. fluff. warnings. none. pairing. seunghan x fem!reader. wc. 971. a/n. seunghan baby photos are THE MOST ADORABLE THING EVER SKDJKSK I LOVE HIM

“Look at your little hoodie! You were so small!!” You gasped, an infectious smile plastered on your face as you flipped through pages of an old photo book from the mid 2000s. Seunghan’s childhood was documented in candid photos, starting from when he was a newborn to around his 8th birthday.

You were having the time of your life adoring how precious your boyfriend was as a baby. Seunghan, however, not so much. He had been hiding his face in his hands for the last 5 minutes, begging you to stop just seconds after his mother had handed you the book. He dug his head into your shoulder, getting clingier out of embarrassment. You paid no attention to him, only having eyes for the much smaller and just-as-adorable baby version of him in the photos.

“Y/n, can’t you do this later?” He whined, clinging to your shirt as if he could possibly change how you spent the next hour.

“Nope— Oh my God! You’re so cute!” You squealed this time, eager to hold the page open for Seunghan to also see the photo. The date tells you he was around 2 at the time, playing with toy dinosaurs in an adorable fuzzy onesie pyjama set. The sight was almost too precious for you to handle. Seunghan took a glance at it before hiding his face even more into your shoulder. 

“Stop looking at them.” He pleaded in a weak mumble, his voice almost completely muffled by your shirt. You giggled, reaching your hand up to stroke his hair, gently leading his head to lay in your lap.

“Just 5 more minutes. They’re too cute not to!” You bargained with him, flipping to the next page with a grin. He sighed and closed his eyes, resting the back of his hand over his forehead, trying to relax while simultaneously staying tense each time he hears you react to another photo.

“Some things never change, huh?” You commented, attentively looking at the next photo— 4 year old Seunghan holding a packet of jellies in his hand, smiling happily at the camera. “You’re so precious.” You gushed, your hands combing through his hair, messing it up slightly and causing him to groan and swat your hand away.

“It’s been 5 minutes.” Seunghan said as soon as the second passed, quickly snatching the photobook out of your hand. You frowned. You would have rather spent another 20 minutes looking through them, as you knew his mother had several other photobooks of the same sort. But, your boyfriend was stubborn. You let up for now, mentally reminding yourself to look through the rest of the photos later after dinner.

Seunghan placed the book back on the shelf with the others, glaring at you once you made eye contact with him. You cracked a smile at him and opened your arms.

“You haven’t changed at all, you know?” You reminded him as he settled back on the couch.

“I have! I’m much better now.” He pouted. He let you wrap your arms around him, but he didn’t hug you back, still putting up an annoyed front. He wasn’t really that mad at you, just incredibly embarrassed. There were all kinds of photos saved in those books— and even though he knew you were the one, it didn’t cut back on the humiliation. 

“I was going to see them sooner or later.” You persuaded him, kissing his cheek softly to try to cheer him up. It doesn’t quite work as well as you would hope, though it does get you a reciprocated hug back.

He was pouty for the rest of the evening, sending you glances all through dinner and post-dinner board games as his mother and older brother teased him to no end. You heard endless stories about his childhood, both funny and heartwarming. It wasn’t until you were getting ready for bed that Seunghan seemed more cheerful.

“When we visit your parents… I’ll get to look at your baby photos as well, right?” He asked while you were brushing your hair for bed. You looked up to the doorway of the guest room you’d be sleeping in, seeing Seunghan leaning against the doorframe. 

You laughed, “Why? You barely let me look at yours.”

He scoffed and walked closer to you, “I let you look at it for a long time!” 

“10 minutes is not a long time.” You corrected, “But, alright. I guess you can see my baby photos too. Why do you want to, though?”

“For the same reason you do, I guess. You’re just cute.” He said simply, smiling at you.

You were the one scoffing this time, turning your attention back to your hair, studiously ignoring your boyfriend as he gets even closer to you. He planted a kiss on your forehead silently before walking out of your room, mumbling a casual ‘goodnight’ and ‘sleep well’. You shook your head with a smile, fondness for him bubbling up in your stomach

At times, Seunghan was the most attractive boy you had ever seen. He had smooth pickup lines for days, and was sweet enough to melt anyone’s heart. But it was times like these that you liked a little more— when he showed his more vulnerable side. He got embarrassed and petty like any other person would, and you liked the reminder that you had that effect on him.

You were happy that Seunghan hadn’t noticed the stack of photo books sitting on the bed. Once you were sufficiently ready for sleep, you dipped under the covers and grabbed the first one you were looking at, flipping back to the pages you left off on. And a thought came into your brain as you scanned over the last photos— it wasn’t even a fair competition; Seunghan was objectively the cutest baby ever.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr

[flowwsblog]

You’re so warm—

a/n; I’m new to the community soo please don’t be too harsh on me 😭😭 (But I need the feedback anyways). Also this fic is going to be pretty long for my first, (it being in two parts lol) but enjoy!!

Timothee!Willy wonka x f!Reader

Summary: in which reader has trouble falling asleep and runs into a certain someone. What could happen?

Warnings: pure fluff 😊

You had been working at the ‘laundry covered prison’- as you and noodle had called it- for a couple years now.

You had gotten there same as everyone, looking for a cheepy place to stay in this economy; and failed to read the fine print. So there was obviously something suspicious going on.

Worse led to worse as Mrs. Scrubbit had enslaved you (which is how you saw it) and forced you to do laundry work. Along with all the other fellow workers/people trapped in the dusty basement.

You befriended each one of them as time went by, not having any other choice. But being the second youngest one there; noodle was the first one you immediately grew close too.

And one day while scrubbing some old laundry, you heard a yell. Well everyone did.

Everyone’s attention shot towards the clothing shute, where a lanky, frightened looking young man had been thrown down.

____________

Ever since that day, your life couldn’t have been more interesting. The man, whose name you learned was Willy Wonka, was the most amazing human you had ever met. He was a magician, chocolatier, and humungous dreamer. What better man to sweep you off your feet?

But welcoming a handsome new guest meant bunking with someone else. Mrs. Scrubbit did not want the fuss of fixing up a new bedroom, leading to Mr. Wonka inhabiting your old room.

You loved noodle, she was like a little sister to you, so you did not complain in the slightest to sharing a room with her.

_____________

One night, you couldn’t sleep. You grabbed a thin blanket and wrapped it around your lightly trembling body. You made sure noodle was wrapped sorta-snug in the worn out bed before descending from the room.

Your thin loafers tapped the cold wooden floor lightly, wandering down the hall to the bathroom. As you walked by a certain door, your steps faltered, but soon continuing its journey to the wash room.

You and wonka has become close friends, similar to the friendship of yours and noodles, but being closer age wise made things different. You hadn’t talked to a boy your age since grade school, so having a male presence now made you exceedingly nervous.

Upon becoming comfortable with Willy, his presence had started to take a toll on you. Butterflies erupting when he would get particularly close. Or breath faltering when he would just, be in the room? You were confused. Maybe it was his shiny, chocolate colored curls or his full green eyes that lured you towards him. But whatever it was, you were hooked.

You closed the door and turned on the light, eyes squinting from the brightness; your handing coming up to shield them.

You turned on the sink and splashed water on your face. The water being cold not helping. You just wiped your face and turned off the light; heading out. This trip definitely helped.

As you opened the door you see another door opening. Expecting noodle’s small body to come out and ask why you left. Instead you get a taller, handsomer is that a word, man leaving his room. Rubbing his eyes softly.

You sigh, ‘What great timing!’, You think sarcastically to yourself. You carefully approach him and smile.

“Hi y/n” he hums with a sleepy smile. Which makes your stomach flutter. “What ya’ doin up so late?”

“Oh nothing, I can’t sleep. And you?” You turn to face him, studying his defined cheekbones and messy curls. Beautifully misplaced from sleep.

“Hm, I heard something and thought it was the little orange man coming to steal my chocolate again. But I’m glad it was you.” Your face grew 10 shades of pink at the comment. God, if he knew how he made you feel you would be in such trouble, or worse, jail. You’re glad it was dark or else he would’ve seen your embarrassing reaction. You smiled nonetheless. “Thank you Mr. Wonka”

He smiled at the name, knowing he prefers being called Willy.

“Well I’m gonna get going to my room, it’s cold out here.” You let out a half hearted chuckle and turned to leave, wanting him to stop you so badly. “Good night wil-“

He grabbed your arm gently, as if he was broken from a trance. “Wait y/n.”

You turned your head, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Yes?”

_______________

a/n; that’s part 1 guys 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I already have an idea in which part 2 will be posted so stay tuned! It’ll be soon :) 👐 thank you for reading!! Don’t forget to leave notes💞

[deadbydad-writes]

Punk!Miguel x Ballet!Reader. Reader invites Miguel over to her parents for winter break. They sleep in separate rooms, but in the middle of the night, Miguel sneaks into her childhood bedroom and fucks her as she struggles to keep quiet. If you could include both daddy/mommy kink and breeding kink (the idea of Miguel getting her pregnant in her childhood bed, while under her parents roof, is just so hot for some reason), that be wonderful ❤️

This could also work for Ice Skater! Reader x Hockey Player! Miguel, either or would be fine with me. Whatever’s easier for you ☺️

I LOVE THIS!

You didn't know if bringing your boyfriend Miguel to your parents' place for the day was a good thing or a bad thing.

You had been nervous and terrified when your parents asked if Miguel would be able to come and stay during the winter break, but you said yes anyway since you thought it was time that they met him anyway.

You and Miguel were different types of people. He was a punk and you did ballet, there really wasn't more that you could say. Miguel was always quiet and seemed annoyed with everyone while you always had a smile on your face and loved talking to people. You guys were polar opposites, but that' what probably attracted you to each other, and you were okay with that.

When you guys had made it to your parents house and settled in, you were scared about how your parents would feel and think about Miguel. You had never dated a guy like him before let alone brought one home, so you didn't know what to expect.

But, to your surprise and relief, your parents loved Miguel. He helped your mom cook dinner and even helped your dad cut wood for the fireplace. Hell, your dad told him that he approved of Miguel, which you didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but you didn't ask. It made you happy that your parents liked him.

When it was time for bed you and Miguel had been placed in separate rooms that night. Miguel would sleep in the guest room and you would stay in the bedroom you grew up in.

Your room was pink with little ballerina's painted on the walls and the pillowcases on your bed were white with pink dots and your blanket was a baby pink shade. You were still small enough to fit in your old bed. Your bedroom had thin walls so when you had laid down you turned the volume on your phone way down while watching a movie.

Everything was silent...for about an hour.

It seemed that Miguel didn't like the fact that you slept in a separate room from him because about thirty minutes after your parents had gone to bed, he made his way out of the guest room and into your room, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

At first you thought that he just wanted to cuddle...but you were so wrong.

And this is how you found yourself laying underneath him with your face buried into the soft pillows underneath you to quiet your moans that threatened to escape past your lips, his large hands gripping your hips as he pounded into your tight wet heat from behind, his bare back pressed against your own and he kissed the skin on your neck and shoulders.

"Look at you," he whispered into your ear with a dark chuckle. "Taking my cock so well, even on your childhood bed.

He grabbed you by the hair and turned your head to the side so he could crash his lips against your own, instantly licking into the cavern of your mouth with a growl.

"Daddy," you whined against his lips, the pleasure from the tip if his cock hitting that one spot inside you that made you see stars was starting to hurt in the most amazing way possible. You closed your eyes as you felt one of his hands move from your hip to lay on your flat stomach.

"Is it bad that I want to get you pregnant on your old bed?" Miguel let out another growl and started to fucking into you harder.

You let out a moan at his words and the thought.

"You would look so good, round and full with my babies," he groaned into the crook of your neck, his hips still grinding against yours as he nibbled on your neck. "Gonna be such a good mami for your papi, aren't you mi amor?"

You nodded your head desperately, too cock-drunk to form an actual response. You couldn't help but think about his words, about how you would look with your belly all swollen with Miguels children.

He would take such good care of you and your babies, keep you and them safe.

Finally, after a few seconds later, you felt his movements come to a halt as his cum filled you up, his cock still inside you to make sure none of it came out. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came on his cock from the feeling.

"Gonna be such a good mami," Miguel whispered into your ear and pressed gentle kissed along your neck and jaw as he spooned you from behind.

You closed your eyes and put a hand on your stomach, a smile on your face at the thought of his babies growing inside of you.

And sure, maybe your parents did ask you about the noises from last night and the marks on your neck, but they wouldn't care when in about a month after then you and Miguel would tell them that you're expecting triplets.

Maybe bringing Miguel to meet your parents for the winter break was a good thing after all.

Holy fuck my fingers hurt, but I enjoyed writing this!

Honestly, kind of want to do a part two to this with the reader being pregnant with the triplets...what do you, the one who requested this and the lovely people who are reading this, what do you guys think? Should I make a part two? It probably won't be smutty but send anything you want to see in my inbox!

[bigdumbbambieyes]

“What the fuck is this?”

Steve glances back over his shoulder with a furrowed brow, spotting Billy halfway into the bed with the blanket pulled back, revealed his very old and very matted childhood stuffed Garfield plushie.

He feels his face heat in embarrassment, but he shuts his drawer in favour of going over to the bed and swiping Garfield up from the bed and into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he tells Billy with a small pout, “It’s my Garf.”

“Your Garf?” Billy lifts both of his brows, his eyes shining with mirth and his lips are twitching to hold back a smile.

Or worse, maybe a laugh.

Which makes Steve feel worse because goddammit, he forgot to hide Garfield away in his closet before Billy came over. He was usually better about it, but the new shiner under Billy’s eye had distracted him the entire drive here.

This thing between them was still new, still kinda fragile, because Billy’s just started sleeping over instead of rushing to put his pants back on after they fuck and running away like a bat out of hell.

And now Billy’s gone and seen Garf and Steve kinda wants to die.

“You sleep with a stuffed Garfield, pretty boy?” Billy taunts him quietly, that amusement still in his face.

He has since he was a kid, when he picked him off the shelf in a store he can’t remember during one of the dozens of vacations they’ve taken and showed it to his mother, who had nodded in approval.

He’s slept with Garf every night since he was six, when his parents were gone and his babysitter was in the guest room. Or when his parents would leave him alone, in this big house, for a weekend or more.

Or even when his parents were home and he still felt alone.

He finds himself rubbing Garfield’s ear, soothing himself as he stares at Billy and nods quietly.

And Billy probably sees his embarrassment now, in his big brown eyes, because the teasing look is gone and Billy’s kneeling on the bed now, shuffling over to the other side where Steve’s standing, and looking down at the weathered Garfield in his arms.

Billy flicks his gaze up again, meeting Steve’s eyes, and mutters, “I have my baby blanket under my pillow at home. It’s fucking scraps now, but I still have it.”

When I need it, goes unsaid, but it makes Steve smile a little.

“Can I see him?” Billy asks softly, probably the softest Steve’s ever heard him.

It’s enough to make him pass Garfield over to Billy, who looks him over quietly. Petting his ears and face, thumbing over his eyes and smile.

“I know it’s stupid,” Steve mumbles.

Billy smirks softly, probably thinking ‘yeah, it is’, but he doesn’t say it, instead he hands Garfield back and mumbles, “Whatever gives you comfort.”

Steve nods and watches Billy slip under the covers, making him comfortable, and he turns to put Garfield away in his spot in the closet when Billy asks, “He’s not sleeping with us?”

It makes Steve pause, caught a little off guard at the question, but he turns on his heel and sees Billy laying there against the pillows, his hands behind his head and quirking a brow.

Steve licks his lips, a nervous habit, and shrugs. He asks, “Is that okay?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t.”

Steve smiles, a small thing on his face, but Billy mirrors it and reaches over to pull back the blanket on Steve’s side of the bed.

-

In the morning, Steve wakes up to the sight of Billy holding a stolen Garfield to his chest, sound asleep.

The sight fills his chest with something warm, something affectionate, something hopeful.

[redcherrykook]

── ˙✧°📷 TORN PICTURES AND FROZEN LENSES 3

────୨ৎ────

College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode three!

Song recommendation: The heart wants what it wants- selena gomez

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments, alcohol consumption

────୨ৎ────

You're running around in a beautiful field, kissed by sun, however, when you listen closely...

Riiing

Riiiing

"God what the hell" you grumble, rubbing your eyes instinctively. Finally understanding you were infact not in a pretty field but instead awoken by that damn alarm, you turn to your phone, shushing the unbearable ringing.

6:45 am.

Confused and hazed by the morning, your brain still foggy and not quite caught up, you sit there, blankly staring at the wall.

Jungkooks wall.

Right, you are in your teachers house.

In his bed even, well, his guest bed.

Without knowing what to do next, you try follow your usual morning routine, a miserable attempt at normality. Like making the bed and opening the window.

Toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, deodorant, moisturizer and fresh clothes in hand. On your way to the bathroom, starting an easy and clean morning

Opening the door you didn't think twice about seeing Jungkook, purposefully you had set the alarm early. Class doesn't start until 8:45, although it wasn't Jungkooks class today, he should be in school around the same time.

That would mean leaving at around 8.

So a little more than an hour earlier should do the trick just right.

"Look whos finally done sleeping"

His raspy voice makes its way to your ears,

Assumed wrong i suppose.

He's stood at the table in the living room, setting down a kettle and plates. Given the impression that he has already made breakfast, you wonder just when he wakes up in the mornings.

Most importantly, he's in the very same clothes as yesterday, loose grey sweats that sit lowly on his hips, a oversized black tshirt covering his torso. His brown- darkish hair is still a little rough from sleeping. Additionally to not wearing any glasses, he looks,

different.

You had always known that Jungkook was very physically attractive. You're stubborn sure, maybe a little slow.

Certainly not blind.

On this day, he seems particularly pretty. At this point you're practically oggling at his tattoos that are on full display, a casual outfit displaying his well built body, it made him look so,

Attainable.

Enough, enough of fanatasizing about the looks of Jungkook.

"Uh, yeah, good morning" you clear your throat after awkwardly noticing how obvious your staring must have been.

He chuckles quietly, "Had a rough sleep i see" his usually glaring eyes wander up and down your face, pointing to your hair with his finger as he holds back a cocky laugh.

It is only know you noticed how ridiculous you must look, haven just woken up, hair in a mess and the same clothes from yesterday all twisted and turned.

While he stood there, looking..

Whatever

"Shut up" you roll your eyes at him, walking to the bathroom.

But his voice stops you,

"Did you get changed already?" The question made no sense to you, was it because you worse the same clothes you went to bed with?

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head "Because you are wearing the same things as yesterday. Don't tell me you slept in that?"

Your eyes wander to the ground, sighing in embarrassment while also asking yourself how slow he really is.

"Unfortunately Jungkook, I have to. I can't tell if you're making fun of me or if you're seriously behind, why do you think i only got one bag? I got like, 10 shirts, 6 pants none of them bad enough to sleep in" Furrowing your eyebrows, you meet his annoyed expression

Scoffing he waks into his room, leaving your question on heard.

What a great start.

After that lovely conversation, you make your way into the bathroom, trying to wash away the weird feeling of sleeping in Jungkooks guest bed.

By washing your face, freshening up, changing (finally) and putting your medium greasy hair neatly into a ponytail.

In all honesty you're in desperate need for a shower. Restricted by the thought of getting naked in your teacher's shower, it made you so repulsed you preferred spraying yourself in deodorant from top to bottom to cover up.

It's not like he meant what he said yesterday, not like you would have to use his shower eventually,

You wouldn't actually be staying here.

If it was not for your stomach grumbling loudly, you could be spending the rest of the day locked in the bathroom, thinking about that sentence

Just fucking stay here

As soon as you walk out of the spacious, brightly lit bathroom, you are hit with something else.

No really, you're hit in the face with a black shirt. The scent of cotton and wood immediately clouding your sense, this shirt did not belong to you. The much larger size being another give away that yes, Jungkook just threw his shirt on your face. Catching it in your hands, you look at him confused, fully stopped in your tracks.

"Just wear this when you sleep, dumbass. I have too many anyways. Get to eating now we need to leave soon"

He mumbles while sitting down at the table and eating the eggs he had cooked earlier, his eyes not looking into yours once.

There is no way he could look into your eyes after imaging you wearing his shirt to sleep, disgusted at himself for that image. He simply wanted to help you out, thats all.

For some reason.

Registering what just happened, you giggle in disbelief, thanking him for the food and sitting down yourself. He just groans in response.

He doesn't think he will ever get used to that clingy gratittude.

"You know, you're doing great at becoming nicer. Im starting to actually like you" you say while chewing on a toast.

It would be a lie to say you did not like him. After being a complete menace, he has only shown you kindness. In his own, very strange way. Someone showing you care trying to understand the situation you are in, that was rare. Naturally, it meant even more when the person has previously contributed to you feeling horrible.

Living a life of prejudice and judgement meant appreciation and insight on the smallest signs of help and kindness.

His eyes dart up to meet yours, surpised at first before regulating into a blank look. He nods, smirking just a little bit.

"You're becoming more annoying by the day. Guess we really are learning"

You give him a expressionless "ha ha" in return for that snarky comment.

He's still an asshole, that's for certain.

He hums, remembering something.

"So about yesterday"

Immediately you knew where this was heading, he was gonna tell you to get out today and find somewhere to go. Obviously, you weren't upset at that, he has done enough for you. It would just be painfully awkward to make the walk of shame out, still having no idea where to spend the next night.

"yeah dont worry, I'm gonna find something"

Confidently you set your finished plate on top of his, ready to clean up.

His eyes roll,

"You never listen huh? I told you, you can stay here. Im sure a shelter will call back within the week. Im not risking having to pick you up again anyways or you doing some stupid illegal shit" he reaches to take the plates into the kitchen while finishing his sentence, organized as always.

"You would actually let me stay?" Your voice sounding a little irritated, not because he suggested you to stay, it´s the way he presented it to you. Irritated that he assumes for you to cause trouble and having to act like a caretaker for you.

"Want me to say it a third time? Look, if you don't want to i obviously don't care"

Jungkook can't help but feel offened at the thought of you rejecting his help. He's trying way too hard for some student of his, the more he thinks about it, coupled by your silence, the angrier he gets,

that also reflects audibly in his voice.

"I know there isn't much in that head of yours but god can you say at least something? Im not wasting my time trying to help you if you're gonna be a lost cause"

You frown, looking at him nervously and taken aback at his harsh words. It had been some time since you had last seen him angry. The rapid change from the downlow mean guy you had adjusted to, to an angry man in front of you had made you begin to tremble, recalling past encounters.

"I-I'm sorry i, I just was surprised you would be willing to take that burden on you. I didn't mean to, anger you or something" the words come out in a low stutter, feeling like one potential conversation into the direction of genuine friendship was now endangered.

Upon hearing the way you responded he sighs, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes.

It made him feel heavy.

Jungkook was slowly begining to let you get through all the walls he had so firmly build up, all to hold up that unattainable and cold exterior of his. He knew it aswell, he could feel himself wanting to be nicer to you, getting to know you beyond you being the worst student in his class.

Beyond what he had thought to be an awfully annoying brat.

He just could not explain why, why you bothered him so much, why you got through to him so much quicker than anyone who has ever attempted and notably, failed.

"Damn I, I didn't mean to get so loud. Let's just forget it yeah? You're welcome to stay here, if not i'm gonna drop you off at least"

Once his eyes open they nervously make their way over to you own, soft ones.

Relief enters his system seeing you less intimidated. However, looking down to your visibly trembling hand, a pang enters his chest.

"Are you-"

"Oh look, its almost time to leave. Im gonna get my bag" you rush past him, entering the guest bedroom and closing the door.

For the second time today, in the span of what had only been an hour, you find yourself staring blankly at his wall.

The question of actually staying with Jungkook for a couple more days floating around in your head. Was it really okay for you to sleep, eat, shower, exist in his house for so long? Wouldn't he be too bothered by it?

He did suggest it and hes not one for kindness out of respect.

Where else were you going to go?

It would only be for this week anyways, since it's tuesday already, that's five days at maximum.

Fuck, I'm really gonna have to stay here.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The car ride to University has gone by for what felt like eternity. Jungkook refused to turn on the radio once again, claiming that it would give him a headache this early in the morning. Just like it would have at night or you guessed he would use the same , lame excuse for every hour of the day.

He hasn't spoken a word about your stay nor have you, feeling too afraid to trigger another argument.

In order to protect his job and your reputation, if there is any left, he lets you off at a cornerstore 10 minutes from campus.

"I"ll go collect you later at F41 yeah?"

You nod, closing the car door and walking on to campus.

The University is decently sized, not as big as a state college but far from a small town school. A library, a buisness, medical, performing arts building and a cafeteria all inter connected.

On any other day you would be walking to the performing arts building, tuesday morning classes are always practical lessons like guitar, piano, trumbone, violine and many more depending on your skills and chosen instrument, of course.

However having recently seen an advertisement around campus for a crash course and orientation in art majors, directed to the next freshmen, you decided to take up the chance to meet some new people. Although a massive introvert, you need friends, at least a couple. As a music major, you had every right to attend as well.

In reality you just needed an excuse to not show up to miss Yun's dreaded piano lessons.

F41 is a giant hall reserved for events and rehearsals, having been in that room countless of times over the past two years, seeing it filled with all sorts of people, sounds, activities. A warm feeling spreading inside your chest when remembering so many people come together to create.

Jungkook would be attending the event around 10:25, right when his first lesson of the day ended. As a representative of an arts major, he should be there to finesse new freshmen into his classes. Whether that be by his charming looks or his passion for photography.

When entering the room, it was already filled to the brim with people from your university. Familiar faces you had seen in classes, girls everyone knew and wanted to be like, guys everyone wanted to get with, all the while mentally groaning at the idea of it getting even more crowded with time passing.

And so the time did pass, glancing up at a clock hung up high, it read 10:05 am. You must have talked to over two dozen people at this point.

Lost in your own little world, ready to look for more potential freshmen interested in music, and making even more uncomfortable small talk with classmates you were able to tolerate, something fell to the ground.

A loud thump echoing across the hall, everyone in the vicinity turning around to look what could have fallen to create a sound like that.

Correction,

Who could have made a sound like that..

"Oh god do you need help?" You ask, crouching down and reaching a hand forward to the handsome guy that just fell face first on the floor.

His jawline is so sharp it could cut, his eyes are monolided and a dark shade of hazel, with a head full of curly black hair and full lips, a high nosebridge and lots of moles on his face.

He definitely looks like an artist.

"Oh uhm, yeah, thanks" he mumbles shyly, accepting your hand with his slim fingers, pulling his slim form up with your help.

When he stood in front of you, his figure was a lot taller than yours, looking down to you appreciatively.

"I'm Kim Taehyung" he says while smiling, the palm of his hand rubbing his nape.

The way in which he speaks has you smiling, dark and raspy,

It reminded you of Jungkook this morning.

"Y/n. Are you a freshmen?" You ask him curiously, he looks to be around the same age as you.

He nods before replying "Pretty name for a pretty girl. Yeah, looking into photography" he explains.

You´re kind of blushing at the way he so shamelessly flirts after having fallen on his face just two minutes ago.

Your eyes widen as you begin to shake your hands furiously in an X motion

"Oh my god don't even THINK about photography. I have it and its horrible, plus the teacher is an asshole, to get on his good side you have to be-"

"That would be me. Nice to meet you, I'm Mr Jeon., head of photography and you're currently speaking to my worst student"

Jungkooks stern voice cuts you off rudely, he shoots you a glare while wrapping a hand around your shoulder firmly when referring to you.

You look back at him with a nervous smile, squirming at the sudden touch

Taehyung bows to Jungkook, "I'm looking forward to meeting you mr Jeon."

He turns back to you, giving a flirty wink,

"See you around then, pretty"

Jungkook scoffs and makes a gagging sound once Taehyung has left, looking after him as if his eyes were lasers and Taehyung was the target.

You look up at him with a scrunched nose "Seriously? The one time i get hit on you remind me I'm gross?" you say to him clearly pissed off, his eyes roll as lets his grip on your shoulder go.

"Yeah you idiot, what else would i be doing. Lets get out of here I'm bored already, had a horrible meeting just now" his jaw clenches at the memory.

For Jungkook, there is nothing worse than people misjudging him. He so carefully, so delicately created his distance so no one could over interpret meaning into his words. His rough attitude is that way so everything is as clear as day, everyone is aware of the one and only way Mr. Jeon acts.

Surprisingly, some people still did not catch on. A substitute teacher started a huge fuss over Jungkook calling someone's artwork tasteless, she accused him of a billion different things except for honesty. The one thing he always tried to be.

Emphasis on tried.

"Responsible , mr. Jeon" you nod to mock him, he just groans and speed walks off to his car with you jogging behind.

When sat in his car, the conversation of where to let you be had to have come up eventually. You couldn't tip toe around any longer, see where things would go, it would just lead to Jungkook being frustrated at your carelessness, even if you did not mean to be careless at all.

"I'm staying at yours" you say suddenly, turning your head around to find him already looking at you, he smiles briefly,

"Not the bench huh? Liar" his joke about the night in the library makes you snicker but cross your arms in defense.

"Under one condition" you add afterwards, having a genius plan in mind.

As anticipated he does not look happy to even hear you out.

"We get drunk tonight. Just, lets just buy some cheap soju and get tipsy, i need to reset all of this mess" a sigh escapes your lips when you think about the past week and the events that have let you here.

Too much happening in too little time.

Jungkook shrugs,

"Sounds better than what i imagined that weird head of yours could come up with. What do you wanna eat? Soju pairs great with chicken" he suggests, small bundles of excitement forming in Jungkook's brain as he imagines you being drunk and funny around him, comfortable around him.

He wondered if it would be a chance for him to loosen up too.

"Sounds fantastic! Havent eaten that in a while. I'll pay for soju yeah?" you grin, hands clasped together as you turn towards him when he begins driving.

He shakes his head, "Am not letting you pay. You cried to me about being poor and think i'll let you buy me anything?"

You open your mouth in a dramatic gasp,

"Wowww okay rich teacher, I never cried though you absolute drama queen"

Jungkook rolls his eyes and chuckles, he mutters a "whatever" while continuing to drive back to his apartment.

"No, thank you though. I feel bad for being on your ass so much" you punch his shoulder lightly, a small gesture of friendship that tells him you're starting to become more free and easy going around him.

"Yeah whatever stop saying it like that. You're making it weird"

You knew he didn't mean it, his eyes remained soften for the rest of the drive.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Settling down has never been your thing, being used to moving around all the time and never really finding ground to sprout on has made you easily adaptable though.

Like spending nights at a library studying or sleeping in your teachers apartment.

It has not prepared you, however, to be comfortable in every situation.

Oddly enough, the past 7 hours you've been comfortably sitting at Jungkook's living room table, studying your heart out while he prepares his lessons and corrects exams.

A peaceful work space for the both of you as you have barely said anything to one another. Only one dim light illuminating the room, his laptop counting as a small light as well. You asked him to light a candle, since it would create a cozier space.

As expected he reluctantly agreed

The silence never once being awkward during this time.

Here and there you had exchanged glances and maybe you have stared at him and he caught you.

Multiple times.

So what? You simply appreciate a good looking guy when you see him.

Somehow the whole day it has been especially evident, from breakfast to the car to now.

How could you not look at him when he sits there, his face full of concentration and his tongue licking his lip piercing, probably unaware he is even doing it?

Moreover, how could he not clear his throat in an attempt to not call you out, asking you why you look at him like you want to kiss him?

Mutually impossible.

"Its getting late already. Lets go soon" he says while stretching his arms above his his head and tilting his head back, his neck exposed delicately to you, you wonder if he´s trying to tease you.

looking away trying to shake off that stupid thought, you answer him.

"Yeah, i'll take a shower first i think"

His nose scrunches up as he hold it, as if signaling to not wanting to smell you

"PLEASE you stink"

A quiet laughter fills the room when you look at him again, his face just looking so unserious and non- Jungkook, not super blank and not super stern either.

Perhaps this was actually the most Jungkook you had ever seen him.

"Nevermind I won't, so i get on your nerves even more" you stick your tongue out when you say that, he replies with his middle finger and you burst out in laughter at his childishly stupid behavior.

27 whole years old and holding up a middle finger.

"Im kindly asking you please take a shower for fucks sake. Didn´t you say you DON´T want to get on my nerves?" he says again, giggling slightly, his smile not matching his eyes that are focused on yours.

"Is it really that bad?" wondering self consciously, you smell your shirt, shrugging afterwards "Its alright to me"

"Yes, yes it is bad, awful literlly disgusting" he goes back and forth with you on this for a while, even while you to grab your sweatpants and a spare tank top you have from the guestroom, he keeps arguing with you, follwing closely behind and using every insult for smelling bad he could think of.

"You're so childish Jungkook it's insane"

Managing to manuver your way into the bathroom frame and he's still chanting for you to shower, you decide enough is enough

"Shut up you just wanna have me naked in your house you creep" and then, just like that, the door shuts, locking yourself in.

Your giggles can be heard from outside of the bathroom, clearly satisfied at managing to stun him in place.

Jungkook just stands there, stunned at the fact you really just said something so vulgar to him, something so out of left field.

It began with you guys arguing like crazy and ended with him following you around his own apartment before getting drunk together.

Cruel world?

"HEY! NO- THATS-" he tries to argue, banging against the locked bathroom door.

"LALALAL CAN'T HEAR YOUUU" you scream back, turning on the water and finally blessing yourself with a much needed shower.

So much to feeling repulsed at the idea of showering here.

One of many things you had said you would not do,

Oh well.

Jungkook laughs a genuine laugh when turning to lean his head and back to the door, listening to the water running as his thoughts start to cloud up his mind.

His eyes close when he understands that, you really were naked inside his bathroom, just on the other side of the door.

He can't stop himself from biting his lip when his thoughts shift to picture how you must look, small hands gently roaming to wash your wet frame, massaging and reaching for every inch of your skin covered in water.

How you must have looked stripping away each item of yours so carefully, slipping your panties down your hips and legs, your shirt stretched over your head

After what has been only a couple seconds to him, the water stops and he's ripped out of his daydreams.

Shaking his head and covering his mouth with his eyes growing more wide by the second, he realizes he had spend minimum the last 10 minutes fantasizing about your naked body, touching yourself, washing yourself under the warm soapy water of his very own bathroom.

Looking down to glance at the tent in his pants, he quickly scurries away from the door,

"What the actual fuck is wrong with me?" he mumbles to himself, practically running into his room to change.