#I’m sorry I couldn’t draw anything properly

[caelanglang]

happy birthday to our strongest warrior

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One

No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear

3,516 words

Part Two - Part Three

–-

The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.

So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.

So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.

“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”

“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”

“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”

He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.

“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.

“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.

And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.

You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.

“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”

He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.

“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”

It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.

“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”

Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.

“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.

---

It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.

Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.

“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”

“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

Vox had stormed over to your desk.

“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.

“T-that’s not it! I just-”

Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.

“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”

“Of course, sir,” you said.

You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.

“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.

You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.

“What was that?” he said

“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.

A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.

“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”

Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.

“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”

“Um… yes?” you said.

“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”

“F/N,” you said.

“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”

You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.

---

Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.

Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.

He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.

It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.

Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.

You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.

“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.

“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.

“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”

What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.

“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.

You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.

“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”

“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”

That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.

“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”

He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.

“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”

“If you say so,” you said.

As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.

“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.

You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.

---

It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.

And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.

You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.

So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.

“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.

“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.

“I’m sorry… your what?” he said

“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”

He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.

“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”

“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.

As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”

It was awkwardly silent for a minute.

“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”

“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”

“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.

“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.

“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”

He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?

“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”

Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.

“I think I should go back to work,” you said.

He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.

This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.

Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.

“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.

You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”

“Or?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.

“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.

He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.

“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.

“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.

“You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”

You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?

“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”

He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.

It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.

He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured

He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.

You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.

Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.

“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”

You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.

[corrodedcorpses]

Boys on Film

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: Eddie and Steve have been your best friends for years. Although they've never done or said anything to make you feel bad, you can't help but feel inadequate to them when it comes to sexual experience. After they star in their first Threesome together, some weird emotions arise.

Warnings: Smut (18+), light angst, Masturbation (female), Voyeurism, Oral sex (m & F), Double penetration, watching porn (?)

Word count: 5.7k

a/n: I know I said I was going to post part 2 of this on my Ao3 but I think this account has finally revived itself! So part 2 will be up on here and Ao3 in a couple of days!

Also thank you to everyone for sticking around while my account was doomed, ily 🖤

Part 2 // Part 3

Eddie and Steve have been your closest friends for years.

Your friendship with Eddie started out your first week of highschool and the first week of Eddie’s third year. Eddie had seen you wandering the crowded halls, head down and gripping the strap of your worn backpack, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. 

There was something about you, your shyness and innocence that Eddie seemed drawn to. He had thought about approaching you but couldn’t work up the courage or a good enough excuse to talk to you. 

Everytime your eyes met for a brief second you quickly looked away and Eddie saw, what he assumed, was fear in your eyes everytime you did. He was honestly surprised how fast his reputation spread, even to the newer students, but he was used to it by now. 

Luckily for him, as you sped through the halls at the end of school one day, head down low and staring at the floor, you had unknowingly stepped right into his path… and smashed right into his chest. 

You looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes and he offered you a kind smile back. He expected you to just run away, no one else bothered to apologise when they ran into him, but instead you stammered out a tiny “S-sorry, I didn’t see you, there’s just um, so many people”. 

Eddie was shocked for a second, his cold heart melting slightly at your tiny voice, but quickly regained his confidence and reassured you that “It’s totally fine, gets pretty crazy here at the end of the day”. 

“Yeah,” you’d replied with a sigh, “It’s gonna take some getting used to that’s for sure. People don’t just create a path for me when I’m coming.” you’d said with the slightest, still nervous chuckle, attempting to lightheartedly tease him. 

Eddie’s chest ached at the sound. “Well stick with me little one,” Eddie assured, throwing an arm around your shoulders and changing his original direction to walk with you, “I’ll protect you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but couldn’t help looking up at him with awe in your eyes, blushing when he winked and smirked at you. “Now, where are we headed?” 

After that it seemed Eddie had decided that you were (somehow) worthy of his friendship and affection. You still don’t know why he had decided to be so nice to you that day but you were more than thankful. You’d both been inseparable ever since and although it had never progressed to anything more than friendship, you loved him dearly. 

4 years later at the end of your (Eddie’s third) senior year, he introduced you to the “now super metal” Steve Harrington.

At first you were apprehensive of Steve after hearing the rumours of “King Steve” and being no stranger to insults being thrown your way from Tommy H, Carol and the rest of the basketball team, even after Steve had graduated. 

Just like Eddie. 

Which is why you were so confused when he insisted on you giving Steve a chance and that he was sure you’d actually like him. You’d also heard the kids from Hellfire (especially Dustin) also gush over Steve, so eventually, with a lot of convincing, you decided that maybe he deserved a chance. 

Your first time meeting Steve properly was over at Eddie’s trailer, he’d insisted that the best way to break the ice was to all get high together, a habit you’d picked up thanks to the metalhead himself. You weren’t surprised that Steve also smoked, having heard about his infamous parties. 

Eddie had given you a ride home from school that day and you thankfully had a few hours with just him before Steve arrived after work. You were hoping that hanging out with Eddie would calm your nerves at spending time with Steve but unfortunately you spent the whole time practically pacing around the whole trailer, while Eddie watched you from the couch. 

Eddie found it amusing (and a little bit cute) how nervous you were but did his best to try and reassure you. 

“Don’t you remember that awful rumour that Carol spread around school about me?”

“You’ll have to be more specific sweetheart, which one?” He teased with a chuckle. Not helping. 

You glared back at him. “My point exactly. And Steve just stood there as they all laughed at me, at us practically the whole way through highschool!” You were almost yelling now. 

“Yeah but Steve didn’t do any of the actual bullying,” Eddie tried. 

You gave him a look of come on and he just shrugged in return. 

Luckily, before you could completely spiral, you both heard a knock on the door. You froze in your current pacing spot and looked at Eddie with fear in your eyes, realising you were closest to the door. 

You quickly ran and sat down on the other side of the couch before Eddie could even think about suggesting you get the door. Eddie looked at you confused while standing up, mumbling a don't worry, i'll get it with a fond shake of his head. 

He’d never admit it to you but he loves how shy you are, more specifically loves how shy you are around everyone but him and how you seem to always look at him to protect you when your nerves get the better of you. He liked feeling needed and trusted so much by you. 

Eddie had quickly opened the door, surprising you by pulling Steve into a quick friendly embrace. While Steve, even more to your surprise, gladly returned the hug. Eddie then stepped to the side to let Steve come in. Steve went straight to the kitchen, placing the two white bags on the counter and saying something about bringing reinforcements. 

It was only then that Steve seemed to notice you on the couch as you sat awkwardly fiddling with the hem of your skirt. 

“Where are my manners?” He asked rhetorically, striding over to the couch with his hand outstretched. You stood, timidly taking his hand to shake. 

“Hey I’m Steve, Steve Harrington”

“Hey, y-yeah, I know” we went to the same school dumbass, “I’m y’n”.

“Right,” he says, placing his other hand on top of yours, “Eddie didn’t tell me his “best friend” that I’d be meeting was so pretty.” 

You blushed hard at that. Hating his cheesy one liner and hating how much you wanted to like it. You shot Eddie a glance that said a mix between seriously? This guy? And please save me. 

Eddie gave you a look back that said play nice but asked Steve to help him grab some stuff from his room. You sunk back into the couch relieved as they walked away, how were you supposed to survive a whole night of Steve Harrington?

As Eddie and Steve got to the room you heard Eddie whisper “Seriously Man?” way too loudly.

“What?” Steve had whispered way too loudly back. 

“You’re coming on way too strong.”

“What? No I’m not, she's a total babe!” you rolled your eyes at that, there's no way Steve had changed as much as Eddie thought. 

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Eddie replied, “just chill out with the flirting, you’re gonna scare her off”.

I know? Eddie knows that you’re a babe? 

You did not have time to fully process what he meant when both boys returned from Eddie’s room with his trusty black lunchbox. 

You were relieved when Eddie sat next to you on the couch and Steve took the recliner. It was awkward at first, you were easily getting lost in the conversations with both of their big personalities but they made sure to ask you specific things and let you have enough room to talk. 

After you had all passed a few joints around it got even easier. You were surprised to find that Steve obviously cared a lot about Eddie, even remembering small details of the latest D&D campaign Eddie had been working on and making sure his favourite snack was in his plastic “reinforcement” bags.  

You also, despite yourself, started having fun and actually laughing with Steve Harrington for once and not at the expense of others as you’d seen him do too often in highschool. 

You were also surprised to see that maybe he wasn’t as confident and sure of himself as he used to be. He was still certainly confident but not in the same intimidating and arrogant way. 

Also, much to your detest, you started to find his lame flirting actually quite endearing. Eventually, you had no choice but to agree with Eddie that Steve Harrington was a really good dude now. 

Ever since, the three of you have been inseparable. 

They were your shoulders to cry on, someone to pick you up after a bad day, someone to tell all your secrets and dreams to. All three of you supported each other through every failed and successful endeavour. 

Especially Eddie who, after finally graduating, realised he really didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. He started out at a shitty music store straight out of highschool but he soon grew tired of it, never one to settle for the mundane. He wanted something more. 

Although his ultimate goal is still to be a “rockstar” and the band is doing pretty well, Eddie soon realised that there was something else (other than guitar and Dungeon Master-ing) that he was extremely good at: sex. 

You’re still not sure how he got into it, if he’d decided himself one day or if he’d been approached by someone but somehow Eddie Munson finds himself as a semi successful pornstar.

When Eddie had first told you and Steve that he’d stared in a porno, neither of you believed him. You really thought he was playing some weird joke on you both as it wasn’t unlike him to. So, in order to prove to you both that he was in fact, telling the truth, he got a copy of the film. 

You were completely shocked when the tape started playing on Steve’s TV. The obscene images and sounds like a slap to the face, something you never thought you’d get to see or hear from your best friend. But, you had to admit, Eddie was good and he looked hot. 

You tried to ignore the growing ache between your legs as you and Steve had grilled Eddie all about it for the rest of the night, asking if it was good or awkward, how much money he made, did he think he would do more? How did he even get in this situation in the first place? 

He answered all your questions about how it was a little awkward at first but ultimately good and a lot of fun. He didn’t give specifics of how much he made but assured that it was definitely more than he made at the music store. He also was adamant that he definitely wanted to do it again. 

He wouldn’t go into specifics, and still won’t, about how he started up, always saying something along the lines of “being chosen by the sex gods” or “it just seemed a shame to not share my talents with the world”. Each time he was rewarded by a massive eye roll from you and Steve but neither if you decided to pry more than that. 

You were especially surprised by the interest Steve seemed to have in it, asking more about the technicalities of how it all worked. Steve, like Eddie, really didn’t have much of a plan after High School. You knew that although he enjoyed his current job, he didn’t want to work there forever. So it didn’t come as a total shock when Steve had asked Eddie a couple of months later if he could help Steve land a role in one of the films. 

That was about a year ago now. 

Although you loved your two friends dearly and although they have never done or said anything to make you feel inferior to them, you couldn’t help when those ugly feelings rose in your chest. It wasn’t easy being friends with two very confident, very attractive men. 

Being pushed aside by girls who shamelessly threw themselves at them or worse the ugly looks you’d get when they’d casually throw a friendly arm around you while you were out or the fact that you were hopelessly sexually inept compared to them. 

Especially seeing as those two men literally had sex for a living and well… you were still a virgin.  

It wasn’t for your lack of trying though, you’d just never seen yourself as an overly sexual person, having not even really touched yourself that much. Besides, most of the time when you try to, you can hardly ever make yourself finish.

You’d never understood when your friends would talk about their sexual experiences or toys they’d tried. You just didn’t get the interest but it was something you were definitely insecure about. Almost convinced something must be wrong with you. 

It also didn’t help that there were never any guys during High School that peaked your interest, other than maybe Eddie. But you were sure he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship over a silly crush. 

So, in the past year, while Eddie and Steve were becoming more popular, staring in a bunch of different films and having a heap of different sexual experiences, you’d only found yourself in a brief relationship with a total dick. 

He was nice enough at first but had pressured you a bit more than you would have liked to do things you probably weren’t ready for. You’d eventually given in and tried to give him a blowjob but he was way too pushy and forceful and you didn’t enjoy it at all. He’d said afterwards that he’d return the favour, but after about 2 minutes kept asking over and over again if you were getting close yet. Eventually you’d just faked it for him to stop, not really feeling anything the whole time he had.

After that the relationship kind of dwindled and he’d broken up with you. There were many issues with your comparability, but he’d made a point to mention that you weren’t sexual enough. That part had really ruined your confidence to ever try anything again with someone else. 

You’d of course told Eddie and Steve about your relationship and how much of a douche he was when it all ended. They’d done their best to cheer you up and reassure you that you should never have to do anything with someone just because you’re in a relationship with them and that there was no shame in having little to no experience. 

You appreciated their words but can’t help but feel insecure in the fact that their job is to have sex and make other people feel good and you can barely even make yourself cum. 

****

It’s Thursday night, a night reserved for your weekly (when your busy schedules allowed) dinners with Eddie and Steve. They were always at your house too as you were the only one that lived alone. 

You didn’t mind though, you liked being in your little space that you had created and having the two people you loved the most inside it. 

You were especially excited for tonight as it had been about a month since you’d all be free enough to finally have dinner and you had missed them both. 

You all spoke on the phone regularly but it was different than actually being with them, missing how your body seemed to instantly relax the minute you saw them. 

Eddie must have picked up Steve as you heard the familiar sounds of his van approaching and two sets of people jump out. 

You immediately ran to the door to greet them, excitement practically bubbling out of you. They both shared your excitement, quickly pulling you into tight hugs. 

They’d picked up some food on the way and you’d already set the table, so you all sat and ate straight away. 

“So,” you say with a mouthful of food, “what did I miss in the lives of my two sex gods”. You giggle as you say the last part overly dramatic and teasing. Eddie smirks at your use of the nickname he’d given himself on many occasions as Steve just rolls his eyes at you. 

“Oh you know, same old stuff,” Eddie replied casually. 

“We’ve both just been doing a couple of different films, trying new stuff,” Steve expanded. They never seem to give you much detail, which you think you're thankful for. 

“Dazzling the world with our tallent,” Eddie not so subtly added. “Oh! And we did a threesome together the other day.”

You almost choked on the food in your mouth as you felt your eyes practically fall out of your head. “You what?”

“Yeah, well I’ve been doing more threesomes lately and we needed another guy for one and they’d asked if I knew anyone,” Eddie explained like it was the most casual thing “and I of course immediately thought of Stevie, especially because I know he’s been keen to try one.”

You took a second to process all of this new information. Your two best friends, had a threesome, together, for Steve’s first threesome. 

You tried to figure out the weird emotions you were feeling at knowing this, more thankful now than ever that they usually didn’t tell you details about their job. 

Steve and Eddie exchanged a confused look at the unreadable expression on your face, they certainly hadn’t expected this reaction. They actually weren’t sure what reaction they had expected but it certainly wasn't this. 

“Hey,” Steve tried, “it’s not like a big deal or anything, I mean it’s just work.” Steve didn’t really know why he’d said that, you knew it was work and you’d always been supportive of them both. And it’s not like you’d be jealous or anything but he needed you to say something. 

“Ouch Harrington,” Eddie teased, “not a big deal? You mean to tell me it wasn’t earth shattering, that I haven’t changed your life forever?” 

Steve just rolled his eyes and shook his head at Eddie but could help himself but laugh at him. You found yourself laughing too, finally coming back to your senses. 

“Right,” you said finally, “sorry, I mean it’s fine obviously I just guess I was kind of shocked?” 

“Yeah we get that,” Steve assured you. 

“Wait- Steve, since when do you swing that way?” you asked

Steve just shrugged in response. He didn’t really know what way he swung these days, he didn’t really care as long as he was having fun and besides, Eddie is hot and he definitely knows what he’s doing. So of course anyone would jump at the opportunity to star in a Threesome with him, right?

“He only swings that way for me,” Eddie teased while grabbing Steve’s hand from across the table and quickly brushing his lips against his knuckles, “isn’t that right?”

You giggle at Eddie’s usual overly dramatic, complete disregard of personal space flirting but don’t miss the fact that Steve doesn't pull away. You feel a pang of jealousy at how they seem closer now, they’ve shared an experience with each other that you’d never get to share with them. You’re confused as to why that hurts so much but you start to feel even more inadequate at your lack of experience. 

“You’re full of shit Munson,” Steve replies, luckily bringing you out of your thoughts as he pulls his hand away finally. You don’t miss how much he’s blushing though, and neither does Eddie. 

“Wait, you guys said threesome right?” They both nod. “So… I'm assuming that means the third person was a girl?” You’re not really sure why you asked, something inside you just compelled you to dig deeper about the whole situation. 

“Yeah, a pretty little thing,” Eddie replies.

“Mmm, she was sweet,” Steve comments. 

“Oh and so good,” Eddie expands as you feel bitterness rise in your throat. 

“Mmm”, Steve agrees through a mouthful of food. 

Of course she was good, that’s her job, you try to reason with yourself. But god you wish you could also be good at something like that. 

Your dinner continues with no other world altering revelations thankfully but you keep coming back to the fact that they’ve done a threesome together. 

You keep asking them how it was. Good.

Had they done stuff together or just to her at the same time? 

Together and to her at the same time. (You tried to ignore the ache between your legs when they’d mentioned they’d touched each other and not just her).

And many, many questions about her and what she was like and what she was good at. 

They’d kept their answers brief but from what you could decipher she was amazing. Some of the things and positions they’d mentioned seemed impossible. The fact that they had fucked her throat and practically bent her in half and both fucked her at the same time one in each hole? It seemed crazy to you. 

Every time you asked a new question you felt worse and worse about yourself but you couldn’t stop. You both needed to know everything and needed them to never talk about it again. 

Thankfully, you thought it seemed as though they hadn’t picked up on how awful you felt by the end of the night. 

But Eddie had, we’ll sort of. He knew you better than anyone and could tell you were feeling a bit insecure but mainly took your interest as being curious about the technicalities of it all. Which was also true, you couldn’t imagine much about sex with one person, let alone two. 

This gave him a wicked idea…

***** 

The next day you get home from work exhausted. All day you’d been messing up everything. You were completely exhausted, distracted and just not yourself, your mind constantly wandering to Steve and Eddie. 

You’d tossed and turned all last night after they’d left, the ache between your legs growing unbearable but again, you’d tried and failed to relieve it. 

You felt the weirdest mix of jealousy and arousal. You knew Eddie and Steve were hot but you’d tried your best to never think of them like that knowing you couldn’t have them. 

But after knowing someone had had both of them together you couldn’t help but think about what they would be like and about all of the times you could’ve had that. 

Maybe if you’d been more sexual your late night smoke sessions or the nights when you’d all stumbled home from the bars or from Eddie’s shows could’ve led to more. 

But every time you thought about that and let yourself fantasise about them, and their bodies and their lips and how they would feel all over your skin and their hands roaming all over you… you felt guilt. 

These were your best friends and you knew that thinking about this stuff would only lead to heartache. You weren’t sexual and you honestly didn’t know if you ever would be, they wouldn’t want you. Especially not now. 

Now they were more out of your league than ever. 

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of them again you don’t see it on your kitchen counter until you almost squish it with your bag: a tape. 

You pick it up to inspect it, almost certain you didn’t leave one here this morning and find a note taped to it. 

Seeing as you were so interested. 

Sprawled out in Eddie’s handwriting, complete with a winky face. 

You gasp and quickly put the tape back on the counter as you realise what’s on it. As if the tape itself was as dirty as the contents were sure to be. 

You stare at it for a moment, this is the tape. With video proof of your best friend’s threesome. You shake your head and huff off to your bedroom. Trust Eddie to do something like this. 

He was messing with you, there’s no way he’d actually want you to see it! I mean you did see another tape that one other time he showed you and Steve… but that was only to prove he’d done it!! 

God, did Steve even know Eddie dropped the tape off? Surely… right? Eddie wouldn’t drop it off if Steve didn’t know. 

You weren’t even sure why you cared that he’d given it to you; it wasn't like you were actually going to watch it. It’s not like you’d been fantasising about nothing but the contents of the tape for the last 24 hours…

I mean… if you just watched it at least you wouldn’t have to fantasise about what could be on it anymore right? 

God what am I thinking? You scold yourself. There’s no way you’re considering this. 

You get changed and start your nightly chores around the house as well as making dinner. But more times than you’d like to admit you find yourself picking up that damn tape to put it back down again.

Eventually you find yourself sitting at the table staring at it, dinner long finished and the house completely spotless. Your leg is bouncing uncontrollably as you bite the skin around your nails, there's no way you’re considering this. But, what’s the worst that could happen?

Fuck it. 

They, or at least Eddie, left it here for me. And I’m sure heaps of other people have already watched it so why would it be weird for me to? 

You rush to the living room and pop the tape in the player, sitting on the carpet in front of your tv. 

You sit nervously as the tape starts, opening with all three of them making out and touching each other on a bed. It was surreal to see Eddie and Steve on your tv and even more surreal to see them like this. 

You watch as they all slowly got undressed, your eyes bulged as you see both of their cocks spring free, heat shooting directly to your core. 

You watch as the girl sat back and started to touch herself as they both watched, fisting their cocks slowly. 

She looked so confident, you thought. So sure of herself and her body. The moans she was making were intense to say the least but it seemed like both of the boys were enjoying it. 

You felt that ugly feeling of jealousy rise in your chest once again. Oh how you wished you could be that confident, how you wished they were looking at you like that. 

You shook your head and turned off the tape quickly. That was a mistake, you don’t even want Eddie and Steve, why would you care how they were looking at her? You didn’t care. 

But the tear that slipped down your cheek betrayed you. You quickly wipe it away, annoyed at yourself. 

You decide that you’ve obviously just had a long and stressful day and that it is definitely time for bed.  

You shower quickly, doing your best to stop more tears from slipping and to try and get the images of your two best friends out of your head. 

You pick out some fresh comfy pjs and slide into bed, hoping sleep will take you quickly. 

It doesn’t. 

You toss and turn for what feels like hours, you can’t get comfy and you can’t get rid of the damn aching between your legs. 

You can’t stop thinking of them… of their bodies. How big they both are. The lustful look on their faces as they watched her in awe. Would they look at you the same if you were her? God, how their muscles tensed as they stroked themselves… 

Oh fuck this. 

You throw the blankets off yourself, suddenly overheating and plunge your fingers straight into your soaking hole, as you always do. 

Your head is filled with nothing but thoughts of Eddie, of Steve, of Eddie and Steve of them, them, them. 

You think of their toned bodies, Steve’s slightly tanned and hairy, Eddie’s pale and littered with dark ink, some you didn’t even know he had. 

You think of the lust blown looks on their faces and their laboured breaths as they touched themselves. Pretending it’s you they’re looking at like that. 

You think of their cocks, so hard and throbbing in their hands. How Steve’s was big and gloriously thick where Eddie’s was thinner but oh so long. 

You feel the coil start to tighten in your stomach but just as you think it’s about to snap it disappears. Again. 

You groan in frustration as you throw yourself out of bed. Body moving before your brain can keep up. 

You find yourself sat in front of the tv again as you start the tape where you’d turned it off just hours before. You lean back on one of your hands as the other snakes between your legs once again. Your legs bent and spread in front of you. 

You watch as they move towards her, no longer watching her touch herself. Eddie bends down and buries his head between her legs as she cries out in pleasure. He must be good. 

Steve kneels beside her and kisses her while playing with her nipples. You feel another pang of jealousy at watching Steve kiss her like that but your arousal overtakes the feeling as you continue to watch and finger yourself. 

You watch intently as they change positions. The girl is now on all fours on the bed as Steve comes to stand in front of her and Eddie behind her kneeling on the bed.  The girl starts to suck Steve’s dick, taking it so deep from the start. He lets out a guttural moan which shoots straight to your core, coating you in more slick. 

Eddie starts massaging her ass before shoving two fingers inside her. This causes her to slightly gags around Steve’s cock but this only makes Steve moan louder. 

You move your fingers faster as Steve’s moans increase, god his sounds fucking filthy. 

Eddie then lines himself up with her hole and slowly pushes all the way in till he bottoms out inside her with a deep groan. He sets a brutal pace from the start, letting out even louder moans than Steve. 

Of course he’s still loud when he fucks. 

You feel more jealousy and more arousal build in a weird mix in your stomach as they continue to fuck her. Both letting out dirty praises and sounds that you wish were directed towards you. 

Eddie then snakes his hand around to rub at her clit. You watch in awe as her legs start to shake, you’ve never been able to make your legs do that. 

She must cum then as both Steve and Eddie praise her for being such a good girl and Eddie tells her how good she feels squeezing his cock. 

Shit, you wanna be their good girl so bad. 

They both pull out then as the girl sits back on the bed panting. Much to your surprise Eddie moves over to Steve and captures his lips in a sloppy kiss. The sight alone is enough to get you so close. 

Then Steve mumbles something about wanting to have a taste of her too while shooting her a ink, you think he’s about to have a turn at eating her out but instead he drops to his knees. 

Eddie looks slightly surprised but quickly recovers and laces his hands in Steve’s golden brown hair. 

Steve licks a broad stripe from Eddie’s balls to the tip before taking the red tip in his mouth. He starts to bob his head enthusiastically and Eddie lets out a loud, almost high pitched moan. It sounds different to the other moans, more real. 

You don’t miss the look on Eddie’s face as he watches Steve, he looks almost proud and so turned on. 

This definitely isn’t the first time Steve’s done this but he still isn’t quite as good as the girl was. He gags a lot more but everytime he does Eddie tips his head back with a groan, so it must feel good. 

This sight alone has you moaning out loud, head tipping back and eyes screwing shut as you feel your orgasm finally approaching. 

They must change positions again because you hear the girl moaning too, but you’re too close to open your eyes again, too focused. 

You hear Eddie and Steve praising again, moaning out that’s it, good girl and look at you, taking us so well. Also some dirtier ones like you like that, you filthy slut and taking both our cocks so well in your dirty fucking holes. You didn’t expect it but you like those ones just as much as the nicer ones. 

You finger yourself faster as you pretend it’s you they’re talking to and finally, finally you feel the coil snap in your stomach.

You cum hard around your fingers with a high pitched gasp. Your head swimming with thoughts of Eddie and Steve. 

You see stars as you have easily the most intense one you’ve ever had, granted, that wasn’t too hard. 

Your orgasm lasts for what feels like hours but finally you start to come down from your high, head feeling dizzy and cloudy. Fingers falling from your abused hole. 

You finally open your eyes and take note of what’s happening on the screen. You’re shocked to find a close up of Eddie and Steve’s cocks fucking both her pussy and asshole. 

This snaps you out of your post-orgasm haze and you quickly jump up and turn the tape off at the sight. All previous grey morals from arousal gone. 

You slump back on the ground and rub your face as you realise what you’ve just done. You feel ashamed but also don’t? You stand on shaky legs, making your way back to your bed.

You slump down, suddenly exhausted. Tonight has been weird and has revealed some weird emotions you’re still not sure of. There’s one thought and feeling in particular that won't leave your mind though: 

You really want to fuck your best friends. 

____________________________________________________ Tagging some mutuals that may be interested: @andvys @pxrxcxa @wroteclassicaly @eddiemunsonfuxks @usedtobecooler @corrodedhawkins @prettyboyeddiemunson

[chouxsardine]

Permission to Fall -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Don't be afraid of falling, because he will catch you everytime" --Where things became too much at your company's Christmas party and Jake comes to the rescue as the most thoughtful boyfriend that he is.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3211

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, feet (nothing gross or super detailed), a drop of superstition (let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is originally an idea inspired by @jakesguitarsolo and written for her. I hope you feel better now, dear. One idea spins into me pulling an all nighter...And here it is. This also goes to whoever feels stressed around this time of the year. Yes, things are tough, but you are stronger. I am so proud of you. If you want to talk, feel free to send me an ask or message. This is my first gvf fic and my first time writing anything for threes years. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

🎧: I am listening to I Need You Most of All by Stephen Sanchez while writing this (you can tell the title is taken from the lyrics)

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

Suddenly everything is too much.

But you know damn well that it doesn’t just happen “suddenly”. In fact, shit has been building up for days, or even weeks. You don’t know if it’s the end-of-year frenzy getting into everyone’s head, Mercury is in retrograde, or the depleted Vitamin D levels due to shortened daylight, you’ve had it particularly rough recently, from small inconveniences like your favourite snack being out of stock at the local grocery store for three consecutive weeks to mishaps like you taking the blame for your impotent coworker. You are exhausted, to say the least; you couldn’t wait for the holidays. Not entirely for its cheer, but for the few precious days off. You just need a break from everything.

Now you are stuck in your company’s holiday party. The annual event that you dreaded the most. It involves too many fake smiles, false-hearted small talk, and tooth-rotting-sweet cupcakes that clearly have too much food colouring. All the mental preparing goes south as you stand in the room, the stabbing pain from your high-heels growing more and more unbearable by the second. Too many people.

“Just another thirty minutes, you can do it. Just another thirty minutes”. You hopelessly glance at the clock on the wall, flashbacking to your childhood self squirming in the seats waiting for math class to end.

But of course, something has to make matters worse. The real straw that breaks the camel’s back is your clumsy coworker accidentally bumping into you and spilling her drink on your shoes.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, y/n!” She hastily apologizes in a high-pitched squeal. A few people turn their heads toward your direction.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Embarrassment. Embarrassment. Panic. Trouble. You try to wave her off. The shoes aren’t even your top concerns right now; you just want her to stop talking and stop attracting more unwanted attention.

“Really? Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”

“Please.” You take the handful of tissues from her, look her in the eyes, almost pleading, “It’s fine. Please excuse me, I’ll just go to the washroom real quick.”

Once the washroom door is closed behind you, you feel like collapsing right there on the floor. You wobble your way to the sink, arms propped up on the cold marble surface. You don’t dare to look at yourself in the mirror. Your ears are buzzing and the twisted feeling in your lungs tightens. As if a cold hand is wringing a wet towel inside your stomach, as if someone is shoving your head into cold water, you can't breath properly. You try to draw a breath, but end up sounding like a stranded whale. Before it develops into a full-blown panic attack that you can’t handle, you managed to muster the last bit of your sanity and dial that number with trembling fingers.

Jake picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, love. What’s up? ”

Upon hearing his voice, your tears break free. You are sobbing so hard that you have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the volume down. God forbid any busybody out there overhearing sobbing coming out of the washroom. “Ja—Jake—-”You struggled to form a coherent syllable.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you hurt?” His voice immediately grows sterner, stripped of of the previous languidness.

To talk under this state feels like squeezing words out of your veins. “Ca—can—you..come p—pick me up? Company—p-party.” You stutter through gritted teeth.

There is some shuffled noise over the phone, a loud bang sounding like he had bumped into something, a silent “fuck” under his breath, then his voice reaches your ears again: “Coming right now, baby, take a deep breath for me.”

You hear the faint beeping of car keys. More shuffled noise. More beeping. That means he has started the car, right? That means he will be here soon, right? You mind is racing and spinning and your lungs are still acting up, only allow silvers of oxygen into your body. You feel like you are watching the world through a distorted filter. A scarier thought jumps into your brain: you whiny puny thing, continue crying and your panic will affect Jake. The roads are slippery now, and it will be all your fault if he ends up in a car accident.

As if being slapped in the face, you manage to suck in a deep breath like a scuba diver resurfacing to the water: “Drive safe please, please Jake, please—I will wait for you.”

Jake makes a sound that is somewhat between a relieved laugh and a resigned sigh. He knows instantly what’s going on in your overthinking brain; you are worried about him. The thoughtfulness must be engraved in y/n’s brain, he thought, always, always putting others in front of herself, even when she’s having a panic attack. And Jake knows you are correct. It is only upon hearing your words that he realizes how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He recomposes himself, relaxing his shoulder, “Don’t you worry about me, love. I will stay on the phone if that makes you feel better, yeah? Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me.”

“Knock on wood!” You hiss between sobbing, frantically searching for any wooden material around you. Damn it, why is everything so shiny and glassy?

Jake is amazed that he even lets out a short laugh under the circumstances. Yes, his heart aches hearing his girl being a mess over the phone, and he wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side. But meanwhile, he can't help but find you cute like this. He knocks three times on the mini wooden tissue box that he keeps in the middle console.

“Yes, knock on wood. You hear that, doll?”

“Hmm.” You would honestly believe anything now. Hearing Jake’s voice and imagining him coming to you is like brown noise for babies. Your lungs finally decide to have mercy on you, and you can now somehow draw in shallow breaths albeit the pain in your chest.

Jake is relieved as he sees the green lights shining at the last intersection before turning left onto the side road where your company is located. “I’m here. Can you come down by yourself, love? Or do you want me to get you?”

“I can come down.” You say. The thought of him finding you in a messy pile on the bathroom floor makes you wince, even though he’d probably seen worse.

“Okay baby, see you in a second.”

You don’t remember how you collected your coat and pushed your way through the crowded room without many people noticing. The next moment, your sensations are restored, and you find yourself already in Jake’s arms. He's waiting for you in the area between the automatic glass door and the revolving door outside, a place that is warm with air conditioning but won’t attract nosy people. He wraps you in a hug with his wool jacket. His comforting scent fills your nostrils, a powerful pacifier for your naughty lungs. For the first time this evening, you can finally breathe properly like a normal human being. The rush of fresh air makes you release a loud sob like a newborn baby. The relief of seeing him safely standing in front of you and the release of finally being free from the stressful and stuffy environment ushers more tears to stream down your face.

“Shhhh…..you’re okay now, y/n, safe now. I’m here.” His hand wraps protectively around the back of your head as he plants kisses into your hair. “Poor girl, let’s get to the car and go home.”

Home. Home sounds heavenly to your right now. You couldn’t think of a better combination of these four letters in the whole of human history.

On the way back, you curl into a ball on the passenger seat like a battered puppy. Jake holds your hand whenever he gets the chance, his strong calloused fingers gently massaging yours, tracing the patterns on your palm, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, providing warmth. No longer crying, your shoulders occasionally shudder with involuntary sobs that escape you. But other than that, you are falling into a trance. Your gaze concentrated on Jake’s perfect side profile through hooded eyes, watching in awe as the passing streetlights formed patterns of shadow on his graceful nose and cheeks; your mind numb without a single thought.

It is only when Jake wakes you up that you realize you have fallen asleep. The car is already parked in the garage, the familiar and comforting damp smell seeping in.

“We are home now, sleepyhead.” Jake smiles at you, tapping on your wrist to signal you to wait as he gets out of the car and opens your side of the door. Just as you were about to step off, Jake reaches to cradle you by the shoulders and knees, carrying you bridle-style into the house. You hide your face shyly in the crook of his neck, secretly grateful because your feet are indeed sore in those heels.

Jake puts you down by the shoe rack, motioning you to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he squats down in front you, holding your ankles and taking off your shoes. If he did see the stains, he didn’t ask any questions, only cooed when he saw the blisters on your heels.

“Let’s go upstairs and get your makeup off, then we’ll cuddle and go to bed, yeah?” Jake stands up, hanging up your coat before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You never hated makeup more than now, regretting to put it on in the first place, now that it has become the annoying barrier lying in your way to bedtime. But Jake says “let’s,” that means he’s going to do it together with you, right?

“Jake?” You whine bashfully.

“Yes, love?”

You tilt up your chin and close your eyes, “One more kissy, please?”

Jake swears he feels a part of his heart melt right there. Who is he to deny you?

“Of course, as many as my princess would like.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Jake sits you on the closed toilet seat. He opens the drawer, grabs your makeup remover and some cotton pads. He applies some liquid onto the wipes and lifts up your chin.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” The cool liquid on your eyelids makes your eyebrows twitch, causing Jake to chuckle, “I know, I know. Just a little longer.”

You sit quietly, mesmerized and hypnotized under his touch. His movements are almost rhythmic. Is this how cats feel when their owners scratches behind their ears? You fear that if you make a sound, you will actually let out a purr.

Jake continues until most of your makeup is gone. “Hold out your hands,” you hear him say and complied. Two dollops of foamy liquid landed in the centre of your palm, and you opened your eyes to recognize they are your face wash. Jake tugs on your wrist, leading you to stand in front of the sink.

“Can you wash your pretty face now, darling? Wash up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded, feeling lighter and more relaxed now without your makeup and even more content when you turn on the tap and find out that Jake has already tuned it to a lukewarm temperature for you.

When Jake returned, he was calling you from the bedroom. You have already brushed your teeth and let down your hair.

You walked into the bedroom and are welcomed by the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from your favourite candle glowing on the night stand. Jake was pulling an old T-shirt out from the closet. It was the vintage Joan Jett and The Blackhearts shirt, the patterns half faded, and materials worn-out soft. You saw him laying out one of his boxers for you too. He knows you always prefer them to your own underwear as pyjamas.

“Come sit, angel.” He patted the bench at the foot of the bed, him sitting across from it on a small stool.

It is only when you walked close that you saw the wooden foot spa basin, with clouds of steam rising from it. As you sat down, he gently took your ankle and balanced your feet on the edge of the basin, so that the hot water is steaming your sole.

“It’s still a bit hot.” He looks up to you. “I put Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil in it.”

“Where did you get this?” You feel like the heat from the bottom of the feet is slowly being absorbed into your veins and rising up to your cheeks. You wiggle your toes nervously.

Jake lets out a giggle, “Well, mum suggested once to Josh about the foot spa thing, said it helps with stress and tense muscles. You know, with him running barefoot on stage and all.” He reaches down to sprinkle some water onto your feet, letting you adjust to the temperature. “But Josh got the fancy electric ones. I thought this is better. More authentic, don’t you think?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Your nails are all chipped,” Jake looks down, “maybe tomorrow we can repaint them? I saw you bought a new colour the other day.”

Tender. So tender. From his tone to his caramel brown eyes. The light from the lamp illuminates the left side of his face, giving it a solemn, smooth glow like a wax statue. Your heart swells; love makes it rise like Soufflé in the oven. The soft surface rises up until it touches your ribcage, threatening to spill those tears again.

“Thank you, Jake.” You dare not raise your voice, fearing that it will break, “I just got a bit overwhelmed at the party, is all.”

Jake eases your feet slowly into the water now that it’s the perfect temperature. The slight sling of your blisters is soon overwhelmed by the all-encompassing warmth that rises all the way to your ankle.

After a few heart beats, he speaks again. “You’ll always have me, y/n. You are allowed to fall, to break. I will be here to catch you, to piece you together. Whatever you need.”

Finally you were snuggled together in bed. You, a human koala, cling to Jake with your face pressed against his chest. His arm snakes around your shoulder, fingers mindlessly tracing your collarbone, strumming some unknown patterns. His heartbeat thumping in your ear, the perfect lullaby. The steady rise and fall of his chest is like waves, rocking you into a sweet slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy like velvet drapes. There’s still a stubborn voice in your brain keeping you from falling asleep. There’s still one more thing you need to do, even though you understood each other perfectly.

“Jake?” Your voice low like a murmur. Jake almost didn’t hear you at first.

“What is it, babe?”

“I love you.” Those words come out as a slur, and like a magic spell, you fall into the deep embrace of sleep as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips. Now clear of any stress and worries in the arms of your lover, the strained string in you brain that has been holding on for dear life the whole evening finally snaps. You’re out like a light.

“I love you back, y/n, through and through.” He whispers into your dream.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheet on his side still has the human-shaped imprint. Jake is a night owl; it is pretty common that he just gets up in the middle of the night and ends up doing some random things around the house. Most often it’s him strumming the guitar and experimenting with his ideas for new tunes in the home studio downstairs. But you have also caught him fixing chipped paint on the walls, repotting the succulents in the garage, and pouring broth into the crockpot with chicken thighs and smoked ham hock (“so we could have warm chicken chili in the morning!”; to be honest, it’s indeed delicious; you had two bowls and had to skip lunch that day). Just to name a few, so the possibilities are endless.

You get out of bed, creep cross the corridor and tiptoe your way down the stairs. The lights at the doorway are on; you thought Jake forgot to turn them off. However, as you approach, you see Jake squatting down next to the shoe rack, his back towards you, and a brush and some spray bottles laying nearby.

You move closer and see him holding the clothes steamer near your wine-stained shoes. The heels you wore have a suede tip in the front, and unfortunately, that’s where the wine was mostly spilt on. After a few moments, Jake uses the wire brush to clean the surface. He stops from time to time, holding it further to inspect the result.

You waited until he stops again to make some sounds, announcing your presence. Jake immediately turns around. His eyes softens upon seeing you.

“What are you doing up?”

You go to squat down next to him, kissing his temple before resting your head on his shoulder.

“You just bought these not so long ago, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave them stained.” Jake lets more steam soak into the fabric before brushing them again. “I’m almost done. I saw this trick online, and it looks pretty legit.” It’s only then that you noticed his phone on the side, the screen showing the replies from some Reddit post.

“Thank you, baby.” You rub your cheeks slightly on his T-shirt; the feeling of warm pastry once again fills your heart.

“No worries, doll. I think it’s good for now. Let’s leave them here and check in the morning.” Jake starts putting away his tools before pulling you up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back upstairs.

On your way, something familiar catches your eye. You must’ve missed it earlier.

“Wait, where did you get that?” You stop, pointing at what happens to be a whole case of your favourite snack lying on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I saw the stores are out of them, so I ordered them online. They just arrived today.” Jake scratches his head, his tone tainted with slight disappointment.“I thought they’d be a nice surprise as stocking stuffers, but…”

You stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss.

“I love you.” This time you said it clear against his lips.

“Oh doll, I love you back,” he smiles, showing the cutest wrinkle on his nose. His hands brush your shoulder as you resume your steps upstairs. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep now. And when you wake up, you will wake up to some yummy pancakes and a pair of stain-free shoes, huh? How does that sound?”

Oh Lord, that sounds heavenly. That sounds just like home.

“I’d like that, Jake. I’d like that very, very much.”

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

Thank you for reading :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

(The stain-removing tips comes from malccy72 on reddit :D

If you also feel like reading a smutty (but also fluffy?) piece🤭: Mariner's Complex || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

or some Christmas fluff: Ticked (all my boxes)

[abiiors]

Cold Shower

Warnings: minors dni!!! Smut, unprotected smut, she/her pronouns, the word “juxtaposition” appears because this is matty’s pov sorry. a bit cringe ngl (the foreplay bit is good tho)

wc: 2.1k

Heat has settled like a heavy blanket all over the house. 

All day Matty has been trying to figure out what’s wrong with the air conditioning. He’s not much of a handyman to begin with and now the thought of having to sacrifice his lazy day with her on stupid household appliances makes him fume even more. 

He’s only wearing thin cotton boxers, yet sweat trickles down his back in rivulets and gathers at the base of his spine. He would have gone for a swim if the sun weren’t so blazing hot outside. Instead, his mind wanders back to her and what she might be doing up in the bedroom. 

Before he left her to go inspect the sudden lack of cool air, they had both been in bed; legs intertwined, her fingers brushing his chest occasionally, his drawing circles on her hips as they both read their books. Well, he read his giant Serious book while she read her smutty trashy romance. And while he always teased her about it, he couldn’t help abandoning his book to peak into hers. 

Right as the couple on paper have their first passionate kiss in the rain. 

His frustration grows as he thinks of the soft surprised sounds she makes every time there’s unexpected intimacy on the page, almost as if she’s experiencing it herself. The way she ends up lightly gnawing on her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning wide. Matty teases her about that too; actually, he doesn’t stop teasing her until she inevitably chucks the book at him and hides her face in the pillow. 

He abandons all thoughts of fixing the AC and makes his way back to the bedroom. 

‘It’s hopeless,’ he announces loudly before he even properly enters the room, ‘I’ll call someone tomorrow but we can get a hotel room if it’s too hot for you…’ Matty trails off when there’s no response. Instead, there’s soft, even breathing. 

Her long legs are sprawled on top of the sheets, naked entirely apart from the very short hipster shorts that she wears around the house to combat the heat. And right now, they do wonders for Matty’s imagination as he stares at the curve of her ass. Then slowly at the thin tank top that sticks to the contours of her body, to the loose hair that flutter on her neck. She’s almost asleep. Almost, if it weren’t for the restless pout on her face. 

‘Baby…’ he moves towards her. 

‘Hmm?’ she responds sleepily and the soft sound makes his blood rush down south. 

‘Are you sleepy?’ He sits at the edge of the bed and takes her feet in his lap, moves one finger up her calf and watches her squirm a little.

‘No,’ she smiles at him, ‘just lazy. I can’t really sleep in this heat,’ then suddenly she remembers and props herself up on her forearm. ‘What happened to the AC?’

He shrugs, ‘I’m not a handyman.’

‘Then you’re not coming anywhere near me today,’ she shrugs in return, ‘it’s so hot I can’t even think about cuddling right now.’

‘Oh, absolutely not,’ he grabs her leg and pulls her towards him. She shrieks and laughs when he falls on top of her, sweaty bodies colliding as Matty attacks her with kisses all over her face and finally as he captures her mouth in his. 

Lying on top of her doesn’t really help with his…situation. If anything, he can feel the front of his boxers tightening as she sighs into the kiss. 

‘Babe, I know what you want,’ she speaks against his mouth, ‘but I think I'm going to melt into a puddle if we keep going.’ He’s about to open his mouth to make a lewd joke but she shuts him up with a glare. ‘Not in a good way.’

‘Alright then.’ He hooks an arm under her legs and before she has the chance to question it, she’s up in the air, being thrown over his shoulder while he practically beelines to the bathroom. 

Her ass is up in the air, right in front of his face while he fumbles with the shower controls. He expects more shrieks and laughter as soon as the cold water hits them. Instead, she lets out a loud moan that shoots straight to his dick. 

‘Fuck,’ she sighs again, ‘this feels so good!’

He lowers her gently, noses touching each other as droplets of water cling to her eyelashes and rest on her lips. ‘Better than this?’ 

Matty grinds his hips into hers and groans softly when she throws her head back. The water has already soaked through her top making it translucent. Her nipples stand out against the white fabric, pebbled and pink. ‘Nothing is better than this,’  she whispers and kisses him deeply. 

His movements are frantic, a hand coming up to protect her head as he slams her back against the wall and deepens the kiss. His tongue flicks against her lips, tasting the water and remnants of her lip balm while she palms him through his boxers. 

‘Off with these,’ she moves her hands frantically, ‘I need to feel you.’

And he needs to feel her too; so desperately that he might just try to rip her clothes off her. She tastes sweet; like the honeycomb ice cream she had been eating earlier. They don’t break the feverish kisses as he shimmies out of his boxers and Matty shivers when her hand wraps around him. 

‘Fuck!’ he groans loudly in her hair, momentarily forgetting everything as she moves her hands up and down his length. ‘Darling, you feel s–so good.’

Then almost as if he has snapped back to his senses, he hooks a finger under the band of her shorts and peels away the soaked fabric from her body. Wet curls fall into his eyes, partially obstructing his view of her but it’s not like he can keep his eyes open for long as she strokes him over and over. 

A loud gasp fills the bathroom when his fingers touch her swollen clit. Her grip on him goes slack, hands stilling in place as she moans out his name. Fingers moving, in circles, over her slit and parting her folds, he basks in the way his name sounds from her mouth. 

Matty, Matty, Matty… again and again and again, every time he teases her entrance with his fingers and grips her waist to keep her from falling. 

‘Need you, Matty,’ she whines, ‘please, PLEASE.’ And she sounds so sweet begging for him that he plunges her fingers in and kisses her hungrily to swallow her moans. 

He nearly moans in return when she clenches around his fingers, tight and wet and needy; always needy for more. He imagines how she would feel around his dick, although he knows the feel of her very well. All the groves and contours of her body, the way she tastes everywhere, the way she sounds depending on where he touches her. Her back arches off the wall, tits brushing onto his bare chest and he increases his pace.

‘Perfect girl,’ he tells her, ‘my gorgeous, perfect girl.’

She becomes more and more like putty in his hands with each thrust of his fingers. His body screams to be closer to her, closer than he already is but he needs to see her fall apart around his fingers first and by the looks of it, she’s not far away. 

‘I’m so close, baby,’ she whimpers and buries her face in his chest, ‘harder, please, ple—’ the words turn into a strangled scream when he roughly flicks her clit with his thumb. 

‘That’s it darling,’ he encourages, ‘be a good girl now.’ 

She tries to hold on longer, almost as if she’s savouring the feeling of his fingers inside her, wanting to stay in this moment as long as possible. But he hooks his fingers inside her, and finally broken moans and gasps echo around the room as Matty feels her cum all over his hand. 

He is so tempted to bring the hand up to his mouth and get a taste but he keeps moving his fingers in and out. Lets her ride it out until she can finally open her eyes. 

Then, as if he’s possessed, he holds out the hand in front of her. ‘Lick it clean,’ he rasps, low and barely restrained, still a command. ‘All of it.’

Her cheeks flush and he almost laughs at the juxtaposition. Seconds ago she had been screaming all sorts of obscene things and now the thought of licking her own release off his hand is what makes her blush. But she maintains steady eye contact with him, pupils dilated, eyes wide, water clinging to her eyelashes as she slowly does as she’s told. Then, for extra measure, swirls her tongue around his fingers and hollows her cheeks to suck them clean. 

‘You’ll be the death of me, you know?’ he groans softly and her answering hum sends a jolt through his whole body. 

‘Kiss me?’ she asks sweetly once she’s done. 

And Matty’s more than eager. Now all he tastes is sweet honeycomb ice cream mixed with the taste of her and for a moment all other thoughts go out the window. That is until she pumps him harder and lines him up against her once again. 

‘Want me inside you again?’ he smirks.

‘Will you give me what I want if I say yes?’ she asks coyly. 

Matty moves closer, trapping her between him and the wall, and makes sure that his very hard cock sits right between her folds. The sensation intense enough to drive both of them crazy but he’s relentless and determined. 

‘Oh how generous of you,’ he teases and presses onto her further. She moans again and looks at him desperately. 

‘I want you, I want you, I’ll keep saying it,’ she breathes, ‘I want–fuck,’ he pushes his tip inside and nudges her to continue. 

‘You…’ she moans right in his ear as he pushes in the rest of the way. 

For one tender moment, his heart swells at the thought of her wanting him so much. Her saying it to him over and over again, and not just in the bedroom. Not just for sex. 

But then she drags her nails down his back and all tender thoughts fly out of his head. Matty unleashes himself, thrusting into her over and over, recklessly, hard and fast. What was meant to be slow love making on a hot summer day has turned into so much more. 

The shampoo bottles fall and clatter on the floor as she grabs the rack to support herself. But he doesn’t slow down and she doesn’t tell him to slow down. She leaves scratches on his back; a reward and an encouragement. Softly bites onto his shoulder to muffle her screams. And although he would love to be all marked up for the whole world to see, he wants to hear her screaming his name much much more. 

‘Louder, baby,’ he commands, ‘the louder you scream for me, the harder you get it.’

Instantly, she obliges and lets go of all inhibitions. There’s only her and her scent that surrounds him and her voice that echoes over and over again. 

They grab at each other frantically, like they would fall apart if either let go until some body wash clatters to the floor and she laughs. 

‘God, Matty, you drive me crazy,’ she whimpers as she clenches around him one more time, tighter and tighter. She’s on the edge again, ready to let go again. 

‘Cum for me again, baby,’ Matty whispers in her ear and bites her earlobe, ‘I know you want to.’

She nods with her eyes closed, breathing hard. And he keeps thrusting into her at a bruising pace even when she falls apart for the second, on and on and on till the pressure at the base of his spine almost makes him lose it. 

‘Matty,’ she pants but she’s incapable of forming words, forming any thoughts. So cock-drunk and blissed out that he moans at the expression on her face. Moments later, his legs tremble as he feels himself spill into her over and over again. Until all he sees is black for a solid two seconds. 

Miraculously, they hold each other up on shaking, trembling legs; still locked together, panting in tandem. The shower is still running; even now when the water is nice and cold, both of them feel the heat coursing through their veins. 

‘God, we’re like animals in heat,’ she laughs into his chest. ‘We were supposed to cool down!’

‘We will,’ he kisses the top of her head, ‘in five more minutes. Or ten more minutes. Or whenever I can bring myself to move away from you.’

[thehusbandoden]

My Pleasure -Crush!Kirishima Eijiro x Childhood Friend!Reader

A/n: I think this is my first time posting something like this. Hope you like it!

I'm trying to get back into writing but I've been super busy getting my life together and doing crap I've postponed for months done loll

General info:

Genre: pure fluff \\ wc: 824 \\ kinda like friends to lovers but it's super short 😅 \\ posted: 01/17/2024

Summary:

Y'all are childhood best friends but caught some feelings~ <3

A/n 2: I have abt 36 requests to get to 💀

They keep piling- but I adore them! Don't be afraid to request, they're always open! <3 (requesting rules)

You sat at the cafeteria table, quietly talking with the other girls in class-A. Slowly picking at your food, Mina’s loud question grabbed your attention.  

“Hey y/n! You like Kirishima- don't you?” She giggled, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at you.  

Heat flooded your cheeks as you gape at her, quickly looking around to make sure none of the boys heard her. Todoroki and Tokoyami were sitting nearby, but they weren’t really the gossipy type.  

“Mina! Talk quieter!” You hiss under your breath, your e/c orbs searching the room for your redheaded best friend.  

“Sorry!“ She giggled, grasping your hands. “But tell me!” She whisper-shouted.  

“I-I mean... k-kinda... b-but we’re just friends! A-and it would be really weird if w-we y-y'know....” several of the girls started giggling, causing you to groan in embarrassment. “You’re going to draw attention!” You whine.  

  “You guys would be so cute together! You should confess!” Hagakure exclaimed, grabbing the attention of several of the boys in the cafeteria.  

“Hagakure!” You whine, throwing a crumpled napkin at her.  

“Sorry sorry!” She giggled, attempting to bring her very loud voice down. You hesitantly look back at the boys in class-A.  

Izuku was looking at the other girls curiously and ever so slightly concerned. Iida was yapping about some test coming up as Bakugo scowled at your table. His crimson eyes seemed to bore into you. Like he knew.  

The boy in question was joking with Denki, laughing at another of his lame jokes. Blushing, you couldn’t help but stare. Mina gasped in delight- grabbing his attention. His ruby eyes meet yours and he grins softly, his cheeks reddening.  

Letting out a choked gasp of surprise, you fall back into Jiro. She tried not to laugh as she helped you sit back into your seat properly. You forced yourself to focus on your food as you felt a pair of eyes boring into your back.  

Mina and Hagurke continued to fawn over their new “ship”, Ochacko occasionally piping in. The bell rang and you swiftly stood up, rushing towards the bin to throw your trash away. Right as you get to the trash bins, you bump into something strong and warm. Looking up, to your horror; you see the boy that stole your heart: Eijiro Kirishima.  

“O-oh sorry!” You gasp, milk soaking into your shirt as you fret over Kirishima. “Y/n, your shirt.” He chuckles, a hint of concern on his face as he throws his trash away swiftly, placing his tray down as he gently grabbed your own.  

Looking down, you realize what he was talking about. “O-oh!”  

“Do you need an extra?” He grinned, blushing at your cuteness.  

“N-no! I-I mean... I-I don’t have anything else...”  

“You can borrow my hoodie... if that’s fine with you. I’m sure Aizawa Sensei would be fine with you breaking the school’s dress code for something like this.  

“A-are you sure? Wouldn’t that be a problem for you?”  

"Of course! Here- I'll go get it from my locker, you go clean up. I’ll knock on the girls’ bathroom when I grab it.”  

“O-okay... thanks.” You flush.  

“My Pleasure.”  

~~~ 

After putting on Kiri’s hoodie you hesitantly leave the bathroom, the crimson material making you look even cuter. Kiri blushed as he saw it. “Thanks again.” You murmur sheepishly, rubbing your wrist nervously.  

“It really is nothing... don’t mention it...”  

“You truly are the best.” You tease, poking his nose. Though you’ve recently developed feelings for the boy, you can’t forget the countless years of friendship between the two of you, making you comfortable around one another... well, until a few months ago.  

“H-hey y/n...?”  

“Y-yeah?”  

“I- uh... I caught you s-staring... and I-I was just wondering if y-you...” Kiri’s cheeks were a bright red as he looked down at the floor shyly.  

You blush, realizing that he not only caught you- but he was still hung up on it. “D-do I what?”  

“L-like me?” He whispered, his hopeful ruby eyes meeting your widened e/c ones.  

“L-like more than a friend?” You blabber.  

“Y-yeah....”  

“I-I mean... I- uh...” you flush. “Yes...” you whisper softly.  

Kirishima grinned, wrapping you in a tight hug as he kissed your forehead. “I knew it! I knew you liked me back!”  

“K-Kiri?!” You flush, your face turning a dark shade of red.  

“Y/n, will you make me the happiest teenager in the world and let me take you on a date?” Kirishima asked dramatically, his ruby eyes shining with romance and adoration. Kiri always was quite the romantic, treating you like a queen even when your relationship was platonic.  

“Y-yes. Of course...” you flush. Kiri grinned, holding your hand gently as he pressed a sweet kiss to the back of it, causing your body to burn in embarrassment.  

“Food and a walk at the park? We could watch the sunset or go star gazing... up to you.”  

“Thanks Kiri...” you hum softly, kissing his cheek. 

Grinning, he flushed. “My pleasure, Pebble.”  

~~~~~

Kiri's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here<;3

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

[goldenempyrean]

Fic idea - natasha always stifles because thats what she was conditioned to do in the red room. Wanda or R is always trying to get to her stop but maybe one day she gets sick and is too tired to stifle anymore. I love ur writing btw ❤️

Let Them Out

〚 Notes - I thought this req was really cute so hopefully you like this!! :D My reqs are still open too! 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Nat's got some bad habits. You help her to break one. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 940 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Natasha had some bad habits. Leaving her clothes on the floor, using up the last of your shampoo and biting her nails were just a few. The worst one in your mind however was when she stifled her sneezes. 

The first time Nat had sneezed, you almost completely missed it. The two of you were spooning in bed one lazy morning when she suddenly tensed up and her head bobbed forward a little. Daresay if you’d had been a little bit more sleep you would’ve missed the whole thing altogether. But when she repeated the action again only a minute later you couldn’t stop yourself from asking about it. 

“Natty?” 

“Hmm?” She responded groggily. 

“Are you okay?” You asked casually, slipping your hard round her waist and pressing your forehead into the back of her neck. 

She was still half-asleep herself and she yawned widely as she turned over to face you, “Yeah, I’m fine, why?” 

“Well, you just went like all tight?” You explained, what you had saw to the best of your abilities, looking curiously into those big emerald eyes of hers, “Y’know? When you bopped your head down?” 

“Sorry I was sneezing,” Natasha let out a sheepish laugh, “I do that sometimes, y’know being a human being and all.” 

You smiled at her response and snuggled closer to her, thinking it was just a harmless quirk. But as time went on, you noticed that she would always stifle her sneezes, even in public or around friends. It seemed like a small thing, but it bothered you for some reason. All that pressure couldn’t be good for her. But no matter how much you mentioned it to her, she couldn’t seem to break the habit. 

That was until she got sick. You had both been on a mission in a particularly cold and damp environment and despite your best efforts, Natasha had come down with a nasty cold. 

That evening, you were sitting on the couch together watching a movie when you heard a stifled sneeze from her. You turned to her with a worried look, "Natty, you should really let it out. It's not good for you to hold it in like that." 

Natasha looked up at you with tired eyes and shook her head, "I'm fine, it's just a habit and I wouldn’t want to be gross, I’m already a walking germ factory.” She said, motioning to herself with her hand. 

You couldn't help but feel frustrated at her response. "Natasha, you're sick. I wouldn’t care if even you accidently sneezed all over me, I just want you to take care of yourself." 

She sighed and looked away, "I'm sorry, I just don't like people seeing me vulnerable, I guess. Plus, I think I’m just used to be being in the background and not drawing attention to myself." 

You could understand that feeling, but you knew that she needed to take care of herself properly if she wanted to get better. You took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. You don't have to hide anything from me." 

It was later that night when your advice had seemingly broken through. You were knelt by the edge of the bath, carefully washing her hair as the redhead soaked herself in the warm, comforting water of the bath when she suddenly pulled away, turning her head away as she finally let out 3 unstifled sneezes. 

"H-hiisshhoo! Hh’iiishiew! Hh-Hh’iiishoo!” 

You smiled at her, proud of her for finally allowing herself to let go. "Bless you sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" You said, kissing the top of her head. 

Natasha chuckled weakly, "No, I guess it wasn't." 

From then on, she didn't try to stifle her sneezes anymore. She would let them out without any hesitation, and you could tell it was a relief for her. It was a small victory, but it was a start towards breaking down the walls she had put up around herself. 

As Natasha's cold began to clear up, you noticed something else that was different about her. She seemed more open and vulnerable, willing to show you more of her true self. You didn't know if it was the sickness or if your talk had made a difference, but you were grateful nonetheless. 

You wrapped your arms around her as she sat on the edge of the bed, wiping the last of the cold sweat from her forehead. "You know, I kinda like seeing you vulnerable," you said, smiling down at her. 

Natasha smiled back, her eyes crinkling at the corners, "Yeah? Why's that?" 

"Because it means you trust me enough to let your guard down," you replied, leaning down to kiss her softly. 

Natasha leaned into the kiss, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, "I do trust you," she said softly. "More than anyone else." 

You pulled back to look at her, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. "I trust you too, Natty," you said, before leaning in to kiss her again. 

"Thank you," she said, giving you a grateful smile when you pulled back from her lips. 

"You don't have to thank me," you replied, "I'll always be here for you." 

Natasha leaned in and kissed you gently, "I know," she whispered, "And I'll always be grateful for that." 

And as for her bad habit of stifling her sneezes, well, that was a thing of the past. She had finally learned to let it all out, even if it meant being a little gross or vulnerable. And you loved her all the more for it. 

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[allthenamesithinkofaretaken]

Wally, Darling ♥

That's how you know

Wally Darling x F! Architect! Reader

[This is the best I could think of, I’m sorry T-T.

Wally’s proposal to MC after almost a year of dating. Warning, I switch to the MC and to Wally's POV a lot in this do I hope you don't mind. Plus it's long. ]

He’d been fiddling with the navy blue box for days now, and every time his fingers even grazed against it, it sent a flurry of excitement, nervousness, and fear in his heart that he never knew of until today. Always having to bear with hiding it somewhere she won’t see it because of the emotions that wracked through him at the thought of the proposal alone.

He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, hell, he couldn’t even draw or paint without the feeling of dread filling his stomach that no amount of existential dread could ever think of giving him.

It was worrying how this frightened him more than when he first stumbled upon the rift between their reality and the other side, but then again, he’d never have to risk losing the rift if he asks it to marry him, which would be a silly thing to do in the first place. But if he makes the wrong move, if he makes the wrong move, then he’d have to bear with losing one of the most important people in his life.

He clutched the box in his hand, letting out an exhausted sigh at the frustrating thoughts that ran rampant around his head as he presses that box against his unsteady heart, his back pressing against the harsh wood of the tree trunk he was currently sitting against. His sketchpad opened in an empty page he’d been fiddling around with for the past twenty minutes out of nervousness, unable to properly picture out a figure to draw because of the fear that muddled his brain. Usually painting helped him clear his mind, but because he was so stressed, he couldn’t think of anything to paint. It was the most frustrating thing he’s experienced in his life.

“Wally!” Julie’s excited screech makes him jump, the box stumbling out of his tight hold and he’d fumbled to catch it back in his hands, the box not going unnoticed by the blonde.

“You still haven’t asked her?” Her voice was dulled down to a harsh whisper, her hands gripping at the strands of hair on the sides of her face as she looked at her friend in a panic. “It’s been a week!”

Wally tucked the blue box somewhere inside his blue cardigan, pressing a hand against his still heavily beating heart to hopefully try and calm it down.

“I’m trying to find the perfect opportunity,” He replied, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. “It’s just… I don’t think she deserves a simple proposal. I want to make it special… but all the things I think of are too dull, or boring, or not enough…”

He itched to tug at his hair, but seeing that he put so much work into it earlier today with (Y/n) helping him in brushing it into its usual style, he settled on pulling the grass beneath them instead, the nervousness building up into that imperfection frustration he’s always seemed to have. Although he’s never seen it aimed at any other subject other than his paintings and art.

“Wally,” Julie’s voice was reprimanding, slightly upset, but there was a familiar softness tinged at the way she spoke his name that he could tell that it was bordering on pity. “I’m not telling you how to propose, and you should do it how you want to do it, but I’m sure that (Y/n) will love whatever you come up with!”

And yet here he was, still unable to think of a proper way to pop the question. His hands tucked underneath his cardigan to feel for the box that pressed against his chest, wondering if he would ever work up the courage to finally ask.

He had thought about the question so many times, so much so that he basically had it imprinted in his brain. But still, that important question didn’t come alone when it came to plaguing his brain.

The 'will you marry me?' was always being followed by the what ifs that echoed in the back of his brain. 'what if she says no?', 'what if she's not actually ready?', 'what if she leaves and doesn't come back?'. Stupid question, he knew that much. After all, they’ve already talked about this once or twice recently—The topic always being brought up everytime by either one of the neighbors or their families whenever they called, and they’ve both always come to the same conclusion. They are ready. None of them knew just when it was going to happen. Or if it was even going to happen.

And so here he was.

But despite that, no matter how many times he’s thought back to the times they’ve talked, the times where he’s heard her affirmations of the idea, it always brought that sense of doubt, dread, and especially fear in his stomach.

And all those questions, he's realized, were all coming from the same fear. The fear of possibly losing her. Losing the one thing that's kept him grounded all his life would drag him into a deeper void he knows he wouldn't be able to climb out of, bury him in his sorrows and dig its way into his darkest urges. Not that he thinks he has any.

The sound of Julie's sigh brings him back to their reality, and he realizes he's been fiddling with the wedding band in between his fingers, the box long forgotten on the grass. He carefully puts it back in its place, cradling the thing as if it were a small child.

“Well, I can’t force ya to do it now,” she shrugged. “But I think the perfect way to propose to someone is to just do it how you want to do it. No thinking of wanting things to be too perfect, or too special— because I’m sure it already is,” she places her hand on Wally’s shoulder, and he looks up at her, taking her words into consideration.

He searched for the box in the pocket of his cardigan, eyes looking down at the grass as he clutched it in his palm.

In a way, Julie was right.

Seeing the newfound determination set in his eyes, Julie grinned, an idea already forming in her head.

“If you’re thinking of doing it today, I think Sally would love to assist you with her play tonight.”

She was helping Howdy in organizing some of the new wares he has for his store— a 'thank you' for the bags of apples he had given her yesterday that she had made into delicious caramel apples and caramel apple cookies that Wally was more than delighted to eat up, while the rest were given away to the neighborhood because she knows that Wally would get a stomach ache if he ate all those sweets. And he would've, had she not managed to try and pry him away from all the apple flavored sweets she had made that day.

"How time surely does fly, doesn't it?" Howdy brings her out of her train of thought as he comes walking back inside his store with a sack full of pears thrown over his shoulder, carefully setting it down beside one of the stalls as he pats four of his hands together. "I can't believe it's already been a year and a half since you moved here!"

Oh, wow. Has time really moved that fast?

"Even I'm a bit surprised at the news, Howdy." She places a hand on her forehead, brows raised as she goes to count the months for confirmation. And, lo and behold, it has been a year and a half! "Gee, that long huh?"

"It must feel like yesterday when Wally first asked you out, if you’re that surprised!" Howdy teased, grinning from ear to ear as he carefully stacks the pears in a neat pile on one of the boxes outside, and she goes to help him with the rest.

"It does, if I'm being honest," she chuckled. "I still can't believe it. That would mean that it's also been 11 months since our first date!" She brushes her thumb against the surface of the pear, getting lost in thought as she stares at its shiny surface. "Almost a year now, huh."

She wondered…

"You stare at that pear any longer then I might just tell Wally to marry you then and there!" Howdy joked, and it brought a warmth to her cheeks as she goes to swat his hand away that threatened to ruffle her hair. "You two have a knack for staring at fruit."

"I just zoned out," she rolled her eyes playfully at the caterpillar, who snickered as she finally placed the pear where it should be. "But anyways, is there anything left to arrange?" She pushes herself up to her feet, careful as to not put her weight on the box of pears in fear that it would tumble over and ruin her and Howdy's good work.

"Afraid not! That's all I have left for the day." Howdy wipes his hands on a towel, grinning as he eyes the organization they've done for the bodega. "I say, you do have an eye for arrangement! The bodega hasn't looked this organized in years!"

She gave him a playful wink, "Well, it's kind of my job to organize and design, so…" she crossed her arms over her chest. "But honestly, I've never organized a shop before." The laugh that escaped her was light, and Howdy gave her a pat on the back.

"Well you did a great job! The neighborhood is lucky to have you here!." He gave a wink and a gentle nudge, and she couldn't help but feel warm and giddy at the compliment, muttering a small goodbye and a wave to Howdy as he entered the shop once again and she went to leave to find Sally. Hopefully, she could help out with the stage the star was fussing to her about, only to bump into an overly excited Julie who tugged her into her home instead.

"Julie!" She gasped in shock, dizzied by the excitement of the blonde. “What’s going on?”

“I have a new makeup kit!” Julie practically screamed in excitement, and Frank (has he always been there?) shakes his head with a small sigh, grabbing (Y/n) by the shoulders and then nudging her to the sofa. “Oh! And Frank wants to talk to you about a beautiful arch with flowers and vines that’ll surely attract a lot of butterflies!”

“Really?” She arched a brow. The idea didn’t sound too bad, but then… “Where will you put it?”

“Oh that doesn’t matter right now!” Frank waves his hand dismissively, holding out a book in his hands. They were filled with colorful flowers, most of which were unfamiliar to her, but they all looked very pretty and vibrant. “There are plenty of beautiful flowers to put into the arch, but I can’t decide which ones!”

“Firstly, we need to know how big the arch is going to be,” she tilted her head to the side, her hands already itching for a pencil and paper so she could draft the ideas she was already thinking of. There were so many possibilities!

She turned to Frank at the question, awaiting his answer.

“Hm, I suppose something a little over my height. It should also fit about two people in the middle.”

“Oh! Is this a surprise for Eddie?” The grin on her lips were from ear to ear, and the thought made Frank’s cheeks darken while Julie simply snickered at her obliviousness.

“It could be,” Frank scoffed, trying to wave his flustered demeanor away from all the attention she was currently giving it, “Back to the arch.”

She had to struggle to look back at the book that Frank was telling her all about, all while Julie happily put makeup on her, the blonde oftentimes butting in their conversation to give ideas of her own. Which gave both (Y/n)’s brain and neck a break from all the strain at going back and forth with these two.

And after what felt like a whole day of having to design this beautiful garden arch she didn’t even know what Frank was going to use for, Julie finally finished, ending with an excited squeal as she handed over a round mirror for (Y/n) to hold.

(Y/n) fathomed at the face that looked back at her in the mirror, unable to help the grin that tugged at her lips as she stared at the wonderful work Julie had done.

“I look amazing!”

“Of course you do, girl!” Julie grinned, giving her a wink as she pointed at her with finger guns, before remembering something with an excited gasp, eyes basically filling with stars as she grinned. “Oh! I also have the perfect dress for you to wear!”

(Y/n) doesn't even get to protest as Julie drags her up the stairs and into her room, the doorbell echoing just behind them as Julie basically shoves her into her wardrobe.

“Frank can go get the door, for now though…” Julie grins, eyes basically sparkling with both mischief and excitement as she wracks through her own wardrobe. “We have to get you all dolled up for tonight!”

She would’ve laughed at the unintentional joke if she wasn’t so confused as to why Julie was suddenly making her do this.

Apparently, all that makeover was for Sally’s play tonight. And Julie wanted her to look her best for some reason. However, she wasn’t one to turn down a free makeover, and she was sure Wally would love to see her in a new getup than she was normally in. It had been a while since she’d dressed and prepared like this.

Julie pushes her towards the front row seats, a light laugh escaping her lips as the blonde seemed to drag her all the way over there with an unmistakable skip in her steps.

“Come on! Before it starts!”

She didn’t even know why Julie was rushing. It wasn’t like anyone was going to steal any of the seats! There are only 8 residents (not counting her) in Home! And it seemed that most of them were already on their seats— just behind the ones Julie was dragging her to.

Weird.

And where’s Wally? He wasn’t usually one to skip Sally’s plays…

“Oh! It’s starting!” Julie’s playful smack on her arm brings her attention back to the stage, the dimming of the stage lights rendering their surroundings in darkness until a spotlight shines on the usual star of the show. Sally Starlet.

Usually, when Sally does a play, she enters the stage with her costume already worn on her person, this time however, she was wearing her usual clothes, her hands clutching a microphone which she so happily grins upon as she scans the neighborhood, eyes ultimately landing on her.

“Welcome, everyone!” Sally greets, “A lot of you have come here to see the finale of the romantic play I’ve written— and you will! I promise you that!” (Y/n) couldn’t help but snicker at the star’s usual showmanship, eyes following her as the sun seemed to pace from one end of the stage to the other as she spoke, hands moving with every rise of her tone. “But tonight, I want to use this chance to help our dear friend in making this night very special for both of them, as some of you may already know.” The star gave a wink to one of the people in the crowd and (Y/n) couldn’t help but laugh as Julie gave an excited scream. Other than that though, she was also more than intrigued at where this was going.

“And so! I am giving up the stage for the night to our neighborhood’s absolute most! Wally Darling!”

Her breath hitched as her brows raised in surprise, watching as the red curtains unveiled to reveal her darling clutching a different microphone in his hand. She was a few feet away from the stage, but she didn’t need to be within 2 feet of Wally to notice just how nervous he looked as he stood in the middle of the spotlights, watching him tug at the collar of his suit as he clears his throat on the mic.

“Hello…” he starts, and when his eyes meet hers, she gave a small and reassuring smile. She didn’t know why he was up there, or what his plan was, but the smile she gave him seemed more than enough to wipe all the nervousness from his face away as his hunched shoulders slightly squared as he fixed his posture, hearing him let out a breath to let the nervousness out of his body as he continued. “So… I’m not the best when it comes to expressing myself… but, tonight is very special, so I’ll try my absolute best.”

His eyes meet hers once again, and her heart jumped.

Special? Was it their anniversary?

No… it couldn’t be, she had that marked next next week! She was already planning on taking Wally out to a date at a nearby observatorium!

“(Y/n),” the sound of her name echoing through the speakers makes her turn her attention back to Wally. “Do you remember what you said to me the first time we met?”

She gave a slow nod.

“You offered to help me fix a hinge I accidentally broke,” He chuckled. “After that, I was sure Home already liked you more than they liked me.”

A cacophony of silent chuckles comes from behind her, and she couldn’t help but join in.

“Then that night, we had a sleepover because it rained, and you couldn’t go home.”

She snickered, looking up at Wally with a brow arched, her hand moving in a rolling motion as if telling him to go on, and he huffed.

“... and also because Home locked you in.”

“And ever since then we’ve been by each other’s side until tonight,” He continued, and she could feel someone nudging her shoulder. When she turned around to see the culprit, she saw Poppy, waving at her and ushering her to go up the stage, her brows rising in surprise as she points at the stage behind her, and the bird nods her head in response.

She turned back to face Wally, who seemed to be looking at her expectantly, and that was enough to get her to stand, slowly walking over to the side and then up the stage where she could properly be by his side, his attention fully turned towards her as he takes her hand into his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“(Y/n),” she looked at him expectantly, unable to hide the worry in her eyes as he looks up at her, more nervous than she’d ever seen him be. “We have a lot in common, a lot more than what others know about.”

She knows what he was referring to. What he could see, what she could feel, what the other side of the line could offer them.

“We love art, though we both practice two different kinds of it. We love sitting quietly near the fireplace, eating or sketching, because it’s one of the most calming experiences a person could have. And we love doing a lot of things together.” He paused, scratching the back of his neck as a light pink dusted his cheeks. “And there are a lot more things we could love to do together.”

“And we also have our differences,” He cups her cheek, and she could already feel the tears swelling in her eyes at the way he just lovingly looks up at her, her heart pounding so much against her chest that she could feel it as if it were about to explode. “I love all of you, each and every part, but I’m afraid there’s one difference we have that’s bothered me for quite some time now.”

Her brows creased together, worry evident in her eyes as she looked at him in confusion.

“Your last name,”

He dropped down on one knee, and she could feel the world around her as if it were spinning and her knees threatened to buckle under her.

“But I intend on changing that soon,” He shyly looks away as he holds out the blue box towards him, the golden band shining underneath the spotlight. “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will!” She would’ve screamed louder than she already did if she could, jumping into Wally’s arms and sending them both tumbling down the stage as she peppers his face with kisses, a harmonious cheer echoing from past the stage as she pulls away from her bo— fiance, pulling him up off the floor as they giggled under their breaths.

Wally takes her hand in his own, giving her knuckles a gentle kiss before slowly sliding the golden ring on her finger, another sob escaping (Y/n) as she just stares at it in disbelief.

“My future Mrs. Darling,” Wally’s confirmation only made the news all the more exciting, her heart jumping in joy at the thought. “I like that a lot.”

“Me too,” Her voice almost cracked as she spoke, a hand coming up to wipe at her cheeks. Wally reached up to hold her head in between his hands, and she leaned into his touch as he smiled.

Could life get any better?

[kisskiss-slashslash]

I have a Jason request:D

Request(sorry if it’s too specific): Jason is beginning to notice that their s/o (who does witchcraft) is becoming more and more distant or busy (this also happens a couple days before his birthday) then on the day of his birthday his s/o comes up to him practically jumping up and down from happiness and tells him they have a big present for him. Turns out his s/o made a spell where his mothers ghost is visible for 24 hours but she cannot touch anything and is only visible for him and his s/o to see:)

The only draw back is that after the 24 hours his s/o is SUPER tired and can’t even walk for a couple of weeks bc it took a lot out of them

A happy ending for him and his s/o<3

Ty and have a great day<3

Oooo I love this one.

A very special birthday surprise

The time around his birthday is hard enough for Jason as it is. But now you have been rather distant for days now, always coming up with excuses when he tries to spend time with you. But you also seem so damn *happy* all of the time. His mind keeps coming up with terrible scenarios, of you planning to leave him or seeing someone else, or…

What would he do then? No matter how enraged he would be, he couldn’t imagine ever hurting you. Could he just let you go?

His birthday is just 24 hours away. Maybe you just wanted to wait until after that to leave, so you wouldn’t make the day that keeps bringing back his worst memories even worse for him. Now during these 24 hours, he barely sees you. You are hiding in your little witchey corner, and he hears you softly mumbling to yourself, though it almost sounds like you are holding an actual conversation with someone who is responding to you.

Jason stares at the old clock you brought in from one of the cabins. Just fiften more seconds to midnight.

Had he done anything to deserve you ignoring him like this? The past years, you spent almost his entire birthday snuggled up to him, trying to drown out the painful memories with your love and affection.

Ten seconds.

Was it the last group of campers? Has he been too brutal to them, and scared you off?

Five seconds.

Either way, learning to live without you again would be heartbreaking. Just another scar in his psyche.

One second. And exactly on the stroke of midnight, the curtain sectioning your witching-corner off from the rest of your shack parts and you step out.

“Happy Birthday, Jason”, you say with a smile.

But Jason barely notices you. Because next to you stands the semi-transparent form of his mother, smiling at him with tears in her eyes.

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck. “I figured you might wanna spend your birthday with your mom again, so I gathered everything I needed to make her spirit visible for you, at least for the duration of your birthday. I wanted it to be a surprise and it needed a lot of preparation, that’s why I was so distant from you lately, so… Happy Birthday.”

Within a split second you find yourself side to side with the icy presence of Pamela, pressed against Jason’s broad chest. His arms go right through her body, but she is acting like she is getting hugged anyway.

“Oh Jason”, Pamela says in the hollow voice typical for ghosts. “My special… special boy. I’m so sorry… For everything you had to go through.”

Jason squeezes both of you even tighter for a second, hot tears dripping from underneath his mask.

“I… uh…”, you start, despite the tight hug making speaking a bit difficult. “I also got us some cake and soda.” You free your arms and cub his cheeks with your hands. “So what do you say we celebrate your birthday properly this year?”

[saintsenara]

happy birthday ginny, here's a fic with you and both of your dark-haired orphan simps.

Nerve

When she was five, Auntie Muriel had given her as a birthday present a small china figurine of a cow.

And, since she was five, and all she wanted to do was ride brooms and fall out of trees and throw gnomes at Percy, she had laughed derisively the second she opened the gift and called it ‘a bit rubbish’.

Mum had been furious, and the telling-off Ginny had received - as Muriel stormed out of the house with her nose in the air, ‘Weasley children are ungrateful whelps, the lot of them’ ringing around the Burrow - had managed to impress upon her an important lesson: no matter how shit a present is, pretend you like it.

---

- and Percy got a brand new owl when he was made a prefect, and that happened the day before I turned ten, but I didn’t get anything new that day, it was all second hand. Except my Auntie Muriel gave me a box of drawing pins. But who wants a thing like that?

That sounds ghastly.

It was! Obviously I wasn’t rude. I just -

I know it sounds really silly, but I just want my own things. I want to be special. I want everyone to notice me. Nobody notices me.

That doesn’t sound silly at all.

You’re sweet :) 

---

The lesson had held for ten years. It was fracturing today, as she turned fifteen and unwrapped Fleur’s gift to her - presented with a beatific, ‘I ‘ope you will like ‘ow it stops you being so - ‘ow you say - disorganised’ - and saw the embossed scarlet leather cover, her initials on it in gold, of an extremely beautiful and obviously stupendously expensive diary.

‘Oh,’ said Ginny.

Fleur seemed happy enough with that, leaning into Bill’s arm - wrapped around her shoulders - with a contented (read: smug) look on her face. Harry and Ron were both shovelling birthday cake into their mouths, but Hermione was looking at her with the sort of stricken, wobbly expression which made Ginny nervous.

‘Cheers. It’s great,’ she said to Fleur, in an effort to communicate to Hermione that she needed to keep fucking quiet and not bring up my previous diary-related fuck-ups at the dinner table. Fortunately she got the hint, although Ginny knew there’d be plenty of whispered nagging about whether she’d ‘properly dealt with everything’ later.

But she couldn’t help staring at Bill, as if to say, ‘thanks for not spilling my most embarrassing secret during your pillow talk’ and ‘hey, you know how there’s a war on? Maybe you should tell your fiancée that your sister was fucking possessed by You-Know-Who for a full year, so she knows exactly what sort of mess she’s getting into.’

He just looked at his cake instead.

---

- and I told mum I didn’t want a victoria sponge cake. But she made one anyway, because it’s dad’s favourite. But it was my birthday. I wanted a chocolate cake.

Does that make me sound really spoiled?

It does, doesn’t it?

What kind of birthday cakes did you have, when you were my age?

I have never had a birthday cake.

WHAT?

How???

I was born in an orphanage. That’s a Muggle institution for children whose parents are dead. There was hardly enough to go around normally. Birthdays were out of the question.  

Oh.

I’m sorry.

I survived.

Harry’s an orphan as well.

Is he indeed?

---

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Hermione later, bustling around Ginny’s room brandishing a hairbrush like a wand. ‘The nerve of her! She had no right to do something like that.’

‘She didn’t know.’

‘But Bill should have told her.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

Hermione sat on the end of Ginny’s bed and looked at her earnestly. ‘You can say if you’re upset, you know.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I mean, I’ve never thought you’ve ever properly dealt with everything, and I -’

‘I said it’s fine, Hermione. For fuck’s sake, give it a rest.’

---

Hermione was still in a mood the following morning.

The diary sat on Ginny’s bedside table, the cover shimmering softly at her.

‘I suppose the colour was meant to be nice - Gryffindor, you know - but it’s just ended up being another cruelty,’ sniffed Hermione, when she’d decided she was no longer angry with Ginny and she ought to have another go at nagging her about her life.

‘What d’you mean?’ said Ginny, round a mouthful of chocolate frog.

Hermione looked at her as if she was as dumb as Goyle. (Ginny could see why quite a few people didn’t like her). ‘Well, it’s like his eyes. Isn’t it?’

She looked so convinced she was onto something that Ginny didn’t have the heart to tell her that her him had eyes the same polished tortoiseshell brown as Hermione’s own.

---

I could make him a valentine’s card, couldn’t I?

You could.

I could say he has nice eyes. He does have nice eyes.

So you’ve said.

They’re very green. I could say that. ‘You have very green eyes.’

That’s not very romantic, is it?

I could say, ‘you have eyes so green they’re like…’

I dunno.

A fresh pickled toad.

Or an emerald.

Pick the emerald.

I like the toad.

Pick the emerald.

They aren’t emerald green, though. They’re fresh pickled toad green.

I just think -

I’m going to say that his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad.

Or do you think he’d hate that? 

I think you should say his eyes are like emeralds.

He will hate it, won’t he?

Would it matter if he did?

YES.

Picture me rolling my eyes.

Tom. I’d DIE.

Imagine if he laughed at it. 

And if he didn’t?

That isn’t possible.

Ginny.

Anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve.

---

She dropped a blob of ink onto the page and waited for the inevitable.

She realised she had been staring at it for hours when mum called her down for dinner.

---

She could never have explained to the other three why nothing happening was as much of a disappointment as a relief.

They were bound together so tightly you’d have thought they were one-and-the-same. It didn’t seem to occur to them that their friendship was abnormal. Or, maybe, that hers were. That, maybe, it isn’t normal for a fifteen-year-old to not see her boyfriend all summer, or not to have friends visit, or not to Floo off for house-parties and trips to Diagon Alley. That, maybe, her position in a clique of ‘popular’ girls was tenuous, something light and meaningless and easily discarded.

That, maybe, the best friend she’d ever had was a piece of disembodied soul which had very nearly succeeded in killing her.

---

I don’t think anyone understands me like you.

You’re my best friend in the whole world :) 

I’m delighted to hear that. The feeling is mutual.

Now. I need you to do me a favour.

Anything :)

You will walk down to the gamekeeper’s hut.

I will walk down to the gamekeeper’s hut.

---

‘I don’t think Harry will get back together with Cho,’ said Hermione one evening.

Ginny snorted. ‘Yeah, obviously. He fucked that right up.’

‘Dean’s nice.’

Ginny tried to ignore the jittery feeling in her stomach. ‘Yeah. Yeah, he’s brill.’

Fortunately Hermione was already yawning into her pillow. ‘Did you have a nice birthday, by the way?’

‘Yeah.’

There was a brightly-coloured bang from outside.

Hermione jumped up, brandishing her wand. ‘What on earth was that?’

---

I wish I was with mum and dad for Christmas. On New Year’s Eve we always have hot chocolate and watch the fireworks from the village. You can see them really well from our garden.

I spent all evening crying. And now I can’t sleep. 

Are you awake?

Is it New Year’s Eve today?

Yes.

Ah.

It doesn’t feel very festive though.

Go to the North Tower, and - just before the Divination classroom - you will see a painting of three house elves wearing a trench coat. Poke the middle one on the nose and the painting will swing open to reveal a window. Climb through the window and you will find yourself on a flat bit of roof, with an uninterrupted view towards Hogsmeade. At midnight, there will be fireworks to celebrate the new year. 

But there will be nobody else around, and they will feel as though they are for you.

---

‘Relax, Hermione. It’s just someone letting off fireworks.’

‘God. I thought it was the Dark Mark or something. Honestly, who lets off fireworks in the middle of August?’

‘You never know. Maybe they’re for me.’

[honeydjarin]

KELDABE KISS

FIVES X READER

Fives draws attention to the nameless thing that is growing between you

genre: fluff

word count: 660

a/n: I’m struggling to get back into writing (and doing creative things in general), so I’m starting with baby steps

“What are you doing?” you ask Fives, voice low. Not that there’s much need to speak so quietly, there is no one else around to hear. The hallway you’re in is empty, save for the two of you. It stretches out, a pristine void on either side of you, but the world seems to curl in much closer in your current position. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Fives’ reply is sheepish and just as quiet. Despite the apology, he doesn’t let you go. Rather, he pulls you further into his chest, ever closer. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you in place, and you can’t help but sigh at the touch. He’s warm. Heat radiates at every contact point, making you go soft. You could break away from his grasp if you really wanted to, he wouldn’t go against your wishes, but you’re inclined to stay right where you are. 

You’ve seen him do this with his brothers—foreheads pressed together in friendly and familial affection, a form of greeting, or simply a connection. 

This seems different, far more intimate, even if the position is the same. 

Fives’ toothy smile hasn’t dropped once since he pulled you to him. His eyes gleam like he has a secret, some sort of inside joke for one, but there’s no malice behind his gaze. Far from it. His eyelids settle at half mast and yours follow suit, too comfortable in the moment to give the action any thought. 

There has been something building between the two of you for a while now. It sends your stomach spinning and chest burning with each gentle look or brush of skin. Fives seems to have taken it upon himself to leave you as flustered as possible at every opportunity, flirting relentlessly. Then, when you don’t think you can take anymore, he tugs you into his side, allowing you to find shelter in the very man you seek to hide from. As embarrassing as Fives can be, you don’t want him to stop. 

Even with all that has transpired, you've never given this thing between you a name, and he has never been so forward before.  

“Fives,” you start, but your voice fades just as quickly. You intend to admonish, to warn, to… something. Your intentions for speaking slip from your mind as his nose brushes against your own, a small action that you have no doubt was intentional. Finally you settle on “we could get caught.” 

Doing what, exactly, you’re not sure. 

Fives has made no move to close the gap between your lips, as small as it may be. This isn’t that kind of kiss, even if you’ve daydreamed about kissing him properly plenty of times. Sometimes he catches you, a smirk growing across the lips you stared at for just a little too long. You deny it every time, of course. Because that would draw too much attention to this nameless thing.   

This press of foreheads is not that which filled your thoughts so many times (although now, having experienced it, you’re certain it won’t ever leave). This is different, both innocent and intimate at once. There’s nothing inherently wrong with what you’re doing in this hall, and yet it feels too significant not to go unnoticed by any potential passerby. 

“So what?” he asks, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath your hands. “It’s not like anyone is going to say anything. And even if they did, it’s not like Rex or the General would care.” 

He’s right, of course. No one on the ship would care if you were caught. Surely they’ve all seen this nameless thing growing as well.

You’ll have to talk about it soon. This moment isn’t one that can be brushed away. You don’t want to let it fade to nothing. And if the way Fives is holding you is anything to go by, you don’t think he’s ready to let this go either. 

[nightghoul381]

Silvio 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Chapter 1

(…ngh)

I woke up before the sun had risen to the air caressing my skin.

When I saw the back of Prince Silvio who had just finished getting dressed, I unconsciously felt relieved.

(Good thing I woke up before he went out to sea.)

Prince Silvio turned around at the sound of rustling sheets.

Silvio: “Did I wake you up?”

Emma: “No, I woke up because I missed someone’s warmth.”

Silvio: “Ah…yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Emma: “Fufu, Prince Silvio, you look embarrassed.”

Silvio: “Shut up, you’re just as bad.”

Silvio turned his face away to hide his embarrassment, and I tried to get off the bed because I wanted to see him more closely.

(Whoa…!)

But I couldn’t get my legs to work properly, my staggering body was caught by strong arms.

Silvio: “Did you forget how much I held you just a little while ago?”

Emma: “I-I didn’t forget about it, but… I’m sorry.”

(That’s embarrassing, and my body feels a little hot.)

(That’s right…Since Prince Silvio won’t be back from the sea for a few days, I’ve been asking for him a lot of things.)

Silvio: “You’ve been asking for me so much, there’s no way you could forget.”

Emma: “Wow! Why are you trying to remind me?”

Silvio: “Because you’re so obviously embarrassed.”

Silvio: “…I won’t be able to see you making that face for a few days. Serve me a little.”

(That’s a cunning way of saying it.)

Emma: “…My services are quite expensive, yeah?”

Silvio: “Ha, do you know who you’re talkin’ to?”

(The richest man on the continent.)

I was held gently and laid on the bed.

The way he touched me, like I was something fragile, made my heart beat involuntarily.

As tyrannical as he is, the power of his casual kindness is greater.

When I grab his sleeve in my hand as he tried to leave, Prince Silvio got down on one knee beside the bed.

Silvio: “Sorry, I can’t take you with me this time either.”

Emma: “I’m not angry or upset, so please don’t apologize.”

Emma: “I know you judged it was too high-level of a voyage for someone as inexperienced as me.”

When I deliberately flashed a proud smile, he patted me on the head, ruffling my hair.

I felt uncomfortable, as though he were expressing both gratitude and apology.

Silvio: “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Look forward to it.”

(So you’re telling me not to miss you.)

I nod my head, smiling at the unhelpful words.

Silvio: “And don’t be hanging around that fucking dog just because I’m not around.”

Emma: “You trust me, don’t you?”

Silvio: “…… I can’t help it.”

Even the slightest hesitation seems to be filled with Silvio’s love.

We stare at each other and our lips meet in an involuntary kiss.

(Be careful, Prince Silvio.)

The loneliness of seeing him off was now sweetly tightening my heart.

(Although…)

(My desire to sail with Silvio continues to grow.)

Prince Silvio comes to mind just from seeing the word ‘voyage’ written in the book I was reading in between work.

(Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen him at sea.)

(When you fall in love with someone, you want to learn everything about them.)

Even if it’s something trivial, anything related to Prince Silvio is a treasure to me.

Emma: “Hm…?”

Something fell out of the book on my lap.

(What’s this folded paper?)

It was thinner than it should have been, perhaps having been sandwiched between books for a considerable number of years, and the corners were faded.

(What’s on the paper… oh, it’s a map.)

When I unfolded the paper, it was a map of the area around Benitoite, with several small islands close to the port.

One of the islands draws my attention.

Emma: “Only this isolated island is marked with an X. Oh, there’s another map.”

The second sheet of paper appears to be a map of the entire isolated island that was presumably marked.

There, too, an X is marked on a cave-like picture, which causes my heart to flutter.

(This may or may not be…!)

--Silvio’s Room—

Silvio: “…”

Silvio: “…”

Silvio: “A treasure map…”

Emma: “The fading, the marks left by the book,”

Emma: “Perhaps someone from the old court wanted someone to find his treasure and left a map—”

Silvio: “You’ve been reading too many books; you’re mixing up reality and fantasy.”

Emma: “Aah, don’t mess up my hair, please…!”

A few days later, I showed the map to Silvio, who had returned from his voyage much earlier than planned.

As expected, he had a suspicious expression, eyebrows raised.

Silvio: “Since the number and position of the islands match, it’s not a random map.”

Silvio: “…”

Silvio: “But was there any treasure on that island?”

Emma: “Prince Silvio, have you been there?”

Silvio: “This is the first island I sailed to by myself.”

(Oh, I see…!)

Silvio: “I went a few times as a kid, but the fact that I don’t remember it means there wasn’t anything worthwhile.”

Emma: “Is that so…”

(If Silvio says so, I’m sure there’s no treasure.)

(It’s not that I didn’t expect it, it’s a map someone drew for fun, after all...)

I thought that we could go on a treasure hunt, of course, and if we did, we could sail together, but the possibility disappeared and my shoulders dropped.

But apart from that, one desire began to grow.

(I…)

(It may be a fake map, but I want to know what the X is pointing to.)

(Above all, I want to go to the island Silvio first sailed to!)

(It doesn’t have to be right now, just someday…)

Silvio: “Do you wanna go to the island?”

Emma: “What, is that okay? I really want to go!”

Silvio: “How refreshingly honest of you.”

Silvio: “It’s about as far as a kid can go. It’s not a dangerous island or far enough away to cross the sun.”

Silvio: “It’s just right for an inexperienced voyager like you.”

Emma: “Silvio, I love you!”

Silvio: “Hey, I always tell you not to hug me outta nowhere like that.”

Emma: “I know you’re secretly happy inside!”

Silvio: “If you know, don’t go out of your way to tell me!”

Emma: “Wha… mmm, Prince Silvio…”

Silvio, cheeks red and eyebrows raised, rolled me back on the bed and kissed me deeply.

The unreserved, intense kissing immediately is making my head feel like it’s starting to melt.

Silvio: “Even though it’s not a dangerous voyage, just being on board for an hour will be pretty hard for you.”

Silvio: “Try too hard like you usually do and I’ll turn the ship around without question.”

Emma: “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Emma: “Thank you for listening to my request!”

(I hope you’re looking forward to sailing with me, Silvio.)

As if to answer my question, his sea-colored eyes became heated, and I couldn’t resist his deep kisses.

From the day it was decided that I would take my first voyage with Prince Silvio, things were hectic.

I had to procure the necessities on board, and carefully read a book full of precautions to be taken at sea,

Then, to start each day, I received Silvio’s lecture on the danger and splendor of the sea…

They day finally arrived—

(… I knew what to expect.)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

[self-written-god]

T | 793 | m/m human/werewolf | sequel to 'shapeshifting' but this time I'm not pretending it's not Steddie | cw: a little drug related oopsie but everyone's safe | getting together

He wouldn’t call himself a recluse, but he certainly wasn’t a social flower. He’s only been to frat parties for mere minutes until he sold out of his stock. A mostly monster party? Where everyone was fully shifted and in the open? Never.

He watched them be themselves, no hiding from the conservative faculty or parents, or students, even. No pretending they were civilized humans. Here they were all uncivilized students, no matter their species.

Aside from the new features of his peers, he found a lot of food and drinks he hadn’t seen before. And drugs. He’s been eyeing a certain shroom that seemed to be popular with other party-goers. The girl handing it out catches his eye and offers him the baggy to pluck out from.

It’s blueish and doesn’t smell anything, but before he can take it in his mouth, there’s a growl in his ear, and the shroom gets slapped out of his hand.

“Wha-” 

The growl grows, making him flinch and back away, straight into a broad chest and a stronghold of hairy arms.

“The fuck are you guys doing?!”

Despite the music, the room goes quiet.

“Shit, Steve-” 

He growls back, teeth clasping in warning.

“Dude, it’s just some shrooms-” Eddie tries to dissolve the situation, but the hold only tightens to the point of pain. He gasps, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

“Just shrooms?! These are poisonous to humans!”

“Oh.”

He looks at the inconspicuous funghi, still held by the girl, now white as a sheet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was human-”

“Well, maybe you should fucking ask!”

Realizing this isn’t going to get any better until they leave the situation completely, he pushes against the chest, backing away from the group. Steve doesn’t budge at first, so he turns around his tight embrace, trying to find his gaze. The grip tightens, ribs creaking against each other before the werewolf finally looks down.

“I need some fresh air, let's go,” he says, and Steve gives a tiny nod. He growls one last time to the group and finally lets himself be pushed towards the door.

"Thanks for saving me, man," Eddie says, once outside.

"What if I was too late? You can't just take any drug in your sight!"

His instinct was to argue, but he knew Steve was right. Besides, he was still shaken up.

"Okay, sorry, I promise I'll only take my own stuff. Or triple-check if what I'm taking is human-friendly at least."

Steve huffs and his hold only tightens, and it’s too much.

“Dude, you’re choking me.”

“Shit, sorry.” Despite his words, he’s reluctant to let him go. Eddie doesn’t like the loss either, but they sit close on the porch stairs instead. It’s quiet, weird.

“Couldn’t they sniff out I’m human?” he asks eventually, recalling the argument from earlier. Steve flinches against him.

“Too many monsters around, the smells are hard to discern. Besides…” he hesitates.

“What?” Eddie turns to him, curious. 

“We’ve been hanging out a lot. You smell wolf-ish.” He cringes and kinda collapses on himself.

“Okay…” he draws out, trying to decipher what that means. “Have you been rubbing off on me? On purpose?”

“No!” he immediately denies, offended. “Yes? Maybe?”

“Dude! What the fuck?” He asks, trying to hide that he’s mostly amused. Partially thrilled.

“Not on purpose! At first.” The werewolf rushes to explain, leaning away a bit to look at him properly and gesticulate with his hands. “It’s hard not to… scent someone… when you’re having sex, okay?” he hisses through his teeth. “But then we kept hanging out, and it just… happened?”

“You gave me your hoodie,” Eddie says with sudden realization. “Were you marking your territory?”

“What?! No!” Steve seems scandalized, but he goes red in the face, and shoves at Eddie half-heartedly. The man just laughs.

“Dude, that's so hot!”

“Right,” the wolf scoffs, expression going sour.

To placate him, Eddie places a hand on his knee and squeezes. Trails up higher. 

“I mean it,” he says. 

“Oh.” Steve looks at his hand, then up into his eyes. “Oh, okay.”

“Do you guys also pee on each other? It’s not my thing, but I’d consider it.”

The wolf’s face tells him everything he needs to know. His smile turns into a grin.

“It is?” he asks, incredulous. “Damn, now I’m really, really thinking about it.”

“Dude,” Steve whines, claws scratching at the porch wood. “You can’t just say shit like that. We’re not even…”

Eddie hums, thumb tracing the denim stretching over the wolf’s thigh.

“We could be. Would that be much different from what we’ve been doing?”

“Man, I hope so,” Steve chuckles. “More kissing and sex, for starters.”

“That definitely could be arranged.”

He leans with a smile. 

[ikeromantic]

Perfect Harmony

At 2nd place in my IkeVamp 1K Follower Celebration: Fluffy Le Comte. The resident hedonist nobleman, sweet and dry like a fine wine. Approx 3000 words of love and loneliness.

Le Comte knew he was falling in love. The way his pulse raced at the sight of her. His breath catching at the slightest touch. The flutter in his chest when she stood close. She made him feel in a way he had not for such a long time. Made him remember that this endless life of his had more in it than the shallow, brief encounters of his social circles. 

And yet, it was this that made him avoid her too. Filling his schedule. Pushing her away with his gentle, polite, but cool responses. Each time he looked at her and felt his heart leap, he was reminded too of the pain he would feel when she was gone. Already, he knew it would hurt to let her go. Back to her time, away from the mansion and out of his life. Allowing her close would only bring them both more sorrow in the end. Even if she stayed. Especially if she stayed.

He held this truth in his thoughts, reminding himself of it with the constancy of prayer. 

It was this line of thought that gripped him when she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? You look . . .” 

Le Comte smiled at her, pushing his dark thoughts to the back of his mind. “I was just considering how I might reward you for your kindness. It is such a weighty concern. I am not sure anything I do could properly show how much I appreciate you.”

She looked aside, her cheeks heating. “I haven’t done anything special. Just letting me stay here is enough. And you’ve done that and more. Half the time I feel like a princess instead of an unexpected guest.”

“You should feel like a princess.” He knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t help himself as he reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. Her skin smelled of the lotion she used, a slight scent of olives and lavender. Beneath that, the faint smell of just her. Sometimes he thought her scent was floral, the slight trace of a bloom in the air at spring time. Other days he thought it more like the welcoming smell of bakery kitchen. Hints of vanilla and sugar and spice. All comfort and sweetness. 

His lips brushed her wrist, and he allowed himself to enjoy the brief sensation of her skin against his mouth. The tantalizing feel of her pulse, racing as much as his was right then. Temptation. Resistance. For a moment, his gaze locked with hers and he knew from the way her eyes widened that she could see the heat and hunger in his eyes. He veiled the truth as he pulled back. Polite smile firmly in place.

“I . . . I appreciate you too.” Affection and hurt played across her expression before she managed to conceal them both. “I just wanted to ask if you had a preference for your afternoon tea. I was thinking with the season, maybe you would like jasmine or rose?”

“Jasmine. And your company, if you would give it?” He let her hand go with a reluctance he did not show. 

She nodded. “Of course.” 

When she left, his study felt more empty than it should have. “I’m an old fool,” he murmured. His scarred heart thudded in his chest, reminding him that love would bring pain, no matter the beauty of the bloom. 

A short while later, she returned with the tray in hand. Le Comte stood and helped her set it out. Their fingers brushed against each other as they both reached for the teapot, stilling for a heartbeat before they both drew back.

“Sorry! I thought-”

“No, no, I should apologize. But please allow me to pour.” Le Comte brushed his knuckle gently along her jaw. “Sit down, ma cherie.”

She sat, cupping her cheek where he’d touched her. She did not look at him as he filled their cups. The petals in the tisane floated to the top and then sank again, vivid against the pale porcelain. 

They sat together, quiet for several breaths. There were a thousand things le Comte could say. He knew how to draw a person out, or close them off. How to ease someone closer, or push them away with a subtle sting. But he could not find the words he wanted to say to her. What could encapsulate the torrent that poured hotly through his veins and churned in his chest? 

“I was thinking I would go to town this afternoon.” It was she that broke the silence finally, with courteous and proper conversation. “I need to pick up a few things in the market. Theo’s birthday is coming up and I wanted to make him something special.”

“Oh?” He sipped his tea. “What did you have in mind?”

Her smile shifted to one of genuine pleasure. “I found a recipe for a brown butter pancake. It’s supposed to be very sweet and very fluffy.”

“Theo will love it, I’m sure.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Perhaps I can accompany you?” The words left his mouth before he had a chance to consider them. 

Her eyes widened. “You want to get groceries with me? Aren’t you too busy?”

“I am never too busy for you.” Which was a lie and a truth. He’d begged off spending time with her or disappeared for days to see to his projects and acquaintances in Paris. His multitude of investments, estates, and schemes. Yet he would have rather been at her side each time, the importance of these events merely manufactured to keep the distance between them. And it would be wiser now to hold to that but . . .

“Abel . . .” She blinked and looked to the window. He did not miss the sudden dampness in the corners of her eyes. “I would- I would love that.”

He wanted to pull her into a hug and erase her sadness with a promise to never let go. He wanted it the way a man dying of thirst aches for cool water. Instead he took a sip of tea. Swallowed it. A breath. Then, “Excellent. We’ll make an event of it. There’s a shop I’ve been wanting to show you so this is a perfect excuse.”

“I really don’t need another dress, le Comte! I think I nearly have one for each day I’ve been here!” 

“Ah, so I’ve missed a few days then? We must rectify that.” His answer won him a crooked smile from her. “Truly though, I love being able to spoil you while you are here.”

She gave a soft laugh. “And I love being spoiled. I just feel a little guilty. Since. You know. I should have gone home already.”

Le Comte felt a sudden sharp coldness in his belly. Home. He’d almost let himself forget. “That is my fault as well, ma cherie. The door. I haven’t been able to fix it. So please, let us both enjoy spoiling you for now.” 

They left a short while later, taking a carriage to the city. The shops and markets were busy, full of people from all walks of life selling and buying all manner of items. It only took a little time to find what was needed for brown butter pancakes, and rather than carry the groceries around, le Comte arranged delivery to the mansion. 

“So, what is this shop you are so keen to show me?” She looked happier than she had at the mansion, he thought. As if being outside the gates brought them closer together. Perhaps it did. It was hard to remember to keep her at a safe distance when his arm was looped with hers and he could feel the brush of her hip against his as they walked.

He gave her a bright smile, anticipating her reaction. “The shop designs and makes clothing, of course. And shoes and handbags as well. But what makes them special is the fabric they use. You see it’s all im-”

She interrupted as the shop window came into view. “Oh my god! Le Comte! Those are from my country!” Her hand shook a little as she pointed at the display. A mannequin in a flowing dress of embroidered silk. The color and cherry blossom pattern were gorgeous, and shown to great effect by the cut and drape of the design. 

“Yes. They have items and fabrics from all over the world. I thought we might find something you liked here.” He felt a burst of warmth as she leaned into him, slipping her arm around his waist in a quick hug. Too quick by half, he thought, as she pulled back to the more polite grip on his forearm. 

“You are entirely too good to me.” 

“Truly, ma cherie, you deserve even more. Now let’s see what they have for us, hm?” He felt a deep ache in his chest at her bright smile. The way she was almost bouncing on her toes with excitement. He wanted to see her like this everyday. For the rest of his life. He wanted the impossible.

Inside, they were ushered to a private room to look at swaths and templates. Chilled white wine and a tray of delicacies were set out for their enjoyment. No less than three assistants were at their beck and call, running and fetching any item they thought le Comte and his companion might be interested in. 

“This shade is exquisite with your coloring,” one of the assistants told her, holding up a cloth sample dyed in sunset shades of gold that deepened to a crimson so dark it was nearly black. 

“Your lover would look stunning. And I have the perfect design in mind for her shape,” another commented to le Comte. 

The comment took her attention, and though she pretended disinterest, he could see how closely she listened for his response.

“My lover looks stunning in everything she wears. But I agree, those colors suit her.” Le Comte’s golden gaze met hers as he said it. He could not keep the yearning from his voice nor the heat. 

Her eyes held a reflection of that fire laced with the ache of his constant and gentle rejections. “We aren’t lovers,” she corrected the shop assistant. “Only friends. And he knows he shouldn’t tease me about it.” 

“I do, ma cherie. You have my apologies.”

The assistant spoke up. “It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have assumed!”

Le Comte gave her a kind look. “It’s only natural to assume I would take such a beautiful creature as my lover. You are not at fault.”

The other two spoke in a rush to fill the sudden awkwardness between le Comte and his companion. Complimenting her and rambling on about the design and fit. They were quite good at distraction and the moment passed. 

Soon enough, she was smiling brightly again, and laughing with the assistants as they escorted her off to fit her. Le Comte waved her goodbye and promised to wait right here for her return. One of the assistants stayed behind, ostensibly to show him some shoes that would compliment her chosen fabric.

“You know,” the assistant said, glancing up from the selection of shaped shoe samples, “they say it’s better to regret something you did, than something you didn’t do.”

“Hm?” Le Comte raised a brow. 

“Sure? I mean, if you never do anything, you miss out on a lot of beautiful moments. You get to dodge the sad ones too, probably, but you definitely lose the good stuff right along with it.” She grinned.

Before he could come up with a reply to this unexpected line of conversation, she gestured to a delicate, slightly heeled slipper. “This one, by the way. The color on the toe matches the lightest gold in the fabric. It will look perfect when it peeks past the hem. And they’re pretty comfortable.”

Le Comte nodded. “Yes, to the shoe.” He paused and took a breath, considering. “And the rest as well. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She packed the selection back up and hurried off, leaving him alone with his wine and his thoughts. Had he chosen to regret something he could not bring himself to do? After so many long and lonely years, so much self denial. Perhaps it was time to admit . . . 

She stumbled in as he was contemplating what that meant for him. For them. And wondering if he had been a fool again in creating this wall of courtesy between them. 

“Abel?” She took a step forward. “What do you think about this cut? I wanted to show you but it’s hard to walk in this thing when all the seams are pinned!” Her smile was vibrant. 

He took in the sight of her as if seeing the stars for the first time. The dress she wore was made of linen, thin as tissue. He could trace her form beneath it, from the curve of her shoulder to the flare of her hip, the length of her firm legs. Le Comte felt his mouth go dry with desire. 

“I love the way the skirt drapes and moves. Look,” she spun slowly, sending the cloth fluttering away from her legs. Her bare skin drew his eye like iron filings to a lodestone. A flash of calf, the back of her knee, the swell of her thigh. 

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice rasping on the word as if he had choked. Le Comte stood, unable to keep distant, unwilling to even try. He cleared his throat to try again. “Ma cherie, you take my breath away.”

She laughed shyly, hand covering her mouth. “You always say the nicest things.”

He caught her hand and drew it into his own. “Not always.”

Her smile caught on the jagged edge of his words and faltered. Afraid of what he would say next. What polite cruelty he would set between them to keep her affection at bay. She pulled her hand away, fingers curling into a fist at her side.

“I should, though. Always say only the nicest things.” He brushed a fingertip along the side of her face, relishing the way she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

But it didn’t last. She took a step back. “You said,” she swallowed, “we’re partners. Just for the dances. And dinners.” She smoothed her skirt, trying to force herself to relax and let the tension between them flow away. “We’re friends. That’s all we can be. Because I -”

“Am human. Yes.” He closed the space between them again, his eyes trying to catch hers.

“You will live forever and I will grow old and die. I know that. It’s just so hard to remember when you - when you look at me like that.” She finally lifted her head, defiance flaring in her. “I love you, Abel. Even if you can never really love me.”

Those words spoken into the air between them set his heart ablaze. He could not deny her any longer. The love he felt, foolish as it might be, tore through all of his defenses, burnt away all his caution. “Love is a powerful thing, ma cherie.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I’ve been trying to deny it. To smother it. To feel anything else for you than this - this stupid love. And I can’t. Love has been eating me alive for weeks. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t spend a single moment without thinking of you. About you.” She set her hand against his chest as if she might push him away or perhaps to pull him closer. “Please don’t hate me for feeling like this.”

Le Comte knelt at her feet, holding her gaze with his bright, golden eyes. “I could never hate you.” He took her hand and kissed the tip of her pinky finger, then the ring finger, and the middle. 

She made a soft sighing sound, and a tremor ran through her body. 

“Your love is not stupid.” He continued to her pointer finger and thumb, then pressed his lips to her palm. “Nor should you deny it.”

“But you said -”

“I have said many foolish things. I always think I know best.” He trailed kisses down the lines of her palm to her delicate wrist. “And yet, I am wrong so often.” Le Comte paused in the motion of his lips to look up at her. “I am sorry, ma cherie, that I did not realize sooner.” He paused, almost afraid to speak the words even as they battered at his throat and burned in his chest. “I love you.”

She looked for a moment as if she might fall. Swaying slightly, her eyes filling with tears even as a smile tugged at her lips. “Say it. Again. Please.”

“I love you.” 

Her knees did bend then and he helped her lower to the floor in front of him. He held her, cupping her face in one hand. She felt so fragile. So precious.

“I didn’t think I would ever hear you say those words. I thought I would leave through the door, holding to my smile by a thread. And spend my whole life hoping for a glimpse of you again.”

Le Comte gave a ragged laugh, so at odds with his normal composure. “And I thought I could let you. But we cannot squander this gift. So few people find the one they love, who loves them in equal measure. I want to enjoy life with you at my side, even if I cannot have you forever.” 

She leaned into his touch as if it were all that held her to this world. 

“Might I kiss you?” Le Comte leaned a little closer. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kiss you first,” she smiled. 

“Can’t have that. It would ruin my reputation.” 

She laughed softly, sending warm puff of breath against his cheek. “What reputation is that?”

Le Comte smiled, close enough now to feel the slight motion of her lips as she grinned back. “Don’t you know, ma cherie? I’m a hedonist, a seducer, a celebrant. If you kissed me first-”

Her lips caught his, all honeyed-heat and satin. 

He kissed her back with the pent-up passion he’d kept firmly chained for so very long. The loneliness of centuries, the sweetness of the last few weeks together. In his long years, it was the most passionate kiss - the most heartfelt. Le Comte lost himself in her touch and taste. The feel of her in his arms. He wanted to weep for every moment he’d resisted, and kept them apart. What use eternity if he denied himself this love? 

“I will never let you go, ma cherie.” 

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday!

Since the game canon Zyn x Astarion was voted, I worked on Dissonance and Debauchery for my writing time the last couple days! I still can't promise when it'll update, but I have made progress on the next chapter. So here's a bit from it, for all of you that voted!

Astarion x Tav (drow bard), tiefling party night post-coital cuddling negotiations. 1900ish words.

Languidly Zyn accepted the kiss that was being pressed on her, lips swollen and lax.

Astarion stroked a finger from under her lip to down the line of her throat, with just the edge of a nail dragging.  It felt nice.  Grounding.

“There we are.  See?  Much better when you’re properly rested and sober.”

Zyn gave an impish little smirk, but couldn’t quite maintain the energy for it.  The smirk went gooey.  Loose.  “And when you’re not in danger of killing me?”

With a long, self-satisfied sigh, Astarion abruptly sat up, pulling out of her line of vision.  Turning her head to the side, she watched as he straightened, arms stretching languidly over his head, fingers spread.  With a slow exhale he collapsed, arms falling to the bedroll.  He tilted his head to the side, hair spilling across his forehead, and their eyes met again.

“You can go now,” she offered lazily.

Instantly his posture stiffened, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he snapped waspishly, “I’m sorry, are you kicking me out of your tent?”

What?

“No, I’m saying that if you want to go, you can go,” she replied, grabbing the discarded pillow from above the bedroll and dragging it back under her head.  Gods, her hair was going to be a mess.  Hmm, chopping.  “I’m not going to try and get you to stay this time.  You obviously have no interest in it.”

His lips pursed, thinned, and then twisted to the side before he rolled his eyes to the side.  “Stop assuming things about me, it’s irritating.  You’re not as all-knowing as you think you are.”

“Mmh,” she replied dismissively.  He just didn’t like that she was right, that was all.  Maybe up to the shoulders?  Higher?  Oh, she could be bald.  Hmm…

His voice turned ingratiating, which drew her attention back instantly.  The actual words, however, were displeasing.  “Pet, stop pouting.”

Why would she– “I’m not pouting, and you’re ruining the mood.”

“You ruined the mood when you told me to get out,” he retorted, voice a little sharp as he dropped the facade, obviously annoyed by her refusal to play along again.

Ugh, was he serious?  Why did he keep acting as if her drawing boundaries was her having a snit?  If he didn’t cuddle, fine.  That made them incompatible.  “I didn’t say you should get out, I said you could if you liked.”

His hands slapped down on his bare thighs, noisily.  Shifting back, his scarlet gaze bored into her, chin lifting so he could assert his superior position by sticking his nose in the air.  “Well, I want to stay!  What about that?”

Zyn’s cheeks puffed out as she blew them out.  “Then stay?  I’m not going to tell you what to do, you’re a grown man.”  Part of her really didn’t want to say anything, but another part of her was tired of how confusing he was.  “Sometimes you make absolutely no sense to me.”

“Oh, you never make any sense to me,” Astarion replied, chuckling grudgingly when it made her laugh, slow and drowsy.  “What is it that you want?”

Zynatheri gave him a look of sheer disbelief.  “I have been completely upfront about what I want.  What do you mean what do I want?”  Was he really being this obtuse?

His lips curved into a very ill-timed seductive smile.  “Well, darling, if you’re not satisfied…”

“Ugh, you’re doing that again,” she sighed, regally waving a dismissive hand, forcing him to lean back.  Gods, did he have no artistry in his sou– oh, right, no soul.  “Sex is not just the thrusting bits.  Don’t you enjoy the comfort of just…being around another person?  Listening to a heartbeat?  Feeling the warmth of a body?  Brushing someone’s hair, being massaged, counting freckles?  Listening to stories?  Just enjoying learning about a person.”

“I…no,”  Astarion replied, voice surprisingly subdued for a split second.  And then it took on a humorous edge.  “Maybe I’m just not much of a cuddler.  What’s wrong with that?”

“And I’m not used to sleeping with the same person twice,” she retorted, a little sourly.  How dare he only take, and not give.  That sealed it; if he didn’t cuddle, she was done with him.    “This is new for both of us.  I am reluctantly forced to admit that…”  The earlier incorporeal god botherer had really driven it home.  “This little adventure is unprecedented in my almost two hundred years of life.  I think you feel the same.  So why can’t we both try something new?”

“Not the worst argument.  But still…”  Astarion gave her a sidelong look, the charmingly tousled state of his hair giving him a rakish air.  “Your obsession with pillow talk is bad enough.  If I let you cuddle me, I’ll never be free of you.”

Aah.

He wanted to be convinced.

“Trust me, my sweet viper,” she reached up and caressed his chin, a playful little beckon.  “I’m not going to be catching feelings.”  And he couldn’t, which she had to remember.  Vampire.  He was undead, he didn’t feel things like other people.

Astarion was safe.

Which was why his next words didn’t bother her.  “That sounds like a challenge.”

“I know you’re at least considering giving me what I want– I can see it on your face,” she said, smirking when he rolled his eyes and glanced away.  She rolled onto her back, stretching languidly.  “Mhmm.  Darling, this isn’t a case of me lacking interest in you.  I find you very entertaining.  But I don’t like sleeping with the same person twice in the first place, and especially not when I don’t get any cuddling out of it.  I’m already compromising by not pretending you don’t exist the next morning.”

It broke him, a twitch of a smile touching his lips despite his efforts to keep it back.  When her grin widened, wickedly, he reached down and pinched the end of her nose.  “You do realize how insane you sound, don’t you?”

Jerking her chin up, Zyn snapped at his hand.  Pulling it back abruptly, dramatically, Astarion gave her a wide-eyed look of horrified shock. And then he smacked her cheek, very lightly.  Much like he spanked her, it was a little too hard to be a pat, but she’d be exaggerating to call it a slap.

It pleased and amused her that he never treated her as fragile.

Flashing him a wink, she didn’t deny the accusations.  “Well, always!  It’s part of my charm.  It’s up to you if it’s worth it to you or not– I must emphasize, I’ll hold no ill will at all.  I’ll think fondly of you.  Write a few dirty songs about you.  In fact…”

She rolled over onto her side in search of her lute, only to be grabbed and yanked back over.  

“Get back here!”

She blinked, sprawled out underneath him as he released her upper arm.  He gave a small ‘ugh’ of frustration, tilting his head back, the heel of his hand pressing into his forehead.  How dramatic.  It made him look extremely pretty, though.

That didn’t mean she missed the lascivious little peek at her bouncing tits, though.

The words ‘don’t touch me’ had yet to make an appearance, in that fretful, almost reflexively irritated voice.  She imagined he said it a lot.  Not wanting to follow that thought any deeper, though, she set it aside and focused on her reaction when she poked him testingly in the thigh.

Had he put his shield back up yet?

It seemed not, because he just sighed like a diva, raking his hair back and away from his face.  She took advantage and threw her arm across his waist, curling up against the side of his thigh and arse.  Astarion tilted his head slightly to stare down at her, ruby eye glinting faintly in the hints of light that pierced the cracks in the tent.  She wrinkled her nose at him.

“You’ll do it regardless,” he told her imperiously, like the brat he was.

“Do what?”

“Write songs about me.  There’s no point hiding it– I make a perfect muse.” His voice lowered to a beckoning purr.  “Don’t I?”

She smiled, unabashedly smug.  Oh.  Did this mean she was winning?  “Mmh, I suppose.  So you’re…compromising?”

He tapped her nose again.  “Just for now, my little fox.  To…keep my options open.  I haven’t decided if I’m done with you or not yet, and I’d rather be the one to decide if we’re done or not.”

Zynatheri giggled, full of mockery.  “Oh really?  Is that how this works?  You know, I never asked.  Why ‘fox’?”

He leaned over her, a hand planting next to her shoulder as he twisted to stare her down from a closer vantage.  She made a small contented noise as he sprawled on top of her, enjoying the triumph maybe a little bit more than his presence.  But they were both enjoyed.

“Because…darling, you are a smug little trickster who thinks she is the cleverest creature to ever grace this plane.”

Oh, well, when he put it like that…

Zyn nodded slowly in acknowledgement.  He was right.  Very well, she could add that into her mishmash of identities somewhere.  “Mmh, I see it.”

“Just as you call me ‘viper’ due to my deadliness, grace, and–”  Astarion glared down at her as her smug smirk widened.  “Oh no.”

How dare he leave himself vulnerable for such an attack?  If Zyn didn’t take the opportunity, it’d be a waste.  “Because you have fangs and you’re cute,” she told him quite seriously.

His expression soured, instantly.  “I hate you.”

“I have a book you haven’t read, and a very comfortable lap.”  she didn’t bother to hide the luring little purr in her voice.

“Mmh.”  Astarion wrinkled his nose.  Pushing up onto his forearms, he scooted further down.  Before she could ask what the Hells he was doing, he collapsed, face-first, into her chest.  It did hurt, slightly, but men could be like that about tits.

“Just because they’re soft doesn’t mean they’re invincible,” she groaned in annoyance as he burrowed in.  Irritated, she gently swatted the back of his head.  “What are you doing?  Awful bloodsucker.”

Much to her great relief, he pushed up on his hands, smirking down at her.  “Bloodsucker?  Was that an invitation, my little fox?”

“Don’t you dare bite my tits,” she scolded, lifting a finger in front of his nose.

“Mmh,” his eyes left hers, raking down her body.  “I do love forbidden fruit,” he purred.

“Decide, you absolute stray tom.  In or out?” she sighed, quite over his waffling– even if it was playful now.  Instinct had her snapping, before his mouth had a chance to do anything but open, “do not say something sexual.”

Astarion pouted, jaw tight as his mouth closed.  Reaching up, he intercepted her hand as it reached for his cheek, flinging it away lightly.  Before she could protest, he rolled off of her and sat up again, lifting a hand reflexively to fix his hair.

“I was promised a book and a lap, I believe.”

Zyn smiled delightedly as she sat up, endlessly amused by the snobbish facade.  It made him so fun to play with.  Addictive, the desire to poke and prod, tease, annoy, anger, seduce…but no.  No.  She’d just won, she should be gracious.

Let him be the Lordling tonight.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Alright girls, I got a request a bit ago for some Katniss / Mrs. Everdeen content and as I’ve never written their relationship before I wasn’t sure if I liked it at first! But I’ve finally gotten around to actually editing it so I hope it’s good and it feels in character and y’all like it! I don’t know if I’ll write a oneshot focused on their relationship again but this was actually pretty fun! I hope y’all who read it have a blessed day and enjoy yourselves 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

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summary : katniss and her mother bond a few days after she comes home from the games. set between the hunger games and catching fire 💕.

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I’m never getting used to nightmares.

It’s been two days since the cameras left and I’ve found little relief in their absence. For some reason I assumed once they were gone, the terrors would follow behind them, chasing after the shiny lenses and bright lights, all the way back to the Capitol.

But as it turns out, that couldn’t be further from reality.

Instead the lack of limelight has led to an uptick in nightmare. Not all equal in vigor but all too severe to be properly described by the word dreams.

Sometimes it’s Thresh, chasing me in the woods. Other times Cato tosses me off the Cornucopia to be eaten by the mutts. Occasionally I see Glimmer actually make it up the tree without the branches breaking beneath her feet, grabbing me by the braid and yanking me to the ground where the entire Career pack closes in on me like a pack of wild dogs.

Today though, it’s Clove dangling her knife above my head, taunting me, drawing out the kill. I can’t make out her words, the pulsating in my ears far too loud to understand just about anything, but she says something and then cracks up laughing, as if she’s the funniest person in the whole entire world, ecstatic to be the one to kill the girl on fire.

The dream ends when she plunges the knife into my heart. I don’t actually feel anything but it shocks me awake all the same.

It shocks me awake with such a start that it takes a moment to gather my bearings. It takes a moment to realize I’m alive and safe, in my new house, in District Twelve.

In Victor’s Village, to be exact.

The new home that I was gifted over a week ago, already ready to go with furniture and all, as a reward for my efforts in the games.

If I’m being honest, I feel like it’s taking just as much effort to battle these nightmares as it took to survive the arena.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration but it feels true. For the last couple of weeks I’ve been fighting almost every second of the day to come to terms with what occurred in the games.

To come to terms with all the things I did. All the things I did, with the sole purpose of surviving. All the people I hurt — all the people I killed, directly or indirectly — in effort to stay alive and come home to my mother and sister.

Every choices I made to save my own life has been playing on repeat inside my head every waking second since I woke up in the hospital in the Capitol and I feel like it’s finally going to drive me insane. It’s finally going to push me over the edge, right here, right now, in my new luxurious bedroom with my mother and sister none the wiser.

Of course, the nightmares have been a nice break from thinking of the one choice I made to save someone else’s life.

The one choice that may have disastrous consequences. The one choice I likely will never be able to escape.

Thinking about Peeta and the berries and the arena in those final moments and Cato’s mutilated body as the mutts gnawed away at him — and the look of heartbreak etched across blue eyes — does absolutely nothing to help my current state of mind and everything to exacerbate it.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until my mother’s voice sounds on the other side of the door.

“Katniss?” She calls lightly and I make an immediate effort to wipe my face and keep my voice even.

“I’m fine!” I swallow, hard, choking down the tears still fighting to come out. “Sorry, I just had a bad dream. Go back to bed.”

But she’s already opening the door before I’m even finished speaking. And I suppose I look even worse than I feel. “I know,” she says softly, looking at me with a compassion I would have rejected a couple months ago. “I heard you from down the hall.”

On the ride back to Twelve, between breaking Peeta’s heart and worrying about what President Snow may do to me or my family, I made a serious promise to myself that I would try and make things right between me and my mother.

I know she didn’t choose to be locked away in some far away, dark world after my father’s death. And I know she wishes she could take it all back.

And I know that I could have died in the games. The idea of leaving this world with my relationship with my mother still fractured and tense almost makes me cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” I say now, forcing myself to smile in a way that I hope is reassuring but am aware enough to know it probably looks pitiful at best. My tears refuse to stop and until then, none of my placating will have an effect. “I’ll be fine. Why don’t you start breakfast and I’ll be down in a moment.”

My mother nods, letting me take all initiative in our relationship. Just as she’s done for the last four years.

She turns as if to leave, as if to give me the space I’m so clearly wanting. The space I have all but verbally asked for.

But instead, as if making a split second decision, she surprises me. She spins around and makes a sudden beeline in my direction.

Both her arms wrap around me, holding me protectively, as if she could even begin to keep me safe from the horrors playing inside my head. Still though, her embrace isn’t the most startling thing.

It’s the fact that I instinctively return it.

I hugged her on the train platform in front of the cameras when arriving back in Twelve and I hugged her again yesterday at some point but this is the first time since I was eleven — since I was a child — that I readily accept her embrace. That I go as far as returning it.

That I willingly dive into her arms, just like I would have years ago, letting her comfort me instead of getting angry and defensive and mean.

It takes a moment for her to get over her evident shock, obviously not anticipating that I would even allow her to hold me, let alone clinging onto her like a needy kitten. But when she does, she sits down on the edge of my bed and pulls me into her arms, stroking my hair and rubbing my back in soft circles.

“It’s okay,” she whispers when my cries grow louder. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now.”

I’m not your baby, I’d shouted at her years ago. I was so angry with her. I was so angry and so righteous and for what? For something she couldn’t control and couldn’t take back? For something she clearly needed help to manage?

I thought I knew everything when I was twelve. I thought I was the strongest person on earth.

Not now apparently, I think to myself as I wail into my mother’s neck, almost surprised that I still fit in her arms after all this time.

I don’t know how long I stay against her, letting her smooth back my sweat soaked hair and breathing in the scent of lavender I didn’t even know I missed while in the Capitol. It’s got to be close to an hour before my sobs die down and even then they threaten to start back up again.

“You’re home and safe,” she promises gently, rubbing my back again. “You will never go back to the games for as long as you live. You’re never going to see another arena. You’re going to live a long life here in Twelve.” Her voice is light and soft, almost like a hum. The way she speaks to Prim after a nightmare. The way she used to speak to me before my father died.

“Where’s Prim?” I croak, becoming more and more aware of how disgusting I feel. The nightmare left me covered in perspiration and I would feel sorry for my mother having to be so close to me if it wasn’t for the fact that she deals with much worse on a daily basis as a healer.

“At school,” she says, pulling back a little to wipe my leftover tears with her thumb. “You slept in late today.”

Right. Prim is starting school again now. It’s almost autumn. Gale is working in the mines six days a week. My mother is beginning to treat people for colds and croup again.

And I have to now decide how to spend my days as a happy little victor.

I suppose today isn’t the day to make that decision though. My head hurts from all the crying and my body feels weak with exhaustion despite the fact that I just woke up.

Before really thinking about it, I lean my head against my mother’s shoulder again, already seeing Clove with her knives reappear as soon as I shut my eyes.

“Are you hungry?” My mother asks, leaning down kissing my hair as she folds me back into her arms. I can tell she’s almost overjoyed that I’m allowing her to console me.

Almost. Because there’s no way she would have ever wished for this to be the reason I let her back in.

“No.” I shake my head, my stomach turning at the mere thought of eating right now.

“Then why don’t we get you cleaned up? Hmm?” She waits for my nod before standing up and taking my hand.

I let her lead me into our new bathroom, where the sinks are white and porcelain and the toilet feels too expensive to use. And the giant tub in the middle of the room makes the bucket we used to use in the Seam feel like a foot bath.

I watch as she moves the knobs around, already having gotten the hang of the appliance, and adds soothing, sweet smelling oils into the water.

Once the tub is halfway full she helps me undress and tosses my damp pajamas into a laundry basket by the door.

I sink to the bottom of the bath, feeling the blazing hot water relax my sore, achy muscles and encase me like a wool blanket in wintertime.

My mother lets me soak for a moment before kneeling down to the right of the tub and getting to work. She washes me up with rose scented soaps and cleans my hair with something that foams when you rub it between your hands and reminds me distantly of Effie Trinket.

“You’d be a good hair washer if we lived in the Capitol,” I murmur as she scrubs my scalp lightly with her fingernails.

She snorts and tips my chin up to rinse my locks. “In another life, I suppose.”

After double conditioning she expertly rings my hair out and then pulls the drain. I sit in the tub until it’s completely empty, having never actually seen huge swirls of water rushing down a drain before. It’s so fascinating that for a moment I consider refilling the tub just to pull the drain all over again.

Afterwards I sit on my bed silently, feeling worn and depleted, wrapped in a towel while she combs out the tangles from my hair, before pulling it into a simple braid.

“Mama,” I whisper as she grabs a silk shirt from my dresser.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so tired.”

My words are plain but the meaning behind them is loaded and she intrinsically understands my true intent.

I’m so tired. It’s only been two days since it all officially ended and I feel exhausted. I feel like I haven’t slept in a hundred years. I feel like I’ll never sleep again. I feel so much older than sixteen and at the same time so much younger and I don’t understand and you can’t understand but I just want to sleep. I just want to go to bed and actually sleep through the night without the panic and the fear.

Wordlessly, she turns back to the dresser and pulls out a nightgown instead. “Then you should go back to sleep,” she says simply, pulling away the towel and tugging the nightgown over my head, rightening my braid and moving back the covers to my bed.

And I crawl between sheets without hesitation and let her tuck me in, let her care for me, let her mother me again, in a way I’ve rejected for so long now. I lay there and let her rub my back, comforting me the same way she does when I’m too sick to push her away.

I’m almost asleep when she leans down and kisses me goodnight. “I love you, Katniss Sienna,” she whispers, standing to pull the blankets up to my chin. “I love you. And I’m so happy that my baby’s home safe.”

“Goodnight,” I mumble into the covers as she starts closing the door behind her. “Thank you,” I add as sleep grabs ahold of me again, but I doubt she catches it. “Thank you, Mama.”

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