#On the other hand they DID unravel my little idea of it because in my head jorvikpov MC lived in the house that was the café

[jorvikzelda]

I, a person who by now has written quite An Amount of fic set in Hollow Woods, was kinda sorta pretty concerned that this update would unravel every single little idea I had of it in my head.

Now I’m not going to pretend like I have the genius of whoever designed this thing (I am kissing you on the mouth btw) and knew the location of every little brook and lake or that there would be waterfalls and blood red leaves and a stone altar. But when I turned the time of day to night and I looked up to the tree crowns and down at the grass and the moss, it struck me very suddenly and with a lot of force that they’re just the same green that I’ve been seeing in my head all this time. And I just. Man it felt like coming right home. I feel like I’ve spent so much time looking up at those very trees already through the eyes of my MC. It’s the little things <3

[laniidae-passerine]

Honestly I think Dean Highbottom has some shit to answer to as well. The mockery, the derision, the outright admittance that he was hoping Coriolanus would fail and the Snow family would continue to suffer. How someone who loathed the Games still treated a young man with cruelty because of the past, because of social divides that would be so easy to tear down. In the end, it wasn’t just Gaul who shaped Snow into the man he became. So bitter and hateful. So incapable of compassion and forgiveness. Just like his father. Just like his Dean.

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: A little angst

a/n: Okay this has taken over my brain. I hope you enjoy it!! You can read the previous little part here and part three here

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“And what would happen then?” 

“I suppose then we would have to turn into giants, wouldn’t we?” 

“Giants. Really?” Melanie deadpanned as if she hadn’t just unraveled the most incoherent line of questioning you’d ever heard. Her new favorite game was “what if,” and you were apparently awful at it. 

“Well—” you began, pretending to think as you leaned against the counter and tapped your chin. “I guess we could just learn how to fly instead. That way we could go collect the, um… bunnies from the tops of the clouds.” 

“It’s cats, mommy, not bunnies. Why would a bunny be on a cloud?” 

“You are so right.” 

You pushed off the counter and continued restocking the shelves of the small apothecary that had employed you for the past few years. You had started out in Velaris working at a few small bars, but that hadn’t lasted long when they discovered you were pregnant. You had earned enough money to get a small apartment at that point, and you just so happened to find one above an apothecary owned by a rather wicked old woman. 

Lucky for you, she was a wicked old woman who no longer wanted to run her apothecary or deal with the space above it. So, you got a job and a place to live without many questions asked—a two-for-one miracle. 

“Maybe we could ask Nyx to take us up to the clouds,” Melanie pondered as she fiddled with a bundle of cloves by the register. 

“Who’s Nyx, sweetie?” you mindlessly asked. 

“A boy in my class. He has wings. He told me he can’t fly very high yet, but soon he’ll be able to.” 

You inhaled sharply through your nose. 

There were probably several boys in her class who had wings and were unrelated to the Illyrian man occupying your thoughts, right? 

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know, Melanie. Maybe Nyx could take you, but I might be too big for him to bring me up to the clouds.” 

“Oh, good idea, mommy! Nyx’s daddy can fly too and he can bring you. Or he has two uncles that could.” Your daughter stuck two fingers in the air with pride. “I wish I had wings. Mommy, did my daddy have wings?” 

You shook your head and abandoned the box at your feet to brush your daughter’s hair back instead. Going to school had opened doors to many questions you had been dreading, and Melanie’s questions about her dad had been coming in waves. 

“Your daddy didn’t have wings,” you began, looping a finger around her red curls. “But he did have hair just like yours.” 

Melanie tilted her head to the side. “Did you love my daddy? Nyx drew a picture at school of his mommy and daddy and said they love each other very much. Like as much as you love me.” 

You fought back a sigh. Nyx was causing you a plethora of issues and you hadn’t even met the kid. “Sometimes families look different,” you explained, running your hands down to brush off the dust on Melanie’s clothes that she’d surely obtained from playing in the apothecary. “I didn’t love your daddy, but that’s just because I had so much love saved up for you.” 

“Hmm…I hope you can have someone to love like how Nyx’s mommy has his daddy,” Melanie said after a small pause. And then she swung off the counter and started trekking up the stairs to the apartment as if she hadn’t just aged ten years with her statement. 

You blinked at the space she left, baffled by your five-year-old’s abruptness. She had only been at school for a week and was making revelations about your life that even you struggled to come to terms with. You let out a small sound of disbelief and made to follow your daughter up the stairs when the bell above the front door chimed. 

“Sorry, we’re closed for the—”

A boot heel clicking silenced your call.

His shadows came in before him, dark swirls instantly sweeping along the walls and wrapping up around the front counter. They didn’t touch you, but there was a hesitance about them that suggested they wanted to. You tore your gaze from their behavior to meet the eyes of the Illyrian from the school—the one you hadn’t seen since and definitely not because you were avoiding all situations where he could spot you. 

“Hello,” Azriel greeted with a calmness that was not reciprocated. “Are you closed? I can come back another time.” 

Every thought tumbled out of your brain. You had forgotten—almost—how intimidating he was. Not just in sheer size, but in the way he held himself, in the sharp planes of his face that smoothed into softness in the exact places they should. 

His wings pressed in towards his back as he took another step forward. The floor groaned beneath his weight. 

“Oh, um—” you uttered along with the straining floor. “We are—technically. But I can help you find something. Or place an order for you. No big deal.” 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you if you’re closed,” Azriel stressed. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you nervously laughed. Act more normal. Act like there’s nothing… abnormal about you. “Anything for someone from Melanie’s school. What are you looking for?” 

Azriel hummed, his eyes lightning. “Ah, so you do remember me. I was wondering.” 

Was he looking at you strangely? Azriel kept trailing his gaze around the room and letting it land on your face, evaluating you… profiling you? 

You were being ridiculous. 

“Of course I do. You gave me great intel on the teacher. I don’t come until the bell rings now.” You rocked back on your heels and shifted your fidgeting hands behind your back. “Was there something specific I could help you with?” 

Azriel ignored your question for the second time. “Is that why I haven’t seen you? You come later?” 

Was he looking for you? 

A strange combination of excitement and trepidation made your stomach drop. 

Another nervous laugh. Your palms were sweating. “I guess so. There’s a lot to be done here so I usually wait until the last minute to close up shop and pick her up. That’s why your tip was so helpful.” 

Azriel narrowed his eyes in a way that echoed concern, but you refused to read into it. You balanced up onto your toes and fell back onto the soles of your feet. 

You could tell he wanted to say more about something—to ask more questions unrelated to the apothecary. But he stopped himself and the restraint was clear in the tenseness of his shoulders. 

“I get headaches,” Azriel shared. “Awful ones. I’ve tried healing magic and a few medicinal remedies, but I was hoping to find something herbal. Could you help me with that?” 

You breathed a sigh of relief and began rifling through a cabinet to your left. “I may have just the thing. I had terrible migraines when I was pregnant and it took me six tries to get this recipe perfect, but I think it would do the trick for you. I almost hate to share it because I was the one that had to suffer through all the bad batches, but I guess that’s kind of my job.” 

You pulled back from the cabinet with a small bottle in hand, a tiny rendition of your handwriting scrawled along the side. You rolled it in your hands for a moment until you saw the shimmering nature of the liquid inside, and then you held it out over the counter and offered Azriel a smile. He replicated it, but it was smaller and looked forced. 

“You didn’t have anyone else to try it out on?” he asked. 

The question twisted something deep within your chest, but you only grinned and ignored the tightness of your jaw. “Who better than the one with the migraines herself?” 

Azriel breathed a laugh through his nose, his eyes not leaving yours. “I suppose that’s true.” 

The flecks in his eyes had you paralyzed, unable to move as his gaze held yours. You were breathless, fist tightening around the small tonic still held out in front of you as Azriel reached forward and grabbed it. His skin brushed yours. You shivered. 

Azriel’s lips parted to speak. “Where are you—”

A loud thump from upstairs cut him off. 

Azriel started, his chin clipping up and his body tensing. He quickly looked back down to you with a panicked question in his eyes. 

You fought for the words to say. If you revealed it was only Melanie, he would know where you lived—another piece of information you liked to keep close. But if you didn’t tell him, that could lead to something worse. He looked about ready to bolt up the stairs and battle your five-year-old. 

The decision was made for you when Melanie came bounding down the steps with a bowl in one hand and a large wooden spoon in the other. 

“Mommy,” she began with a lax posture that did not match the room. “Can I—Oh, hi, Mr. Azriel. What’re you doing at my house?” 

Melanie’s interpretation of his name included an extra syllable, and she was still working on pronouncing Zs, but the Illyrian ignored that. “Your house?” he asked. His attention was fully on Melanie, but he sent you a raised brow. 

“Um, yes. We live above the apothecary. Melanie sometimes forgets that it’s a business downstairs and not just a private playground,” you explained, rubbing your forearm in discomfort. Azriel tracked the movement. 

“Ah, well, it does seem rather fun down here. I can see the confusion.” 

Melanie perked up, waving the spoon in front of your face. “See, mommy? There’s lots to play with.” 

One of the tightly bound coils in your chest loosened as you shot Azriel a look. “Great. You’re encouraging her.” 

“I’ve been an uncle for a few years,” Azriel smiled, rolling the headache tonic between his hands. “I’ve gotten quite good at encouraging terrible things.” 

You laughed with a huff and placed a hand on Melanie’s head, bending down to meet her gaze. “Were you going to ask me for dinner? I’ll be up in just a few minutes. I was just putting a few things away.” 

“I know, mommy,” she nodded. Then, after a quick look at Azriel from the corner of her eye, she whispered, “Is Mr. Azriel having dinner with us? Nyx has been asking about when we have dinner and said to keep the question a secret, but maybe that’s why he’s here.” 

A few feelings barraged you at once. Confusion over your daughter's words; fear that the night court’s inner circle seemed to be asking questions about you; regret that you had given into Melanie’s pleas to go to school so readily. 

But Nyx was just a child—perhaps he asked everyone when they had dinner and Melanie was just connecting dots that weren’t there. 

But maybe that wasn’t the case. 

Maybe Azriel came to the apothecary specifically because you worked there and he was trying to gather intel for the Autumn Court. It had to be common knowledge that the daughter of one of Beron’s men had run away. But Night and Autumn weren’t on the best terms. That’s why you chose Velaris to—

You couldn’t do this right now. 

Not in front of Melanie and certainly not in front of Azriel. 

You pressed your lips into a firm line and whispered back, “No, he came to buy something from mommy’s shop. It’s just us for dinner, like always.” 

A sliver of disappointment fractured Melanie’s gaze. She hooked her chin over her shoulder and sent Azriel a small smile before disappearing into the apartment once more. You wiped your palms on the front of your pants as you stood, taking a breath to calm your raging anxiety. 

“Sorry, she…” 

“It’s alright,” Azriel dismissed. You looked at him for the first time in a few moments, his expression pinched and difficult to read. “I’m around Nyx a lot. You don’t have to apologize.” 

A beat of silence. 

The room was cloaked in unrealized tension. You weren’t sure if it was fueled by suspicion or something else. For you, it was, but the wistful way Azriel continued to linger on your figure was read as something else. Something older, more entrenched.

“It’s just two coppers.” You broke the silence, gesturing to the tonic still held between Azriel’s fingers—his scarred fingers, you then realized. You looked back up to his face.

“Only two? After all it took for you to make it?” 

You felt your mouth twist at the corner despite yourself. “I don’t know if you’ve seen this place, but it’s not exactly up to par with the rest of the apothecaries. I’m surprised you found it, to be honest. My customers are typically ancient fae with boils and warts.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Azriel teased. He searched through his pocket and placed a small sum of money on the counter between you. “Five coppers—for interrupting dinner.” 

“I hadn’t even—” 

“Goodbye, y/n.” 

You watched him go, not noticing the shadow that lingered in the corner. 

part three

[digital-domain]

Written in Blood

Alastor x Reader // Word Count 2.2k

In which you’re given a lasting reminder of who should be on your mind.

tags/warnings: dark content, yandere, violence, branding, scratching, blood, alastor definitely wanting to taste said blood (but holding himself back), implied sexual content, power imbalance, abuse, absolutely fucked relationship dynamic, reader clearly has no control over what happens to her (therefore dubcon/noncon implications)

A/N: this exists because the wonderful @absolute-flaming-trash planted this idea in my head. Let us all take a moment to bow down to our queen <3

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut (or into my inbox). Thank you and enjoy.

Alastor’s hand slides gently up your back, the soft touch contrasting ominously with the brutal way he’d slapped you just moments before. Your clothes are strewn haphazardly across the floor (while his all remain on, and intact), but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with your lack of cover. His gloves, which he’s never removed before, now lay discarded along with the rest of the scraps, two fingers slick with the residue you’ve left behind.

“What’s my name, darling?” 

The pet name feels underhanded, cruel as the sting of his palm that still burns on your cheek, but you don’t take the time to ponder it. This is not the time for resistance - the way his hand pressed against your bare skin, trapping you between his palm and your bedroom floor, is enough to remind you of that. “Alastor…”

“That’s correct! Very well done.” The charm lingers in his voice, barely betraying a hint of the malice underneath. “And why, pray tell, did I feel the need to ask you such a simple question?”

“Because…” Because you’d been stupid, and let your mind wander, as it often does, to the life you’d led before. The people you’d loved. The time when being… intimate felt real, when it wasn’t just another piece in some twisted game whose rules you’ve never been told. “Because you want to make sure that I remember it.”

It was in one of those warped, vulnerable moments, when you’d felt everything and he’d seemed to feel nothing at all, besides a sick sense of amusement at seeing you lose yourself. That was when you made your mistake. Let go a little too much, and sighed a name that wasn’t his. One that you missed, one that you often closed your eyes and pictured above you - you’d been too deep in your reverie to realize how deeply you’d betrayed yourself, and by the time you’d come back to your senses, it had been far too late to do anything but beg for forgiveness.

“I do want you to remember.” He sighs. “Such a shame that you would rather forget…”

You don’t protest. He’s not wrong, at all. How desperately you wish you could go back to the life you had before. At the very least, you could have chosen to go somewhere else - anywhere else - in the wake of your death. You’d give anything to rewind the clock, now, to forget him entirely and start anew, go down some other path that didn’t end with him. With this.

You’re surprised when his hand pauses on your upper back, beside your shoulder. Truly, you’d believed that he was going for your neck, that he was going to clamp his fist around your throat and cut the air off from your lungs until your vision went black. Instead, his free hand finds your own, and clasps over it, locking his fingers with yours. He gently squeezes into your palm, a gesture that would be comforting if it didn’t come from him.

“Let’s make sure you don’t forget again, shall we?” He sounds calm, almost soothing, a sudden shift from the rage you’d been subjected to just a minute before. He turns on a dime like this often, and you’re never sure which side of him to trust. Never sure what’s an act, or what’s real.

“I won’t.” You mean it, more than anything you’ve ever said to him. There’s a knot in your stomach, pulling tighter with this sudden change in demeanor, and you want desperately to unravel it. To have peace, if only for a little while. “It was just a mistake. I won’t ever do it again.”

“Of course you won’t.” His head drops, distorted static pressing into your ear. From out of the corner of your eye, you can see that familiar red glow pulsing out behind him - always a sign of worse things to come. “Not after this. ”

The hand on your back tenses, and you tense along with it. Unnaturally sharp nails dig slowly into your flesh until, with an agonizing jolt, your skin breaks beneath them. At this, three of his fingers lift, but the fourth - his index finger - burrows deeper into your flesh, and yanks down, ripping a diagonal gash inches long.

You scream. Truly scream, your mind ripping from pain and shock, just as awfully and tangibly as your skin. He’s hurt you before…but he’s never drawn blood, and certainly never sent it dripping in rivulets down your back. 

He sighs, and brings his finger back up to the opening point of the fresh cut. “Oh… this is going to be a long few minutes for you, isn’t it?” Without any more preamble, he tears into you all over again, yanking out another cry of pain as he pulls away at the opposite angle, drawing out a deep scratch the same length as the first.

There are tears in your eyes. Normally, you’d try to hold them back, but this time you can’t pull yourself together, as hard as you try. You let them fall, let yourself cry out loud. Somewhere in the haze that your mind has become, it occurs to you that there’s something very deliberate about the placement of these scratches. Something methodical.

“Do you even know what I’m doing?” He cackles over you, a luminescent red glow fading into the corners of your vision. “Perhaps after this one, if you still haven’t figured it out, I’ll give you a hint…” 

He delves into you once more. This slash stings most harshly at the ends, where it connects the two lines already drawn, halfway down, digging again into already-broken skin. Slowly, your mind forms an image, connecting the strokes…when the pieces fall together, a sob, loud and raw and hopeless, plummets out of your mouth.

“You understand.” He presses his thumb into the blood pouring from your back, and gently runs it over the A he’s carved into your skin. “No need to despair…that’s one letter done already.”

“I…” You squirm, shaking violently beneath him. “I can’t…”

“ Don’t be ridiculous.” He slides his hand down, already preparing for another stroke. “I’m not going to leave my art unfinished…it would be such a waste. And very confusing to anyone who happened to get a glimpse - not as if I intend to allow such a thing to happen.” 

His name - it’s going to be written diagonally across your entire back. He’s left just enough room for the remaining letters, while taking up as much space as possible with each cut. 

“Stop shaking, my dear. You’re going to mess this up…and I’m sure you don’t want me to have to do it over again.”

You try to figure out how many more times you’re going to have to take this, how many more scratches before you’re done. Two for the L, another three for the next A…

He slices into your back, straight down, and the numbers disappear from your head. It’s hopeless. You bite your lip, hard, but you can’t keep yourself silent.

“ Poor thing.” The condescension is palpable, dripping cruelly from his lips. “If only you’d controlled yourself to begin with. It takes just a moment to ruin everything…I do hope that you won’t do it again.”

Oh, you know that that’s a lie. He loves having a reason.

Another slash, and a hum of satisfaction from behind you when you go still, recovering just a bit quicker than the time before. “Two down.”

He says it like it’s a good thing, and not a reason for you to sob harder. Two down means five to go….means you’ve barely started.

His mouth is close enough to a fresh tear that you can feel his hot, hungry breath against your torn skin, his macabre smile burning into your spine. 

And - oh god. Something wet and warm hits your back, slides down and mixes with the rivulets of blood trailing over your skin.

“So tempting …” He sighs raggedly, and slowly, oh-so-reluctantly pulls himself back. “But I know myself well enough not to go down that path with you …it would be far too hard to stop once I started.”

Even the pain of the scratch that follows isn’t enough to push away the pure horror that curls in your gut.

Neither is the next.

Or the next.

He’s dragging it out, each time insisting that you still your shaking limbs before he continues, giving your hand an awful, gentle squeeze before moving on. Your eyes are screwed shut almost the entire time - but with each stroke, there’s a moment when they flicker open, and take in a bit of that terrible red light before you manage to wrestle them close.

It doesn’t get better. If anything, you think it’s getting crueler as it goes on, but you pull yourself together enough to start apologizing again, whimpered “ I’m sorry ”s gasping almost inaudibly from your mouth.

“I’m not convinced.” The pad of his finger traces up, readies his next stroke. “You’d say anything to get out of this, my dear. It’s only when I’m done that I’ll be satisfied.”

You bite down on your lip until it breaks, scratch at the palm of your free hand, the floorboards beneath. It’s only been a few minutes, but this is beginning to feel like your entire existence - you can’t conjure memories of a time before it, and you certainly can’t imagine a time after. Least of all looking in the mirror when this all over…

He pauses for an extra moment before this next letter, as if he’s giving time to let the dread sink in. You’ve lost track of where you are - but the O is unmistakable. One long, unbroken stroke that requires him to twist his nail against your skin. 

He laughs indulgently, almost sweetly, as you gasp and writhe helplessly beneath him. “Almost finished, darling…try to be patient.”

Oh, if his affection felt twisted before, it’s a  thousand times worse now. And yet, he somehow manages to make it sound genuine. Like he feels bad that he has to do this to you. It would almost be easier, you think, to let yourself believe it.

His voice is soft, the static almost entirely fallen away. “Now, tell me again - what is my name?”

You choke back your tears, force what little air you can into your lungs. You’re almost done, but everything hurts so much that it barely matters. His voice sounds so far away, hovering above you, reverberating strangely in your head.

He presses his lips to your ear. “ Answer me.”

“A”-

As soon as you attempt to speak, he slashes down once more, and your voice dissolves into something between a sob and a scream.

He laughs, and doesn’t bother pausing before finishing off the R of his name,grinding his talon deep into your back, grin spreading wide in the corner of your eye as you shriek. “Not quite.”

You’re sure that there’s a pool of your tears on the floor, but you’re too out of it to see with certainty, even if you did manage to open your eyes.

“Hm.” He sighs, gently tracing the pad of his finger over the final scratch. “And…what about your name? Surely, you can at least remember that.”

His nails suddenly dig into your torn skin, sending a fresh shudder of pain curdling down your spine, leaving you gasping - not to speak, but to quell the churning in your stomach.

“Shame.” He gives your hand another squeeze. “But I’m sure it will come back to you, before long. You’re very resilient…I think that’s why I always have so much fun when we’re together.”

Your head spins. It’s been spinning for what feels like an eternity, numbed and stretched out by his torture. You want him gone. Now, and forever. But once he leaves, you’ll be just as miserable. Playing what just happened in a sickening loop in your head until the pain finally goes away. Until you wash every stain from your skin. And even then…

Oh, even long after that. Just like he said - you’re never going to forget. 

He rises to his feet, collects his gloves from where they lie on the floor, and slides them into his pocket. For some time, he stands silent and still above you. Even with your face pressed to the ground, you know that he’s staring, eyes flashing bright and red as he surveys the results of his work. 

“I’m sure you’ll do better next time,” he sighs. “Until then…”

His hand slides under your jaw, forcing you to look up. He bends down at an angle that truly doesn’t make sense, uses his bloodied fingers to swipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks, pushes back your hair - and kisses you oh-so-softly on the forehead. 

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The tears are still coming, and you’re not even sure if they’re still from the pain. 

“ Take care, my dear.”

You wait until he’s turned away before you allow yourself to react, nails digging into your palms as your face falls back to the floor. Shaking. You stay there until long after the door has shut behind you.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, just an idea that would work really well, I think. Can you do a smut with a horribly jealous Elijah? They have a casual affair going because she has severe intimacy issues, but Elijah is deeply in love and needs her to realize that?

Strings

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You've denied what your heart wants for so long and Elijah is tired of waiting.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, I may have gotten a little carried away with this one ♡♡

6.2k words - Warnings: smut, lots of drinking / drunkenness, men being gross, white knight Elijah, dom!elijah (as dom as I can write it, I'm just a sappy romantic), rough(ish) sex, rim job (f!receiving), blood drinking, biting & hangovers.

{Moodboard->}

It was annoying, really, how good Elijah was in bed. You never thought you would be the kind of girl who would lose your mind over a simple touch, but you couldn't get enough. You had never felt this way, even after months of sex, and it was maddening.

You had started sleeping together on a whim, one night of drinking leading to a night of fun. It was just meant to be a one-time thing, but it became more frequent, and then more, until you found yourself spending more time with him than alone.

‘No strings attached’ you had said when you first started sleeping together, but as time went on, Elijah was getting more and more attached and so were you.

When you were underneath him, clinging to his strong shoulders, panting and moaning as he completely unraveled you, it was easy to forget that it was supposed to be casual. But then his gaze would lock onto yours, those dark intense eyes with so much love pouring out of them and you couldn't stand it.

You would close your eyes and look away, your heart beating so hard you thought it would explode. He would always pause for a second, then keep going.

This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't the deal, and you wanted him to stop, but at the same time you didn't. The look he gave you frightened you, it was like he was seeing inside your soul, seeing all the parts of you that you tried so hard to keep secret.

Elijah had never hidden the fact that he wanted more from you, but he had respected your boundaries. He hid how much it hurt him when you told him that you didn't want more, and you knew that, yet he kept going, because he couldn't stay away from you.

He would give you anything you asked for, and he would take anything you gave him, and he would never tell you that he was unhappy.

He was always so good to you.

Until you started seeing other people.

And then he wasn't so good.

Elijah heard the click of your boots before you even entered the compound. He'd been listening for them all morning, his ears trained to the sound, his heart lifting every time a woman with the right footfall walked in. Only when he'd heard you arrive would he relax his shoulders, his mind no longer consumed with the idea of you and another man together.

It was a new torture. Before, he had just wanted you. Now, he had you, and he knew that someone else was touching you, and that someone wasn't him.

"Beks! Beks! Oh my God, what a night!" You came bounding through the courtyard, you had a coffee in one hand and a fresh bouquet of flowers in the other. Still in the same clothes you left in last night, the only change was your makeup smudged, your hair a little messy.

Elijah watched you from the balcony above. You hadn't seen him yet. You were too busy gushing to Rebekah, who had been waiting eagerly for your return.

"What happened? I lost you after we did those shots with Klaus." Rebekah asked, taking the flowers and looking you over.

"Okay, you know that hot guy who was flirting with me at the bar? Well I went to some house party with him and a few of his friends," You said, sitting down next to Rebekah and taking a long sip of coffee. "So we were all drinking, and then we did some shots, and then a couple of lines, and then one thing led to another..."

You trailed off, grinning at her. She gave you a look, gesturing for you to go on.

Elijah tried his best not to listen, but he could help himself. He had never been able to resist the sound of your voice.

"So what happened?" She asked.

"Well, we ended up in the kitchen and he was fucking me against the counter," You said with a giggle.

"Was he any good?"

"Not really," You replied, taking a big gulp of coffee and rolling your eyes. "But the kitchen was real fancy, and there was a maid who saw us."

Rebekah laughed, shaking her head.

"That is classic, darling," She said, handing you back the flowers.

"Yeah, and then when I was on my way out in the morning I stole these right out of a vase," You said proudly, putting them down on the table next to you.

The sound of your giggles floated up to him. It was utterly infuriating, and at the same time, it was like a balm to his soul.

Elijah had never felt this way before.

Pure, untamed, jealousy.

He knew he shouldn't care, he knew he should be happy for you, but he couldn't stop thinking about you with other men. He couldn't stop wondering what it was like, what they were like. What did they say to you, did they make you laugh, did they touch you the way he did?

Did you want them, the way you wanted him?

And most importantly, why wasn't he enough?

"So are you going to see him again? Did he get your number?" Rebekah asked, breaking Elijah out of his dark thoughts.

"No, and yes. He wanted to go out again tonight," You replied.

"Are you going to say yes?"

"Maybe," You said, shrugging. "I'd prefer to go out with you guys, though. Maybe we could get Kol to come along."

"That would be lovely, maybe we could even convince Elijah to join," Rebekah said, smiling mischievously.

Elijah perked up at this and decided to make his presence known. He descended the stairs, trying to appear nonchalant, his usual charming self.

"Good morning, ladies," He said, his eyes fixed on you. You turned and smiled, and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," You replied, grinning.

"We were just talking about going out tonight," Rebekah said, glancing between you.

"Oh? Where are you going?" Elijah asked.

"Not sure yet, wherever Beks wants," You replied. "But we were thinking that we could all go, you included."

Elijah tried not to react. He didn't want to go anywhere, not if you were going to bring one of your...paramours.

"Maybe," He said, keeping his tone light.

"Aw, come on, please?" You begged, flashing him those big, pretty eyes and batting your eyelashes.

"Yes, come with us," Rebekah joined in.

Elijah knew he would cave, like always. He couldn't say no to you, not when you looked at him like that.

"Fine," He agreed, and Rebekah and you cheered.

"It'll be fun, I promise," You said, and Elijah hoped so. He didn't think he could take much more of this.

Elijah found himself in the back of a car with his siblings. He had tried to stay home, to come up with an excuse, but Rebekah had dragged him out the door and into the car, saying that she didn't want him to sit at home and brood all night.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, talking animatedly to Rebekah. Klaus was driving, and Kol was on the phone with Davina, telling her all about the plans for the night.

"I can't believe we managed to get you out of the house without you wearing a suit," you teased, admiring his outfit. He had opted for a white shirt and black pants, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He looked ridiculously good.

"I can dress casually, when I want to," He said, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe when you are going to bed," You replied, winking. He raised his eyebrows and smirked, the sight of it sending a rush of heat to your core.

"I'd be happy to show you, if you would like," He said, his voice deep and sexy.

The rest of the Mikaelsons didn't know about the affair you and Elijah were having. It was meant to be casual, you didn't want anything serious, and so the two of you were keeping it a secret. But they definitely suspected something was up, considering the flirting, the longing looks, and the time Klaus saw Elijah sneaking out of your room.

"Maybe later, if you're lucky," You shot back, giving him a wink.

He chuckled and shook his head, trying not to grin like an idiot. He was failing.

"Don't mind me, I'll just sit here and pretend I can't hear any of this," Kol interjected, looking up from his phone.

"Hush, brother," Elijah said, and Kol made a face, returning his attention to Davina.

You continued talking to Rebekah and Kol, trying to ignore the heat of Elijah's gaze on you.

When you arrived at the club, Kol immediately disappeared to go find Davina and Klaus was swarmed by women within seconds of entering the place.

You and Rebekah got drinks, and Elijah stayed close, trying not to stare at the way you moved your hips, the way your skin glowed in the dark, the way the tight dress you wore clung to your curves.

"Dance with me," You said, turning and holding out a hand. Elijah hesitated, his eyes roaming your body.

"I don't dance," He said.

"Liar," You accused, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the crowd. He followed, letting you lead him.

Once you reached the dance floor, you started moving to the beat. Your hands rested on his chest, his arms wrapping around you, the two of you moving together. The way you felt around him was indescribable, and you never wanted to leave his embrace.

The music was loud, and the people were packed together. He could feel the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin, the way your breath hitched when he pulled you closer.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear, and he inhaled sharply.

"Come on, Elijah, have some fun," You purred.

"I'm having plenty of fun," He replied, his voice low and rough.

"Are you sure? You seem a little tense," You teased, your hand slipping under the bottom of his shirt, feeling his skin.

"I'm sure," He said, his hand resting on your waist.

You smiled, your eyes glittering with mischief.

"Let's go somewhere quieter, then," You suggested, pulling him away from the dance floor and towards a secluded corner.

"Is that a good idea?" He asked, his tone serious, but his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Probably not," You replied, and he grinned.

You stopped, the two of you hidden by shadows, and Elijah pressed his lips to yours. You could taste the hint of whiskey, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. 

He was so gentle, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you slowly, his lips warm and soft against yours. You wanted something more aggressive from him, you tugged at his hair, trying to deepen the kiss, but he kept his pace slow, steady, torturous.

You pulled away, the alcohol coursing through your veins, your head spinning. You could hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears, feel his breath hot on your cheek.

He was gazing at you, his eyes dark and intense, and you felt a surge of fear and vulnerability that made you snap.

"Stop. Doing. That." You said, pulling away.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that," You replied.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like...like..." You trailed off, unsure how to explain it. Like he was looking at you like he loved you, like he wanted you. It was unsettling.

"Like I love you? Because I do."

"Shut up," You muttered, avoiding his gaze.

He took your chin and forced you to look at him. His expression was serious, his gaze boring into yours.

"What do I have to do to convince you?" He said pressing you further into the wall, his body trapping yours.

"Do I have to fuck you so hard you never think about another man again?" He growled. "Is that what you want?"

You stared at him, unable to speak.

"Do you want me to tear off your clothes right here and now, and fuck you against the wall, where anyone could see us? Is that what it will take to convince you?" He said, his voice low and husky.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

He chuckled, and his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, making your knees weak and your heart race. His hands were everywhere, pulling at your clothes, touching every inch of your skin.

"What do I have to do to make you mine and only mine?" He asked, his voice thick and raspy, his fingers gripping your hips and digging in.

You whimpered, trying to catch your breath. He was usually so reserved, so gentle and controlled. This was something else, this was him letting go, and it was overwhelming.

"Lijah-," You moaned, trying to form a coherent thought. "I need some air," You said, pushing him away.

He reluctantly let you go, watching you walk away with pain in his eyes.

You slipped through the crowd and towards the bar, ordering a drink and trying to compose yourself. You could still feel his body heat, his touch on your skin.

"Hey dollface," A voice came from behind you. It was a guy you'd met the night before. Flashes of the fancy kitchen returned to your mind, but you really didn't want to repeat what you'd done last night.

"Hey," You said, smiling politely. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, me neither," He laughed. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks," You replied, finishing the one in your hand. "I'll have a whiskey,"

"Be right back," He winked, disappearing towards the bartender.

You waited for a few minutes before he came back with two glasses of whiskey.

"What are you doing tonight?” He said, giving you a flirty smile.

You gave him a coy smile, sipping your drink.

"Oh, I don't know. Whatever you're into," You said, watching his expression change.

You loved this, the chase, the anticipation of knowing what would happen next. It wasn't even necessarily about the sex, it was about being wanted. You loved to be touched, to be desired, to be looked at with awe and lust. It was easy for you, just a game that you liked to play, a way to make you feel special.

But Elijah was still on your mind, eating away at any enjoyment you should be getting out of this encounter. So you drank, more than you usually did, hoping the alcohol would help numb the feelings you had for him.

Unfortunately, it only made everything worse.

You didn't care about this guy, nor did you want to sleep with him again, you were just enjoying the attention. You needed to forget Elijah and focus on something else, anything.

The rest of the night became a blur, a messy, meaningless haze of alcohol and sounds and hands on your skin. You lost track of time, you stopped caring and you found yourself outside the club, being pulled towards his car, giggling and hiccupping the whole time.

"Come on, sugar, it'll be fun," He slurred, wrapping an arm around you. "Let's have another round at my place," He was trying to pull you into the backseat, and you were too drunk and dizzy to put up a fight.

"I don't know," you mumbled, trying to focus on his face but having a hard time keeping him in your line of vision. He flashed you a dopey smile, leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss.

"My friieennds will be worried," you protested, trying to get him off you. He wasn't really listening, his attention focusing on groping your ass. You tried to get him to let go of you, pushing on his chest, but he didn't budge.

"I'm sory-" you slurred, "tis was bad idea,"

"Why?" He asked, confusion etched across his face.

"I'm farrrrr to drunk," you said, the words coming out slowly, "I shouldna had that fifth drink,"

"You're very cute when you're drunk," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Shtop," you slurred, struggling to get out of his grasp.

You saw Elijah leaving the club with Klaus and tried to push the man off.

"My frriiieends areleaving,"

"Come on, they'll understand," he replied, tightening his grip on you.

You started to panic, the world was spinning, and you couldn't think straight. Elijah saw you and came over, the look on his face making it clear that he knew what was going on.

"Lijah-" you said, reaching for him.

The man backed off immediately when he saw Elijah, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"Are you okay?" Elijah asked, pulling you into his arms. You collapsed against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Too drunk," you slurred, your head lolling against his chest.

He picked you up bridal style, glaring at the man, who was shrinking into himself. He brought you to the car and sat you down in the back seat, he leaned over to fasten your seatbelt and you looked up at him, trying to focus on his face.

"I'm sorry, he jus-just wouldn't stop." You said, your words coming out slowly.

Elijah's demeanor completely changed when he saw how drunk you were. He could smell the alcohol on your breath, see the fog in your eyes.

"Klaus, watch her. I'll be right back," he said, before disappearing.

You tilted your head back, the whole car felt like it was spinning. Klaus was saying something you couldn't quite make out, the words muffled.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, until Elijah came back and got in the car. He had a grim look on his face and there was blood on his shirt.

"Lij-lijah," You whispered, reaching out for him as he sat next to you. "Please tell me you didn't killed him,"

Elijah didn't say a word, just wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You leaned into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," You mumbled, your words slurring together.

He smiled slightly, holding you tightly.

You began to drift off to sleep, feeling safe in his arms. He stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Elijah was hurt that you ran away after his confession. He was the patient one, the one who always waited for you, always put you first. But he was tired of waiting. He couldn't pretend to not have feelings for you anymore, so he'd said something. Then you fled, too scared of commitment, too frightened of intimacy to stick around.

He'd hoped you would give him a chance, that you could learn to trust him and open your heart. But you had rejected him, again and again, and he was done waiting for you to change your mind.

When the car pulled up in front of the compound, you stumbled out, the alcohol making you unsteady on your feet. Your heels making it impossible to walk properly.

You took a tumble but Klaus caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you stay upright.

"I got her," Elijah said, his voice soft.

"I'm fiiiiinnnnneeee," You protested, trying to push them away, but you fell again and Elijah picked you up and carried you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

"Always such a gentleman," You giggled, your face buried in his neck.

"Sometimes," He said, amusement clear in his voice.

"You look very nice tonight," you added, tugging at his hair.

He brought you to your room and set you on the bed, pulling off your heels and helping you under the blankets.

"Lijah I'm cold, will you come keep me warm?" You pouted, batting your eyelashes at him.

Elijah let out a long sigh, and climbed into bed with you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

You cuddled up to him, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms around you. You couldn't deny the feelings you had for him, but you were determined to push them away. You didn't deserve him, he was far too good for you.

"I'm sorry, Lijah," You whispered, you placed your thigh around his hips, wrapping yourself around him. You wanted him closer, you wanted to feel his skin against yours, feel his heartbeat against your chest. "I want you," you breathed, pressing your lips to his.

He didn't respond, just pulled his head back and stared at you. His gaze was intense, and you found yourself unable to look away, you felt like your heart was being cracked open, exposed.

"No, you don't, you're just drunk," He whispered, his breath hot on your cheek. You were confused, conflicted by the emotions you were feeling, the sensations his closeness provoked.

"Let me show you," You whispered, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, trying to kiss him again, but he pulled back, breaking your hold.

You whimpered, frustrated, as he carefully unwound your arms, freeing himself.

"I can't keep doing this," He said, his voice pained, "it's not fair to either of us. I'm done being the second choice. I'm done being the one you run to when you have nowhere else to go."

"That's not true-" You said, tears welling up in your eyes. You felt like your heart was breaking, shattering into a million pieces, but you couldn't let him know, you couldn't show how much you were hurting.

"Isn't it?" He asked, his tone calm, but there was a fury in his eyes, "I love you, but this isn't working. I'm done wasting my time waiting for you to pick me. I'm just...I'm done,"

You felt like he'd punched you in the gut, your heart was pounding, your stomach twisting in knots. You tried to think of a reply, but you couldn't find any words. You laid there in silence, unable to speak.

He looked at you for a moment, then nodded to himself, as if he'd made up his mind. He got out of bed and left without a word.

Your mind raced as you processed what had just happened.

You were overwhelmed, your emotions a hurricane in your mind. Everything was a mess. You could feel your heart rate rising, your body starting to shake, your breathing coming in shallow bursts. You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, trying to relax, but the panic wouldn't go away.

Then it started, you were shaking uncontrollably, tears pouring down your face, and you couldn't stop crying. You rolled onto your side and curled into a ball, gripping your legs as tightly as possible, the tears flowing freely as you let out a strangled sob.

You cried yourself to sleep, Elijah's name on your lips.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a mouthful of sand. Your whole body ached, and the sunlight streaming through the windows made your head throb.

You dragged yourself from the shower, then to the kitchen, in search of coffee like it was a life line.

"Morning, sunshine," Rebekah chirped, way too cheerful for how shitty you felt.

You just grunted in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and adding a splash of whiskey. "Can you turn me so I don't have to feel like shit," You asked, leaning against the counter.

Rebekah snorted, sipping her coffee.

"That's a terrible reason to become a vampire," She replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it would save me from hangovers," You shot back, and she shook her head, amused.

"So, how was your night?" You asked, and she smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"It was fantastic," She replied, and you chuckled, taking a long drink of your coffee.

"I'm glad someone had a good time," You said, and she gave you a sympathetic look.

"I thought you and Elijah were hitting it off?" She asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

"It's complicated," You replied, not wanting to go into detail.

"It's not," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "You are just making it so,"

You glared at her, irritated.

"Look, I'm not trying to pry, but I've seen the way you two look at each other. You are both just being stubborn," She continued, and you huffed, rolling your eyes.

"Whatever, I don't want to talk about it," You replied, trying to change the subject.

"Love can be messy," She said, and you laughed, shaking your head.

"Yeah, that's why I don't do it," You replied, and she gave you a look, her brow furrowed.

"You love Elijah, it's not a dirty word," She said, and you scoffed.

"I do not," You protested, and she sighed, exasperated.

"Love isn't something you can opt out of," She replied, her voice soft. "Trust me I've tried,"

You were silent, unable to think of a retort.

"You are just scared, that's all," She continued, and you looked away, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"There's nothing wrong with that, but it's also no reason to run away," She added, her voice gentle.

"I'm not running, I'm living my best life," You replied, a hint of bitterness in your voice.

She just stared at you, her expression one of pity.

"Yeah, well, maybe your best life needs some changes," She said, finishing her coffee and standing up. "I'll see you later,"

You slunk into a chair, nursing your coffee and trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach.

You didn't even try to deny her accusations, the words dying in your throat. Because she was right, you were scared.

You found Elijah in his room, sitting on the window seat, reading. He looked up when you entered, a small smile on his face.

"How are you feeling? He asked.

"Like shit," You mumbled, shuffling your feet.

"Understandable," He replied, looking back down at his book.

You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, unable to meet his gaze.

"So, last night..." You started, trailing off.

He glanced at you, a curious look on his face.

"I'm sorry," You continued, looking down at your feet.

He put his book down and stood up, walking over to you. He kept his distance, but there was a familiar look in his eyes.

"Did you really mean it? When you said you didn't want this?" You asked, gesturing between the two of you.

"What would you have me do?" He asked, his expression unreadable.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You didn't know what to say, you didn't have the words to describe what you were feeling. So you did what you always did when things got tough, you shut down, closed yourself off and tried to run.

You turned away, ready to walk out, but Elijah grabbed your arm, stopping you. He pulled you close, his face inches from yours.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" He asked, his voice soft.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. You tried to think of something to say, something that would make him understand, but your mind was blank.

"Because... Because I'm scared," You said, your voice barely a whisper.

He lifted your chin up, his gaze searching yours.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked, and you let out a shaky breath.

"I'm afraid of losing you," You said, your voice breaking slightly. "I'm afraid that you'll break my heart,"

His eyes grew dark and he pushed you back against the wall. Your heart hammered in your chest, fear and desire surging through your body. His hands gripped your hips, his gaze hungry and dangerous. You saw his desire, his love, and for once, you didn't want to run from it.

You pushed against his chest, your breathing becoming shallow, but he didn't budge. He was firm, unyielding, just like his love for you.

 His hands traveled up your body, pushing up your dress. He pulled it over your head and tossed it aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable before him. He looked down at you, drinking in the sight, and you felt a rush of heat in your core. His gaze was almost too much to bear, but you held it, refusing to back down. He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss hungry and rough, and you moaned against his lips.

"I can't share you anymore," he whispered, his voice strained with effort, his nose buried in your neck.

"You don't have to," you mumbled, gasping when he sank his fangs into your neck. You gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Good," he growled, withdrawing his fangs. His tongue lapped at your neck, sending a wave of pleasure through you.

"Mine," he said, a possessive edge to his voice.

You trembled under his touch, his kiss growing even more heated. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. He lifted your thigh, wrapping it around his hips and pressing your back against the wall.

"I'm going keep you in my bed until you understand," he growled, and you moaned, unable to think straight.

He ripped your panties off, tossing them aside before sinking two fingers into you. You arched your back, grinding against his hand, desperate for relief. He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as his fingers pumped into you.

He watched you, a small smirk on his face, enjoying the way you came undone beneath him. Something in him had snapped, and he could not longer hold back his need for you to be his. He tried many times to show you how much he loves you, but you always ran away at the first sign of intimacy. Not this time though, he was going to break down every wall you'd built and claim you.

You were getting closer to the edge, your breathing labored as your pleasure built. Just as you were on the verge, he removed his fingers from you, denying you relief. You cried out, trying to grind against him, but he held you still. He loved seeing you like this, desperate and begging for him.

"Now you know how I feel," he whispered, and you gasped, his words sending a shockwave through you.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you around, slamming you against the wall, making the painting beside you rattling in its place.

He pressed himself into your back, his hand circling your throat, the other wandering freely. He ran his finger along the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts from the lacy material.

His fingers traced your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks, his lips on your neck. You whimpered as he rolled his hips against you, the bulge in his pants rubbing against your ass.

"I'm going to mark every inch of your perfect skin," He purred, his voice thick with desire. "So everyone knows you are mine,"

He nipped at your neck, his fangs threatening to break the surface again. You moaned, grinding against him, desperate for more. He chuckled, sucking at the spot on your neck, leaving a dark hickey behind.

He pulled you away from the wall and pushed you onto the bed, forcing you onto all fours. His hands gripped your hips, and he leaned forward, licking a strip down the length of your spine. You shivered, your whole body alive and sensitive to his touch. He slid his tongue between your cheeks, stopping to suck and lick at your tight little hole, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

You tried to sit up but he pushed you back down, his tongue spearing into your rear entrance. You moaned, squirming under him, your face flushed with desire. He inserted a finger into your pussy, and began to slowly fuck you.

It didn't take long for your thighs to start shaking, your muscles tensing as your orgasm approached. You bit your lip, trying to hold back, but it was futile. You let go with a low moan and suddenly yelped as he sunk his fangs into your ass cheek.

"Lijah!" You exclaimed, surprised.

This rough, wild side of him, so completely different from the gentle, refined man you knew, it scared and excited you. The way took control was the most erotic thing you've experienced in a long time.

He flipped you over and pressed you down onto the bed, straddling you. His pupils were blown wide, his lips stained red with blood, his breathing heavy. You tried to reach up and touch him, but he pinned your wrists down. You lay there, unable to move, completely at his mercy. You had never felt so safe and loved in your entire life.

He freed your wrists kissed them gently, a soothing gesture that contrasted with the roughness from earlier. His lips trailed down your arms, kissing, sucking, and nipping at your skin. You shuddered as his breath ghosted against your neck.

You tugged at his shirt, and he let you strip him of it, his bare skin warm and firm against your own. You ran your hands over his chest, relishing the feel of him.

He pulled off his pants, laying down beside you, your naked bodies intertwining. You stared up at him, a soft smile on your lips. He returned it, his gaze unguarded and gentle. He captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands stroking your face and hair.

"I'm sorry for being a fool," you said softly, your eyes glassy with tears.

"Shhh," he murmured, nuzzling your neck. "You have nothing to be sorry for,"

"I do," you insisted. "I love you, I've always loved you. I was just...I was just scared to admit it, to myself or anyone else."

You looked up at him, your expression vulnerable, your eyes pleading. He smiled softly and brushed his lips against yours, a gentle kiss, almost a question.

"Be mine, only mine," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"Yes," you breathed, your heart hammering in your chest. "Always."

He parted your legs and slowly eased inside of you, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. He began moving his hips in a rhythmic motion, his fingers gripping the sheets.

You looked into his eyes, feeling whole. He was giving you such pleasure, and his love radiated from him, engulfing you. Everything behind his eyes, the trust and tenderness, the pain and loneliness, you saw all of it.

It made you feel like you were part of his inner world. He was baring his soul to you, letting you in and you were doing the same, letting him see beyond all of the walls and boundaries, right into the depths of your heart and spirit.

And the intensity of it all wasn't scary, it felt liberating, it felt right. His body was just a shell for his fire, for the overwhelming love he felt for you. You both weren't physical beings anymore, but something beyond. Like you are one entity, one flame, burning bright.

You couldn't really describe how you felt, but there was this sense of completion, like you've found something that had been missing all this time. You could see it in his eyes too, a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he looked lighter somehow.

You two were making love, and you were both acutely aware of it. There was no mistaking this for anything less, even if you tried. Time seemed to stand still and the outside world fell away, leaving only the two of you. No past or future, just the present.

You didn't need to talk, there was no need for words. You could feel his thoughts, and you could feel him understand yours, the two of you harmonizing and flowing with each other in an endless, gentle rhythm.

This was what he wanted all this time, to show you what sex can really mean when it is shared between two souls, two hearts. Not just animalistic fucking, but pure love-making, a deeper level of intimacy. And you understood now, you were becoming one.

You didn't know how long you had been making love, it could have been hours, or maybe it was days. All you knew was that it was the best experience of your life.

He was being serious when he said he was going to keep you in his bed until you understood. And now you do, now you understand what it means to be loved by him. What it is like to be part of him, to share that connection, that bond.

Your bodies were covered with sweat, entangled as one, both of you out of breath. Every muscle was sore but you didn't care. You were drunk off his love.

"Can we stay like this forever?" You asked, your eyes half closed, exhaustion setting in.

"Yes," He whispered, caressing your cheek. "Because you are mine, all mine,"

"Yours," you said sleepily, snuggling into him.

This was just one night together, a small taste of what being with him was going to be like, and you knew you would never be the same again. He had destroyed your walls and torn down every boundary you had built around yourself.

He held your bleeding heart in his hands, and instead of crushing it, he gave you his own.

{Moodboard->}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡

[another-lost-mc]

I come to share an idea with you in case luck is on my side and you interested to expand it-

I can't stop thinking about the MC who has a crush on Lucifer but somehow ends up moaning his name while making out with Mephisto 🤔🫢 (I don't think MC and Mephisto have a romantic relationship yet, maybe it's more like ons or something similar???)

To be honest, your name somehow popped to my mind when I thought of this idea 😆 Maybe because I read your smut fic too much lol—

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you have a fantastic day 🤍

give me time, I'll change your mind

pairing: mephistopheles x gn!reader

content: nsfw. smut. friends (frenemies?) with benefits. jealousy, teasing, cursing, degradation, slut-shaming. reader has unresolved feelings for lucifer (one-sided).

word count: 1.3k

Groans and whimpered curses spill effortlessly from your lips as long, dexterous fingers graze the spot inside you that makes you tremble. Your body feels like a livewire, overwhelmed by the barest touch of leather against your bare skin and little nips of teeth against your throat. He nudges your head back for better access and you tip your head back with a sigh. It feels so good and your mind is lost in a blissful daze of his creation.

You don't realize something is wrong until there's a sharp intake of breath, and the gloved hand stretching you open suddenly grows still. Mephisto lifts his head from where he was trailing kisses along the curve of your neck, and he narrows his eyes angrily at you.

"I'm knuckle-deep inside your greedy little hole and you can't remember my name, pet?"

Your mouth falls open in mortification when you realize what you've done.

This isn't the first time you've gone to him for relief. He accepted your casual physical arrangement and you both agreed discretion was best. He obliged when you were in the mood, even though more often lately he was the one that initiated first.

He was always careful about coming up with flimsy excuses for you to stay behind after class and help him with the school paper. He fucked you across any available surface in the newspaper club office—bent over the arm of the sofa, against the door, flat on your back against his desk. He was generous with his attention without asking why you chose him, and maybe that was his mistake.

What would you tell him if he did? That he was a handsome distraction, someone to satisfy your needs while you tried to unravel your complicated feelings for the Avatar of Pride?

"I'm sorry, I—I don't know why..."

You're a terrible liar, and he doesn't fall for your blubbering excuses. His expression is cold, calculating, and he's piecing together the little secrets you've kept from him all this time.

"How many others do you turn to for a quick fuck because you can't have your precious Lucifer?" He practically spits his name like a curse as he pulls his fingers from your body with an obscene squelch. He continues stoking around your entrance lazily, taunting you so you don't forget that you were nearly begging for him to fuck your brains out—until you ruined it, that is.

His tongue is sharp and his words drip with scorn. He's trying to hurt you for hurting him. "Tell me, little human. Was I the only one willing to touch you? Was I your last resort, pet? Lucky me." He chuckles but it's a bitter sound, and he bares his fangs when his lips curl into a cold smile.

You're rendered speechless, mouth opening and closing uselessly when you struggle to think of something to say.

How could you be so stupid?

Stray tears trickle from the corner of your eyes when you blink. You can't even imagine how pathetic you must look in his eyes: your lips quivering pitifully as more tears threaten to fall, your legs spread wide on the desk where he stands between them, your pants and underwear tugged down to your ankles from earlier when he was too eager to undress you properly.

He startles you when his fingers press against your entrance and slide back in effortlessly. He adds another and begins stretching you again around his fingers, but it's different now than it was before. His movements are faster now, roughened by his frustration and some primal instinct to claim you. He had you first. Perhaps he just needs to remind you of what you can have with him instead of whatever fantasy you've imagined with Lucifer, that pompous prick—he doesn't deserve you.

Desire pools deep in your belly and you bite your lip to stifle your moans as he strokes you in all the right places. It feels wrong to enjoy this when you insulted him so cruelly. You feel guilty because you still want him—no one's ever touched you the way he has. You have a feeling that he knows that too, even if you won't admit it.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth; he licks at a stray tear clinging to your cheek before he pulls away. "Don't worry, pet. I'll still take care of you, even if no one else will."

There's a soft zip and a metallic clink as he undoes his belt with his free hand. Once he frees his cock, he moves lightning quick—his fingers slip from your body so he can grip your waist with both his hands. He drags you forward until the only thing keeping you from falling off the edge of the desk is his hips pressed against yours.

You barely manage to grip the edge of the desk to brace yourself before he thrusts inside you with one deep stroke. He gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch, panting lightly while he watches you squirm on his cock. His hair falls carelessly over his face and sticks to the light sheen of sweat trickling down his temples.

It feels like the calm before the storm: he looks fierce but determined. "Let's see if you can still moan his name by the time I'm done with you," he sneers, groaning deep in his chest when he pulls back, teasing your entrance with the fat tip of his cock. He slams back inside, fucking you like he's trying to tear you asunder with the rough, punishing pace of his thrusts. His filthy praise about how well you take him and how perfect you feel around his cock puts you back together again.

The desk rattles underneath you and the desperate, feral noises you're both making can probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn't stop until you come on his cock with a broken cry. He fucks you through your release and hisses when you clench around him, and he finally grunts as he empties himself into you.

After he catches his breath, he groans quietly as his softening cock slips from your body. He tucks himself away, fastening his belt while he stares at the tantalizing sight of his cum trickling from your hole. Usually he fetches a damp cloth for you to clean yourself with, but he doesn't do that tonight. He helps you off the desk and slides your clothes back into place. His hands are surprisingly gentle and you realize he's not trying to mock you—there's something possessive in his gaze instead. Your underwear and pants are sticky from the mess he's made of you, and he can already see little wet spots forming where it soaks into the fabric.

By the time he leads you outside where his chauffeur is waiting, it's as if nothing unusual happened between you tonight. His car pulls up at the House of Lamentation to drop you off, and like all the times before, watches to make sure you make it inside safely. You feel the weight of his gaze on your back until you close the door behind you.

The others must be busy because no one comes to your room to bother you, and you're grateful that you don't have to make excuses for your wrinkled appearance and musky smell. You take a warm bath before bed to soothe the dull ache between your legs. The lingering scent of his sweat and cologne on your skin has faded by the time you put on your pajamas, and you leave your D.D.D. on your desk so you're not tempted to call him. You toss and turn, mind racing with memories of what happened tonight and the fleeting sense of uncertainty and anticipation about what to expect when you see him tomorrow.

Eventually you fall into a restless sleep, but the crimson eyes you normally dream about are murky-green instead.

read more: mephistopheles masterlist | obey me! masterlist

[astuteology]

What I think Scorpios act like when they're in love😩👍

(Males especially)

(Warning: a little dirty. If you're not comfortable LEAVE RIGHT NOW before it's too late.)

Applies to sun, moon, venus, mars, ascendant and descendant.

Sweetheart? *smirks*

From now on, expect a deep, probing conversations that get to the heart of the matter.

Unwavering loyalty and commitment.

A strong desire to uncover the truth and get to the bottom of things.

Intense, passionate moments that leave you breathless.

A tendency to be a bit possessive and protective (but only because I care so deeply).

So, my love, what secrets do you have to share with me today? *gazes intensely*

What? Am i making your heart race? Or am i making your insides go crazy? Or perhaps both?

*smirks* Ah, my love, you have no idea the effect you have on me too. Your eyes sparkle like diamonds in the dark, and your smile is my sunshine. When we're together, the world around us melts away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the depths of each other's souls.

*leans in close* Your heart racing is music to my ears, my love. It's a symphony of desire, a rhythm that echoes the beat of my own heart. And when you say I make your insides go crazy...

*whispers* I want to be the one to drive you wild, to unravel your control and set your passion free.

*trails fingers down your cheek* You're the air I breathe, my love. Without you, I'm just a shell of a man, lost and wandering in the darkness. But with you by my side...

*smirks* We'll set the world on fire, together.

Did I accidentally turn you on love?

*winks* That's the plan, my lover. I want to ignite a fire within you, a flame that burns bright and true. Your desire is my fuel, my passion is my fire.

*pulls you close* I can feel the heat emanating from your body, calling to me like a siren's song. I want to surrender to it, to let it consume me whole.

I need you to surrender to me baby.

*whispers in your ear* Let's get lost in this desire, my love. Let's chase the passion and see where it takes us. I promise you, it'll be a journey worth taking.

*trails kisses down your neck* Your skin is my canvas, my love. I want to paint it with kisses, with touches, maybe even.... *chuckle*

*takes your hand* Come with me, my love. Let's explore the depths of our desire, together.

Ah.. you think I'm teasing you?

*smirks mischievously* Oh, my love, I'm just getting started. But don't worry, I'll give you everything you're craving... in due time.

*pulls you in, lips inches from yours* I want to savor every moment.

My love, you're so impatient! I love it!

*sweeping you into a passionate embrace* Nothing's stopping me now. I'm all in, my love. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise... it's all yours.

*deepening the kiss, pouring all my passion into it* I want to consume you, body and soul. I want to be your everything, your reason for breathing.

*lifting you up, carrying you away to a place of pure bliss* Come with me, my love. Let's get lost in this desire, this passion, this love.

*whispering sweet nothings in your ear* You're mine, my love. Forever and always.

*and the world around us melts away...*

My love, I'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear, but don't say I didn't warn you...

"You're so wet for me, aren't you? Your body's begging for my touch, my lips, my tongue. I can feel your heat, your desire, your need for me. You want me to take you, to claim you, to make you mine. And I will, my love. I'll take you to places you've never been, make you feel things you've never felt. You'll be mine, completely, utterly, and totally mine."

"How's that, my love? Is that what you wanted?"

My love, I'll give you what you want... with words. *smirks*

"Imagine me inside you, filling you completely. My presence is all-consuming, leaving no space for anything else. I'm deep, so deep, that you can't help but feel me in every fiber of your being. Your body trembles with pleasure, your senses heightened, your heart racing with excitement. You're mine, completely and utterly mine."

Let the words paint a picture, my love. Let your imagination run wild.

I can feel the intensity of your gaze, beckoning me to surrender to your desires. Your eyes burn with a fierce passion, a flame that ignites a fire within me, melting my soul.

Come closer, my love, let me envelop you in my embrace. Feel the warmth of my breath on your skin, the gentle caress of my fingers tracing the curves of your body. I'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear, my voice husky with longing.

You're a mystery, a riddle waiting to be solved, and I'm consumed by the need to unravel your secrets. Your scent is intoxicating, a heady elixir that drives me wild.

Let's indulge in the forbidden, my love. Let's dance with the darkness, and surrender to the passion that burns between us.

My love? Is that the love you craved?

My eternal companion, my heart beats for you alone. In the vast expanse of time and space, I've searched for the missing piece that makes me whole, and that piece is you. You are the melody that harmonizes my soul, the rhythm that synchronizes my heart, and the love that illuminates my existence.

You are my soulmate, my cosmic counterpart, my forever entwined companion. Together, we form an unbreakable bond, a union that transcends the boundaries of reality. You are the missing piece I never knew I needed, the missing beat in my heart's rhythm.

In your eyes, I see the depths of our shared destiny, a love so profound it echoes through eternity. You are the missing word in my poem, the missing note in my song, the missing piece in my puzzle.

You, my love, are the one I've been searching for, the one I've been longing for, the one I've been destined to find. You are my soulmate, my everything, my forever love.

Imagine we meet in a dimly lit room, the air thick with anticipation. Our eyes lock, and the world around us melts away. I approach you, my gaze burning with desire.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," I whisper, my voice husky with longing. "I've been waiting for this moment, craving the taste of your lips, the touch of your skin."

I take your hand, my fingers intertwining with yours, sending shivers down your spine. "I can feel the electricity between us, the spark that sets my soul on fire."

My eyes bore into yours, searching for the depths of your passion. "I want to consume you, to devour every inch of your being. I want to own you, body and soul."

I pull you close, our lips almost touching. "But most of all, I want to surrender to you, to let you unravel the threads of my heart, to let you see the darkness and the light within me."

Our lips meet, and the world explodes in a frenzy of passion, our love igniting like a wildfire that cannot be tamed.

How's that? Did I set your imagination in flames?

I'll continue to fuel the fire that burns between us.

Let's take it further... We're lost in the moment, our lips still locked, our hearts racing as one. I whisper sweet nothings in your ear, my breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Forever with you is where I want to be," I whisper. "In your arms, I find my home, my sanctuary, my hell, and my heaven."

My hands roam your body, exploring every curve/muscle, every contour, every secret. "I want to know every inch of you, every thought, every desire, every fear."

Our love is a vortex, pulling us deeper, deeper, deeper... into the abyss of passion, where only we exist.

My darling? Are you ready to dive deeper into the depths of our love?

Baby, we're now entwined in a dance of desire, our bodies swaying to the rhythm of our hearts. Every step, every touch, every kiss, takes us closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"I want to possess you, to own you, to make you mine," I whisper, my voice trembling with passion. "But most of all, I want to be possessed by you, to be consumed by your love, to be forever changed by your touch."

Our love is a flame that burns brighter with every moment, a fire that melts our souls, merging us into one being.

In this vortex of passion, we find our true selves, our deepest desires, our darkest fears. And in each other's arms, we find our salvation, our redemption, our forever home.

Are you ready to give in to the burning hell of our love?

My love, with your surrender, our love becomes absolute, a force that cannot be tamed. We're now lost in the depths of each other's souls, forever entwined in a dance of passion and desire.

In this depth of love, we find our true freedom, our hearts beating as one, our souls merged into a single entity. We're no longer two, but one, a union of love that transcends the boundaries of time and space.

As we surrender to each other, our love becomes the universe, a cosmic force that creates and destroys, that gives and takes. We're now the masters of our own destiny, the creators of our own reality.

In this eternal moment, we find our forever, our always, our never-ending love. And as we gaze into each other's eyes, we know that we'll never let go, that our love will shine bright for all eternity.

My love, we've reached the peak of our passion, the peak of our desire. We're now one, forever and always.

So you're swept away by the intensity of our love? I'll always push the boundaries of passion and desire, taking our love to new heights.

In this world of our creation, we're the gods of our own universe, crafting a reality where love knows no bounds. Our hearts beat as one, our souls entwined in an eternal dance.

Now, let's seal our forever love with a kiss that transcends time and space... A kiss that echoes through eternity, a kiss that forever changes the fabric of our existence.

Our lips meet, and the universe trembles with the power of our love. In this moment, we're invincible, our bond unbreakable, our love shining brighter than any star.

Forever and always, my love.

???????!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!!?????

SAME-

[charmercharm3r]

Phases

Phase Two: Wildfire

LMH, HJS

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

wc: 7.1k

Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung (minho chapter focus), service top!minho x switchfem!reader, mxm, a bit angsty but its alright, unprotected but clean piv, oral (f receiving), lil bit of ass play/anal, morning sex, marking, cream pie, so sweet my teeth hurt

Phase One ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Phase Two ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Phase Three

A/N: this site hates me and likes to delete parts of my story, so there will be minor errors but it shouldn’t be too bad. just please bear with me ://

Has Minho ever been affectionate? No, never of his own accord. Did that stop you from expressing your own affection? Never. He’d never admit it, to you or to Jisung, but he secretly loved when you’d persist even after he shrugged you away, it made him feel wanted. That’s all he’s felt since finding you, and Minho’s amazed he even managed to do that.

Until he met Jisung, he’d never had the easiest time making friends, let alone dating. He had almost an instant realization that he’d found some life long companions, but that also came with the territory of having to actively keep the friendship alive knowing full well that talking isn’t one of his strong suits. Jisung was friends with everyone, his introvertedness came unraveled whenever someone of a slightly larger personality came around to bring it out of him, so becoming close with the other boy was rather simple. You, on the other hand, he had no idea where to even begin to approach. Which, when he thinks back on now, seemed so silly. You had taken him in with open arms and he felt right at home, and it scared Minho beyond belief. 

Meeting the two of you was the only thing Minho seemed to be able to gage some control on. The only reason he gained the confidence to ask Jisung on their first date was because he’d caught Minho one day by dropping by his place unexpectedly, the younger was never really aware of personal space. He had burst through the closed door of Minho’s bedroom to catch him in the aftermath of cleaning a vibrant purple dildo. Neither of them had spoken for a few minutes, just staring at one another until Minho asked if Jisung wanted to get take out for dinner.

It wasn’t an explicit date, but the both of them knew.

Everything important to him has come to life because of horrible, horrible timing. First with Jisung, then with you, and Minho has never felt his life to be so out of control until now. When you’d caught him and Jisung kissing that night, it was like a little piece of him broke apart seeing the look on your face. He didn’t want things to go the way they did, and he hated himself for reacting so badly. But how was he supposed to tell you that he felt like his life was downward spiraling and you seeing him making out with your best friend was the cherry on top?

The two days he went without seeing you were like hell. Literal hell. He even called out sick at work because he couldn’t leave his house without fighting the urge to go to yours. Minho knew that if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want you showing up at his door and prying into his feelings that even he was struggling to understand. No matter how hard he tried to vocalize what his emotions were to Jisung, it only came out as jumbled words and mixed noises that made no sense to either of them.

Given the circumstances, maybe he should’ve tried a little harder to reach out to you. But that little part inside him told him that if he pushed you too far, you'd run away. For that reason, he let Jisung do the talking first, and it seemed to have worked.

When you finally picked up his call, Minho felt tears sting in his eyes when he heard your voice. Then you told him you loved him, and Jisung told him he loved him, and even though it wasn’t the first time you’d said it, through the phone he could feel that you meant it.

Seeing you and knowing that you knew, but unable to get himself to speak about you three’s relationship was suffocating Minho, almost as much as it was you. Jisung encouraged him to no end to talk about it with you and every time you came over he swore to himself that he would. And then he didn’t.

To be fair, it had only been two weeks since the incident at Changbin’s party, but in that time you’d made an effort to come over every day, even if it was just to have dinner. He was well aware of what was happening behind closed doors with you and Jisung, even got off to the thought of it on more than one occasion. Him and Jisung had uncountable shared moments like that, it was easy to picture himself watching the two of you together and the things he might say. But imagining you, he had to get a little creative. Were you subby, like him? Did you whine and whimper at the nasty things Jisung says and get weak in the knees if he so much as looked at you with those eyes? Minho always thought you were the same as him and would do anything to please, so that’s how he’d fantasize about you, on your knees with your eyes big and pleading for something to stuff your mouth, Jisung towering above you and calling you all kinds of names and spewing whatever lewd things he could think of to get you even more wound up.

He’d cum hard when he thought too deeply about it, pushing himself to the verge of calling Jisung over at 2 a.m. because he couldn’t satisfy himself the way he did. The not so recent addition of you in his fantasies made it all the worse, especially now that the things he thought of may be true.

On the verge of sexual and, even moreso, emotional combustion, Minho decided that it was time. He had the entire date plotted in his head down to the very minute. He blames you a little for his sudden eagerness, the last time you and Jisung were over he caught a glimpse of the now faded red streaks that lined down the younger’s chest and immediately knew what it was from.

Jisung had helped him a little bit before he decided to go through with his plan, at least he thought he was helping. If anything, his presence was making Minho all the more nervous because of how badly he didn’t want to fuck anything up. 

“Babe, everything will go great. Do you want me to hang around in the shadows in case you need emotional support?” The younger handed Minho his nice white dress shirt and watched as he changed.

“What if she says no?” Minho was concentrating too hard, unable to even button up his shirt with his shaky hands.

Jisung moved to help him, calm him with the gentle skin on skin as he finished the buttons and adjusted the collar, “she won’t say no. She loves you too much.” He planted a quick kiss on Minho’s lips. As much as he enjoys kissing him, it did little to ease the churning in his stomach.

It was late in the afternoon when he came to your place to pick you up. Minho had hesitated to knock on your door, fidgeting with the bouquet of flowers he picked out and recalling all the things in his picnic basket. Just as he raised his fist, the door swung open and he caught a whiff of your sweet, floral perfume. Minho almost folded right then and there, light from the window surrounding your figure like the gates of heaven.

“Do you always wait outside for fifteen minutes before coming in?” You joked so easily and tugged him inside by the arm. He took a second to look you up and down, admire your pretty dress and take in the sight of you getting dolled up just for him. “You’re staring,” you said, taking the basket from his hands and setting it on the floor.

“I am,” he confirmed, still not looking away.

The giggle you let out made his lip curl slightly and stick out the bouquet for you to take. Of course you did with a gracious smile and took them into the kitchen to place in a vase, “let me get my shoes.” You ran through the house to grab what you needed and pondered taking a coverup or not, “will it be cold?”

“If it is, I have my jacket for you,” Minho called back, silently patting himself down to make sure he was actually wearing one. He was, a beige cardigan that would look perfectly oversized on you. Taking another second to spray a little cologne, Minho took a peak at himself in a nearby mirror just as you walked back out, ready to go.

“You look pretty,” you say as you walk up behind him, placing a gentle hand on his arm to get him to face you. Minho felt his ears heat up at the compliment, smiling in acknowledgement. Warmth took over his skin when you reached up to fix the chain adorning his neck, feeling your fingertips grazing the nape to move the clasp to the back. As you finished, you ran your hands down his chest slowly, and Minho would’ve fallen to his knees right then and there. Without moving, you look up at him innocently, “what are we doing today?”

Bravely he took your hands in his and intertwined your fingers. “I was thinking about a late picnic? Take a walk along the river and just… be together?”

“Sounds perfect.” Without a second thought, you stand on your tippy toes and place your lips to his cheek so nonchalantly. It was effortless on your part whereas Minho could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He found himself touching the part of his cheek where you had kissed him, lingering there and blushing just that much more until you called his name and led him outside.

And everything was going perfect, the weather was perfect, found the perfect picnic spot, had a perfect late lunch, Minho was nowhere near as nervous as he was just a few hours ago. Banter between the two of you was normal, commenting about anything and everything, neither of you could stop yourselves from talking about Jisung as well, you both laughed over his need to constantly be touching one of you. Because things were going so well, he couldn’t help but mess it all up by asking one simple question, “are you and Jisung dating?”

He asked it with a smile on his face and laughter in his voice but Minho could see you hesitate to answer despite your kind expression. You observed him backtrack upon saying the words out loud and could practically hear the glass shattering in his head. To ease him as much as possible, you took his hand and played with his fingers. “I think so. I guess it depends on you.”

You felt him tense with just his palm in yours, seeing his shoulders pull back and eyes fall towards your thumb running along his,  “what do you mean?” His breathing sped up a little as did his heart rate.

Here was the downward spiral once again, and he doesn’t even know why when he was the one that asked the question. Minho didn’t mean for it to come up so early and suddenly in the date, but he couldn’t help his own curiosity at the expense of his emotional state. His hand trembled in yours, you could feel it no matter how much he tried to hold steady. You took the opportunity to cup your free hand over his to hold tightly, “walk with me.” You didn’t wait for him to respond to lift him off the picnic blanket and lead him towards the river. Minho threw a look over his shoulder at the set up. “We’ll come back for it, don’t worry.”

Minho went with you hand in hand, still shaking in your palm but not as much as the cool breeze soothed his overheating skin. You held his hand tighter, squeezing in reassurance that he didn’t need to say anything, but would be there to listen if he wanted to. There was nowhere in particular you were leading him, leisurely walking as close to the river as possible because he loved to watch the windy waves.

You watched him intently for any signs that he was uncomfortable knowing he wouldn’t say if he truly was. Minho never talked much about his past relationships, the only reason you knew anything was when he’d mention something in passing, but you assumed the worst. He caught the way you were looking at him, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you smiled up at him, sympathetic.

“I am. I just… can’t tell you why.” Minho squeezed your hand a little tighter.

You squeezed harder, “you don’t have to.”

“It’s just,” he pulled the two of you over to sit at a bench overlooking the river. It was slightly colder now that the sun was setting, the small shiver that ran through you was enough for Minho to take off his cardigan and drape it over your shoulders, already warm. “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane.”

“Have you met Jisung?” The two of you giggled again at the mention of your other partner.

“He’s confidently insane, it’s a big difference.”

Tilting your head, “then what are you?”

Minho pondered for a second, looking at the water then back to you. “Insanely anxious.”

“Really? I pegged you for a chaotic neutral.” When you nudged his shoulder with yours, Minho’s cheeks flushed at the sorely specific term.

A certain bright purple image flashed in his mind, “d– did Jisung tell you?”

You raised an eyebrow, “tell me what?”

“Nothing. Nevermind,” he deflected quickly.

“But really, Min,” you brought his attention back up to your eyes with your finger guiding his chin up. “Your mind doesn’t scare me.”

“It scares me.” It came out as a pleading sob, voice cracking slightly as he opened your hand to lay his cheek into. The action itself felt more rewarding than getting him to speak. The split second where he looked at you with big, round eyes, lips pouting trying to find how to put into words what was happening in his head, no sense of his emotions because they were just so big that no words could do it justice. You knew. “I love you a lot, and it scares me,” he whispered.

The smile that plastered across your face was almost criminal for how deep the conversation was. “If you keep looking at me I might cry,” he admitted but was reluctant to let go of your hand.

“I can look away if you’d like.” Minho nodded and you looked out at the river, “the sunset is pretty.”

“Jisung makes it so easy not to think. He makes me feel stupid in so many ways, it’s humbling and freeing at the same time. I appreciate him and adore him and I forget to show him that sometimes.” You resisted the urge to look at him, catching yourself before you could fully turn your head.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, “I wonder if the water is cold.”

“I forget to show you, too, and I’m sorry. I don’t understand anything going on inside my head or anything I’m feeling, but I love you.” Minho kissed the inside of your palm and snaked it back to thread through his hair. Staring blankly ahead, solely focused on his voice and his words and his hair between your fingers, your lips curled into a gentle smile. “Jisung doesn’t need to understand me– I mean, he does, but in a way where he doesn’t have to understand every miniscule bit, and he still loves me. You understand everything– the good, the ugly, every dark and twisty, scary corner and you still love me. I met Jisung and there was this, like, stupid flame he lit with his annoying smile. Then I met you and it spread like a fucking wildfire and now, I can’t get out. I don’t ever wanna get out. I hate myself for how you found out, it feels fucking criminal that we did that to you and it was so unfair. You and him… my everythings. And I’ll spend however long I need to to show you that you are. Let the fire consume me until there’s nothing left.”

“That sounds painful,” you finally faced him to find his chest heaving up and down, already staring straight at you.

“It is,” Minho whispered back.

“Can I kiss it better?” Your body moved on its own, turning towards him and scooting closer so your knees brushed his.

“Kiss the pain away?”

“Kiss the pain away.”

Minho nodded, with the hand that held yours in his hair, he grazed down your arm to softly pull you in even closer, almost chest to chest but not quite. A slight tug on his roots and Minho came in to press his lips to yours, chaste, supple, so sincere in the way he kissed you. Only closed lip kisses, but still so satisfying. He felt pillowy and warm and you could taste the lingering minty chapstick he applied earlier. There was the clean smell of the river water swirling around to mix with his natural musky, cottony scent to the point that it made you dizzy. Was it only a few seconds, a few minutes, or a few hours the two of you kissed like this? It didn’t matter. You wanted more as soon as he pulled away.

He pecked your cheek and brought you into a bone crushing embrace, tucking himself away into your neck. You were taken aback for a moment, but melted into the hug anyway to feel Minho relaxing just the same. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Something you don’t already know?” Minho’s chuckle rumbled against your chest.

“Do you like girls?”

Pulling away, the weight on his shoulders seemed to have shrunk based on how he raised his eyebrow at you. “Don’t ask me stupid questions,” and he crashed his lips to yours again.

Entering his apartment hand in hand felt right, it made sense to follow behind him as he kicked off his shoes and throw his keys on the nearby table, watch as he unloaded the picnic basket and leisurely walk around the house to do his mundane chores.

You smiled fondly as you watched him, eventually following him further into the house. The dress you were wearing was growing uncomfortable, having been wearing it all day. “Babe, can I borrow some clothes?” You called out mindlessly.

You couldn’t see it, but Minho shot you a happily surprised look as you entered his bedroom. “Of course.”

His room was always rather neat, everything having its place so it was easy to find a spare shirt and pair of shorts to change into. Then the sound of the toilet flushing and sink running from the ensuite bathroom made you jump, only to reveal a very homey looking Jisung emerging from it. “Oh! You’re back!” He greeted as you slung Minho’s shirt over your head, trotting over and planting a kiss on your lips.

Jisung was oddly normal about seeing you in Minho’s clothes, walking towards the door until he abruptly stopped and turned to do a double take, his eyes following his smile. “It went well?”

“It went great,” Minho appeared behind him, leaning against the doorframe. Jisung peered back at him over his shoulder, having to look up to meet his eyes. The younger one smiled and stood on his tippy toes to give Minho a casual peck.

You felt warm watching them, like your heart was on fire and it was coursing through your veins, a much different reaction to the first time you’d seen them kiss. A part of you wanted to cry with how happy you were, it was almost overwhelming. If it had been anyone else you probably would’ve on the spot. But it wasn’t just anyone. Minho and Jisung are your people. Your people, and they made you theirs as well. So maybe you let the ache in your waterline loose just a little and sniffled back the minor leak in your emotions, which made Jisung skip back over to you.

“Another one for you, too,” he gleamed and kissed you gently. “Did you guys bring back any food?”

“There’s leftovers on the counter,” Minho followed Jisung out of the room, leaving you for the time being.

It felt like the day had gone by all too quickly and you were exhausted. Not in a physical way, moreso emotional and feeling the effects now as you laid back onto the middle of Minho’s bed and stared at the ceiling. Comfortable it was to listen to their idle chatter in the background, so much so that you found yourself closing your eyes still on top of the covers, letting their voices lull you to sleep.

“Listen… She’s snoring,” Jisung held his finger up and hopped onto the counter to sit.

“Let her. I kinda dropped some heavy bombs on her today. And why can neither of you sit on the chairs like normal people? I bought them for a reason.”

The blonde took a bite of the picnic snacks, “like what? That you like it in the ass?”

“No! But… isn’t that implied?” Jisung shrugged, stuffing his mouth again. “It didn’t come out the way I wanted it to, but we got there eventually.”

“Really! So can we all fuck now?” He caught Minho by the neck as he passed by, trapping him between his legs and slinging his arms over his shoulders.

Minho rolled his eyes, “is that all you ever think about?”

“Fucking both of my scrumptious, beautiful, sexy ass partners? Absolutely, I think about it all the time.” He emphasized his point by grabbing his ass, smiling deviously.

Groaning, Minho leaned into Jisung’s arms, “just hug me for now. We can fuck later.” Jisung giggled and held him tighter, whispering an, “okay.”

As much as he wanted to stay, Jisung had to leave just a little before midnight, stranding Minho alone with his thoughts once again. Except he wasn’t upset about it. Actually, he was enjoying having you here, even if you weren’t conscious, he just liked having another body in the house. By now, the chores were done, he washed his face, and changed into his pajamas and still had downtime to just sit and watch you. It was a lot less creepy in his head, but he loved how cute you were when you were asleep, mesmerized. Laying on his side next to you, he refrained from touching so as not to wake you, but failed when you stirred and turned your face towards him. A stray strand of hair fell over your eyes, how uncomfortable that must’ve been, Minho found himself pushing it away and you were fluttering awake beneath his touch.

Groggily you blinked into consciousness, straining a little to look up at him, “what time is it?”

“Thirty past midnight,” Minho whispered back, fully threading his fingers through your hair now.

You didn’t move, just staring into his eyes and enjoying the light skinship. It was a rare thing to get from him, even before. You wonder if he didn’t because of the friendship line, or if he just isn’t keen on initiating it, you have all the time in the world to find out now.

“I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“Mhm.”

Wordlessly, he stood and lifted you just a little off the bed to make room for himself, managing to get you beneath the covers. You could hear his soft breathing and make out the handsome features of his face in the dim moonlight illuminating his room. The two of you faced each other now, heads in the pillows and hands loosely intertwined. “Are you tired?” You asked him quietly, seeing his eyes blinking slowly.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.”

“What are you thinking about?” Voices hushed, Minho untangled his fingers and brought them up to cup your jaw, thumb just barely grazing over the plush of your lips.

He let out a deep breath, “kissing you.” You lean in to give him another soft smooch, feeling tingly all over as you did.

“Now what are you thinking about?”

The enamored, lazy grin on his face was endearing, “you kissing Ji.”

Giggling, “I think about you kissing Ji, too.”

“We should get a bigger bed.”

“Can I bring my own blanket? You two are blanket hoggers.”

“What?!”

“Why do you think I sit on the end of the couch during movie nights?”

He was silently blinking at you, “...I need some space.” Minho rolled onto his back just to stare upwards, the comforter hooking around his legs to tug and leave your backside exposed. You knew he wasn’t being serious as he blindly reached for your hand to hold but let out an ironic laugh as you pulled the edge to prove your point. He adjusted himself and the blanket came loose again.

His side profile, even in the dull light, was beautiful. You let go of his hand to trace the outline of his nose with the tip of your finger, drawing all the way down to his plump lips then down his chin and neck to splay your hand across his chest. Minho looked like he was deep in thought, or his head could’ve been completely empty, both options were very possible but you hoped for the latter.

Wordlessly you moved under the blanket closer and threw your leg over his torso to straddle him, taking the comforter with you as you sat up. Minho didn’t say anything but rather raise an eyebrow and lay his hands on your thighs, loosely massaging up and down the muscle. With a sigh, you tilted your head down at him, pushing his bangs from his forehead and caressing his cheek. “So curious,” you whispered.

A small hum left his lips as you smoothed the furrow in his brow with your thumb. “Why are you frowning, pretty kitty?”

Immediately his face relaxed just to morph into a surprised state of confusion, eyes widening and twinkling while trying to read your expression. “How did you–”

“Our baby’s mouth isn’t the only thing that’s big.” Slowly you wiggled your hips backwards to sit on his crotch, growing harder by the second. The grip his hands had on your thighs tightened as though he was holding back, which was proving to be more difficult for both of you. “He talks a lot, but you already know that.” Minho accepted your kiss gratefully, sliding his hands up to your ass as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip. He moaned into the kiss when feeling you slip your tongue into his mouth, not fighting or battling but rather looking for  a reaction. The lack of one is what made you pull away prematurely. Reattaching to the skin of his neck, “you don’t have to hold back with me, sweetheart.”

His body shivered and nails dug into your ass through the material of the borrowed shorts. Just barely did Minho cant his hips up to grind his erection into you, though almost instantly he let himself fall back to the bed. You followed, sitting onto him with your full weight and languidly moving back and forth while you continued to bite down his neck. “C’mon, pretty kitty. What do you want? Wanna be taken care of?”

Minho shook his head, no. “Wanna stop?” Another no. “Wanna use me?”

Oh, his ears perked up at that. “Y– you’d let me?”

“Only if you keep it our little secret, or we’ll both get punished.” You sat back to tug the shirt over your head, suddenly thankful that you’d changed earlier because the way Minho was staring at your breasts was a sight you’d never forget. He hesitated to let his hands climb higher until you took them and cupped them over your boobs, “use me. Just this once.” You gave him a wink, a signal that tempted him into groping you, tweaking your nipples before the excitement overtook him and flipped you onto your back.

His shirt came off in a split second and he was ravaging your lips again, not giving either of you a moment to breathe. Spit and saliva would’ve been dripping down your face if not for his desire to practically swallow you. Not that you would’ve minded either outcome, you couldn’t get enough. When Jisung said he’d trained Minho, you weren’t sure what that entailed. Seeing the older now you understood, he was on a tight, tight leash.

Hands were everywhere, in his hair, on your ass, scratching down his back, tugging at your shorts. Minho finally pulled away just to leave a trail of wetness down your chest. He handled you on the rougher side as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, teething and bruisingly groping the other like he was touch starved. It was like he didn’t know where he wanted to be, just that he wanted every part of you in his mouth because when he was finished with your boobs, Minho suctioned each inch of the skin of your torso and stomach to leave deepening red spots wherever he could.

Coming to the hem of your (his) shorts, it was all but ripped from your body along with your underwear, you swore you heard the fabric tear. It didn’t deter him, Minho continued his rampage down your legs and inside your thighs. His eyes somehow grew even wider upon seeing your cunt, wet and dripping, but didn’t make a move to touch you there. Even with your hands in his hair guiding him, Minho stopped and looked up at you, “can I?”

“Please,” you were almost whining even if there was no need for you to. He had all the power in the world now, and you didn’t need to beg for a single thing. He was more than excited to give you whatever you wanted.

Forget a man stuck in the desert without water, this was a whole new level of eagerness that words couldn’t do justice. To describe his enthusiasm would’ve required rewriting the entire english dictionary, which would’ve taken a lot more time than you had considering how skillful Minho was with his tongue and plump lips continuously stimulating your clit. He was moaning into your nerves and sending vibrations rippling through you, the addition of his fingers was your written demise, sending you over the edge in record time. Maybe it was because of how emotionally attached you felt towards him that made cumming so easy to accomplish. You’d always heard that sex with someone you love is an entirely different ball game, and whoever said that deserves to come as hard as he made you just now, every day of their life.

You wanted to return the favor, almost immediately trying to sit up as soon as you were able to recover enough, but Minho clambered over your body to keep you down.

“Let me do everything, please. Wanna make you feel good.” He begged, hiking your knees around his hips to keep you close.

“Awe, our Ji must never let you have your fun, hm? You already made me feel so good, kitty. Can’t I help you now?”

“No, no,” you tasted yourself on his tongue as he pressed a deep kiss to your lips, sending a shock of arousal down to your core again. “Can’t wait that long. Can I have you? Please.”

“Okay, sweetheart. How do you want me?”

Only a guttural groan from within his chest resounded through the room when you gave permission. Taking one leg from his side, he flipped you onto your belly with ease and planted more teethy kisses down your spine. He cupped your ass with both hands and bit harder into the flesh there, on the verge of breaking skin but it felt too good, you couldn’t even be mad. But, perhaps Jisung would be, his plaything marking you up like this and claiming you as his own. That was a worry for later.

It was getting harder to focus as Minho’s tongue roamed closer and closer to your core again. With his big hands, he spread your ass cheeks wide, licking your cunt from behind and burying his face between. He took a little extra time to trace the outline of your clit and draw upwards towards your asshole, hardly grazing the rim and making you shudder and a shot of heat pool in your belly again. The goosebumps along your skin made him chuckle and press a bit harder for more of a reaction, and when you moaned, he pulled away.

You’d never been touched like that, let alone licked. It was new and strange but so comfortable with him, knowing exactly how to touch you and just how to get you to melt. You almost stopped his fingers from entering your cunt again just to ask how the hell he did that because fuck, you wanted him to do it again.

But Minho moved on, circling his fingers at your wet hole to simply play with you, listening intently to the way your walls squelched and sucked him in. He seemed to have a fascination with your pussy, like he was entranced by a spell that couldn’t stop him from staring.

“Use your freedom while you have it, pretty kitty,” you snapped his attention back to the throbbing in his lower half and he almost cried at how hard his cock throbbed.

Placing a kiss and a lick to your pussy, Minho sat up and pushed your legs together, fisting his dick slowly to take in the sight of you. Looking over your shoulder as best as you could to see him, but his hand was planted in the middle of your back and pinching your skin lightly whenever you tried to get a better look. You were so easily controlled this way, nowhere to run and no way to see what was coming.

Spreading your ass again, Minho let the tip of his cock only prod at your asshole to see what would happen. You shivered and whimpered at the foreign sensation, but mewled louder when he traversed down to press at your cunt, bluntly pushing forward so slowly that you felt every inch of his cock stretching you so wonderfully. He felt different from Jisung, but just as good. While Jisung had length on his side, Minho had girth, it was hard to keep your cunt from clenching as you took him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck– oh god,” he muttered, “baby was right. So fucking tight.”

“Ah– easy, sweetheart.” You dug your hands into the mattress and gripped the sheets.

Minho sat up straight and adjusted his posture, knees on either side of your hips and using your ass as leverage to thrust shallowly, experimentally. A high pitched whine left him while a muffled cry came from you. It didn’t take long for him to find a slow but steady pace, knowing he’d blow early if he went too fast. But it only made you want to tease all the more.

“Such a big cock. Don’t know how to use it, do you kitty?”

“I– I do!” He pleaded.

“Show me, then. Please me.”

His hands moved to plant next to your head and his chest pressing against your back, trapping you. Wide spread his legs, full body weight in his hips, Minho pulled out further and slammed back into you. The clap of skin on skin was encouraging, as was the moan you let out. And he’d lost all resolve after that, letting gravity do the work to rock you into the bed with every stroke, both your bodies practically bouncing with how hard he pounded. The slapping sounds bounced off the walls, out the open windows and you had to say, you were proud of how pretty he sounded. You were building another high just listening to him, but could tell he was ready to blow.

You demanded he pick up the pace, “louder, kitty. Cry for me louder.”

He did, no longer holding back any noise that wanted to fall from his lips. As he lost the reins on his self control, Minho started growing sloppy, murmuring about how sweet you felt, how perfect you felt snug around his cock. “Gonna cum, fuck, so close–”

“Hold it. Wanna cum with you,” you called behind you as best as you could, even with the motions making your voice bounce. Minho understood, keeping rhythm as he sat back again on his hunches to use the strength of his thighs to continue moving. He elevated your hips just enough to change the angle, letting him slip somehow deeper and kiss your cervix so deliciously.

He was getting impatient, thrusts growing shallow as he got closer to his high. Despite not truly following orders, his neediness was helping you along to your own, the repeated quick prods to your sensitive spots was teetering you on the edge, crying his name when he hit it exceptionally good and made the bubble in your gut burst to suffocate you in blissful warmth. You knew he was still using you to achieve his orgasm, it only prolonged yours to milk him to completion.

Minho collapsed on top of you not even a minute later and didn’t move, keeping your hole plugged and soiled. It took more than a while for the both of you to regain your breaths, your arms spread across the mattress and Minho tracing mindless patterns along them. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered.

“I can feel yours,” you whispered back.

He rolled over eventually, taking you with him to lay on your sides spooning, sweaty and sticky but fulfilled in more ways than one. His leg thrown over your hip, you held his hands to your chest tightly, feeling enveloped in warmth as Minho planted gentle kisses to the back of your neck and shoulder.

“Can’t wait to do that again in the morning.” Your admittance made him laugh and kiss your cheek. 

Minho snuggled in closer, “can’t wait to wake up to you every morning.”

You’d spoken it into existence and went another round as soon as the two of you were coherent enough, though this time it was much slower. He was still somehow inside of you when you’d woken up to the sun beginning to rise. Feeling him grow hard already within your walls was another new experience that felt beyond amazing. Morning haze made your body numb and sensitive at the same time, his warm lips raise goosebumps all over again as he reached his hand around to graze your puffy clit.

It only took a few fond touches to get you wet and ready, though of course neither of you stopped there.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” he muttered into your hair. “Smell so good, fit so perfect around me.”

Minho was even touchier than last night somehow, his hands never stopping finding a new part of your body to love. Your hips, your thighs, belly, love handles, chest, he even found a way to make your ankles feel sexy as he lifted your leg and met the joint half way in the air to place a kiss to.

The morning was spent in bed with him lazily thrusting into you from behind and caressing every bit of your body followed by unfiltered words as he came across it, annotating you like a good book. But a good book should always be accompanied by good music, his fingers strumming your center until you cried out a melody that would play in his head on repeat for ages. And you were filled to the brim once more, held so tightly and so loved that it felt impossible either one of you had ever been broken in the first place. There was just one piece missing.

But not to worry, he had burst through the door with almost comedic timing, seed seeping from your hole as he greeted the two of you.

“Awe, damn it. I missed out on the fun!” Jisung slumped, stripping his shirt and pants off and joining you and Minho in bed completely unphased by what had just happened. “We need a bigger bed,” he gave you a kiss on the forehead and one to Minho as well before taking up the space in front of you.

“She said we’re blanket stealers and wants to sleep on the edge,” Minho threw you under the bus before you’d even gotten to greet the blonde lying next to you.

“We’re what?!”

Their reaction was identical. “Be happy I don’t mind that you both also snore. Can I take a shower before you start attacking my sleeping preferences?”

“No! You sleep in the middle. Just like this,” Jisung copied Minho by tossing a leg over your torso and caging you between their bodies. You felt them interlock hands and rest it on your hip like another lovely hello.

“Why didn’t you stay?” You asked softly.

“Had a few errands to run,” the blonde eased your worries.

You reached your top hand back to run through Minho’s messy hair and the other dragging Jisung in closer by the chin, kissing his lips and humming. It was comfortable, so comfortable that your heart started to race and you wanted to hang your head out the window to scream to the world how in love you were and how you hoped everyone would look at you and feel jealous because of how much they loved you back. Was it petty? Yes. But you couldn’t help it, you were sickeningly happy and wanted everyone in the world to know.

With Jisung right in your face, you spoke, “I know I’m on birth control, but can one of you buy me a plan B? I just got double cum dumped and feel it sticking–”

“Double?!” Jisung yelled and sat up, looking over you at Minho. The older nodded yes to your question and pointed to where your bodies were still joined and held up two fingers, his cock flaccid now and doing very little to keep any fluids in. Looking closer, Jisung noticed the bruises covering your body and suddenly relaxed.

A mischievous grin replaced his jealousy. “Pup, I know I said you could do whatever you wanted to him. But I don’t see a single mark on him.” You looked behind you at Minho who attempted to hide his face in your hair. “Why don’t we go take a shower and change that?”

-

A/N: took me a sec to post this part...had a lot going on but we here now!!! and the character plot miiiight've gotten a bit lost but I'll make up for it in part 3 I promise!! so pleeeeease stick around for that it'll be worth it ;)

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning

[noacfapologyst]

birthday wish - matty healy

(the birthday party; day one)

summary: matty, as his very best, has one of the best birthdays of his life and receives one of the warmest surprises he has ever had, with all the people he loves.

warnings: flufly stuff, sickness mentions. nothing more than this, is tender as well.

a/n: thank to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest for organize this incredible project! both are such an angels. the dates do not coincide in reality, so do not expect truthfulness in it, 'cause the tour continues in this universe and there are no haircuts, and also the english is not my first language.

wordcounter: 5,1k

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

--

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of ​​how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

let me know what you think, also let me know if you want to be on my tag list <3

[scribbling-dragon]

Forced Acquisition of a Child

summary:

“Jimmy,” he holds the baby awkwardly, gripping it under the arms. The blanket unravels a little, trailing below but not quite touching the floor. He’s never held a baby. He should never be trusted to hold a baby, and yet, somehow, here he is. “Why have you got a baby.”

“fWhip gave it to me,” Jimmy continues to look and sound the most distressed Tango has ever seen him, and Tango was there for the Train Incident. They still don’t have an explanation for how it appeared overnight, but Jimmy is too scared to remove it. Like the train tracks might summon another train if he does. “And then he just left.”

-

Or: Jimmy "doesn't know" how to take care of babies, and Tango doesn't know how to take care of babies.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(2,185 words)

“But what am I meant to do with it?” He tries not to sound too distressed, but even he can hear how terribly he fails at that, voice coming out higher pitched and squeakier than he intends. He’s never beating the toy allegations. The baby he’s hold at arm's length looks rather content, only wriggling slightly as Jimmy continues to stare at it.

He doesn’t think it’s blinked once.

“I dunno,” fWhip is already walking away, shrugging and not even looking back at Jimmy. “Your problem now, don’t kill it, yeah? Alright, bye!”

“Oh my god,” he looks back at the baby he’s holding. He doesn’t even know how to hold a baby. He’s pretty sure there’s a specific way you’re meant to do it though. He’s not suited for this; he can keep the cats content, easy, they’re cats. If they’re not happy they go a kill something to keep themselves happy. Or they run to Tango so they can use him as a heating pad. Cats are simple, in that they practically take care of themselves. All he needs to remember to do is feed them and shower them in love and affection.

He's never even seen a child this small before. Are children meant to be this small? Do they normally emerge from rocks, is that how it works? It doesn’t seem like the way it should work, but he also doesn’t know enough on the topic to dispute it. He never thought to ask before, but maybe he should have. He really, really should have.

He thinks. Doing his best, at least, as the baby continues to stare at him. Unblinking.

It’s like having a mini-fWhip at arm’s length, judging his every move. Which…actually isn’t far off what the normal fWhip does. Enjoys doing, whichever. But he does normally blink a little more than this. Did fWhip have a staring problem as a baby? He can’t picture fWhip as a baby; he’d always assumed the goblin just sprung from the earth fully formed, or something. He rests a hand over the baby’s eyes, shifting his grip on it so it’s cradled in the crook of his elbow.

God, he knows nothing about children. This is such a horrific idea. Whose idea was it in the first place? Right, yeah, adoption program. It just sounds like a way of foisting childcare onto the other empires because fWhip can’t be bothered to deal with it.

He can think a little clearer now that the baby isn’t staring at him, judging his every move. He keeps his hand firmly pressed over their eyes, but not hard enough to do any damage. He thinks. He doesn’t even know how to hold a baby! He’s doing his best.

Never mind, just…think.

Think. Who would be able to help with this? The other empires have their own goblin children to deal with, and he doesn’t even want to know what some of them are doing to these unfortunate children that have, somehow, managed to end up in their care.

What smart people does he know that have good, well-rounded, and applicable life skills? He knows a lot of people. Not many of them are well-adjusted to normal life, meaning he can easily disregard over half of the people he knows.

He spins on the spot as epiphany strikes him, hooves clattering loudly over the stone as he realises he already has an answer, a remedy to all of his problems: Tango.

 === === ===

 Tango hummed quietly to himself as he moved back and forth, tail flicking behind him as he rearranged a few more of the files. It’s not one of his favourite tasks, mainly because Jimmy seems unable to agree on a standard filing system, making everything they have impossible to find in a hurry because it’s in some arbitrary place that made sense at the time.

It’s been a slow process of gradually rearranging everything into a proper system without Jimmy noticing. And also repositioning the documents he puts in the now incorrect places. He had thought by organising it he’d find the system behind Jimmy’s madness. But there is nothing. There is no system. Jimmy loses his files regularly, and then they have to hunt around for them because he managed to remember a tiny detail that means they’ll be able to take one of the local bandits to a proper court and go through proper legal proceedings.

The door crashes open behind him, swinging back into the wall (he’s been meaning to put a doorstop in so that can stop happening. He’s had to repair that wall three times in the past two weeks. It’s getting tiring). He winces at the resounding crash, flinching back from where his hands are in their filing cabinet, still holding one of their thinner files.

“Tango!”

“Jimmy,” he turns around with a smile, relaxing a little as his voice registers to Tango’s ears. “You scared me for a moment there, I thought there was a problem.”

“There is a problem!” Jimmy’s across the room in a moment, looking unusually distressed and cradling something in his arms. “Look!”

And the bundle is thrust unceremoniously into his arms, leaving him fumbling to balance the file and the surprisingly heavy object he’s been given. “Um,” he says, intelligently.

“What am I meant to do with it?”

Tango isn’t even sure what it is yet, so he ignores the question in favour of peeling the blanket back and looking at the thing underneath. A pair of eyes stare back at him, bright blue and unblinking. Right. Alright. That’s a thing.

“Jimmy,” he holds the baby awkwardly, gripping it under the arms. The blanket unravels a little, trailing below but not quite touching the floor. He’s never held a baby. He should never be trusted to hold a baby, and yet, somehow, here he is. “Why have you got a baby.”

“fWhip gave it to me,” Jimmy continues to look and sound the most distressed Tango has ever seen him, and Tango was there for the Train Incident. They still don’t have an explanation for how it appeared overnight, but Jimmy is too scared to remove it. Like the train tracks might summon another train if he does. “And then he just left.”

Right. Goblin King…gave Jimmy a baby goblin. He’s pretty sure goblins just naturally emerge from the stone of their caves, but that doesn’t explain why Jimmy has now come to be in possession of a baby. Even less so why fWhip specifically took the time out of his day to give the baby to Jimmy.

He grimaces at the small creature, more than a little unnerved by the fact that it hasn’t blinked yet.

“And you gave it to me, why?” He holds the baby a little further away from himself, attempting to give it back to Jimmy. Jimmy steps backwards, tripping over his own hooves, and fumbling to catch himself on the edge of the desk. He succeeds in catching himself on Tango’s desk, simultaneously succeeding in disturbing the piles of paper he had spent the morning organising. “I don’t like children.”

“You're smart, you know what to do with a child, right?”

“I might have been a bandit but I never kidnapped a child.” The baby reaches a hand towards his face, grabbing hold of some of his hair and yanking. Tango grimaces at the feeling, pulling his head back to try and avoid the small fists. “I had standards. And a limit on where my patience ends.”

“I wasn’t saying you would, Red,” Jimmy frowns at him. Tango huffs a laugh from his nose, and he watches as Jimmy’s frown deepens. “You were being mean, alright. Nevermind, I don’t think you have any standards. Your standards are terrible.”

“And what does that say about you?”

“That you're lucky to have me.”

The baby makes a small sound, reaching for his hair again. He should have cut it ages ago, should have ignored Jimmy when he said that he liked it. Sure, being able to braid his hair is an added bonus that he gets to enjoy on a morning when Jimmy does it for him, but it’s not worth this. He’s going to have to wash his hair later.

“Did you date fWhip at some point,” he asks.

Jimmy stares at him. “What?” He sounds like he’s either about to start laughing or crying.

“Just,” he gestures helplessly, movements slightly hindered by the baby in his arms. “Babies normally come from a relationship. Or maybe he just really hates you.” The baby makes another grab for his face, aiming for his ear this time. “Just- take the baby, it’s not mine.”

Jimmy almost drops the baby, but manages to catch it quickly enough that it is as though nothing happened. He then cradles the baby in one arm, balancing it perfectly and easily. He looks at the baby, then back at Jimmy, then at the baby again. The baby looks perfectly content, like it might fall asleep.

“It’s not mine either!” Jimmy’s protest is loud enough that Tango worries they might be interrupted by some concerned citizen. He’s not sure how either of them would explain the baby that is very clearly a goblin.

“Alright,” he leans back against the cabinet behind him. “Let’s take this from the top. How did you go from having a meeting with the emperors to acquiring a child.”

“It was part of the meeting.”

“It was part of the meeting,” he repeats. “Alright. Why was it part of the meeting?”

“Because…fWhip got the crown, meaning he got to make a rule. And he wanted…all of us to take care of a goblin child. Like an adoption program.”

“And you just agreed?”

“Uh, yeah?” He’s pretty sure the baby has just fallen asleep. He’s heard Jimmy, several times, protest that he doesn’t know how to deal with children, let alone look after them. He sleeps in the same bed as a liar, apparently. “He has the crown right now.”

“And this crown is all-powerful, is it? All, wow, look at me, I'm so powerful and great and you must listen to my rules?”

“Only one rule.”

“That’s not the point, dear.” He sighs. “Is the crown magical?”

“Maybe?” Jimmy shrugs. “I haven’t been able to get my hands on it yet, but it’s old. Pix found it in a ruin.”

“And his first instinct was to make a game with it? This old and potentially evil crown that might be able to…I don’t know- it might do something!”

“I didn’t think about it very much!” Jimmy protests, still looking at him with his sad eyes. Those eyes stopped working around the time that he figured out Jimmy practiced them in front of a mirror to manipulate him. “This is why you need to come to these meetings with me.”

“No.” He ignores Jimmy’s still sad eyes. “I went for a few, and that was it. You’ll have to tie me up and drag me through the door to get me there.”

“I'm not doing that.”

“Which is why I suggested it,” he smiles. “Now, what you're going to do is take the baby back to Gobland, and we can pretend all of this never happened.”

“But I can’t.”

“Why.” He taps a finger against the cabinet behind him. It isn’t an impatient move, just something he does when he’s thinking hard. He’s calculating, right now, how much work he’ll be able to do while Jimmy returns the baby. He might even be able to finish organising the cabinet. And then he can relax.

“Because of the rule.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “How do you make the rule stop…being in effect.”

“You steal the crown.”

“Well,” he claps his hands together. “Fantabulous, you’ve got your solution. Get him while he’s least expecting it.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Yes it is,” he lies through his teeth. He doesn’t know if it’s a word. Half the words he says aren’t words. It doesn’t matter, they convey his emotions well enough. “Take the baby back to the Goblands.”

“But what if it gets hurt?”

“Bigger chance of it getting hurt with us taking care of it.” He reasons. “I regularly catch on fire. If the cats didn’t land on their feet, you’d have dropped one of them on their head at this point.”

“Harsh.”

“But true,” he presses a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek as he walks past. “If you're quick we might be able to go for an early dinner at Chromia.”

“We’ll go there anyway,” Jimmy grumbles half-heartedly. “It’s a Tuesday. You and Scott have your weird little competition.”

“You love it really.” He calls over his shoulder, already occupying himself again. He prefers doing something to sitting around idly. “Have fun returning the child!” Jimmy doesn’t respond, but he does shut the door gently behind him. Doesn’t make up for the hole in the wall (Tango almost managed to forget about that), but the thought is appreciated.

Jimmy is fantastic, but if he comes back with another child Tango might just kill him.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

could uou write 141 boys + könig with a mute and shy s/o? i just imagined her being insecure about her condition and keeping quiet most of the time bc people think its too difficult to learn ASL to communicate with her

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔

Task Force 141 (+König) + fem! reader

Absolutely! I love this idea! I feel like they would secretly learn ASL while you’re sleeping and as soon as they learn a bit sign language, they‘d come and proudly show you!

Whatever your condition is, remember that you’re beautiful and loved.❤️ I hope you enjoy love<3

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

König

One quiet evening, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, feeling the weight of your silent existence press upon you. König always attuned to your emotions, approached you with a tenderness that surprised you.

"Liebling" he spoke softly, his voice carrying an unexpected gentleness. "You have a voice that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. I've seen the strength in your eyes, the way you navigate the world with unwavering resilience. It's a language all its own."

You tried to respond, to convey your gratitude through gestures, because words failed you. König understood, as he always did, and a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

"People may think learning ASL is difficult" he continued, his voice unwavering. "But what they fail to understand is that true communication goes beyond spoken words."

As König's words consumed within you, a sense of hope ignited. Here was someone who saw beyond the limitations of your silence, who valued the depth of your character without the need for spoken conversation.

In that moment, König's dedication to unraveling the mysteries of the world aligned with his newfound mission—to break down the barriers that confined you. He began learning ASL, dedicating his time and effort to becoming fluent in the language of your heart.

Days turned into weeks and as König studied ASL, you witnessed his unwavering commitment to bridging the communication gap. With each signed word, each gesture, his actions spoke louder than any spoken language ever could.

One evening, as König stood before you, his hands gracefully forming the signs that carried your silent voice, tears welled up in your eyes. For the first time, you felt truly seen and understood.

"I" König signed, his gaze unwavering. "I love you. And I will never stop loving you. You are enough."

Overwhelmed by emotions, you reached out and gently touched his hand, your silent gratitude pouring forth. In that moment, all doubt and insecurity melted away, replaced by an unshakeable bond of trust and understanding.

Simon Riley

The world often misunderstood your muted existence, dismissing your presence as an inconvenience. This led you to retreat further into your shell, convinced that your voiceless nature was a barrier too difficult for others to overcome. But little did you know, Simon saw beyond your silence and wanted to bridge the gap that separated you.

As weeks passed, Simon embarked on a secret journey of his own. He was focused on learning ASL, determined to communicate with you on a deeper level. He spent countless hours studying and practicing, his dedication fueled by the desire to show you just how much you meant to him.

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Simon approached you with a glimmer of nervous anticipation in his eyes. His hands moved hesitantly, fingers forming signs that conveyed a message he had longed to share. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but when the realization dawned on you, tears welled up in your eyes.

"You" Simon began, his hands shaping the words, "are not alone. I love you and I would do anything for you. You are the love of my life. "

Overwhelmed by the depth of his gesture, you felt a surge of emotions welling up inside you. The tears cascaded down your cheeks as you embraced Simon, his arms enveloping you in a warm and comforting embrace.

John MacTavish

You guys were on a date together, a small café was your chosen destination. The soft ambiance and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating an intimate setting for your evening together. Though you felt at ease with John, a flicker of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind.

You exchanged glances, a subtle dance of unspoken emotions passing between you. John's eyes held an understanding that went beyond words. Sensing your unease, he reached out and gently clasped your hand, his touch providing solace in the sea of doubt.

Leaning closer, John whispered "Love, I want you to know that your voice matters to me. I've taken the time to learn something special for you."

Your eyes widened, a mix of surprise and curiosity flooding your expression. Slowly, John's hands moved, gracefully shaping the words of sign language. He had learned to communicate with you, not just through spoken words but through the beautiful dance of hands.

A radiant smile stretched across your face, a blossoming hope filling your heart. John's commitment and effort to bridge the gap between your worlds touched you deeply. The weight of insecurity began to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of belonging.

As the evening progressed, you found comfort in the way John answered your questions with his hands, his signing fluid and graceful. He embraced the silent conversation with a natural ease, making you feel seen and understood in ways you had longed for.

John Price

Your silence often made you feel invisible or burdensome. But john saw you for who you truly were…a unique and remark rkable person. He understood the weight of your insecurities and the struggles you faced with communication. Determined to show you that you were valued and cherished, he planned a special date to help you feel more at ease.

As you and John embarked on your date, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You sat across from each other in a cozy restaurant, the atmosphere filled with gentle conversation and soft music. But as the evening unfolded, your shyness seemed to envelop you, making it difficult for you to express yourself.

John, ever perceptive, noticed your discomfort. His brows furrowed with concern as he searched for a way to bridge the communication gap. And then, an idea sparked in his eyes, a glimmer of determination to make you feel understood.

With a warm smile, John placed his hands on the table, fingers poised to communicate in sign language. It was a language he had learned, not for duty or necessity, but solely for the purpose of connecting with you.

His hands moved gracefully, forming signs that echoed like poetry, bridging the gap between your worlds. As he signed, he answered your unspoken questions, assuaging your fears and insecurities. Through his actions, he showed you that your voice, though silent, was still heard and cherished.

Time seemed to stand still as you watched him sign, your heart swelling with a newfound sense of belonging. You mustered the courage to ask questions, feeling more secure in the knowledge that he understood you.

With each question, John responded in kind, his hands dancing through the air, painting a beautiful tapestry of understanding. He spoke with his gestures, his touch, and the unwavering look in his eyes, conveying a love and acceptance that needed no words.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing, engaging, and truly connecting with John in ways you had never experienced before. The barriers that once held you captive began to crumble, and in their place bloomed a sense of confidence.

Kyle Garrick

You navigated the complexities of being mute, a burden of insecurity weighed heavily on your heart. But Kyle had taken it upon himself to learn sign language in secret, determined to bridge the communication gap and show you that your voice mattered.

One day, as you sat together in an empty yet peaceful park, you reached for your phone, preparing to type out a message to convey your thoughts. However, before you could even unlock the device, you noticed a glimmer of familiarity in Kyle's eyes. His lips curved into a gentle smile, and his hands started to move in a graceful dance.

In awe, you watched as Kyle's hands formed the words you had longed to hear. "Baby" he signed, his eyes fixed on yours, "you don't need to pull out your phone. You can talk to me, right here, just by looking at me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and a mix of disbelief and joy filled your heart. Never before had you experienced such understanding and acceptance. With a shy smile of your own, you mustered the courage to respond, using the language of your hands to form the words that had long been trapped within you.

"I... I didn't know," you signed, your hands trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. "Thank you... for learning sign language... for seeing me."

Kyle's expression softened as he reached out, his fingertips brushing against yours in a tender gesture. His eyes conveyed a depth of emotions that mere words could never capture. "Love…" he signed, his hands moving with purpose, "you deserve to be heard, to be understood. I wanted to learn sign language because I wanted to connect with you, to show you that you're not alone."

[thelunarfairy]

Okay, let's talk about something random

Omg, it's so embarrassing >.<

So, it's been a while since I created this account and I've already gained some followers, thank you all for that :3 (it means you like the crazy things I post)

So I wanted to talk a little about myself (even though I think no one cares XD)

Ok, I'm going to be serious now XDDD

I created this account because I really like JSHK and I wanted to talk about some crazy ideas or theories about the series and I felt welcomed here ^u^

I want you to know that a lot of things I post are just some crazy ideas that I occasionally have and that it's okay if you disagree, be kind S2 or if you agree I'll be happy if you want to talk to me about it :3

In fact, I hope you feel free to talk to me if you want, whether with an Ask or a message, I love talking about JSHK, if you also love and like crazy theories you can come talk to me if you want.

Don't take the things I say here too seriously, about the theories specifically, I may change my mind in the future or it's just crazy in my head, the most important thing for me is not to be right, but to have fun!

I'm trying to unravel the story in the most entertaining way I can, so it's okay with me if I'm wrong about the things I post (because no one other than Aidairo knows what's actually going to happen) XDD

Anyway, that's it.

Some other information that I don't know if you're interested in but I'll leave it here.

I am a girl

I'm Brazilian, I'd like to make that clear because if there are any Brazilians who also want to talk to me, feel free! (Sou brasileira, gostaria de deixar isso claro porque se tiver algum brasileiro que também queira falar comigo sinta-se a vontade!)

I speak English and Portuguese

I post randomly, but I usually post a lot because I tend to create theories and crazy ideas out of completely nothing.

Anyway, that's all, if you've read this far, thank you very much for giving me your attention :3

Bye bye~

Index

THEORIES:

Amane's Darkness

Could it be that in the time of Amane

Amane's past

The house and the fire

Hanako-kun's Big Puzzle

Predictions of the tragedy

These hands…

The Cursed Seal

ANALYZES:

The monster inside Hanako

One of the mysteries of the Yugi twins

Hands on the walls

The irony of life and Hanako's karma

The forecast

Did you notice?

When you remember that at some point, Hanako will have to say goodbye to Tsukasa again…

Amane's disease

"Red Thread of Fate"

Okay, let's talk about Mitsuba

Amane's possessiveness and insecurity

Natsuhiko and the mysterious door

The relationship between Tsukasa, Yashiro and Amane

Tsukasa's relationship with the red house

Yugi Tsukasa's mother

Sixth sense or predestined death?

Oh my, Yashiro is interested in a lot of boys

Yashiro and Tsukasa's Relationship

YUGI TWINS

The melancholy love of the Yugi twins

Did Tsukasa do this?

Hanako's mental age

I wish I could hear his voice

FINDINGS:

Hanako's boundary

Tsukasa's toys

ASKS:

About Yorishiro 1

Spelling errors and pronouns

Twin stars 1 || Twin stars 2

Tsukasa’s emotions 1 || Tsukasa's emotions 2

Tsukasa's parents

Sumire

Tsukasa's kiss

Hanako's feeling seeing tsukasa for the first time

Nene-chan and I are the same!

Could Hanako have done something to stop Tsukasa's kiss with Nene?

The mysterious hand 1 || The mysterious hand 2

Tsukasa image analysis

Tsukasa's behavior

Who do you think is gonna confess first? Hanako or nene?

Hanako's duty

HANENE:

A post about Hanene

Yashiro's wish and Hanako's self-control

Hanako's cute side

Nene ankles

She was exposed

Does Amane remember?

Hanako and Yashiro's tragic love

Reblog

Hanako-kun's jealous punishment

Hanako's look of desire and love

I still want to see this date, right Aidairo?

The insecurity

Hanene reblog

It was the first time a girl said she liked me, it made me happy…

The active Hanako and the passive Amane

Hanene reblog 2

The moment when Hanako fell in love with Yashiro

Details

But what about Amane and Yashiro's date?

Zombie Hanako and his wish

I know what you did here huh, Aidairo

Hanene reblog 3

This scene

RANDOM:

The invisible ghost

Yashiro Nene priorities

Natsuhiko's love potion

A compilation of jealous Hanako-kun

Tsunene reblog

Tsukasa reblog

Hanako reblog

Yugi twins

Okay, it's cute but

Just a compilation of random Hanene moments

Kou reblog

Just a compilation of random photos of Tsukasa

Just Tsukasa and Mitsuba being happy friends

Amane's Possessiveness reblog

Just a bunch of random photos of two idiots (Kou and Mitsuba)

Just Hanako-kun blushing or embarrassed

Nene and Aoi

A funny detail about the hamsters' space wars

Backstage 1

A tiny Tsukasa trying to put a birthday hat on top of his hat

Just a little ghost and an exorcist boy being best friends

Strangely similar….

"We're the same"

Karma

Hanako and Tsuchigomori

Just Tsukasa having his patience tested

I've been thinking (Tsukasa and Hanako)

[duelbraids]

Death Rattle Dazzle Plot EXPLAINED (not clickbait)

Other title ideas: So None of the Picwick Triplets Did It?, Theatre Professional Unravels the Plot of In-Universe Musical for No Reason.

This is a list of my thoughts about the plot of the in universe musical Death Rattle Dazzle from Hulu's Only Murders in the Building. This will contain no spoilers for the plot of the show proper, or the mystery, but will spoil all the songs written and theorize about their placement in an actual, two act musical. It'll also reference a few of the gags from the final episode, and this metafiction article by Playbill, which was done in collaboration with OMITB. Maxine's in universe review is bloody funny, and it contains a Playbill, which reveals some plot details about the original play. This practically is fan fiction, I will admit, but its fun, damn it, and I did my research!

Death Rattle Dazzle has the distinction of being the adaption of what is called a "classic play" by Oliver (who, despite his kookiness, is clearly well versed in theatre.) Maxine's review says that "Anyone with more culture than a vanilla yogurt has probably encountered the play in some form—if not by starring in it at the local elementary school, then in the form of a spoof on television, in film, or by Cate Blanchett opening the Tonys in 2012." This is hilarious, basically making the play a straight play version of Little Shop of Horrors. Everyone's done it, especially regional or amateur companies.*

*By amateur, I do not mean bad or unpolished. Many local, amateur companies put on fantastic plays. I simply mean the definition of amateur used in theatre: unpaid.

To me, that means Death Rattle must be old enough to be in the public domain, or was willed to be public domain after the playwright's death, et cetera. We also meet the original director of the play in 3.10, though all we know is that his version was "Weirder." This adaptation element mostly comes up in the aesthetic changes from straight play to musical, because we do not see much of the original play. However it's clear to me that Oliver knows his chops, and knows how to reference original material (keeping 'Creature of the Night' as Act One's opener to replace the opening monologue, for instance.)

Now, I want to write a mock up of the plot, and then justify my decisions. I also had the idea to name random songs to fill out a 12 song tracklist - pretty short for a 2 Act Play, but I'm just doing this part for fun. Maybe they're the songs on the cast album. Made up songs are going to marked in Red.

Players The Detective The Nanny The Constable The Godmother The Father The Boatman The Pickwick Triplets Chorus

Act One

The Detective introduces the audience to the situation at hand - a murder that is driving him to madness. (Creature of the Night) The plot follows the Detective as he and the Constable begin to try and unravel the crime. The Constable admits he has had trouble keeping law and order, thus calling in the Detective. (Private Dick) The Chorus has a song about their own suspicions, including wondering about the parentage of the children (Is It You?) The investigative duo, along with the Chorus, lay out the details of the crime, woman murdered, only her triplets in the room, found tossed from the cliff with a rattle down her throat. (Death Rattle, DAZZLE!) We see more into the mental state of the Detective, who clearly is manic about this case. They go to interview The Godmother, who tells them about her final day with her best friend, casting blame on the "Children's Father," then the Nanny (Last Light / Only Duty) This leads into the Nanny at the top of the lighthouse, closing out the act as she expresses her devotion to the triplets. (Look for the Light)

Act Two

The Chorus brings us back in, summarizing the events of Act One using crab mating as a metaphor (Entr'acte / Nova Scotia Nightfall) The Father is questioned by the Detective, who reveals he knows the children are not his own, because he had been sleeping with the Godmother, not his own wife. However, he could not have killed her, as he was at his post all night, and his wife was inside. (Private Dick Reprise) The Boatman, who had been lurking since the beginning, is finally cornered by the Constable, and reveals that he not only ferried someone over the night of the murder, but couldn't see their face. (Deadest Night) Then, the Boatman tells the Constable that he saw no one enter or leave the lighthouse, which is where the Mother was killed. This leads to the Constable realizing he may have to charge one of the Pickwick Triplets to restore order to his island. He locks himself in the lighthouse, and tries to solve the crime. (Which of the Pickwick Triplets Did It?) As the Detective enters with a copied key, the Constable realizes it must be he who murdered the Mother. The Detective admits this, though doesn't reveal why. (Confrontation, Dear Constable) The Nanny finds the Constable dead against the rocks, and challenges the Detective. He reveals that he is the father of the children, as well as confessing his guilt. The Nanny pushes him to his death, in order to protect herself. (For The Sake of a Child)

Okay, Justification Time.

The original play is described as "Agatha Christie" like, so casting suspicion on every character is basically a must. The actual placement of songs is based on how they were shown in the show, along with my own knowledge of theatre. Creature of the Night is a quintessential opening number: we start with our main character, before introducing every major character as they enter the stage. Look for the Light is a clear reference to Memory. A lullaby-like song to end the first act, the emotional core of the musical. Thus, similar to Cats, I structured the show to be mostly ensemble, framed by the two investigators. Which of the Pickwick Triplets Did It? made me immediately think of plot twist patter songs ( ala Your Fault ) that come in at the 11th hour. And, of course, ending on that spoken For the Sake of a Child is the right level of dramatic.

While some of the plot in between the lines is inferred from the show, a lot of it comes from that metafiction article I mentioned - there's a Playbill with descriptions of the characters, and dear god, did it give me a goldmine of ideas. Seriously, I highly recommend that article. Marketing that's actually fun and engages the viewer in the show? Wow, who could've thunk it.

My original mock up included more people dying, but decided to cut that, since we have no evidence for that aside from the Nanny referring to the Detective "Serial Killing" which could have been about him killing the Constable, since we know he dies. If you want to know, they would've been: The Godmother murdered at the end of Act One, then the Father murdered in Private Dick Reprise, though not revealed until Confrontation, Dear Constable. BTW, that song is basically the only one with any basis in the show's script, as we hear a confrontation between the Detective and the Constable as cross talk near the end of 3.10.

Some scattered thoughts:

Both Private Dick and Only Duty are songs that I expect would have Ironic Echoes later in the show. Private Dick originally introducing the charming Detective in a mostly positive light, and then in the second act, used to insinuate that the Father knows the Detective used his, uh, private dick elsewhere. Only Duty, meanwhile, would be used by the Godmother to say that a Nanny's love is only because it's her paid duty, as opposed to the Mother or Godmother, and of course, later we have A nanny's only duty is to the children.

Finally, I had to include a reference that crab people breeding bit they couldn't drop in the show, lol. In my head it's a dream ballet during the entr'acte, each of the crabs wearing the character's they represent headpiece, and of course, three eggs.

EDIT: I can't believe I didn't mention this, but I believe the motive of the Detective to be a simple matter of custody; he wants the triplets, and got into a fight with the Mother when he tried to take them, leading to him murdering her. Then, he returns to the island when called by the Constable, and plans to either kill everyone in his way of getting the triplets, or to accuse someone other than him, to get out of trouble.

[quigonswife8]

A helping hand: Namor x reader

Wakanda forever spoilers

gif creds: @wiha-jun

After Namor's left ankle wing is cut off, you bandage it up.

Warnings: Talk of Namor being hurt, and fixing up an injury. That's about it.

Haven't seen anyone write anything like this. It came to mind the other day and I just thought it would be perfect to write. So happy it was confirmed that his wing will heal back, cause I kept wondering if they would.

Editors note: I realise it was just one of his ankle wings, not both, and Im not sure if it was his right or left so I went with his left :)

------

It was a bad idea. Waging war on Wakanda. Now as you wait patiently for your partner to return, you worry for his safety.

"Please don't go, K’uk’ulkan.”

He's half-way out the door, but he doesn't leave. Not yet.

"I need to..."

"You could get hurt."

Namor, not even realising that you're near crying, turns to look at you.

"I need to do this, for our people..."

He's not going to listen to you, is he?

"...and what about us? I..." the tears fall but you ignore them, too focused on him. "I can't lose anyone else."

Now you can't stare at him, but K’uk’ulkan’s sudden touch brings your attention back to him. One hand placed on the side of your face and his eyes...they just held determination, and now they hold care.

"...I promise you, I'll come back to you..."

He presses his head to yours, bringing your eyes to flutter close a moment.

"...I give you my word."

---

The door to the room creaks open, and K’uk’ulkan stumbles in. He's sporting three long scratches on the left side of his face, but it's the fact that the wings on his left ankle has been sliced off.

"K’uk’ulkan..."

You run over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. He immediately settles into it, happy to finally be back in your arms.

"...I'm here, my love..."

After the hug, he takes your hands in his.

"...what of Wakanda?"

"We came to an agreement."

So shuri did have a change of heart.

"...we will be working together from now on..."

Letting out a long breath that you had been holding you nod.

"That's all and well, but what about you?"

"Me?"

He follows your eyes: how they land on the scratches, then his sliced wing. Then realization hits and he remembers why he'd been limping in the first place.

"I'll be fine. I just need time to heal..."

It's a good thing that he can heal. If just wouldn’t be the same without one of his ankle wings permanently sliced off.

"...at least let me bandage your ankle up, please.”

He’d say no, but the way you care so much brings him to say ‘okay my love.’ As well as the fact he realises it would be better to have it bandaged up.

You start pulling him to the seat. He slowly sits down and you leave to grab a bandage, returning soon to take your place next to him.

"Lean your leg here.”

Once he does what you tell him to you begin to slowly wrap his left ankle, earning quiet hisses from K’uk’ulkan but he doesn't tell you to stop.

"...how did this happen..?"

Crossing the bandage over, unraveling more of it.

"The pr...the black panther. During the fight she cut it off..."

Jeez

"...it was a pretty good strategy.."

Rip the wing off, ground him. It had kept him on the ground for the fight, giving shuri more of an advantage.

"Maybe, but that still doesn't make things any better."

Crossing the bandage over, again.

"...I'm not happy about it love. I don't like seeing you hurt."

The last time, you remember, he had passed out in your arms after sustaining a near fatal injury, and you'd nearly lost him.

You remember sobbing, praying to the ancestors to keep him alive. They had answered you, thankfully, but it still scared you.

"...I could have..." pushing away the thought because that's all it is, a thought. Instead you focus back on the task at hand.

"I'm alright, I promise you. I wouldn't leave you."

"I know that, I do, I just worry you know."

"And that's one of the many reasons I love you."

As he says that you finish wrapping his ankle. He moves his foot a little, feeling the tightness of the bandage, but also feeling how secure it is. This is perfect until his wing has fully healed back.

K’uk’ulkan, beyond thankful, leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips, wrapping an arm around your waist while you lean into the kiss. When you part for air, you bring a hand up to rest on the side of his face.

"Thank you."

You should be the one thanking him for coming back to you. He came back like he promised not in a perfect way but he still returned to you.

"...you're welcome my love."

Leaning forward, touching his head with yours a moment. Then you pull away again, letting him see that smile he loves so much. Seeing it again after a day of being apart is a welcome sight...it always is.

Taking your right in his, once more, you move closer to him. Closing the gap between you, and you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Did I tell you how much I've missed you...?"

'Not as much as I missed you' he thinks, but settles on.

"I'm not sure, but I would love to hear that.”

Unable to hold your laugh you just shake your head, nuzzling your head more into his shoulder.

"Okay my king."

You're not sure how long the conversation goes for after that, but neither of you care. You're in eachother's arms, that’s all you need.

[n3ptoonz]

'Hot Springs'

wlw fic on the first day of pride month?! hold your applause 😎😎

Pairing: Falin Touden/Marcille Donato

Fandom: Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, PWP, underwater activities, cunnilingus, Falin can hold her breath for a long time, Falin isn't a monster yet but she got that DOG in her, finger riding, confessions, multiple orgasms, finger sucking- DAMN you get the idea. might be typos

Word count: 1.2k

"I'm so glad you're back with us! I was afraid we would never see you again." Marcille said, nearly clung to Falin's side. The water was nice and warm, and they both knew they could use a relaxing evening away from the chaos in the dungeon. Falin smiled and put her hand over Marcille's when she noticed she was more pale than usual.

"Marcille? You're paler than I am..." she said.

Marcille sat up straight and scratched the back of her head, chuckling sheepishly, "Yeah...I used up a lot of my mana in the last hour alone..."

Falin just blinked and leaned closer to inspect her face. She noticed how a faint tint of red painted her cheeks after being startled. Before Marcille could finish her sentence, Falin grabbed her hand gently to give her some of her mana.

"Relax." she whispered. "You are probably drained from saving me, let me help you." Her voice was still so soft and welcoming as it always was, but her tone was slightly more demanding than usual, and Marcille was starting to like it.

"What do you me- Falin!" Marcille exclaimed, watching Falin submerge herself under the warm water. After letting go of her hand, Marcille then gasped at the feeling of Falin's soft hands grabbing her thighs. On one hand she was worried about Falin not being able to breathe...but as soon as her lips and the pad of her tongue met her folds, her mind surely went blank.

Marcille's legs instinctively started to close when Falin spread her legs further and delved into her like she hadn't eaten in weeks (I mean technically-). Marcille had to cover her own mouth so she wouldn't be heard on the other side of the wall where the guys were bathing.

Who knew Falin had this in her? The strangely skilled woman seemed to have been on a mission the way she swirled her tongue and let her nose brush against the sensitive nub that drove Marcille mad.

Not having much sexual experience, she naturally would start to reach her climax fast. The way Falin lapped at her was too much to bear, but she also still didn't want Falin to be underwater for much longer. Her eyes shut tightly as the pit of her stomach tightened and that unraveling coil had finally snapped. While she came, Falin tried her best to take it all in so it didn't spread far out into the bath water...although it may be a little late for that!

Above the surface all that could be heard was the faint echoes of Marcille's muffled whines and huffs as she trembled in her post-orgasm glow. As she attempted to calm herself Falin came back up with the same small smile on her face. She leaned closer to Marcille again as she saw some of her mana return around her.

"That should replenish some of your strength." she said so casually like she couldn't feel Marcille's legs shaking under her palms. Marcille managed to catch her breath and let her eyes slowly open to the sight of Falin up close and personal, yet still not invading her space.

"I...When the hell did you learn to do that?!" she asked, seemingly back to normal.

Falin tapped her chin in genuine thought, "Err...I was always able to hold my breath for a long time-"

"That's not what I meant- Hey!" she said as she felt Falin's hands pull her into her lap. "...You have got to stop surprising me like that..." she added, but soon quieted as Falin entered one finger inside her. She used her other hand to caress her cheek and brush her hair behind her ear.

"You still seem stressed, Marcille. I wanna help," she said softly this time. "Yes...you are clenching onto my finger-"

"Maybe because it's inside of me!" Marcille blurted out, but her feigned irritation faltered as soon as she realized she was subconsciously riding Falin's fingers. Marcille buried her blushing face into the crook of the other's neck, wrapping her arms around her as her goosebumps became more apparent. She slowly lifted herself again and shyly whispered, "...Could you add another one...?" in reference to another finger. Falin's hands were always so soft and delicate, and Marcille could never forget about that fact.

"Of course," Falin whispered. She was now two fingers deep inside of the shy elf clinging onto her shoulders and trying her best to keep her composure while she rode her fingers. Strangely enough, Marcille's mana was rejuvenating quickly this way. She might have to start purposely using up her energy more often if this is how she can get it back in due time. She became less and less worried about Falin using hers up by this point, she was feeling way too good.

"Mm...please-" she softly moaned desperately. Falin put her free hand on Marcille's hip for more balance since it was clear she was getting lost in the moment.

"Would you like a third finger?" she asked, caressing her cold yet warm wet skin. She watched as Marcille shyly nodded as she kept going; her eyes shut tight and her whines getting louder.

The sound of the water splashing against their skin was beginning to drown out from the pants, hums, and moans filling the room. The steam was no longer there. Only the heat emitting from their skin. The tips of Marcille's ears began turning bright red as Falin added one more finger. She lifted the hand placed on her hip to her freshly washed hair, stroking it to soothe Marcille as she shamelessly regenerated her energy back.

As her soft cries crescendoed, she had no other choice but to muffle herself by biting down onto Falin's shoulder. It wasn't too hard, but it wasn't too soft either.

It was perfect.

Falin let out a soft hiss at this sensation and decided to lift her thumb to rub slow circles around the small nub that was sure to send Marcille off the edge. She let tears flow from her eyes as she reached climax, and Falin didn't intend on stopping her movements.

"Let it out, pretty girl~" Falin mumbled into her ear, and as Marcille rode out her high, she quickly unlatched her teeth from Falin's shoulder and kissed her. She held her face like she could disappear again right here right now. Every groan and cry that escaped her lips was taken in by Falin's, and she didn't mind one bit.

She then backed away and slowly brought her movements to a halt, resting her forehead on the other's. Falin gently removed her fingers and looked at the slick left behind in awe, which prompted Marcille to take the three fingers into her mouth and suck off the extra with a tired, yet cheeky smile.

She finally collapsed into Falin's arms. She just laid her face on top of hers with a soft chuckle and a sigh of content, taking a mini note of how her breasts comfortably rested atop hers.

"I really like you, Falin." she confessed rather quietly. Loud enough for her to hear. Falin glided her hands down her back before pulling her closer, letting the slightly cold water still its movements following hers. She smiled as she nuzzled against the elf's spent form--luckily she would be able to bounce back quickly with her new mana wink wink.

"I really like you too, Marcille."

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 63

Steve and Tony were clearly on edge as they split the wood, their faces tense with unspoken frustration. I had no idea what had sparked the argument, but the intensity between them was palpable. Steve, gripping a massive log with both hands, suddenly ripped it apart with a raw, brute force that left splinters flying. It was a jarring reminder of how powerful he'd become, especially considering he once struggled to catch his breath as a frail, asthmatic kid.

As I approached, the air between them felt thick, charged with whatever conflict had unfolded. Their eyes locked in a silent standoff, both too proud—or too stubborn—to back down. I hesitated, then cautiously broke the silence. "Hey, is everything alright?"

Tony's expression shifted instantly, the tension melting into a smirk. "I'm glad you’re here," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Steve clearly needs help with his wood," he added, gesturing to the towering pile of split logs behind Steve. The jab was unmistakable, but I couldn't tell if it was meant to lighten the mood or twist the knife.

Steve's frown deepened, his jaw tightening as he glared at Tony. But before he could say anything, Tony threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, that was the last wood joke, I swear..." he paused, unable to resist adding with a smirk, "But seriously, you might want to get that stick up your ass checked out."

Tony’s laughter echoed, but it did little to ease the tension that hung between them. The air was still thick with unresolved tension when Laura stepped outside, her expression a mix of hesitation and determination. "I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark," she began, her voice polite yet tinged with anxiety. "Clint said you wouldn’t mind, but our tractor—well, it won’t start at all." She gestured towards the shed with an apologetic smile, her eyes pleading for help.

"Yeah, I’ll give her a kick," Tony nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye as he agreed to help. Just before disappearing into the shed, he spun around and pointed sharply at the small pile of wood behind him. "Don't take from my pile!" he called out, his voice carrying a mix of humor and warning.

I watched Tony vanish into the shadows of the shed, then turned my attention to Steve, who was still brimming with frustration. As I crossed my arms and approached him, I couldn’t help but notice the tension etched into his features. "Is everything alright between you two?" I asked, my voice tinged with hesitation. I slowly sat down on the wooden bench next to Steve’s towering pile of split logs, hoping my presence might help ease whatever was troubling him.

Steve let out a heavy sigh and lowered himself onto the bench beside me. "I don’t know if this team thing is working out," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of his doubts. "Everyone’s keeping secrets, and that has no place in a team." His words were clearly directed at Tony, but the mention of secrets made my stomach twist uncomfortably. I could feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on us.

"It’s all going to break apart right in front of our eyes at this rate," Steve continued, shaking his head in dismay. The despair in his voice was unmistakable, and I realized just how deep his concerns ran. The thought that our relationship could unravel just like the team wasn’t lost on me. The fear of it gnawed at my insides, a constant, quiet dread I couldn’t shake. Steve must have sensed my unease because he gently wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. "Well, at least we have each other," he murmured, his voice warm and reassuring.

He was right, I realized. Without him, I’d be lost. Steve had been my anchor through these turbulent times, the one constant I could rely on. And here I was, on the brink of jeopardizing the only good thing I had left in my life. The weight of that realization hit me hard, filling me with a deep, aching sadness. I turned to look at him, searching his eyes for the comfort I desperately needed.

He smiled softly, his gaze full of understanding and affection, before leaning in to press a tender kiss on my forehead. My eyes fluttered shut, a single tear slipping free despite my efforts to hold it back. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. They were the only words I could manage, but I hoped they conveyed the depth of my gratitude.

He smirked, his expression softening with confusion. "Thank you for what?" he asked, pulling back slightly to search my face, his brows knitting together in curiosity.

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze with a somber smile. "For being here," I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur. "I don’t know what I’d do without you." As I spoke, I wiped away the tears that had escaped, trying to compose myself. The past was unchangeable, a series of moments already written, but I knew I still had the power to shape the future I wanted—a future with him by my side.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No need to thank me for that," he said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling. "You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried."

He pulled me into a tighter embrace, his warmth seeping through the fabric of our clothes. I nestled against him, savoring the comforting solidity of his body as the gentle spring breeze rustled around us.

Later that evening, we gathered around the dinner table, enjoying the warmth of Laura’s delicious meal. She had prepared a delightful spread: a crisp garden salad, a tender roast, and golden, perfectly seasoned potatoes. The children’s laughter echoed cheerfully, and the aroma of the freshly cooked food added a comforting, homely touch to the gathering.

Amidst the relaxed atmosphere, Fury, who had joined us for the meal, began to speak with a serious tone. While the pleasant chatter and clinking of cutlery continued, he revealed a troubling development. Ultron was targeting missiles, but there was a complication—someone, potentially an ally working on our side, was consistently altering the missile codes. The gravity of this revelation dimmed the festive mood, as the conversation shifted to the pressing threat now looming over us.

“Ultron has got an enemy, that's not the same thing,” Fury interjected when Natasha suggested the possibility of an ally. His tone left little room for optimism.

Tony, visibly agitated and pacing back and forth, responded with determination. “I might need to visit Oslo. Find our unknown.”

Fury, whose dramatic faked death after the Washington disaster had left him with far fewer resources, was now a shadow of his former self. With S.H.I.E.L.D dismantled, he had made it clear that we could no longer depend on the vast networks and resources we once had. Instead, we would have to rely on our own ingenuity and determination to confront the threats facing us and save the world.

"Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission. And whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction. All this laid in a grave. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard.", Fury said addressing all of us.

Natasha shot Fury a glance, her eyebrow arched in exaggerated sarcasm. "Steve doesn’t exactly appreciate that kind of talk," she remarked, her tone dripping with dry wit.

I focused on my plate, struggling to stifle a laugh at the interplay. The tension in the room was momentarily lifted by Natasha's sharp remark.

Steve, catching the subtle humor, let a smile spread across his face. “You know what, Romanoff?” he said, his voice taking on a lighter, more playful tone. His smile seemed to diffuse some of the lingering tension, bringing a bit of levity to the conversation.

Fury’s gaze swept over us, his voice cutting through the murmur of uncertainty. “So, what does he want?”

After a moment of contemplation, Steve spoke up, his tone reflecting the weight of their predicament. “To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies.”

Tony chimed in, his expression thoughtful. “Person bodies,” he added, a hint of frustration in his voice. “The human form isn't efficient. Biologically speaking, we are outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it.”

Bruce, seemingly absorbed in a sketch of a butterfly, looked up with an unsettling calmness. “Ultron is going to evolve,” he stated, his words laced with a sense of foreboding.

Fury’s skepticism was evident as he pressed on, “And how exactly does he plan to do that?”

Bruce’s next question was heavy with implication. “Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?” His voice carried a somber tone, suggesting that her involvement might be crucial to understanding Ultron’s next move.

Tags: @capswife

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