#and going to work isn’t so draining anymore

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer dotes on a mama!reader

・❥ Caring for an infant isn’t easy, but luckily, you’ve got a charming king willing to do anything for you.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

x: reader is fem, no use of y/n.

xx: it’s here! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, but lots of think you’ll enjoy it! keep your eyes out for some pretty art i commissioned inside!

~ 15k words

When you welcomed your daughter into the realm, and finally reached that next long stretch of motherhood, you had prepared yourself for the many changes that accompanied the new addition.

For example, your sleep schedule flipped entirely on its head once you realized that newborn babies slept only a few hours intermittently, which meant a good, long night's rest did not exist anymore. 

You found yourself putting your daughter down for a nap at six in the morning, having spent the previous night breastfeeding and soothing her cries. Sometimes, her wailing lasted several hours, and you began to worry if she had a hellish form of colic. You prayed it wasn’t that, because that would mean it would worsen for the next month or so.

The first few weeks were spent holed up in your room, away from the loud noises and constant active state of the rest of the hotel. It was pretty easy, seeing as it was basically a studio apartment, save for the kitchen, which was an exhausting walk down the hall, even more so than when you were pregnant. 

“Ya look terrible, mama,” Angel Dust had grimaced with a laugh when you appeared like a ghost late one night inside the much posher lobby, your complexion sunken and drained as your feet dragged across the red carpet.

He had just arrived home from a long day at the studio, his expression equally as drained but his demeanor much livelier than your zombie appearance.

You probably did look terrible, in your oversized pajamas that no doubt had stains of baby spit-up and breast milk. You looked unsightly, a mess, that pregnancy glow extinguished like a flame as you tiredly frog blinked in Angel’s direction. 

“Need… to clean the milk bottles… before she wakes up,” you mumbled, lifting three small, dirty baby bottles to view.

“Ya need any help?”

“No, thanks. M’fine,” you waved him off with a yawn, slowly crossing the room towards the kitchen doors. 

There was no reason to bother him with such a task, it was your baby, and he already had enough to deal with at the studio.

“Well, have a good time then. I'm jus’ gonna call it an early night an’ head ta bed,” Angel replied, bidding farewell as he turned and left the lobby. 

Your head twisted to catch a glimpse of his figure turning the corner, surprise crossing your features at his sudden departure. Usually, Angel Dust had a couple of drinks after work or went out to party until the early hours of the morning. 

Tonight, the only thing on the spider demon’s mind was to curl up with Fat Nuggets and sleep those troubling emotions away.

He had been drinking far less lately, or, at least, had been keeping his habits away from the hotel ever since the new hotel was built and your daughter was born. No more did the pornstar burst in after a night at the studio, eyes red and speech slurred as he spoke gibberish and laughed at nothing in particular. 

Even though it was Hell, you were determined to keep the gateways into a chaotic life away from your daughter. She was going to have the best quality of life possible in such a place, and you were vocal about your disapproval of those habits, especially in a place that’s supposed to be free of such sin.

When Cherri began staying longer and longer at the hotel, you were apprehensive at first with how much deeper she seemed to be in ‘the life’. Would she sink further into the depths after Sir. Pentious’ death? It wasn’t easy for someone to deal with both grief and guilt at the same time. 

Fortunately, she had the support of the residents inside the hotel, and she was finding healthier outlets than a thin line of white powder to quell her pain. 

You were grieving too, even if you hadn’t known Sir. Pentious that long in comparison to the others, the little time you spent with him was all but enough. 

Sir. Pentious was kind, and courteous, and made the best cookies you’d ever tasted. You had a connection with the snake demon with your shared enjoyment in cooking, and you welcomed the assistance of his Egg Boiz taste-testing your delicacies. 

Now, he was gone, and the emptiness of his departure was palpable inside the hotel. His loyal egg companions now dwindled to just one singular yolk, the rest having sacrificed their shells along with their selfless general. 

Frank, who had survived solely because he had guarded you at the hospital, returned home to an empty nest and no boss.

You weren’t sure whether the little guy could understand how double death worked, but the way he stared longingly at Sir. Pentious’ portrait in the lobby that he knew his old family was gone for good.

Charlie had done her best to integrate him into the staff, him a room service attendant. He stayed your faithful helper in that way, summoned to your door by the newly installed service button whenever you needed.

“Sorry for bothering you, Frank,” you had smiled down at him, poking your head out from the inside of your room, your daughter latched onto your nipple, “But I’m out of toilet paper and I'm kind of busy right now. Could you go grab me some, please?” 

“Sure thing!” He replied chipperly, lifting his hat courteously from the top of his shell before he scampered down the hall and out of view. 

He’d return with your items of request, as he did for all the rest of the residents. It kept him busy, allowing his one-track mind to stay away from thinking hard thoughts about what was lost for too long.

Those hard thoughts plagued you as well, as you dealt with the grief of losing a friend and the mood swings that began to take over you. The hormonal changes that came post-birth was also something you prepared for, the ‘baby blues’ as most would call it.

It had started as mood swings, the typical sudden bursts of emotions that accompanied your pregnancy, and the ones that liked to show their face around your period. Suddenly, you’d find yourself shooting a glare at a particularly noisy conversation outside of your door, or find your eyes welling up with tears at the slightest inconvenience.

A mix of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones was not a good one, and you were determined to keep this weakness away from your friends. 

What if they thought you weren’t doing a good job as a mother? All that time, energy, and resources that were used to help you and your baby. They’d think it was all a waste, caring so much only for you to end up a disappointment. 

Was that… how your ex had felt when he chose a whore over his lover and child?

Those thoughts began to plague you, and your anxiety heightened with every passing day. The idea that their judgments on your parenting would be harsh had you withdrawing for longer periods inside your room, and farther away from your friends.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to keep your feelings completely hidden from them, and you realized quickly how erratic your emotions actually were.

One day, Vaggie had swung by to inform you that they had ordered some pizza, and you were welcome to have some too. You were busy breastfeeding your baby at the time, and had to wait until she was sound asleep to sneak out of your room and into the kitchen. 

When you finally arrived, your stomach growled with giddy anticipation as you passed by the others who had mostly finished their plates, your lateness obvious. The lobby was filled with chatter, all the residents gathered for a nice meal and to catch up on anything new that had transpired during the week.

When you reached the partially open pizza box inside the empty kitchen, that delicious scent wafted to your nose and you licked your lips hungrily. Gripping the lid, you lifted it quickly, your mind already picturing whatever goodness lay inside. 

Was it the classic pepperoni that couldn’t go wrong? Maybe it was from that new pizzeria down the block with their best-selling macaroni and cheese… 

Your train of thought derailed, your gaze narrowing at the contents inside the box. 

A singular slice of pizza was all that remained inside, your most hated topping sprinkled atop the now-cooled cheese. 

Your lip curled at the sight, irritation flickering across your face at the lonely slice. You heard laughter from the conversation behind you, and that only had your eye twitching.

You had lived with these guys during the most intense months of your cravings, and they were aware of what kind of pizza you devoured in an instant and which ones had you gagging. And, only one slice? Had they forgotten about you, even though you had told Vaggie you’d come down after feeding the baby? 

You were itching to commit some sort of violence, which had you steeling your arms from lifting the box and chucking it against the wall. 

Those intrusive thoughts had you rubbing your temple with a frustrated sigh, before lifting a hand to begin plucking the disgusting toppings from the slice. 

As you placed the last of it onto the cardboard, you grabbed the pizza and threw it into the microwave nearby. Your foot tapped impatiently against the marble tile as the slice spun slowly inside the appliance, your thoughts spinning along with it.

By the time you had made it out of the kitchen with steaming food, your tolerance for social interaction was drained, and it seemed a better idea to just eat in your room. 

Passing by a few familiar faces, you only greeted them with a tight smile, walking fast enough so that they’d assume you were busy and it would be less likely for them to invite you to chat. 

Right as you were about to turn the corner into the hall, plate in hand, a figure rounded the corner and smacked into you head-on. Your chests collided, and you felt the plate slip from your grip, you snapped your head up to see the familiar apple-cheeked woman meet your gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Charlie gasped, right as the pizza slid off your plate and began to free-fall down to the carpet.

Your eyes widened, and Charlie tensed as the pizza splat face-down, the tomato sauce beginning to ooze from the sides like a bloody scene and your hand began to tremble.

At first, those intrusive thoughts were prodding you to snap at her, but you held your tongue. That anger quickly morphed into gloom, and your eyes cast down longingly to the overturned slice.

Your lip quivered, and your chest heaved as you took a shaky breath to keep those tears from falling. Charlie’s brows furrowed and she slowly matched your expression as guilt squeezed her stomach. The banter around you quieted, but your gaze was firmly on the woman in front of you. 

Fuck, that was the one thing you were looking forward to today. You couldn’t lose your composure in front of the princess, however, that would heighten her concern, and she already had enough on her plate with the new clients.

“Here, let me get Niffty to clean this up and I can get you some more piz—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” You interrupted her, a quiet growl laced in your wavering words as you chuckled humorously, “There isn’t anything left, this was all you guys cared enough to save for me.” 

Charlie’s eyes widened at your tone, before she opened her mouth to speak again just as Niffty walked forward to clean the mess. Looking down, you took notice of the large glob of sauce that had landed on your top, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

“If you excuse me, I have to get changed now,” you huffed, spinning on your heels to face the hallway, not giving the princess any time to press further as you briskly walked away.

That hot, salty liquid began to spill down your cheeks right as you entered into the long corridor, and you desperately tried to wipe them away. Your face was rubbed dry in a desperate bid to silence the tears.

What was wrong with you? It was one slice of pizza, yet your heart ached like your lottery ticket was one number away from winning. Charlie’s expression had proved your mask was beginning to crack, with the mix of concern and surprise toward your change in demeanor. 

Motherhood isn't easy, that had been clear since day one, but you had hoped your emotions would have stabilized by now. It seems that sleep exhaustion and maternal hormones just don’t mix very well, huh?

That incident had been so embarrassing, that you kept to yourself the rest of the week, only venturing out when necessary, which had you spending most of your time with your daughter. 

Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite a while, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her. 

The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. Peaches was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.

You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.

You squished your daughter's cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”

“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”

“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”

“What are you doing?” An amused, honeyed voice came from across your room.

You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the baby's lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.

There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.  

He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter. 

Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world.

Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.

“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to a stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it. 

“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.

“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.

You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.

“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke. 

Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat. 

Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again. 

“How is everything going?”

“Good,” you lied. 

“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you. 

Lucifer’s cane twisted between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.

You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him. 

Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.

You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet. 

His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, and that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.

He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.

Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure. 

You just needed to prove him wrong. 

“Come on,” you finally nudged him with a laugh, setting the apple on a table nearby, before beckoning him to follow you towards the bed. 

It seemed as if Lucifer had been waiting for your approval, as his demeanor lightened at your words and he slowly followed you. His steps were light and quiet as you neared the side of the bed, stopping just as he settled beside you. 

“Peaches! You’re looking quite radiant this evening,” Lucifer greeted with a flourish, as he leaned over the side of your bed, and your daughter’s eyes widened at the familiar face.

Your eyes flicked up to the fallen angel at his words. Peaches, the nickname he had come up with. Shockingly, a name that didn’t derive from apples, ducks, or the circus.

“Well, aren't you just a peach, so quiet and easy for your mama!'' Lucifer had cooed to the little one her first days in Hell, she lay in your arms as he softly brushed a thumb across her chin, “So adwowable wit those chubby wittle cheeks.” 

Your baby had only frowned at the strange man’s touch with a half-lidded gaze, but soon she’d learn to get used to Lucifer’s presence, as he never disappeared for too long without visiting his three favorite girls. 

You had a real name for your daughter that was chosen after her birth, but that could be reserved for when you’d have to pull out the full name card during arguments in her teenage years. Peaches had been a simple phrase that seemed to stick, and even if you weren’t fond of the cute addressal, you wouldn’t dare ruin his first attachment to your daughter.

Peaches had only stared up at the porcelain figure invading her space with a curious gaze, no doubt wondering who this silly was, and why he always left her gifts to fawn over. 

Like the first day you came home from the hospital, he presented you with a beautiful red, silken bassinet, with intricate gold lines woven into the detailed design, enhancing the elegance of the crib. Its plushness looked very comfortable for your daughter, and you adored that Lucifer got you something in the first place.

Another time, he brought you a golden mobile that depicted ducks flying rhythmically in circles, ones that threw vibrant, warm lights across the walls late at night, soothing the girl’s late wakings before they woke you at times. 

That seemed to be Lucifer’s love language towards your daughter, always presenting her with toys and other little gizmos he cooked up inside of his workshop. Finally, the fallen angel had found purpose for the dusty space, instead of constantly tweaking the same old, yellow rubber ducky day after day.

“For you, a fan-favorite from the vault,” Lucifer hummed as he snapped his fingers, and a stuffed goat with devilish horns and bat wings materialized in his hands.

Right as he pulled the plush from behind his back, Peaches became enamored with it, kicking her legs in excitement as the stuffed animal was held high for her to get a full view. Her motor control was still poor, and she couldn’t grasp the amusing creature, but its colorful fur and dragon-like features were something to gawk at in the little one’s eyes.

“Look, she’s smiling!” You beamed beside the fallen angel, heart melting as you watched the little girl’s mouth open with a squeal at the offering, “I think that’s her biggest one yet!”

“It seems I’m just a natural at this kind of thing, huh?” Lucifer winked playfully your way, before he levitated the toy just above your daughter’s head, whose attention was solely on the little goat plush, “I think she’s even starting to like me, too.”

‘You’re such a good daddy, please let me make you one again.’

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you replied instead with a simple nod, before turning on your heels to hide your goofy smile and retrieve the caramel apple once more.

You plucked the apple from the table, before biting another large chunk from its side. The flavors swirled in your mouth, and that fog in your mind lessened a little more with each bite.

You watched from a short distance, as Lucifer’s index finger pointed towards the air above your daughter’s head. With a flick of his wrist, a trail of golden sparks shot from his fingertip and upward above their heads, before exploding into a flurry of sparkles that sent golden shadows across the room.

Peaches was digging the light show, her eyes fixated on the floating spectacle before they flickered out of existence. 

“Anything else going on?” The king finally spoke, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Not really, just taking it one day at a time,” you responded absentmindedly, lifting the coated apple to your lips to take another bite. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” He blurted, smile cracking wider as straightened himself against his cane. 

You froze, brain short-circuiting as those words processed in your head. You, free? As in, available to partake in some sort of activity with Lucifer?

“Yes, technically…” you trailed off, gaze flicking to your daughter, giddy on her bed as she watched the stuffed goat, “But I can’t just leave the baby alone all evening, she needs me.”

“She doesn’t need you, she’s fine with someone else for a few hours,” he waved off your excuse, before throwing another trail of sparklings into the air, and they exploded in a flurry of golden glimmers above the baby’s head, “I’m sure Charlie would love to spoil the kid for a few hours anyway, don’t you trust her?” 

“Yes…” 

“I was thinking,” Lucifer continued, beginning to take a few slow, deliberate steps towards you, “Nothing too crazy, just a nice, quiet evening with good food. Maybe throw some of my good wine into the mix, what do you say?”

He sent you a sultry, half-lidded gaze as he sidled closer to you, the caramel apple in your grip lowering from your lips as Lucifer enraptured your full attention, heat blooming across your cheeks at his expression. 

“If that is what His Majesty wishes, then I cannot refuse such an offer,” you struggled to keep your voice from wavering, the heat in your cheeks creeping farther down your body.

“But do you want it?” He pressed, only a foot away from you now, his lips upturned in a smirk at your flustered expression. 

Apparently, those horny hormones had also stuck around after your pregnancy. Having such a gorgeous, ethereal figure so close to you made your heart skip a beat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. 

“I… think that is a very lovely offer, and I would enjoy being able to spend time in just your company,” you finally replied carefully, a smile blooming across your lips.

“Perfect!” Lucifer clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting with glee as he took a step away from you, back toward the bed.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” The king cooed softly to your daughter, as he plucked the stuffed goat from the air, “Take good care of this little guy, he’s a special one.”

Lowering the plush, Lucifer placed it gently against your baby’s chest, and her chubby little hands came up to wrap firmly around the toy. Ungracefully, the goat was lifted to Peaches’ lips before she opened her mouth to begin suckling on its ear.

“I bet that tastes delicious,” Lucifer laughed, and you smiled fondly at the duo with a tilt of your head.

The fallen angel took a step back from the bed after a moment, before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. That familiar white, brim hat materialized from thin air into his grasp, and he turned to you with a smile.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm a very busy man and have other matters to attend to,” Lucifer sighed dramatically, brushing past you towards the doorway. 

“I have no doubt,” you shook your head with a laugh, following him towards the end of your room.

Lucifer reached the open doorway, before turning to face you again. He met your gaze for a few moments, before he leaned forward in a bow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, m’lady,” he hummed with delight, adjusting his hat against those beautiful golden curls as you smiled warmly.

“Is there a dress code for our little outing?” you responded with a mischievous grin.

The king only sent you a playful wink, before he stepped out of view and the soft thuds of heeled boots against carpet faded as he disappeared down the hall.

That interaction with Lucifer stewed in your mind for the entire night, as well as into the early morning. Your thoughts drifted to the previous conversation as you snuck down the hall and into the lobby to grab breakfast from the kitchen.

The others were fairly busy, so you were easily able to travel unseen. Angel Dust was working overtime at the studio for a new porn flick, and Charlie was using the extermination to push her hotel further into the spotlight and attract new clients. Vaggie always went along with her, and Alastor was probably up in his fancy new radio tower, doing whatever it was he did up there. 

It was only Husk who remained, always behind the bar, shining the bottles and whistling a strange blues tune. He had begun to rope in his drinking as well, choosing to pick up a bottle much later in the day than usual. It was the early morning hour, when you passed by the bar with breakfast in your hands, and the sober bartender turned to you.

“How’s the kid doing?”

“She’s fine, growing very fast too, gaining more control over her movement every day.”

“That's nice,” Husk’s lips curved a smidge, as he placed the glassware neatly underneath the counter, “Haven’t seen you in a while, glad to know ya ain’t dead or nothin’.”

“Yes…” You said slowly, mind racing for a good excuse, “She has just been fussy lately, so I’ve been tending to her.”

“You should bring her out one of these days,” He lifted his eyes from the glass in his paws, meeting yours with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the others would be happy to see her.”

You couldn’t tell whether Husk was using the term ‘others’ as an inclusion of him as well, you knew the furry demon had a heart somewhere beneath those layers of fur and grumpiness.

You nodded your head at his words, taking a bite of your breakfast, thoughts drifting as you chewed. You’d have to ask Charlie about babysitting anyway, and you couldn’t avoid her forever.

Maybe, knowing that you were going out with her dad, she’d be thrilled to shoulder the responsibilities of a newborn for a single night, or, she could hate it… which was something you desperately tried not to think too hard about, for your sanity.

Needless to say, Husk was right, your daughter really brought the best out of your friends, as they melted in her vicinity. None of the residents at the hotel had any problem looking after the adorable little demon.

Charlie had stood quietly in the lobby, humming a tune as she rocked the baby softly in her arms. Vaggie stood beside her, tilting her head as Peaches’ eyelids began to droop at the gentle motions.

“They’re as cute as the ones in Heaven, maybe cuter,” The fallen angel spoke with a smile, her hand lifting towards the little girl’s head, before tiny fingers wrapped around a single digit and clamped tight.

“And strong too, wow,” She laughed, trying to gently dislodge her finger from the steel grip.

In the hallway behind them, you turned the corner into the lobby, anxiously fiddling with your appearance as you neared the trio. Dressed in a wine-red outfit, you stumbled slightly in your heels as you navigated over the plush carpet. 

Finally, you were actually able to fit into fashionable attire. Your stomach was no longer inflated with an eight-pound baby, and the aching of your once swollen feet no longer bothered you to continue venturing the world in socks and flip-flops.

“You look really nice in that outfit!” Charlie beamed as she turned at the sounds of footsteps, and Vaggie nodded beside her. Your daughter’s eyes widened at the exclamation, before moving to your figure, tracking your figure as you joined them near the bar. 

Angel Dust was lounging on a bar stool, swishing alcohol absentmindedly inside a martini glass as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, before catching a glimpse of your outfit with a knowing smirk.

“Someone is dressin’ to impress,” he playfully nudged Husk’s shoulder over the bar counter, who turned his head from the bottles he was organizing to sneak a peek. 

Everyone knew who you were trying to impress, and when you came back, they would no doubt prod you for any juicy details. 

You stopped in front of Charlie, smiling as you adjusted your outfit again. You had spent the past few hours getting ready, which also included multiple outfit changes because you were never satisfied with your appearance. You needed to look good, really good if you were going on a date with the king.

Why would Lucifer want anything to do with you? You had nothing to offer, just tired eyes and a baby on your hip. There had to be better options, surely. Just because the man never went anywhere other than his manor and the hotel, didn’t mean there wasn’t a line of demons wanting to fill the place of Charlie’s mother.

Lilith. You tried desperately not to think of her, for your own self-esteem. You had seen pictures of her, in old magazines and glimpses of family portraits in Charlie’s room. Lucifer spoke of her when talking about his daughter’s childhood or humorous memories, but he seemed to keep the reminiscing of her specifically curt around you. 

You struggled to understand why, did he think you’d react poorly to the mention of his ex-wife? Except, It wasn’t your place to act that way, though. She had been married to the king for thousands of years and was the mother of his child. She was the Queen of Hell for crying out loud! Not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous, had a fantastic voice, and cared deeply for her people’s wellbeing. 

In comparison, you were a sad sack of potatoes. At least, in your opinion. 

Self-conscious thoughts like these had slowly begun to fester during your early pregnancy, and peaked when your stomach resembled a watermelon, and, for some reason, it had decided to make a nest in your brain postpartum. Laying more seeds of anxiety and dejection deeper within your mind.

But, when Lucifer was around, it was like you could finally breathe again. His energy was warm and inviting, like taking a sip of the finest liquor and that buzz in your brain thirsting for more. It felt like snuggling your face into soft sheep's wool, nothing but comfort and relief from the harshness of the realm. 

Even if the fallen angel was no longer welcomed inside Heaven’s gates, he still retained that ethereal grace that made you feel like you were committing the largest sin just by staring too hard at those soft lips of his.

The king cared about you, in a way nobody did. He was the only demon in your group who had any experience with raising a child, and he was your support when it came to understanding the same stages of parenthood you were currently going through. In a much lesser light, of course, he had never actually birthed a child and suffered the effects of such a–literal–mind altering experience.

Tonight, you’d be able to have Lucifer all to yourself, and you were determined to make the most of it. 

You had held back from making any advances towards him for so long due to that golden band on his finger that glinted painfully in your eyes. A reminder of his attachment to his ex-wife, and the fragility of your close bond. 

What if Lilith were to come back? Would he choose her, and distance himself from you? What of you then, being dragged by the heartstrings for so long just to have them snapped in your face at his rejection?

That thought had terrified you, so you kept your feelings hidden, and let Lucifer set the pace on how far things would go. You were determined to start changing that, starting tonight.

As you came to a halt in front of Charlie and Vaggie, your daughter cooed softly, and you reached out a hand to run gentle fingers across her cheek lovingly.

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Bottles in the fridge you just need to warm up, first aid kit in my room, and I’ll have my phone on ring in case there’s an emergency,” you nervously triple-recounted everything in your mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Charlie sent you a confident nod of her head, her fingers tightening around your baby as her smile grew.

It is then you come to realize how good of a big sister the princess could make if she were to have a younger sibling. Your heart swelled at that, as you imagined your daughter at least finding companionship in the young woman. Charlie looked like she could really pull off a stellar children’s tea party.

“I know you do, you’re always so responsible,” you replied warmly, and the princess's eyes widened for a moment, before her lips upturned into a grateful smile as you lowered your hand from your daughter’s face.

“So, where are you going?” Vaggie inquired.

“I don’t know, he just told me to wait outside my balcony door. Which means I should probably head there now, if everything is fine out here.”

“We’re good, toots!” Angel Dust called from behind Charlie, throwing his head back before downing the rest of the liquor in his glass, “Go have some fun!” 

You nodded, before wishing farewell to your daughter and the rest of the demons in the lobby before turning on your heel and heading back towards your room. 

“I hope those two have fun,” Vaggie said as you disappeared around the corner. 

“I have to use the bathroom, will you take Peaches for me?” Charlie turned towards her girlfriend, only for Angel Dust to shoot up from his seat with a large grin. 

“I would like to hold the baby!” He strolled up to the duo, and Charlie glanced over to Vaggie, before shrugging and carefully holding the little girl towards the demon. 

“C’mere, cutie!” Angel Dust beamed, arms outstretched to take the child as she kicked her feet in little baby glee. 

“You love your uncle, Angel, dontcha’?” He cooed, lifting the baby with secure hands underneath her armpits, before he leaned in and rubbed noses.

Peaches sneezed, and Angel Dust positioned her to sit in his lap at the bar counter. Husk leaned across to get a better look, before taking a claw and reaching it towards the baby.

Gently, he squished her chubby arm, trailing down towards her hand. Husk didn’t have time to retract his claw, before a tiny hand wrapped around the cat’s finger and refused to let go.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” He grumbled as he allowed your daughter to stay latched onto his digit.

You had just made it inside your room, adjusting your appearance one final time as you reached the balcony doors. Grasping the handle, you pull it open to slip outside, the lights from the city illuminating the balcony’s white tiled floor.

You turned your head to search for the fallen angel, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were left to twiddle your thumbs, eyes casting towards the demons strolling the streets down the hill in the neighborhood below.

Lucifer didn’t forget about the date… did he? He was getting much better at being on time, but you still could not help to worry. 

“Hey.”

You jumped with a gasp, spinning to face the familiar voice. You had to grip the chair beside you to keep from stumbling in heels, your gaze lifting to meet those familiar, yellow eyes.

Lucifer was perched across from you on the balcony’s thin railing, one pair of his large wings stretched wide, throwing shadows across the tiles beneath your feet. The other two he kept folded at his sides, white against the crimson underbelly of his open wings.

They practically shimmered in the waning light, their shape and color unique to only one kind of being, an angel. Husk’s wings could not compare to the exotic beauty before you, and you struggled to keep eye contact with its owner as you examined the rare sight.

“Lucifer!” You scolded playfully, your eyes tracing across every feather that rustled slightly against the gentle breeze, “You scared me! What are you doing up there?”

“I apologize for the fright,” Lucifer chuckled, rising to his full height as he balanced across like a tightrope, closing the distance between the two of you, “I just thought I’d give you a peek of what tonight has to offer.”

His wings beat softly for balance, before they folded in slightly and the fallen angel lowered himself back to sit on his feet, smiling mischievously as he lowered a hand in a gesture for you to take.

“First, you should take off those heels. They look really nice, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to climb up here with them on.”

You furrowed your brows, suspicion in your gaze as he extended a hand for you to take. What was your darling king planning? 

“Why exactly am I climbing onto the railing?” You kicked off your heels, and you shivered at the cold flooring against your skin.

Your bare feet planted on the cool tiles for a few moments, before your fingers laced with Lucifer’s, and he effortlessly lifted you to stand beside him.

“Well,” He started, his fingers brushing up your wrist to grip your forearm, before steadying you with a flap of his wings, “I just thought you wanted a better mode of transportation to our little dinner than walking in those stilettos.”

“And what ‘mode’ are we talking about here?” You turned to him with widening eyes, realization slowly dawning on you.

Lucifer’s grin only widened, and you gulped. He really was serious about taking an evening flight, and you mentally prepared yourself as your gaze lowered to the long drop beneath you. You steeled your gaze towards the fallen angel, who scooted even closer.

“Are you ready?” His honeyed voice whispered in your ear, and you felt like exploding at the feeling of his touch across your waist.

Were you? Never did you guess this was what he had planned, and never did you imagine finding yourself being able to travel with your feet off the ground. Adrenaline began to pump through your veins the longer you stood there in thought.

With one final deep breath, you moved your hands to grip tightly against Lucifer’s dress shirt, and nodded your approval. Lucifer’s hold on your waist tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut just as you felt him pull you forward and off the side of the railing.

The wind whipped past your ears, your eyelids still locked shut as you clamped your mouth shut to keep from screaming. The two of you were falling fast, and for a moment you imagined Lucifer unable to lift in time, and you’d become a splatter against the grass.

Instead, you heard his other two pairs of wings unfurl and spread above you, the thrumming of heavy flaps and the feeling of being lifted once more had you cracking an eye open. The wind whistled its natural tune, and your eyelids fluttered open to see your legs dangling beneath you. 

You were very high up, as Lucifer glided across the outskirts of the city, those vibrant, flashing strobe lights that lit up the sky above V Tower passed in a multicolored blur. 

You were flying! Free and uncaged from the stress back on the ground, that weightless feeling was something you’ve never experienced all your years in Hell. The adrenaline rush that hit your body had you laughing in the thrill as the fallen angel dipped and rolled. Cars passed below you, and you waved to the pedestrians walking on the streets underneath your feet, if they even noticed your presence.

“Having fun?” Lucifer called from above, and you cocked your head up to meet his playful gaze.

“More than I ever imagined!” You replied, the wind carrying your voice to the king’s ears.

“Good, now hang on!” He laughed, and his wings tightened against his body, causing the two of you to dive with greater speed towards the buildings below. 

Your grip on Lucifer’s shirt tightened and he pulled you closer as he sped towards an illuminated rooftop below. 

Rather carefully, your feet hit the cold bricks beneath, and Lucifer released his hold around your waist to land beside you. His wings folded against his back, and with a split-second flash of golden light, they completely vanished from his frame. 

Lucifer began to walk toward the center of the rooftop, beckoning for you to join. Taking a few steps forward, your eyes follow his path, before widening at the scene. 

Powerful magic had transformed the space into a romantic, candle-lit dinner right out of the movies. The string of bulbs that cast warm light across the small, cute table before you held an intimate glow, paired with the soft, classical tune that filled the air.

A single, elegantly shaped candle stands at the center, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across your face. The table was adorned with a lace-trimmed cloth fluttering gently in the breeze. On top, there's an assortment of delectable treats—cheeses, fruits, and a selection of fine chocolates.

The backdrop is breathtaking, with the city spread out below, its lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The distant hum of traffic and city life is a soothing contrast to the quiet rooftop ambiance. 

Lucifer only smiles at you, before he pulls a chair slightly from the table and gestures for you to sit. You oblige, settling into the comfortable padded seat as he pushes the chair back in place.

He settled into the seat across from you, and you leaned over the table slightly to take a look at the charcuterie board lined with various cheese, meats, and chips. Your stomach growled, and you plucked a few items from the board and placed them on the white plate sitting before you. 

“Is everything to your liking?” Lucifer hummed, as he popped a slice of prosciutto into his mouth, before meeting your gaze.

“This is really nice,” you smiled, lifting your eyes to trace the string of lights that zig-zagged across your head, “I had expected you to just take me to a fancy restaurant, not something like this.”

“I like the atmosphere of places like these much better. Less noisy and more.. personal,” he replied, lifting another meat slice to his lips  “I just thought you needed time away from that suffocating little room, the both of us, really.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, this was very kind of you.”

Lucifer smiled softly, and heat spread across your face at his staring. You took another bite of cheese, and the king’s eyes flicked across the table and his brows furrowed.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” he started, rubbing his chin deep in thought, before his eyes widened as he perked, “That’s right, the wine! Waiter!”

The king snapped his fingers, and you turned your head in confusion. The rooftop was empty, save for the two of you, who could possibl–

Your thoughts were interrupted when footsteps echoed across the gravel, and a figure dressed in a black and white tuxedo strolled forward toward you. It was… another Lucifer, and your mouth dropped slightly at the familiar face, whose curly mustache bounced as he grinned.

A red bottle of wine materialized in the double’s hands, and with a loud pop the cork lid flew across the rooftop. Fizz spilled from the bottle for a few moments as the waiter stopped beside you. Lowering the bottom, he poured the empty glass in front of you to the brim, before standing straight once more.

“For you, ma chérie,” Lucifer #2 spoke with a perfect French accent, before bowing respectfully to you. 

He sent you a playful wink as he slid over to your Lucifer’s side, and lowered the wine bottle. Lucifer watched his glass fill, before shooing away his double, who backed away from the table and vanished into the shadows.

You lift the wine glass to your lips, taking a long sip of the dark red liquor. Its rich, apple flavor danced on your tongue as warmth bloomed from your stomach. 

“This is amazing! When you were talking about good wine, I didn’t think you meant this good,” you beamed, that buzz already tingling in your brain as you took another sip.

“An old recipe that’s been sitting in my cellar for, well… a few thousand years by now,” Lucifer swirled the wine in his glass, before lifting it to his lips.

As you nibble on the delicate offerings, conversation flows effortlessly between you both. The topics range from silly memories and active interests, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. Lucifer's eyes hold a warmth and depth that matches the glow of the candle, his demeanor a mix of confidence and vulnerability, as he shares with you details of his past.

Time seems to stand still as you savor each other's company, the burdens upon your shoulders vanishing for the moment, as you keep your gaze fixed on the gorgeous face across from you. The night feels infinite, filled with promise and the simple joy of being together.

Unfortunately, time passed much quicker than you hoped, as the sky above was blanketed in darkness at the late hour. Even with the giddy buzz from the wine, exhaustion was still creeping up your spine, and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Lucifer and you both stood at the same time, and when the king joined you at one end of the table, he lifted a hand toward you. It was a gesture for you to take, and when your eyes lowered, you found that the golden band usually around his finger was nowhere in sight.

Your eyes widened, and something stirred inside you. You didn’t waste any time in reaching forward and lacing your fingers with his, his touch soft and warmth bloomed from his fingertips. 

What now? Should you just lean over and kiss him? No, not on the first date, that’s silly! It must have been the buzz of the wine making all those intrusive thoughts seem very logical as you locked eyes with the king for a few moments.

But… was it really the first date? Sure, you had never spent time together so.. intimately before, but he was there for you a lot during your pregnancy. Helped you cook, filled your day with entertainment, and cared for your health, all he did by choice. 

Which is why you felt so weird asking for his help now, he had already done so much, any more and you’d feel utterly… useless.

It seemed like Lucifer wanted to say something, his brows furrowed slightly, lips moving as if he was just moments from speaking. He held his tongue though, sighing softly in the breeze as he turned his head towards the vibrant cityscape.

You followed his gaze, glimpsing the large, digital billboards a few streets away depicting lude models and VoxTek advertisements. 

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, with the baby and everything? You know you can always ask me for help, right?” Lucifer's words caught you off guard, and your head turned to meet his gaze.

Was he catching onto how much you were really struggling? You bit your lip, mind racing. You had tried so hard to seem normal, but the truth was, you felt like a different person after your baby. These emotions that refuse to leave you in peace were only creating a deeper divide between you and everyone else.

Your daughter was beautiful, and you loved her so much. But, she was still a mentally draining, constantly hungry being that begged for your attention 24/7 in the form of harsh, deafening wails. It seemed to be improving, hopefully.

“I think so,” you answered honestly, using your free hand to rub your shoulder soothingly, “It was tough for a while, but I think whatever has been bothering her is going away. Everything should be much smoother from here on out.”

Lucifer looked at you for another moment, as if he was finding it hard to believe you. He didn’t press further, instead giving your hand a supportive squeeze before tugging 

“Ready for round two?” He smiled, his wings unfurling from behind his back as stepped onto the edge of the roof beside him.

You only laughed as he pulled you close to him and the two of you fell off the side of the building. Lucifer’s wings stretched wide as they lifted the two of you towards the sky, your worries in the wind once more.

You should have knocked on wood when you told Lucifer your daughter’s crying fits were improving, because only a few days later, it was quite the opposite. Peaches has been overcome with another intense round of colic, and her screams bounced across the bedroom as you rocked her gently in your arms.

You had spent the past hour trying to soothe her cries, to no avail. Tears pricked at your eyes as you lifted a binkie towards her mouth, it took a few moments for the little girl to even notice her outburst, before she clamped her mouth around it and began to suckle. 

Her crying turned to whimpers, which soon faded into sniffles as she suckled on the pacifier. You exhaled a sigh of relief, as you slowly lowered her into the red bassinet beside you. Carefully, you positioned her comfortably on the plush bedding, placing a small blanket snugly around her toes to keep her from waking from the cold, before you straightened again. 

What could she possibly be feeling that you were unable to help her through? You weren’t telepathic, and the mystery was only driving you mad. 

You needed fresh air, and your daughter’s wails were finally silenced long enough to be able to disappear for a few minutes and recollect yourself. With caution, you took quiet steps across the room towards the balcony doorways that were concealed behind dark red curtains. Slowly, you reached through the thick fabric to grasp at the handle, before pulling it open just a crack to slip through.

The door closed softly behind you with a barely audible click, and that large breath held in your lungs finally expelled with a heavy sigh, heavy with emotions you so desperately wanted to release from your mind in any way possible. If it meant collapsing to the ground and flooding the balcony with the outpour of unsung frustrations.

You felt so useless. Your daughter was in some kind of misery, and the effects of the constant jump to tears were starting to take a noticeable effect on the infant. She just seemed so tired, practically pleading for you to end whatever misery she could possibly be facing.

You were at your wit's end, and you stared out into the distance, your breath quickening as tears threatened to fall. You just needed some time alone, time to think, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to ask for hel–

“Boo!” A sudden voice near your ear pulled you back into reality, and your heart slammed into your chest.

This time you screamed, your back hitting the railing as you quickly pivoted to find Lucifer, perched atop the railing once more. His wings were gone now, and his smile was wide as he landed on the tile next to you.

“Ha! I got you good, didn’t I?” Lucifer laughed, and you tensed at the volume.

“Shhh!” You hissed, placing a finger to your lips and Lucifer froze.

“Sorry…” He grimaced, glancing at the glass doorway before taking a step closer toward you,  "is she asleep?” 

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get her to settle down all day… she’s been really fussy and it’s been hard,” you sighed, turning your head slightly to hide the emotion building on your face.

“Oh, I had no idea. I just swung by to ask you something, but I see you're a little preoccupied at the moment,” Lucifer chuckled nervously, concern written across his features at your glistening eyes and quivering frown.

You were having trouble containing all the horrible things you were feeling, and your body began to react to the pressure that was threatening to burst inside of you. Inhaling a shaking breath, you crossed your arms and held them close to your chest, your heart beating rapidly. 

“Hey... are you okay?” You felt a hand softly grasp your forearm, and that warm touch was what had you coming undone before the king.

Tears poured down your cheeks, your body shaking with sobs as you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back the anguished, raw sounds that were begging to be set free. 

You felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in a really long time. The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its depth. 

You felt a hand soothingly rub circles into your back, another one on your forearm as the king tried his best to show his support through silent gestures. You choked back another sob, straightening in embarrassment and you regained control of your composure. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, face twisting as you tried to compose yourself, “I’m trying to be a good mother, but it must be obvious how terrible of one I am.”

“What? Don’t say that!” Lucifer shook his head quickly, lips curving into a nervous smile as he spoke, “You’re doing a great job, nobody thinks otherwise.”

“I’m sure,” you replied bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Times like these can be really hard, I understand how you fee–”

“You don’t, though!” You snapped, lifting a hand to harshly rub your face free of the river running down your cheeks.

“Okay, maybe that's true, but I'm just worried about you, you’ve been—!”

Crying erupted from behind the door, and Lucifer’s mouth clamped shut at the sudden interruption. You jumped at the noise, one hand quickly reaching backward to grasp at the doorknob.

“I’m sorry, she’s crying again and I need to go. If you want to help so badly, come back another time!” the words spilled from your lips in a single breath, and your body moved past the threshold of the doorway as you turned away from the fallen angel.

“Wait! Please let me-!” 

The door locked into place, ceasing the desperate words from the other side. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer, embarrassed by your childish outburst of emotions.

Resting your forehead against the wooden surface, you squeezed your eyes shut, collecting yourself. Your daughter screamed for you across the room, only intensifying the ringing in your ears and pushing the tears to spill faster down your cheeks.

You saw Lucifer’s shadow behind the curtains for a few moments longer, before his silhouette backed away and disappeared over the railing. You rubbed a hand across your face as your daughter screamed, growling at yourself before you stalked towards the crib.

It had only been a few days later, when you heard your daughter's whimpers begin from across the room in her red bassinet sometime in the very early morning hours. You groaned, so comfortable in your nest of pillows and weighted blankets to heed her noisy demands.

You were exhausted, and for once there had been hope that you’d catch a few more hours before having to awake. Peaches wasn’t crying, though, not like her usual wails. You were still in the clutches of sleep, and your consciousness was drifting in and out, and the sounds around you were dampened by the dreamy state.

Then, something else joined the soft whimpers, a faint voice that had you stirring awake with heavy eyelids and sliding the plush covers from your figure. A rich, melodious tone hit your ears, delicate and soothing in the night. 

It sounded… like a violin. It was hauntingly beautiful, a lone siren in the stillness as it lulled your daughter into a deep sleep.

You lifted yourself from the warmth of the sheets, the cold air kissing your bare skin as you slid to the edge of your bed, eyes squinted to see through the darkness towards the corner. In the maroon lighting that escaped through a slit between the curtains of the balcony doors, you could make out some shadowed figure hunched slightly above the crib, your view limited by the small dining table in between you and the stranger.

Quietly, you slid over to the edge of the bed, before planting your feet softly against the plush rug underneath. You took careful steps as you snuck around the table in the center of your room, the music growing louder as you neared the bassinet.

Slowly, you peeked from behind the dining chair, your gaze followed the dappled, red light from the curtains, as they lit the features of a familiar, pearlescent skin with a ruby-like glow.

Lucifer.

His movements were graceful, like a swan, as he slid the bow across the strings, which glowed a subtle golden light as the heavenly melody left the instrument and filled your body with awe. His gaze fixed on the tiny figure nestled inside the crib, his features concentrated as he continued to play.

You only watched, silent as the lullaby began to damper, and the bow’s movements slowed. Soon, the music ceased, and Lucifer lowered the bow to his lap as he took a seat on a sofa behind him wearing a satisfied expression. Your heart swelled with emotion at the realization of the love behind his actions, and you took another step forward.

“Lucifer?” 

The king jumped at your voice, his fingers tightening around the instrument in his hold as he slowly turned his head with a large, innocent grin.

“Heyyyyy,” Lucifer replied awkwardly, lowering the violin from his shoulder, and setting it down onto the cushion beside him. 

The fallen angel met your gaze once more with an apologetic smile, rubbing his neck uneasily. He was trying to quiet without waking you, which he did the opposite, and it was rather awkward with his intrusion to soothe your daughter. You quietly moved forward, closing the distance between the two of you he chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry for not announcing my presence, you told me to come back another time, then I just heard her crying and–”

Lucifer’s words caught in his throat, pupils dilating as your fingers came up to slowly brush across his chin, before settling to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb softly grazed across those red cheeks of his, and the tension in the fallen angel’s limbs subsided at your caring touch.

You didn’t know what had come upon you, but the craving to be close to this pure-intentioned being, in a literal and figurative sense, outweighed any thoughts of keeping your feelings at bay anymore. 

“Why are you so good to me?” You whispered, lips beginning to quiver.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he melted in your palm. Warmth spread across your fingers, easing the ache in your muscles and deep in your bones, as euphoria overcame you. 

“Because you’re one of the only good things left in my life,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion, as if he was choking back tears, “You, Charlie, and…”

Lucifer trailed off as his eyes lowered to your sleeping daughter, adoration in his gaze. It was pure love, the kind that lasted for an eternity. Your heart swelled at that, and lifting a hand to his other cheek, you cupped his face and smiled warmly.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Kiss me? Well–ha–I don’t find anything wrong with tha–” Lucifer’s stammered reply was cut off once more as you pulled him forward into your embrace.

You pressed your lips to his, they were warm and soft, and you drank in the sweetness of Lucifer’s aroma, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. You felt his hands slide to your waist, before grasping gently and pulling you flush against his chest. 

Lucifer leaned backward slowly, his back hitting the support of the sofa and you shifted to fully rest against him, your lips moving to delicately graze across his chin, and you felt his heart quicken at the touch.

Lucifer’s breath hitched slightly as your lips traced along his jawline, you lingered for a moment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. His hands, still at your waist, tightened ever so slightly. The softness of his lips beckoned, and you closed the remaining distance, meeting in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Your eyelids were heavy, and you slowly broke the kiss and let your head fall into the warmth of the fallen angel's chest, tightening your hold around him and snuggling closer.

“Thank you, for putting her to sleep,” you murmured into Lucifer’s shirt, before feeling claws slide up to your back, caressing the area softly as he hummed a reply.

The two of you embraced silently, lost in the intimacy as you listened to the gentle thrum of his heart, and he continued drawing circles in your back with pleasurable movements. You felt yourself drifting into slumber once more, and your breath slowed as you heeded your body’s exhausted demands.

“You should come stay at my manor,” Lucifer whispered above you, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. 

Your eyelids fluttered open at that, sleep in the back of your mind at his words as you lifted your head to meet his gaze with a raised, disbelieving brow.

“What?”

Lucifer’s lips tightened, and his eyes bounced across the room as he struggled to formulate a response.

“Well, I–I mean, it would be a lot better than staying here, right? I could hire you as my… private chef! That way, you would make your own money to support yourself. You could even have a whole wing of the manor if you wanted, also a big nursery, a private kitchen, and a master bedroom as big as this entire living space!”

Your mouth opened slightly, head spinning. Live in the same house as Lucifer? The royal manor to call home? Probably the most luxurious and non-hellish place to exist in all the seven rings? He sounded completely serious, and you never expected him to make such a bold offer. You’d also be able to support yourself independently by working as Lucifer’s ‘private chef’, save for the free room and board.

“And, of course, you get to permit who comes and goes in that area, so if you wanted to keep everyone, including me, out…you could do that, too.”

Lucifer’s tone sank slightly as those words left his lips, and your brows furrowed in thought. 

“We’ll you give me time to think about it?” You asked slowly.

“Of course!” Lucifer nodded with a satisfied smile, content you were even considering his sudden proposition, “Take all the time you need.”

The two of you fell back into comfortable silence, and stayed locked in an embrace for the rest of the morning, and the crimson light peeking through the curtains began to lighten with the coming dawn. Even as you drifted into sleep, Lucifer’s words lingered in your mind as you slipped from consciousness.

They continued to linger the following evening, as you spilled your heart out to Angel Dust at the bar, your face in your hands as you recalled verbatim. He sipped from his glass of alcohol, lips set in thought as he listened intently. 

Out of everyone in the hotel, you didn’t know why you went to Angel for advice, especially in dealing with romance, but you told him everything nonetheless. About going to live with Lucifer, all the help he’s been to you thus far, and the encounter with him earlier. You even gave him a brief glimpse into the… physical intimacy the two of you also had shared earlier.

“I think ya should do it,” Angel Dust said after a few moments of silence, downing the remaining liquor in his glass, before turning to you. You lifted your head from your hands, you met his gaze with surprise written across your features.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, placing one hand supportively on your shoulder as he continued, “Now I ain’t tryna be mean to ya, but… the hotel was a great place for you before the baby, but with our track record with keeping this place from being attacked by thugs and angels, it mayyy not be so good for the actual baby. Ya get me?”

You took a sip of the water in front of you, nodding slowly as the answer you had been searching for finally settled on your shoulders. You turned to face the spider demon, your lips curving into a small frown and he tilted his head at you.

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you murmured, rubbing your hands together self-soothing.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me cry, toots! C’mere!,” Angel Dust wrapped all four arms around you, and you returned the embrace with a tight grip. 

And wow, his fuzz was soft. You finally understood the appeal as you held your friend close. Even though in retrospect you had only known the porn star for a short amount of time, the bond you shared was heartwarming and kind. One of the few relationships of Angel’s that didn’t devolve into debauchery and drugs. 

Two hours later, you stood in front of Charlie, hands once again rubbing together in an attempt to soothe the nerves that were making it difficult to hold eye contact with the princess as you filled her in on the decision regarding your future. You planned to move into the manor, and raise the baby in a place that most resembled a home, instead of growing up in a hotel room.

“You’re going to go live with my dad?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed at your words.

You tensed. Was she apprehensive of the idea?

“Yes, but it’s nothing crazy like I’m getting with your dad or anything… haha.. yeah,” you trailed off, because you were feeling like that may turn out to be untrue sooner than later.

At least, you hoped they did. For now, it was just something along the lines of roommates, even with how silly that sounded in your head.

“Well…” She began, rubbing her chin in thought, and sweat beaded down your forehead as she continued, “I think… it's a wonderful idea! I really enjoyed growing up there, and I’m sure your daughter would too!”

Phew. You exhaled a sigh of relief, the tension leaving your body and your shoulders relaxed. 

With Charlie’s blessing, it was all you needed to give Lucifer the news. He practically jumped for joy as you gave him your answer, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I have to baby-proof the whole place beforehand!” he had proclaimed, racing around the makeshift room he had been staying in the past few days as he grabbed his cane. 

“She won’t even be able to crawl for a while longer,” you had laughed with a raised brow.

“I can’t afford anything less than perfect,” Lucifer shook his head, grabbing his coat and hat to get everything ready as soon as possible, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of creation, remember? It’ll only be a jiffy.”

The king had literally exploded into a burst of confetti, a sizzle of magic zapping him out of the room and away to the manor. You had blinked, the colored paper mache settling on your shoulders as you turned towards the hallway.

It seemed like the only thing that was left was to start packing, and so away you worked for the next few hours. 

Peaches was swaddled tightly against your chest in a makeshift baby wrap, made from a sheet of fabric that held her close and secure to you while you placed clothes and other items into organized boxes.

Lucifer had been back in a jiffy, appearing at your door right as you finished stuffing everything away into storage. It took a snap of his finger for all of your things to go poof in a cloud of red smoke, and the king had summoned a limo to take the three of you back to the manor, since traveling with magic was risky with an infant. 

You had stood on the front steps of the hotel, trying to contain the tears as you wished farewell to your friends. They watched you leave with furrowed brows, and Charlie had even sniffled once as you and your daughter climbed into the white vehicle. 

“Come by and visit us sometime!” Charlie called as the limo pulled off from the curve and you leaned out the window for a final wave as the hotel disappeared from view.

When you arrived at that glittering, white, and gold royal home, you were met with tall, imposing statues depicting regal figures from centuries past, their stony gazes fixed upon the entrance. As the limo pulled up to the front steps, you noticed the large gardens surrounding the manor, each flower seemingly in perfect bloom despite the season. Fountains sprayed later spouts of water up in the air, before cascading down into glittering pools.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Lucifer had smiled as you took your tour around the premises, examining the once-neatly trimmed bushes that lined the place.

There were no imp servants, or attendees at all really, which explained why the place was beginning to look overgrown by the hellish flora. Large red vines climbed up the manor’s side, a few even weaved across large panes of glass, windows that would have once offered a beautiful sight. 

It appeared the current homeowner was not doing a very good job maintaining the place, and you weren’t going to let this place rot any longer. You’d have to add landscaping to the job description when you felt good enough to do such heavy tasks.

Right as you stepped through those large, golden doors, you were greeted with crystal chandeliers that illuminated a giant corridor. Plush, red carpet met your feet as you a few more steps inside, your eyes tracing over the array of paintings and sculptures lining the walls, along with a few family portraits and other elegant decor. 

It was clear that the interior was designed by the women of the house, the lack of circus decor even prevalent inside the Hazbin Hotel was nowhere in sight. As you followed Lucifer down the hallway, you guessed his withdrawals had given him no strength to change the house to his liking. You stepped through a tall, open doorway into what seemed to be a parlor.

Lucifer paused, turning to you with a warm smile as you joined him with your daughter in your arms inside the living space. You took in the sight of velvet couches circling a large fireplace and a small bar snug against the opposite wall, bottles of liquor lining the racks behind the counter.

"Welcome home," he said, his voice soft as he turned. Peaches cooed softly, seemingly content in the entrancing, shiny surroundings. You followed Lucifer down another large corridor, and he began to give a proper tour of the residency.

You didn’t realize how big this place really was until he showed you the third parlor in the house. This one had more tables, seemingly for dining primarily, but with a similar fireplace nestled in one of the walls near two, red armchairs. 

When Lucifer said you’d have large, private areas, you assumed he was just being generous and giving you some of his dwellings. Now, you knew that wasn’t the case, as there was definitely enough for the both of you between three large bathrooms, five bedrooms, and two dining rooms. 

It took a few days to settle in, as Lucifer helped you unpack your things with easy magic and you found renewed energy in making the nursery perfect for your daughter.

It was clear, from day one, that the two of you were going to be just roommates, when you found yourself stealing kick kisses from him as you organized the nursery, or when his hand found your waist as you rocked Peaches to sleep in your arms some days. Some nights, you found yourself playfully bantering with the fallen angel in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine in your hands as gentle music played in the back. 

Lucifer’s presence and companionship seemed to be what you needed for your emotions to begin to stabilize, along with the fact that you had practically an entire mansion to yourself, instead of sharing the living areas with a large group of demons like back at the hotel. 

The king wasn’t holed up in his home all the time anymore, as he joined his daughter in promoting the hotel and actually making an effort to go to a meeting here and there. He had a purpose now, and you noticed that subtle ethereal radiance that lined his figure began to glow brighter with each passing day.

Lucifer’s social battery was still adjusting to the changes in his daily routines, and some nights he’d return with heavy eyelids and sluggish steps, as if he had returned from a battle against Heaven.

You had been sitting in the front parlor one cozy night, a book in your hand as you waited for the king’s return. He usually wasn’t gone so long, and the dinner you had made had gone cold, so all there was to do was sit around and wait.

Your daughter’s colic seemed to have tapered off by now, as it has already been a few weeks since you arrived at the manor. This was a relief, and you found yourself sleeping much longer, your energy and patience naturally returning. 

That fear of being useless began to dissipate, now that you were able to enjoy time in the kitchen, testing out new receipts for Lucifer as his chef. He paid you very handsomely, even though you rarely did cook as you recovered from postpartum and kept busy with the baby.

You didn’t complain though, it was nice to see a paycheck that could actually cover all your groceries and bills, if you actually paid any of the bills around here... did Lucifer even have bills?

Your thoughts were cut off when the sound of heeled boots thumped across the corridor right outside the room, and the book in your hands lowered to the coffee table in front of you. 

Lucifer kicked off his boots at the door to the parlor, his hooves meeting the carpet as they dragged towards the couch you were lazing on. His blonde was hair disheveled, and some of the gold buttons on his vest were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of what lay below his collarbone.

He looked exhausted, his eyes tiredly frog-blinking as he fell against the cushions beside you, before exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh. 

“Rough day?” You whispered softly, and he turned his head slightly to face you.

“Just.. a lot,” was Lucifer’s response, his eyelids fluttering close for a few moments as he drank in the warmth from the crackling fire nearby.

You watched the fallen angel for a few more moments, his breath rising and falling slowly as he relaxed. His skin practically glowed against the soft colors thrown across the room from the dancing flames. A thought crossed your mind, and hesitantly, you reached a hand to Lucifer’s shoulder.

You felt him tense slightly from your touch, before relaxing slowly as you gripped his shoulder and forearm and began tugging him to lay down against you. He turned his head, raising a brow as he began to lean against you.

“Come here,” you smiled warmly, as you pulled him to fall over against you.

Lucifer’s head softly landed on your lap, his face upturned towards the ceiling as you smiled down at him. He watched the orange light reflect against your skin, enhancing your already perfect features. 

You lifted a hand towards his face, before you began to gently brush your fingers through his hair. Your nails grazed against the king’s scalp and a satisfied sigh left his lips. A hum reached his ears, as you quietly filled the room, with the soft tune. 

Something stirred inside the king, and emotions began bubbling up into his throat, and he could barely contain them as his lips parted.

“Can I tell you something?” Lucifer whispered after a moment.

“Of course,” you nodded, tilting your head down to him.

“I think… that I’m in love with you.”

Those words had your hands stilling against his scalp, and your breath hitched.

Lucifer in love with you? 

Oh, the joy you felt, at finally hearing those words you only had dreamed of for so long. Your grin spreading ear to ear as heat crept across your cheeks.

“Oh, you silly man,” you laughed softly down to the nervous face in your lap, before you gripped Lucifer by the collar and pulled him up from your lap.

You leaned down and pressed your lips softly to his, and the king rose the rest of the way on his own. He pulled you against him, as his back hit the cushions and you pivoted to straddle him as the kiss deepened. 

Lucifer’s arms were snaked around your waist, and your hands cupped both sides of his face as the two of you were lost in this intimate, quiet moment of affection finally revealed.

Time flew by fast after that, once your daily routines began to settle into place. Lucifer began to step in more in raising the baby, and sometimes you’d find your daughter in his arms, and a sweet, soothing tune coming from his lips.

You’d stand there, leaning against the nursery doorway as you watched with a warm smile. Peaches was beginning to like–no, love him. You could tell when she started to let him dress her up without her usual stink eye. She was now able to sit up and speak in her own, unique form of baby talk.

“Stop moving,” You had heard Lucifer laugh one day from inside the large bedroom, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be!”

A string of incomprehensible sounds followed, high-pitched babbling from the tiny figure in response.

“Hey, don’t give me attitude, missy!” You heard playful chastising from the king, and you turned into the doorway to see his back towards you, as he kneeled over your daughter. 

Her tiny legs kicked in protest as he wrangled something onto her, and you took a few steps into the room before announcing your presence.

“Lucifer…?” You started, nearing the bed.

He jumped at your voice, before pivoting to face you with an innocent smile. Your daughter was visible now, some kind of bright yellow fabric around her head and hugging the rest of her body.

“Hey! Don’t mind us, we're just testing something!” Lucifer’s smile widened.

“Testing what?” You asked with a smile.

Lucifer’s smile turned playful as he turned back to your daughter and lifted her towards you, and your eyes widened.

Peaches was dressed in a fuzzy, yellow duck onesie. Its head was designed into a hood that was pulled over her head, the orange beaking sticking out and resting slightly on her forehead. She babbled something incoherent with an open, gummed smile, something probably along the lines of ‘Look! Don’t I look so gosh darn cute?’

“I pulled out some of Charlie’s baby clothes from storage, and funny enough they fit Peaches just fine,” Lucifer continued, placing his cheek against your daughter’s and rubbing it affectionately with puckered lips, “She is so adowable in her wittle onesie, huh?”

“Yes, she is!” You cooed, leaning forward to pinch one of her cheeks with a grin.

The three of you were beginning to turn into a proper family, and it became obvious when Lucifer started making breakfast for the three of you in the early mornings, despite paying you for such tasks.

“You know that's my job, right?” You quirked a brow as Lucifer stood in front of the stone, flipping large, fluffy pancakes in a pan, before placing them upon a steaming pile of deliciousness. 

“You have days off, don’t you?” He hummed in response, turning off the stove and sliding the plate into his hands, “Will you grab the syrup for me, please?”

You opened the cupboards nearby, grabbing the large bottle of syrup as you followed him toward the dining area, your daughter playing with a rattle on the floor near the long table. She was able to crawl now, a speedy little demon that took off as soon as you turned the other way. 

Luckily, Lucifer had baby gates to help with that, and now she was easily confined into any room for fear of escaping. Her tiny stomach growled and she lifted her gaze from the toy as you and Lucifer stepped over the gate. 

Peaches squealed with happiness, and began to crawl towards you, her hands plapping against the tile as she moved. She slowed right next to the last dining chair at the table, before her head lifted to examine it for a moment. 

Your daughter began to lift herself onto two feet as she gripped the dining chair’s leg. She was getting good at standing by herself, but she had never managed to successfully step forward and not flop back onto her butt. 

You set the syrup on the dining table, ignoring her movements as first as you helped set the table. It wasn’t until you turned to place her into the high chair, did you watch your daughter’s foot begin to lift.

Peaches took one step forward, wobbling slightly as she tried to regain balance. Your mouth dropped, and your arm reached out to grip the back of Lucifer’s shirt and tug him beside you.

“What’s going on, why are yo–” Lucifer froze beside you, as your daughter lifted the other foot and took another wobbly step forward.

She had never remained on two feet for this long, and she didn’t look like she was stopping yet. Lucifer quickly lowered onto his knees, and you joined him as he stretched out his arms.

“Peaches, come on!” He called to the little girl, who was only a foot away from the two as she smiled at the fallen angel and took another step closer.

You joined him, cheering for your daughter as she took another step, and another, and then she reached out her little arms towards the two of you. She took the final step, before she lost total balance and fell forward.

The both of you jumped forward and embraced Peaches at once, the three of you in a tight huddle of affection as your daughter giggled against your chest. 

You peppered kisses against her forehead, tears pricking at your eyes as you lifted them to meet Lucifer’s gaze. His eyes were glistening as well, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, your smile large and brilliant. 

It was clear now, that your little family had grown to include another, and you were so thrilled it was Lucifer. Your ex, and the fears that came with his betrayal began to dissipate from your mind, and a tear rolled down your cheek in happiness. 

From that day on, you promised to make sure that your little girl would always have a father in her life, although it seems like you’ve already found the one who would cherish her for the rest of eternity.

“Psst, Mom!” 

You grumbled incoherently, still in the clutches of sleep as the voice rudely interrupted the nice dream you had been having in the early hours of the morning.

“Moooooommmm, wake up!”

You stirred awake at the voice hissing in your ear, your eyes fluttering open inside the dark master bedroom of the manor. Someone was standing right in front of you, a short figure tapping her foot impatiently as you lifted your head from the pillows.

The room was still covered in blackness, the morning light unable to escape through the blackout curtains blanketing the large bedroom. You could see the outline of a small figure in the shadows at the edge of your bed, illuminated by the open doorway behind her.

“What is it, baby?” You rubbed your tired eyes, turning to face your daughter.

Peaches was much older now, the name long outgrown her as she aged from toddler, to child, to girl. She resembled a nine year old now, that cute baby fat gone from her limbs, and her chubby little cheeks beginning to sharpen into gorgeous features. 

“Can I go with Charlie to the mall? She said she’ll pick me up in an hour if that’s okay.”

Charlie and your daughter had been doing everything together lately, which you guessed was because of the older woman’s joy in having a little sister she could take under her wing. They may not be related by blood, but nobody could tell the difference with the bond those two shared.

Peaches often assisted her at the now-bustling hotel, learning how to best help the inhabitants of Hell through the teachings of her sisterly figure. 

“Sure, tell Charlie I said hi,” you nodded with a smile, and your daughter bounced giddily on her toes.

“Yay! Thank you, mom!” She lowered her face down to leave a quick kiss on your cheek, wrapping her arms around your neck for a tight hug before backing away, “I Love you, see you later!”

You watched her rush out of the room with a slip in her step, the door closing softly behind her. 

“What was all that about?” A voice tiredly mumbled beside you, and warm arms snaked around your waist. 

You laid your head back against the pillow, repositioning your body to face toward the naked figure beside you.

“She just wanted to go out and have some fun with Charlie,” you replied to the tired, pearly face before you, his blonde hair disheveled around him as he blinked the sleep away with a yawn.

“Those two are like glue, nowadays,” your husband, Lucifer, yawned, pulling you flush against his bare chest in one smooth motion.

You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, placing wet kisses across his skin, earning a pleasurable noise from his throat. 

“Should we get up and make some breakfast?” You asked into his skin.

“Five more minutes,” you heard him mutter, as he rubbed his cheek against yours affectionately.

That gives me five more minutes to think about how lucky I am to have you by my side.

“Okay,” you smiled softly, placing a loving kiss against his forehead before snuggling closer, “Five more minutes.” 

woah lots of emotions in this one, good thing everything worked out in the end, eh? the art was done by indxlulu over on twt, go check out some of their other work!

what did you think? let me know! <3

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @xoxohugslove @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu

[spookyboywhump]

I’m genuinely excited to take my medication tomorrow

[filmcel]

The anxiety+ work combo is gonna kill me. I wasn’t born to worry every day about my managers hating me bc theyre all kind of bitches. I was born to be faggy and draw and watch movies!!!!>_<

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | i.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Bitterness burns in your gut as you watch the yellowed pages of one of your favorite books curl and blacken amidst the weak flames of the hearth.

You want to cry. You really do. But it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last. The winters of District 8 are infamously harsh and long.

You wouldn’t have survived it. So you stare with dry eyes and an empty chest as your childhood memorabilia turns to ash.

A wheezy cough tears through your melancholy. Panic rips through you as you get up and whirl. You dash to a small bed across the room and hunker down near your cousin.

You hold her hand, despising how tiny and feeble it feels in yours. 

It wasn’t always like this. She used to drag you around the cabin, eager to play, her high-pitched laugh bouncing off its molded walls.

Tears you managed to quell before now rush to your eyes.

You cup her face. Sickness has drained the color from it.

“You’re gonna get better, I swear.”

She gives a weary smile, but it’s interrupted by another fit of wet coughs that makes her entire frail frame shake. Your stomach plummets at the sight. Even you struggle to believe the words that crossed your own lips.

Everyday your younger cousin seems worse off than the one before it. Her medicine has long since run out. So has the food. Your modest wages from working in the factory won’t come for another fortnight. And there are little to no wares left to trade in the rickety wooden cabin. 

Nothing except you. 

The mere thought sends a shudder through you.

Though the virtue of some lowly district 8’s guttersnipe isn’t worth much, you bet you could easily find a buyer. A warm body is as good as any after all. Besides, you haven’t missed the lascivious glares wandering your way sometimes when you hasten through the streets of the city at night. 

You shake your head.

No.

While your virtue isn’t worth much in this awful world, you will hold on to it for as long as you can. Some modicum of dignity. Maybe it’s too much to ask for someone like you, too…greedy. But it’s the one thing you get in this life. Your one gift. You belong to yourself and no one else.

“Hungry…” your cousin whispers between pained exhales. The orange glow from the chimney outlines the sickly grayness of her skin and the sweat dotting her forehead.

You squeeze her hand, rubbing her fingers against yours. Maybe some of your warmth will seep into her. You can only hope.

“I know, Tilly… but there isn’t any food left anymore.”

At the mention of food, your shriveled up stomach reminds you of its unfortunate existence. Hunger twists your insides, vicious and relentless. As always.

Determination sparks inside you, tiny embers shifting into a furnace of iron hot will.

You rise to your feet. 

Tilly will not die. You will not die.

You plant a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes flutter closed as she drifts away, her glassy gaze finding the cracks and webs scattered across the ceiling.

She seems to look at nothing at all. It worries you. Tilly’s all you have left, the rest of your family having succumbed to disease, failed uprisings or some accident at the factory.

“I promise to bring food, and something to cure your cold.”

A cold. 

Another lie. For her or for you… who knows this time. Deep inside, you’re aware no common cold lasts this long or is this nasty. 

But you cling to the lie. Because you need it. Because without it you have nothing. 

Nothing to wake up for, nothing to go work another unending, grueling day at the textile factory, nothing to suffer another day in the hell that District 8 is. 

A few minutes later, you’re at the door. 

Outside, the winter winds swaddle you in their cool embrace. White clouds surround you as you unleash a deep breath. Through the thin soles of your shoes, you can feel the icy stones with each step. You slither through the narrow alleys, hood low on your brow as you ponder the plan you hatched less than an hour ago. 

It’s beyond stupid. You could get thrown in jail if caught. Or worse. 

But what else is there to do? 

You’re past the age to sign up for tesserae, and you’d never subject your cousin to the disturbing possibility of being chosen in the next reaping just to fill your stomach. 

You finally reach the grand marketplace. It’s crowded with folks, like every morning. You remain hidden by a brick wall, a strategic spot where shadows engulf you, where you can survey the place as you wish. The perfect way to begin enacting your stupid plan. 

Anticipation has your fingertips twitching against the stones.

You note how easy it’d be to mingle with the crowd, how some of the merchants don’t keep a perpetual eye on their wares.

And most importantly, you note the lack of peacekeepers. You squint, seeking a glimpse of the terrifying blue uniforms. Disbelief flutters through you at the realization none of them is here.

Such a chance never presents itself…yet it’s prancing right before you today. 

As your eyes land on a luscious spread of colorful fruits sitting on a stand a few feet away, your mouth waters.

How easy it would be.

When’s the last time you ate anything solid? You can hardly recall.

Slow, ginger steps drag you right before the stand. Busy chatting with a customer, the merchant doesn’t see you. 

Hope blooms inside you. This is your shot. You just need to be quick, so quick he won’t even notice before you’re long gone.

Your tremulous hand creeps out of your coat. The uproarious drumming of your heart fills your ears, louder as your fingers get closer to the tantalizing skin of the fruit.

Just a few inches. 

“What are you doing, little bird?” 

Startled, you release a sharp breath. Long, pale fingers cinch around your wrist, causing you to drop the fruit. It hits the wet cobblestones with a soft thud, sending your hopes crashing down alongside it.

You whirl to the stranger beside you.

“You little thieving whore…”

Numb with fear and shock, the merchant’s irate curses dwindle to a faint echo. 

The stranger’s towering frame forces you to lift your gaze to the sky, and you are met with eyes bluer than its expanse. 

Lost in his unsettling stare, you take entirely too long to notice his uniform. The gear is unmistakable. You have threaded your fair share of the fabric over the years, sewn hundreds of uniforms just like the one before you.

A peacekeeper. 

A wave of snow ripples through your back. 

Your entire body turns to stone in his grip, your eyes as wide as plates.

This is exactly what you feared would happen. And now it has.

As stormy irises take you in, you see your miserable life melt in a smoldering sea of blue.

Run.

It’s the only thought in your head as you jerk your hand away from his fingers.

Your body leaps into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins. White puffs of your short breaths flow around you as you dive into the nearest dark alley, hoping to disappear through a drain hole and lose your pursuer. 

But you don’t get far. 

Only a few minutes into your panicked race, the hard sole of a boot connects with the back of your knee. A shriek of pain tears from your throat as you tumble to the floor. 

Wincing, you lift your head.

The tall, lanky figure of the peacekeeper looms over you. Your chest seizes. He holds up the bright red fruit you tried to steal in his right hand. Sunlight limns his frame, threading silver in his white hair, making him appear almost angelic.

How deceptive when he is your doom.

If it weren't for him, you’re convinced you’d have gotten away with it. 

“Hey, I think you forgot this,” he deadpans.

Your brows knit at his casual tone. You wonder if he’s toying with you.

“Please, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Mirth illuminates his cerulean gaze as he scoffs, “So you meant to pay?”

Unsure what to respond, you choke on your words.

“I…”

Silence expands, its oppressive weight clogging your airways. 

You could lie, or try to. But he saw you, stopped you. He knows exactly what you attempted to do.

So instead of stating your case, you bolt to your feet. Ignoring the needles pricking at your knee where he kicked you, you attempt to flee again.

This time it’s barely seconds before he catches you.

He picks you up and slams you against the wall with frightening ease. Fighting him would be for naught. There is no strength left in you. Still, you try.

The pitiful attempts to claw at his bicep leave the peacekeeper unfazed.

His deathly grip on your neck doesn’t relent.

“Where do you think you’re going, birdie?”

“Please, my cousin needs me.”

He studies you and your stomach sinks at how empty his eyes are. An errant tear makes a slow descent down your cheek.

He plucks it, the soft pad of his finger tracing the salty trail.

“Stop crying. I’m not like them. You can trust me.”

“You’re a peacekeeper,” you retaliate, forehead creased in confusion. Peacekeepers exist to enact the Capitol’s will by any means necessary. Their name couldn’t be more misleading, as peace is rarely how they go about solving an issue. 

The blond’s cheek flares ever-so-slightly.

To your utter shock, his hold on your neck slackens.

You gulp a wide lungful of air, rubbing your throat where he held so tight. It’s sore. You wouldn’t be surprised if it were to bruise the next day. 

“My name’s Coriolanus. What’s yours?”

While he backs away, he’s still crowding your space in a way you don’t like. 

Stubborn lips remaining sealed, you glare at him. He steps away from you.

“You don’t want to say?” The corner of his plump lips twists upwards. “I’ll keep calling you bird then, since you keep trying to fly away from me.”

You gasp when he suddenly tosses the crimson fruit in your hands.

“Eat.”

His steely inflection is more order than suggestion. You scowl down at the fruit. Every cell in your body longs to take a bite of it…but you don’t.

“What?” you reply dumbly.

It has to be some kind of trap. Is the apple even safe to eat? Maybe this peacekeeper is the sadistic type and he wants to watch you wither in agony for his sick pleasure.

Still, the longer you peer at the luscious, colorful flesh of the fruit, the more your stomach growls, begging you to just take a bite even if it means running headlong towards your possible death.

Coriolanus heaves out a deep sigh.

“I can tell from the way you were eying that apple earlier that it’s been a long time, right?” he guesses, all too accurately for your liking.

His gaze holds yours.

“I know what it’s like to be hungry, sweet bird…” You go statue-still as he bends over to whisper in your ear, “So hungry, you’d do anything for it to stop.”

The faint scent of roses tickles your nose. You smelt it once before, on a lavish dress you spent hours sewing meant for one of the fancy ladies at the Capitol. You recall shoving the tiniest piece of the silk in your pocket and smelling it every chance you got. But the nice scent quickly faded.

Yet that same scent, that crisp, delicate, slightly dizzying aroma…It clings to the boy in front of you.

You glower at him.

“How would you even know? You’re one of them.”

His jaw ticks as his eyes flicker.

“Eat,” he insists, this time more firmly.

Your insides wrench. You could fight him on it, again. But you have an inkling that this boy, this Coriolanus, usually gets his way.

So you bite into the apple. 

The sweet juice that coats your tongue and chin afterwards is heaven. The savors explode in your mouth. You could weep. It’s been an eternity since you ate something this fresh and delicious.

But once you realize his curious stare is on you, you stop eating and hastily wipe your mouth and chin. 

“See? Isn’t it better?” he inquires smugly.

You don’t tell him how good it felt, especially after so long. Days, maybe weeks. You don’t know anymore. Every day tends to blend into the other here.

Instead, heated words pour out of you.

“Why are you helping me?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

You don’t like his cryptic demeanor. Nor his nice smell. Nor his striking eyes. Nor his sharp, handsome features.

Everything about Coriolanus seems so out of place in District 8.

After a few minutes of silence, he nods and walks away.

“See you around, sweet bird.”

A shiver travels along your spine.

You wish for the opposite, to never ever see him again. And though the words never escape the confine of your lips, it’s as if he could hear the unspoken venom sizzling the tip of your tongue.

Coriolanus smiles at you as he leaves.

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[trblsvt]

in this life | choi seungcheol

summary | honestly, you didn’t really care what choi seungcheol did anymore. but, when his mom called you saying there was an accident, you found yourself at the foot of his bed. genre | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; exes!au warnings | swearing, mentions of hospitals, injuries from an accident (not life threatening), mentions of drinking, suggestive… for like a flashback, nudity (non-sexual and not descriptive), miscommunication possibly…, jealousy…, insecurities/self-doubt word count | 13.47k words pairing | choi seungcheol x fem!reader minli | lowercase intended i literally have nothing to say about this. sort of a monster to write. i had so many ideas for this, yet little brainpower to execute! it was a fun concept and the longest fic i’ve written for this blog… italics mean flashback or past event… update | i forgot a few things to tag under warnings, sorry :( they have been added

you were doing great, just great. it started raining when you left your umbrella back at your apartment. you were late to work, and you spilled your coffee on the way out of the door. things were great, and it had been seven months since you and your boyfriend called it quits.

you’d like to say it ended in a big blaze of glory, something movie-like, but it was just the opposite. you had sat down with seungcheol and told him that you were unhappy. he was always too busy and refused to make time for anything other than his work. as for you, well you were tired. when you told him, he sort of just looked at you blankly and just shrugged.

he fucking shrugged. great. so that was it. you just stared at him blankly. he wasn’t even going to put up a fight. two years down the drain.

“so that’s it?” you had asked before you left.

“yeah, i guess so,” he had replied.

and that’s how it ended, you packed up your stuff and went back to your apartment. you technically weren’t living with seungcheol, you still had your lease and whatever, but you spent a lot of time at seungcheol’s.

you finally made it to the office and clocked in. nothing important was going on today which was nice, but also this meant your day was going to be endlessly boring. at least it was friday. 

you sat down and logged into your computer. “shouldn’t you change your home screen?” a voice startled you out of your thoughts of the hours to come. you spun around in your chair and stared at your friend minjeong. you looked between her and your computer screen. you knew what she was talking about, but you decided to play dumb. “what are you talking about?” you asked. minjeong sort of glared at you.

“that’s from your vacation to jeju,” she frowned.

the same vacation seungcheol took you on.

“yeah, it’s a sunset for jeju. what about it?” you huffed. she didn’t respond, just gave you a look. you knew that look. it was the “i know better than you, why aren’t you listening to me?” look. “seungcheol isn’t even in this picture,” you defended your screensaver.

“but seungcheol was there. that’s a memory with seungcheol,” she countered. she was right. you probably should’ve changed it, but whether it was with seungcheol or not, it was a nice picture. “yeah, it is, but we’re on good terms so what’s the big deal?” you blurted out.

there was the “you’re such a liar” look. “really? when’s the last time you talked to seungcheol since you broke up?” she entertained you even though you both knew you hadn’t contacted seungcheol once since you broke up. “well, it’s not like i keep track or anything, that would be weird,” you brushed her off. you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “seriously, ___, i don’t think this is healthy for you to still keep remnants of your relationship with him around. it’s going to prevent you from moving on,” she explained.

“i know, just- just give me a little time,” you sighed.

“time? it’s been seven months! how about we go out tonight? you can get your sights on some new man. i think i overheard that changkyun is going out tonight at that new bar.”

“now why would i be interested in where changkyun is going tonight?” you scoffed. minjeong had a theory that changkyun had been crushing on you since he first joined the company, but you were too “lovesick” with seungcheol to see. “he’s so into you! i’m not saying to marry the guy, just take your mind off seungcheol. it’s his loss anyway,” minjeong laughed. 

you wanted to believe that, you really did.

you had every intention of going out with minjeong, but the day was going on so momentously, you weren’t sure if you could stand up straight for another second. you both had to unexpectedly stay longer and work overtime, and it might have been the death of you. you heard minjeong’s cheery humming coming around the corner. “are you ready to get absolutely wasted?” she smiled.

“i was going for more of a buzzed thing,” you yawned.

“oh no, don’t do that. you get so quiet when you’re tired before you drink,” she whined. you looked at her, but she was right. you had about three different moods when you were drunk. one, loud. two, quiet. three, insane. and most of the time, the way you ended up correlated to how you were feeling before you drank. you couldn’t explain it, but it just happened.

you were about to offer a clever rebuttal when your phone started ringing. “one second,” you didn’t even bother to check the caller id. “hello?” you replied.

“ah, ___ thank you for answering,” a familiar voice floated through the phone. you paused. you pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the name on the call.

mrs. choi.

“mrs. choi, hello, i wasn’t expecting you to call me,” you said almost breathlessly. you glanced over at minjeong and she stared at you, wide-eyed. “___, dear. i’m so glad you picked up. i need you to come over,” she sighed. she sounded tired like she had been crying. wait. she wanted you to come over? for what? “come over? what’s going on? is everyone okay?” you asked, logging off your computer and placing the few things you took out of your bag, back into the bag.

“i have hope that it will be. seungcheol was in a car accident.”

you apologized profusely to minjeong and left the office rushing to the seungcheol’s apartment. you knew the way to his apartment, to him, like the back of your hand. you punched the code in that bypassed the need to be buzzed in, and made your way to the elevator.

after you pressed the button to the fifth floor of the complex you felt your hands become inexplicably sweaty. why did you rush over here like a lovesick fool? you weren’t even dating him anymore. why did his mom call you? what was going on? the elevator dinged, alerting you that it was time to get out.

you made your way down to his apartment. 5-12. it looked the same since the last time you were there. you stared at the door. it had been so long since you had been there. your heart was beating so fast, you didn’t know what to do. so, you just knocked.

the door flew open almost instantly. “___, my dear, come in,” mrs. choi welcomed you warmly. you smiled and bowed slightly. when you stepped through the doorway your first instinct was to run away, but you couldn’t. you kicked your shoes off and followed mrs. choi in the direction of seungcheol’s bedroom.

she lightly grasped at your arm. “the car crash happened a couple days ago. we just got out of the hospital. he broke his right leg. it was jammed against the dash and steering wheel. he also has a bruised lung from the airbag, and a mild concussion from the collision,” she explained. you nodded. that sounded awful. where did he crash? did someone crash into him, or did he crash into someone else?

almost reading your mind, she added, “he didn’t hurt anyone else. it was raining the other day. it was dark and his car hydroplaned into a barrier. the cops thought it might’ve been a drunk driving incident since they found newly bought alcohol in the back of his car, but there wasn’t any in his system.”

you were still rendered speechless. seungcheol was the safest driver you knew. he always warned you about hydroplaning and what to do if it happened. why didn’t he do what he always told you?

you realized you were spaced out when mrs. choi rested a hand on your shoulder. “i was surprised that you didn’t come the other day, but seungcheol insisted that you were away on a trip of some sort. he didn’t want me to call you, but you’re his girlfriend! i had to tell you at some point, and you’re obviously back in town,” she exclaimed. “thank you so much for coming, ___. i don’t know where seungcheol would be without you.”

you’re his girlfriend.

what the fuck?

you certainly were not his girlfriend anymore. why did she think you were together? it had been seven months. mrs. choi was sharp, she wouldn’t accidentally slip and say you were his girlfriend unless that is if…

then it dawned on you. 

for whatever reason, seungcheol never told his mom the two of you broke up.

fuck.

seungcheol was sick. he was more than sick. he was hurt, physically. and his mom only wanted what was best for her son. she brought you here for something. you weren’t about to make this poor woman’s day worse by telling her you weren’t dating seungcheol anymore, so you played along. “yes, i just got back from a business trip. i always tell seungcheol to call me if something’s the matter. i’m so glad you called me, i wasn’t going to come over for another day or two because of his work schedule,” you pretended. she looked at you fondly. “i always knew you were a good one, ___,” she smiled. it pained you to lie to her, but it seemed like the best option for now.

“we just got back from the hospital a few hours ago. he’s all set up in there. i’m not sure if he’s awake now, but do you want to see him?” she asked. you nodded quietly. you didn’t know what you were going to do in front of seungcheol. you preferred not to think about it.

“before you go in, i have a large favor to ask you. i understand you’re a busy person, but if you could, oh my i feel so embarrassed to ask this. if you could stay with him for a while. take some time off and take care of him because i really cannot stay. my father is ill and i must return home to care for him,” she laughed bitterly. “i would stay, and i would never dream of dumping this sort of responsibility on just anyone, but you’re his girlfriend. not saying girlfriends and wives are only meant for taking care of husbands and boyfriends, but i know you care about seungcheol. i just thought it-”

“yes, i can do that,” you cut her off. why did you say that? “i can contact my manager and work remotely.” why do you keep saying things like this? suddenly mrs. choi’s arms were around you. “thank you, thank you, thank you, dear. i am so grateful for you, and i know my son is too. thank you! i must get going, but i already stocked the fridge. you can go in. once again, thank you so much. our family owes you so much,” she cried. you rubbed her back. “oh, don’t say that. you don’t owe me anything. i’m just happy he’s alright,” you whispered.

that was the first truthful thing you said in that entire interaction.

when you entered the room, mrs. choi accompanied you. seungcheol was awake. he stared longingly out the window on the opposite side of the room away from the door. “honey, there’s someone here to see you,” mrs. choi called gently. you wanted to hide, so you tried to. partially behind her and you looked over her shoulder. seungcheol tried to adjust himself and he slowly turned over to look at his mother. “mom, i really didn’t want to see anyone-” he began, but his eyes met yours and he froze.

“oh come on, darling, it’s ___. she’s agreed to help out some. she cares about you,” she cooed. seungcheol looked like a child who got caught going through the cookie jar.

due to the dim light, you couldn’t really see that well, but you noticed the large soft cast that he had on his right leg. it looked like he was having a hard time breathing, that was the bruised lung. he had some cuts on his face that had already scabbed over, but you noticed some dark spots on his pillow, maybe he had been picking at them. he had a habit of picking at his scabs.

but the most striking thing to you was how pale he was. he looked like a ghost, which was strange since seungcheol loved to go outside to read or watch people. what had changed since you left? you noticed a wheelchair and a pair of crutches.

“mom, i- why did you call, ___? i told you she was busy,” seungcheol asked weakly. before his mom could nag him, you decided that you could save this entire situation from becoming more awkward than it needed to be. “cheol, don’t you remember? i came back yesterday, but i knew you were going to be busy with work,” you forced a smile. you thought you were going to throw up his mother grinned and squeezed your hand. she made her way over to seungcheol’s closet and started rummaging through it looking for something.

you looked back at seungcheol and it looked like he might cry. his eyes yelled at you, what are you doing here?

if you were honest you weren’t sure.

you saw mrs. choi out while she continued to thank you profusely for looking about for seungcheol. “of course, no need to worry. seungcheol is safe with me,” you assured.

“what would i do without you, ___? i hope someday you can join the family officially. i mean you’ve been dating seungcheol for over two years now,” she grinned hugging you.

yeah, i did too, you thought.

she left and instructed you to just heat something up that she left in the fridge. you locked the door behind you and made your way into the kitchen. you pulled out a tray of noodles and plated them. she left you a few tips about seungcheol so you decided to look at it.

he has work off, so no need to worry about driving him to work. once he is better and the doctors clear his concussion can start working from home.

please make sure he is eating three meals a day. he’s been acting differently and hasn’t been eating as much.

for showers, there’s a cover for the cast because he can’t get it wet.  i set up a chair in his shower, so he should need minimal help in that area. maybe just changing.

pain medications are in the cabinet next to the fridge. dosage is two tablets every six hours. but, if he isn’t hurting that much give him one, or if he isn’t in any pain don’t worry about it. 

he has a doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks to see how his leg is healing is progressing.

thank you so much <3 call me if you need anything

you frowned at the second one. not eating well? seungcheol always ate well. this seemed pretty manageable. you had already called your supervisor, who approved your request to work remotely. you did have to lie and say you were taking care of a family member, but otherwise, it was a mostly truthful story.

when you put the sheet down, the microwave had finished and you brought the plate into seungcheol’s room. he wasn’t looking in your direction, instead, he was looking out the window. “seungcheol, i brought you dinner. your mom made it,” you announced. no response. you huffed and looked around the room. you didn’t want to push him, but you needed him to eat. “i know you’re not sleeping. you’ll heal faster if you eat. your mom needs you to eat,” you continued. yet, to no avail, he still stared out the window, body closed off to you. you sighed, you wished it didn’t have to come to this. “seungcheol, i need you to eat. please, for me,” you pleaded. there was a slight shift, but still no response. “well, i’ll just leave it here, but eat it soon. it’ll get cold,” you sighed, placing the plate on the nightstand where he could reach it.

why did you sign up for this? it wasn’t like you owed him anything. why didn’t you just tell his mom you were broken up? so many questions were flooding your mind, so you almost missed his whispered question. “what, did you say? i’m sorry, i missed it,” you asked, turning around from the door.

“do you- do you have something to eat?” he asked, breath labored.

something in your heart stuttered.

you silently nodded.

“that’s good,” was all he said.

it was almost 9:00 pm. you had your plate of food, and you thought it would be best to run over to your apartment to pick up some clothes and belongings, especially since you were supposed to live here for a while. you would run in and check with seungcheol and let him know you were leaving and then you’d be back in thirty minutes.

you knocked on the door, but no response. you hoped that it wasn’t going to be like this for the rest of his recovery. “i’m coming in, seungcheol,” you called opening the door.

but when you entered you were met with an empty bed. your eyebrows furrowed. you noticed the empty plate of his dinner. then you noticed his wheelchair was gone, and the faint glow of light from under the bathroom door.

you didn’t hear the shower running, so maybe he was just using the bathroom. yet, something in your gut told you otherwise. you made your way over to the bathroom door and pressed your ear against it. you heard quiet sniffling.

oh.

“seungcheol? are you in there?” you asked. dumb question, but you didn’t know what else to lead with. no response. “seungcheol, are you okay?” obviously not. “seungcheol, if you don’t answer me, i’m coming in.”

“no, please. please don’t come in,” he responded finally. “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can help, seungcheol. let me help. what’s going on?” you called. there was a hesitation before he spoke, “i- i don’t know how to do this.”

“what is this?” you asked again for clarification.

“cleaning. i don’t know to do it with this thing on my leg.” that made sense. you already knew he was going to need help with that. you just wished he would’ve come to you first. “can i come in?” you hoped he would say yes.

“no,” he said.

“why not?”

“i don’t want you to see me like this.”

“this isn’t the time to act modest. i’m here to help.” there was a deep sigh on the other side of the door. finally, you heard some shuffling and the door was open. you walked in and took in your surroundings. seungcheol was without a shirt and pants. he sat slumped in his wheelchair as he quickly tried to wipe his tears.  you saw some bruises that covered his abdomen. you also noticed how he looked skinnier. that must be why his mom wanted to make sure he was eating. the cover for his cast was sitting on the counter, so you grabbed it.

you knelt down next to him, he wasn’t looking at you. you looked into the shower and noticed the shower chair. “seungcheol, i’m gonna put a towel under you right now, so can you lift yourself up a little?” you said grabbing a towel to put onto the seat of the wheelchair. he did, and you tried your best to arrange it. “can you stand at all?” you asked. he huffed and pushed himself up, and used you as a brace. 

you guided him into his walk-in shower and helped him sit down. you paused and looked at him closely. he looked so tired, which was expected, but there was something else there. you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “i need you to take off your underwear, unless you want to shower in them,” you directed. he glared at you and mumbled something. “what was that?” you asked.

“i don’t-” he began.

“now is not the time to be modest,” you chided. 

“no! i don’t want you to see me like this! i don’t want you to see me all broken and bruised! it’s not right that my mother asked you to do this! just leave! i know you don’t want to be here, so just go. it’s already humiliating enough,” he heaved. you felt your jaw tighten and your fingers clawed at your sides. you didn’t want to respond to that, at least not at that moment. “take off your underwear, seungcheol,” you ordered, crossing your arms. he finally looked at you in your eyes, and he pushed his underwear off. you had to help him get it over his cast, but otherwise, it was seamless. next, you grabbed the cast cover which was essentially a glorified plastic bag, and slid it over his bandaged leg. 

seungcheol’s eyes were downcast again, and he refused to acknowledge you. his shower head was detachable and handheld, so you took it down and placed it closer to him. he still wasn’t looking at you. although you really needed to get some stuff from your apartment, you could stay. when you started rolling up your sleeves on your work blouse and slipping out of your house slippers, seungcheol stared at you incredulously. you stepped into the shower and turned on the water. you made sure the head was facing the ground as you waited for it to warm up. “what are you doing?” he asked. he almost sounded angry, but that could be addressed later. you snatched the washcloth that was hanging on a hook inside the shower and found his shampoo and conditioner. he leaned over and grabbed your wrist, it wasn’t harsh or forceful, just him. “what are you doing?” he repeated.

“taking care of you,” you said shortly. “now close your eyes. tell me if it’s too hot.” he released your wrist and there was that look again. you had to figure out what that was about. you raised the shower head and soaked his hair, and promptly began to lather his shampoo into his hair. he seemed to relax at that. you ran your hands through his hair like you used to. he liked it when you tugged at his strands. it brought him a comfort he couldn’t describe. yet, his hair was shorter now, not the longer strands that you were used to. you wondered what made him cut it, but you knew now wasn’t the time to ask about it. 

the rest of the shower went without any hitch. your hands running over the broad expanse of his back. something about that moment was so domestic, intimate, yet you knew you couldn’t have it the way you wanted it. the way you wanted him. so, you pushed it down, just like the way you did when you noticed him distancing himself from you and drowning himself in his work. 

you helped him get into some clean clothes and bed after he brushed his teeth and dried his body. after you brought him his pain medication with a glass of water to stick next to his bed, you were about to go out and run to your apartment. he saw you rustling around in your bag that you left in his room. “what are you doing?” he asked.

“looking for my keys,” you replied.

“why?”

“so i can go home and grab some things. i’ll be working from home, i mean, i’ll be working here while i help you.” god, why did you call his apartment home? it hadn’t been your home for so long. “i’ll be back soon. i’ll be quiet when i come back so just sleep.”

“no, don’t go.”

“pardon?”

“don’t go.” he stared at you like a petulant child. was this a symptom of a concussion? “seungcheol, i have to go get some of my things. i don’t really want to sleep in my work clothes,” you tried to reason with the pouting man. 

“you left some of your clothes. t-shirts and stuff. sweatpants. just wear that. it’s too late for you to leave now. it wouldn’t be safe,” he shrugged but winced. that was the bruised lung. you didn’t know you left your things over, if you did you would’ve made one more trip to pick them up. 

but…

seungcheol didn’t throw out the clothes you left behind. was he stashing them in case he had another girl come over that needed to borrow clothes? was he saving them for a special time to burn them? why did he keep your clothes? 

no matter, it was no use arguing with seungcheol, and you were tired. you hadn’t even had time to process the fact he had been in an accident, to begin with. “where?” you asked turning back around.

“in my closet, where your clothes usually are.” he looked at you like it was obvious. why would it be obvious? you wanted to scream. a normal person after a breakup usually burns the things their ex left behind, or they maybe just throw them out on the street. they don’t keep it in the same place in the closet. you breathed deeply to calm your mind. now was not the time to address the elephant in the room. “i’ll be getting a shower then,” you said, eyeing him suspiciously. he just nodded and turned to face the window. 

the shower was uneventful other than the thousands of thoughts flowing through your mind. you hoped that they would leave you and flow down the drain. when you finally got out of the shower, you realized you would have to walk through seungcheol’s bedroom to get to the couch. hopefully, he was knocked out. you slid on the clothes that you had left there. it was an old sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, but it would get the job done for the night. the smelled like they were cleaned with his detergent, and you weren’t sure if you loved it or if you wanted it off of your body forever. you tried the best you could to open the door as quietly as possible, and it seemed to work. you were basically out the door without seungcheol waking up or noticing you. that is until he did. “where are you going?” he asked. you hung your head, your hand leaving the doorknob. “to the couch,” you replied.

“why?”

now, there was something seriously wrong with him. you glanced around the room, searching for an answer. “because i’m going to sleep on the couch,” you scrutinized him a bit further. he stared at you with the same confusion. he seemingly picked up on the mutual tension and confusion in the air, “i’ll sleep on the couch, you sleep here,” he clarified. you choked on air. he must have more than a concussion, he had amnesia of some sort because you don’t just let your ex sleep in your bed, especially after you had been in a serious accident. 

you had to snap yourself out of the trance you were in before seungcheol could even attempt to get out of bed, which he was already in the process of trying. rushing over to him and pushing him back under the covers was more of a feat than you thought it was going to be. he seemed adamant about having you stay in his bed while he went to the couch. you were getting deja vu or something to the fights leading up to the end of your relationship. 

“no, i’ll take the couch,” he had insisted.

“no, this is your home and your bed. i’ll just stay on the couch since you don’t want me to go to my apartment,” you had refused. “talk in the morning?”

“yeah sure.”

“no, you’re the guest here, i’ll take the couch,” he shrugged, once again trying to push himself up. you placed a hand on his shoulder. “seungcheol, i wasn’t the one in a car accident,” you reasoned. “you won’t be comfortable on the couch.”

“just- just let me do something for you,” he muttered under his breath. you don’t think you were supposed to hear it, but you did. 

“the best thing you can do for me is to sleep in your own bed and heal.” his gaze lifted and looked at yours. he looked utterly exhausted, and to be honest, you probably looked the same. he inhaled deeply and sat back against his headrest in concession. you smiled at him and before you could stop yourself, you ran your hand through his hair which he happily accepted. “good night, seungcheol,” you said.

“good night,” he replied sounding more at ease. in another lifetime, there would be more to this than a simple good night, but in this lifetime it was different. so much different than you ever hoped for.

“i love you, cheol.”

“i love you too, ___.”

the crick in your back was going to be the death of you, but oh well, you already called into work and took the next week off before you started working remotely. minjeong was surprised that you even agreed to this in the first place. “___, he was an asshole to you,” she pointed out over the phone. you were currently lugging your stuff down the hall to seungcheol’s apartment, phone dangerously stuck between your shoulder and cheek. “he wasn’t an asshole,” you argued. for some reason, the need to defend seungcheol still ran through your veins. 

“he was, ___. he was,” minjeong sighed. you knew that she was right, but you needed to believe that the breakup was caused all just a big misunderstanding and move on. “i’ve got to go, minnie,” you sighed reaching seungcheol’s doorway.

“___, don’t- ugh, don’t do anything you’ll regret. he didn’t treat you right. he wasn’t toxic, but he was definitely neglectful to you,” she groaned.

“it’s not like i’m going to crawl back to him. i’m just helping him.”

“but why should you?”

seungcheol had some bad habits, and it didn’t always end up well for you.  

“cheol, what are you-” you were promptly cut off when seungcheol pressed his lips against yours with an energy that felt unfamiliar. it was just the average evening, so you didn’t understand why he was kissing you like that. not that he had to have a reason to kiss you, it’s just that it hadn’t happened in so long. you had been with him long enough to know how passionate he was about, well, everything. but, this felt different. not saying it was bad. you craved him being this close for weeks, and he was finally in your grasp.  his hands were planted firmly on your waist and he moved you to where he pleased. “come on, baby, just let me feel you,” he smiled against your lips. 

call you touch-starved (which you were), but you couldn’t help melting into him. this was the most attention you had felt from him in so long. “cheol, please,” you gasped as his lips traveled down your neck. he pulled you infinitely closer and you let him. yet, something was nagging at you. your stomach began to drop as his hands began to slide under your shirt. sinking suspicions started to bubble up through your heart. “cheol, kiss me,” you begged, not wanting your thoughts to be true. he hummed and obliged. he pressed his lips against yours in this new fervor. the heat between you was becoming unbearable as your suspicion was correct. 

beer.

the faint taste of it lingered on his tongue, and it made you want to throw up. for the first time in who knows how long, he touches you like he’s never done before but only because he’s intoxicated. great. you pushed him away. “did you drive home by yourself?” you asked gazing into his tired eyes. 

“no, i had joshua drop me off,” he murmured, hands still not leaving your skin, but that’s all you wanted him to do. just get off of me, is what you wanted to yell. how dare you come here drunk and treat me better than you ever have sober for the past months, is what you wanted to scream. “i think it’s time for you to go to bed, cheol,” you opted for instead. he shook his head still grasping at you. “don’t touch me anymore, seungcheol,” you hissed, swatting his hand away and pulling him to his bathroom.

she didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. she had a point. there was no reason why you should offer your help to him. seungcheol never made time for you when you were together, why were you making time for him yet again? it was major deja vu. “look, he wasn’t nice to me, yes. i hated him for a long time, maybe i still do. but, his mom called me, so i feel like i’m doing it for her. not for him,” you attempted to justify. minjeong scoffed. it was a deserved scoff, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. minjeong was there when things ended with seungcheol, so she would know the entire situation from the most unbiased, well sort of unbiased, outside position. she was your friend, and it was only natural for her to want to protect you. you couldn’t fault her for that. “i just want what’s best for you, and i’m not convinced helping him through recovery is the best plan,” she sighed.

“i know. you know he hurt me, i won’t let it happen again. i have no intention of getting back with him. you’re right. he was an asshole. i’ve got to go. talk later?” you asked carefully reaching for the spare set of keys his mom gave you.

“let me kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

“i will.”

“talk later! i’m going to miss you at work. love you!”

“love you too.”

after you successfully hung up without dropping your bags, phone, or keys, you opened the door to the kitchen light on. that’s weird. you were pretty sure you left it off when you went to get your stuff. you kicked off your shoes and made your way into to kitchen, your luggage bag dragging behind you. 

you were greeted by seungcheol attempting to push himself up from his wheelchair to wash some fruit in the sink. “seungcheol! what are you doing?” you rushed to his side. he glanced over his shoulder at you. he sort of gave you some dumb look like he didn’t know what was wrong. “you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this,” you chided. “i can wash these. you need to go back to bed. you should rest.”

“i think i can handle washing some fruit,” he scoffed slumping down in a chair. you rolled your eyes. “it’s not about washing fruit, i know you’re perfectly capable of washing fruit. you were in a car accident a few days ago. you shouldn’t be pushing yourself to get up,” you explained. he just mumbled something under his breath and tried to maneuver his way out of the kitchen. you watched him carefully as he made his way back into his room, and you heard him sigh when he shut the door behind him. 

you had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a long recovery process, for the both of you.

it once again time for seungcheol to go to the doctor. the past few weeks had been back and forth to doctor’s appointments. his concussion was going down. to say things were going well would be a stretch. seungcheol barely spoke to you. you didn’t necessarily expect him to be buddy-buddy with you, but it was strange. he always tried to avoid looking at you. you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this treatment, after all, he was the one who broke up with you.

sleeping on the couch for the past weeks was not ideal. working from seungcheol’s home office was not ideal either. it was weird getting on video calls when you were so used to walking to meetings with minjeong. seungcheol tried his best to not disturb you, but sometimes he would knock on the door and sheepishly ask you for help with something.

the drive to the doctor’s and the check-up itself were uneventful. his leg was healing nicely, and they even decided it was time for a boot, which was great because you could tell he was getting sick of sitting down all the time. “well, mr. choi, it looks like your lung is looking a lot better based off of the scans, and according to your…” dr. hwang paused looking in your direction. seungcheol looked at you briefly like was afraid of what you were going to say. 

you weren’t necessarily worried about getting kicked out because you weren’t immediate family, but for some reason, you chose against saying you were his friend. “i’m his girlfriend,” you bit the bullet. you hoped it didn’t seem too unnatural when you said it. you saw seungcheol’s ears perk up, but he still didn’t address you. 

dr. hwang looked between the two of you seemingly wanting to say something but didn’t. “ah, i see. well you’ve been taking amazing care of mr. choi. according to your girlfriend, you seem to have an easier time breathing. she also said you’re reporting less pain in your head. this is good, since we usually expect swelling and inflammation from a concussion goes down pretty quickly. your concussion should be largely gone by next week, but i would advise against going back to work for some time. you can start walking on this as soon as you feel comfortable, until then use crutches. but, don’t drive until i give you the okay,” dr. hwang rambled, turning back to his computer. 

you could tell seungcheol was excited, maybe he was excited that you would be leaving soon. your stomach sank at the thought, but you didn’t know why. seungcheol barely spoke to you, he couldn’t even look you in the eye most of the time. so, why did you feel bad about the thought of leaving him? you were snapped out of your thoughts when you realized dr. hwang had asked you a question. “um, if you could give me a moment alone with mr. choi, that would be great. i can take him out front once we’re done,” dr. hwang fiddled with his pen as he addressed you. 

“yeah, of course. i’ll uh, i’ll just be in the waiting room. 

after what seemed like an eternity, the two of them came out. dr. hwang smiled at you, and seungcheol looked nervous, finally putting a little weight on his foot with the help of some crutches. “thank you so much, dr. hwang. you’ve been so helpful,” you smiled at him. dr. hwang reciprocated it and patted seungcheol on the back. “mr. choi, look out for yourself. i’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said. seungcheol nodded. 

the ride home was quiet, as always. by now you had grown used to it. when you arrived at seungcheol’s apartment and parked the car, he grabbed your hand before you could leave. “do you want to watch a movie tonight?” he asked. hold on, what? “we can order some take out or something.” maybe dr. hwang was wrong. maybe the swelling in his brain was actually worse. 

your lack of response must’ve freaked seungcheol out. “we don’t have to! i was just thinking it could be a celebratory thing,” he tried to backtrack. 

“no! i’d love- no, i mean, i’d like to watch a movie tonight. that would be nice,” you rushed to cut him off. your heart fluttered at the notion of watching a movie with seungcheol. maybe you could pretend just a little longer…

“what?” minjeong exclaimed. she was not happy with the current situation. 

“minnie, when he asked me if i wanted to watch a movie with him my heart fluttered. what’s wrong with me?” you cried, flopping against the couch, turning down the volume on speaker phone. seungcheol had left to get showered and changed. luckily, you didn’t have to help him much with that anymore. “you’re still in love with him, ___,” minjeong sighed. “i feared this would happen. you cannot let him get in your head! remember how he treated you before! just yesterday he wasn’t even speaking with you, he’s probably just manipulating you or something.” 

you couldn’t fathom him doing that. sure, he neglected you in your relationship, but he was never manipulative. “i don’t-” you began, but you were promptly cut off.

“you don’t get it, ___! you’re in a vulnerable state because you still love him and you’ve been waiting hand and foot to him, so he sees this as an opportunity to make something out of nothing.”

“if i love him, how is it nothing?”

“because you’re going to make it nothing. you can’t just let yourself fall back into his lap because he decided he wanted a movie night!”

“i don’t think it’s that easy.”

“you’re right, it’s not. that’s why you need to wrap up business there and get back to your life. your life where you can be free and meet whoever you want. where you don’t have to worry about the asshole who treated you like shit.”

“he didn’t treat me like shit.”

“he treated you like you barely even existed.”

you knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, but it did feel like she was opening an old wound. 

so much for that dinner you made. the time you wasted was eating at you as you picked through the remnants of your food. it was your first day off in a while and you hoped to spend some of it with your boyfriend before having to go back to work the next day.

 it was your bad to even think seungcheol would be home at the time he had said. you stared at seungcheol’s now cold meal. for the fifth time, you flipped your phone over to see what time it was. 11:47 pm and no word from him. you sighed and went to clear your plate. you wrapped up seungcheol’s meal and put it in the fridge. after all, he would be hungry when he got home. 

“hello? ___, are you still with me?” minjeong snapped you out of your thoughts.

“yeah, sorry,” you rushed out. “look, i think seungcheol is almost out of the shower. i’ve got to go. i’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“i’m sorry if i come off too cold.” she sounded like she was regretting what she said earlier. she knew how to read you like a book even if it was just over a phone call. “it’s alright. you’re my best friend, i know you wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt me. now, i have to go now, for real this time,” you chuckled and hung up after you said goodbye to her. 

you jumped a mile when you heard a clanking noise behind you. when you whipped around you saw seungcheol standing there, eyes wide, you felt something stir in your chest. he was leaning on a crutch with his leg wrapped in the bandages. he told dr. hwang that he wouldn’t wear the boot to bed. dr. hwang was reluctant but relented since the break was healing nicely and the boot wasn’t needed at night. his hair was damp, a plain white t-shirt clung to his body, and pajama pants hung loosely off his hips. something about this image looked so familiar, yet so distant.“sorry,” he mumbled leaning over to pick up the bowl he dropped, surprisingly it didn’t shatter on the hardwood floor. “no, wait, i’ll get it,” you said, pushing forward, frowning at the precarious nature of his stance. he straightened up and watched you pick up the bowl. “how long were you standing there? i could’ve helped,” you asked turning to go place the bowl in the sink.

“not long,” he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “do you still want to watch a movie with me?” you nodded quietly and made your way to the couch. he followed behind and landed on the couch with a thud. “what do you want to watch?” you asked flipping the tv on.

“um, i’m not sure. i haven’t watched a lot of movies lately.” he shrugged. this was going to be harder than expected. instead of attempting to engage in this painful discussion, you opted to start scrolling through one of seungcheol’s million streaming apps. 

you scrolled through movie after movie with varying enthusiasm levels from seungcheol. “stop, let’s just watch this one,” he suddenly said. if you were being honest, you stopped paying attention to the movie titles a long time ago. so when you saw “the notebook” as the selected movie, your jaw slackened. “you want to watch this?” you asked, making sure he meant that. 

“i mean, i remembered when you showed me it, and i rewatched it recently. i really like it nowadays,” he said nonchalantly. you had shown him “the notebook” a long time ago. you had to beg him to watch it, and you remembered how he ended up crying by the conclusion. but now, it was strange to hear that he enjoyed the movie. not only that, but he remembered that you showed him the film. it was years ago, and he remembered. “okay, yeah, let’s watch it,” you said pressing play. 

you were getting major deja vu while you watched it. seungcheol was curled up next to you, and somehow you found yourself curled up next to him. this hardly happened when you were together, and it made your heart hurt that it was happening after you had broken up. was a car accident what you needed to be close to him? you didn’t need to think about it now, not when you could smell his shampoo and fabric softener. it was so familiar, but you knew you couldn’t get too comfortable. after all, you weren’t his anymore, and he wasn’t interested. yet, something was scratching at the back of your throat. an urge. a desire. a feeling you thought was better to push down.

 the movie was long over, but seungcheol had drifted off to sleep about twenty minutes before the movie ended. you didn’t have the heart to wake him, so you let him rest for a while before you lightly shook him awake. his eyes fluttered open and held your gaze with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint. “alright, sleeping beauty, time to get you into bed,” you smiled softly involuntarily running a hand through his hair. he seemingly leaned into your touch while looking around. “is the movie over? why didn’t you wake me?” he asked. you just shushed him quietly and helped him up. he held onto your shoulders and let you guide him to his bed. after a bit of work, you got him under the covers and on his pillow. when you moved to get up, his hand shot out and grasped your wrist. your neck whipped back at him. “what’s wrong?” you quizzed. 

“stay,” is all he said, eyes closing. 

you sighed. you couldn’t give in to him. you had set your boundaries, you were here to help that’s all. but, the longer you were with him, you realized the reasons why you hated him melted away within hours of being around him more. minjeong needed to be here to snap you out of it. “of course, he’s being nice to you now. don’t forget why you broke up in the first place,” she would’ve said. yet, she wasn’t here, and you were weak for him. as much as you would like to deny it, you knew you’d always crawl back to him. in this life and the next. 

there couldn’t be any harm in staying with him, right? it was just one night. he wouldn’t try anything. he wasn’t like that. he didn’t even feel that way for you anymore. he definitely didn’t seem too bothered when you gave in and slid under the covers with him. to your surprise when you started to situate yourself, you felt his arms wrap under your body and pull you to the opposite side of the bed. just like old times. he always insisted to sleep closest to the door. he had told you it was a win-win for the both of you. he could have the comfort of feeling like he was protecting you, and you got the nice view out of his window on the opposite side of the room. you assured him back then that you didn’t need protection, but you never fought with him to switch positions. 

you had grown used to his arm around your waist each night, and after you broke up you longed for his presence. you had cuddled your pillows and called minjeong. everything and anything to keep your mind off the empty space in your bed. so, now when you felt his arm wrap around you and his body pressed against yours, you froze. why did the thing you wanted for the past seven months cause you so much discomfort? being this close to him was like stepping into the salty waves at the beach with a cut you thought healed. your eyes began to sting, and you pleaded with your heart to not start shaking your body. you naturally moved closer to him when his grip became tighter around your waist, but your heart cried for the rest of the night.

when you woke up, you surprised yourself realizing you had a dreamless night. your chest hurt, but your eyes were dry. you turned over and noticed seungcheol’s side of the bed was empty. his boot was gone, so he must’ve put it on. you didn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen right outside the room, albeit his apartment was quite small and his living room was right there too. you slid on a hoodie and made your way out of his room to find where he went. maybe he was just as freaked out as you were, so maybe he just left to get some air. if you were him, you probably would’ve done to same. you wanted to kick yourself for falling into his lap again. maybe he regretted inviting you to stay, and now he was disgusted with himself for letting his ex sleep in the same bed as him again. your rational mind told you that wasn’t true. he wasn’t like that. yet, that’s what you told yourself when he show up late to numerous dates or just forget to message you. 

you heard quiet arguing as soon as you stepped out of his room. you looked down to the front door and saw seungcheol leaning against the doorframe. his body wedged between the door and doorframe, effectively blocking your view of who was there. you quietly shuffled forward, trying not to startle him. “i just don’t understand why you’re here?” seungcheol asked, almost sounding stern.

“i’m just dropping off some paperwork,” the person on the other side of the door said. the voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “how’d you know where she was?” seungcheol grilled, sounding more frustrated with every passing second. 

“look, dude, i’m just here to drop off some stuff from work. minjeong told me,” the guy tried again to reason with seungcheol. you recognized seungcheol’s tone, he got like that whenever he was jealous, but you couldn’t fathom why he would be jealous. you looked past seungcheol and saw changkyun standing there with a case file in hand. “oh my god, seungcheol, stop it. this is changkyun from work,” you nudged seungcheol to the side trying not to surprise him, but you were still upset he was berating your work friend. 

“oh, hey, ___. minjeong sent me with these files. let me or minjeong know if you need anything else,” changkyun smiled at you. “i’ll let you go, you seem- um- preoccupied. but, we miss you at the office,” he glanced at seungcheol who was scowling at the ground. 

“yeah, sorry about that. thank you for bringing this around. this is super helpful. i was getting tired of reading pdfs,” you laughed. “i’ll see you later.” changkyun nodded and left without another word. you shut the door and brushed past seungcheol. you heard an audible huff behind you but ignored it. after you dropped off the case of files in the office, breakfast was seemingly the best option for you. 

seungcheol was already in the kitchen leaning against the fridge. it was highly inconvenient given you needed to get in there for some fruit. however, he wasn’t moving. “what are you doing?” you asked crossing your arms. he didn’t respond, just looking anywhere but at you. “what’s going on with you? what was with that attitude with changkyun?” you grilled, but you were only met with a scoff. now, that was weird. he sounded jealous, but there was nothing to be jealous of. “what’s wrong with you?” you frowned. 

“why does it matter?” he mocked. you squinted your eyes at him. compared to last night’s situation, this was an entirely different person. “why does it matter? it’s just weird that he’d show up here unannounced,” seungcheol shrugged. 

“he was here because minjeong sent him,” you stared him down.

“why couldn’t she come then? just seems like it’s a cover for him to see you. you didn’t tell me you were talking with someone else.”

“because i’m not talking to changkyun. i’m not talking to anyone. but, why does this matter so much to you? it’s not like he came in the house and started wrecking anything. he just dropped some stuff off.”

“we miss you at the office.”

“what?”

“that’s what he said.”

“i’m not following.” 

seungcheol sighed and pushed himself off the fridge and over to his chair, groaning and stretching his leg once he was sitting. “god, ___, don’t be blind. he’s obviously into you,” he laughed humorlessly. now you were even more confused. “so what if he is? i’m not,” you shrugged, opening the fridge to get your fruit and yogurt. 

“yeah, sure. whatever, that’s not the point,” seungcheol huffed again.

“then what is the point?” 

“that he tried to come here and flirt with you when i’m right here!” he finally snapped. “it’s embarrassing! he looked at me with all this pity when i opened the door. i don’t want his pity. then you come around the corner, and he’s smiling ear to ear.” seungcheol looked like he was about to cry. you wanted to say something, but all you could was look at him, confused. “you pity me too. everyone does!” he rambled. “it’s so humiliating. and, and, i’m sure that you’d be happier at the office where he is. he’s more handsome than i am, and i’m sure he’s smarter and kinder than me. you deserve to go out and just leave me here. you don’t even want to be here. i see the way you look at me. it’s not the same way i look at you, so i couldn’t possibly as you to stay. why don’t you just go date a guy like that? i’m sure he can treat you better than- than me.”

you stood there dumbfounded. your heart ached for seungcheol, but you couldn’t stop the boiling anger in your stomach. how could he possibly think so lowly of himself? did he not see how you were still so infatuated with him? did he not realize the reason why you hadn’t talked to anyone new was because of him? and for him to accuse you of pitying him, after all the care you put into helping him get better. to accuse you of not wanting to be there, with him. you wouldn’t haven’t been here if you didn’t care. you knew you cared too much for seungcheol, for someone who you knew didn’t even care about you. what made him any different from back when you were dating? 

“you’re so cruel,” you whispered, grabbing your food and heading to the office. 

there was radio silence for the next few hours. you would occasionally hear something, but seungcheol never knocked or tried to come in. the tip-toeing around each other was killing you. it felt awfully familiar to when seungcheol became distant from you before the two of you broke up. work was monotonous and nothing was holding your attention. all you could think about was what seungcheol said. you didn’t realize he felt that way about himself, or you for that matter. it hurt, and it hurt even more to wallow in it when he was right on the other side of the door. 

you couldn’t be the same person you were seven months ago. pushing down your concerns, hoping they would pass. they wouldn’t, you knew that, unless you talked to him. he would be getting better soon, and you could put this in the past. you could leave again once this was all over, never to look back. you couldn’t take another heartbreak because of him again. 

so your resolve broke and you pushed yourself out of the office chair and went to find seungcheol. 

he remembered the day you left like it was yesterday. he heard you gather some things from your room and left without another word. “yeah, i guess so,” he muttered to himself angrily. “you’re such an idiot,” he continued. he didn’t even understand why he said that to you. it was uncalled for, especially given you wanted to talk about your strained relationship. he knew he was distant, but he didn’t know what else to do. so, he pushed it down until he couldn’t take it anymore, well, until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

not having you around the apartment for the first few weeks felt like torture. he had drafted and re-written several messages to you and even considered calling, but he never pulled through with any of it. his mind was constantly unfocused on his work. the work he sacrificed everything for. the work he tried so hard to keep up to help you, help the both of you. he couldn’t bring himself to eat as much as he usually did, when the pit of his stomach was killing him from the inside out.

now that you were gone he constantly tried to take his mind off of you. he couldn’t let a breakup disorient him like this. he had broken up with other people before, but never like this. he couldn’t stop replaying everything that went wrong in his mind, everything he could’ve done to stop it. maybe if he put up a fight you would’ve stayed. but, he didn’t fight at all. he cowered at the suggestion of breaking up, and instead of facing it, he fled and accepted fate. waves of uncertainty lapped at his feet and eventually, the waters rose until it was unbearable. if you wanted to break up with him then that’s what would happen, no matter what ran through his mind and heart. 

no matter the fact he had a little velvet box in the bottom of his sock drawer. 

he was going to a party. he said he would buy alcohol, so he did. while he was driving he felt something shift within him. he thought about all the parties he had taken you to, and how all parties with you there were so much more bearable. all he could think about was how bored he would be. he loved his friends, but something was missing if you weren’t also there sharing a drink or discussion with him. yet, he let joshua convince him to come out. joshua had told him not to drown in any more work. joshua saw how the work was wearing down his friend, and he couldn’t take it anymore. so, seungcheol was going to a party he didn’t particularly want to attend, but he was getting there, even if he felt himself push the accelerator down more than he should.

but something stopped him from going to the party, and now he felt like he was floating above his body. he felt waves wash over him, and when they retreated he felt cold and vulnerable. he felt dazed and had a throbbing pain in his head, leg, and heart. he remembered the beating rain against his windshield and feeling the tires give out on him. he remembered your smile and your fingers running through his then-long hair. you told him everything was going to be alright, and he believed you. then, there was a rhythmic beeping next to him, some rustling by him, and your voice was gone. his head hurt too much, but he forced his eyes open.

in some sort of last-ditch effort of hope, he thought it could be you. you could be there fixing some magazines in the room or adjusting the blinds. yet, he opened his eyes and he didn’t see you there, just a nurse organizing some of the tubes next to him. seungcheol tried turning his head around, groaning. the nurse noticed and left to go get someone. maybe it could be you. no, that wouldn’t make sense. it couldn’t be you, and it wasn’t. it was his mother. she cried and asked him if he was alright. she asked where you were and what he was doing, but he didn’t have a good response to any of her questions. when she started to pry about you, he realized he had forgotten to mention the fact you were broken up. she had called soon after it ended because it was time for her to call her son, but he went into auto-pilot and told her you were fine, and he just never got around to telling her the truth. she loved you, and he knew that.

he definitely couldn’t do it then. it would break her, just like it broke him.

when he saw you standing at the door behind his mother, he wanted to burst into tears, but it would probably hurt his lung. besides, he didn’t need you to see how broken up about it he was. everything hurt, but it only hurt more when he saw you. you looked gorgeous, and your voice was like music to his ears. what if you had a boyfriend? the thought flashed through his mind. any person would be lucky to date you, but the idea caused his stomach to roll. 

your hair looked so pretty too, but your clothes looked like a mess. he hoped he didn’t cause you too much worry.  yet, he was worried now. his lie was going to be exposed. he saw the way you looked at him, helpless and injured. you wouldn’t spare him, not after what he did. his mom was talking to you just like everything was normal, but he saw the look on your face. you were confused and probably angry. he knew you, and he knew you would correct his mom as soon as you could. so when she backed away and went to get something from the closet, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, and that scared him. 

the last thing he expected was for you to agree and help. he also expected you to correct his mother when she went on and on about how you were his girlfriend and how she knew how much you loved each other. he could sense your discomfort anytime he was around, so he made himself scarce and tried not to be a bother. what you were doing was already such a help to him, and he had no idea how he was ever going to repay you. 

he recalled when you pushed him around in his wheelchair at the supermarket, and all he wanted to do was disappear. it was his first visit to the store for a while, and there was something especially embarrassing about having your ex push you around the market, even if they didn’t know he had broken your heart. he didn’t know why he agreed to come. he would feel your hands brush past his shoulders as you would reach to grab something before dropping it in the shopping basket sitting in his lap. the tiny bit of contact from you had him going insane. he wanted to apologize for having you here, for his mom calling, for lying, for breaking your heart. he was scared, that if he opened his mouth, his heart would betray him and he’d say something that would make you run away again. but, he knew it wasn’t the time for that, so whenever your fingers graze his shoulder he swallowed whatever apology or confession (whichever came out first) down until it reached the bottom of his heart. 

you were wheeling him past the bakery and he saw the sweet milk bread he would always get as a treat on weekends. maybe you could share it again like you used to, but he doubted it. though, before he could process it, he was clearing his throat. you paused and he sensed you looking at him. “uh-,” he paused, coughing. “can, can we get the milk bread over there?” he asked. you looked around to where he was motioning. you saw it. he felt you pause. maybe he shouldn’t have asked. “it’s no big deal, actually. it was a dumb request. never-” he rambled but all of a sudden your hands brushed over his shoulders and you walked over to the table where the freshly baked bread was packaged. you inspected one and brought it back, placing it gently on the top of seungcheol’s basket. “do you need anything else?” you asked, quietly standing behind him again. he shook his head. 

for the first few weeks, it was awkward and humiliating. he couldn’t bear you at his beck and call. he could barely even talk to you, too embarrassed. he needed to get out of the wheelchair as soon as possible. he willed his body to heal faster, so then maybe the pain that festered in his chest would go away. one night, he woke up and he was parched. he had run out of water, he must’ve forgotten to get more before he went to bed. he also noticed his stomach was growling. he had refused to eat anything for dinner. once again, his bad. it reminded him of the time when he would come home late to a dark home. he was starving, but he knew you had eaten. you had long gone to bed, but he smelled the food you cooked. he looked in the fridge and saw his helping there. he sighed. he knew it was your day off that day, but he couldn’t seem to draw himself away from his work. got too distracted.

so, he needed water and food, but to get there he would have to get out of his room and into the kitchen. specifically, he needed to get past you on the couch without waking you. pushing himself out of bed, he reached for his crutches. he got them secured under his arms and made his way out of his open door. you had insisted on keeping it open, so you could hear him if he needed anything. but, he saw the way you walked into his room deflated, leaving his dinner on his bedside table, cleaning the barely touched food an hour later, and retreating to the couch to sleep after a presumably hard day at work. he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he woke you up now. 

he stepped as lightly as he could given his situation, but you were out like a light. he contained a chuckle seeing you all curled up on his couch. though, he did feel bad. the couch was no place to sleep for a long time. if only he could share his bed with you and not make it weird… he quietly ate a protein bar and got a glass of milk. he watched from the kitchen how smooth your breathing was. he frowned when you began to toss and turn. he wiped his mouth and moved over to you. after resting his crutches on the floor, he sat on the ottoman in from of the couch, closest to your head. he leaned forward and watched your troubled expression. sometimes he would press a kiss on your forehead, but that would be entirely inappropriate. yet, he couldn’t do anything while he watched this perfect person in front of him suffer.

so, his hand was reaching forward and caressing your cheek before he knew it. your skin felt amazing under his fingertips. he missed holding your hand, hugging you from behind, and kissing your lips. he wondered how he could’ve messed up this horribly. he felt your breath even out, and he noticed how your brow un-furrowed. gently pulling back his hand, he smiled and made his way back to his room. it was only then after he crossed the doorway, he realized what he had done. the clear boundary he had tried to maintain melted within those twenty minutes of him getting a midnight snack. he didn’t deserve the treatment he was getting from you. he wished you would yell and scream at him for what he did. resentment. he yearned for you to resent him, but no, you had to come and be the amazing person you were. he couldn’t let himself feel this close to you again.

but, he broke his promise. just like he always did. he invited you to sleep in his bed after a movie night he suggested. after offering, he realized he probably shouldn’t have offered the movie in the first place, but hindsight is 20-20. it felt too inappropriate, unspeakable even. especially, after he caught what minjeong was saying to you before you turned on the movie. he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but minjeong was yelling on the other side of the phone and no matter how much you could turned down the volume, he still would’ve heard it. 

“he treated you like you barely even existed,” minjeong had said.

now, he didn’t want to believe that, but he knew it was true. working longer hours, barely seeing you, and coming home at odd hours of the night were all factors which were purely his fault. he could’ve requested time off, but he didn’t. it was his ambition that blinded him. the thought that if he worked hard enough now, he could be with you more later. but, he had forgotten he wasn’t the only person in the equation, and you only had so much patience. the patience he had wrongfully wasted. 

your back was turned to him. he didn’t know why it hurt so much given the situation. being face-to-face in bed would be too intimate. too dangerous. yet, that’s all he wanted. he longed to feel your body next to his, to know that what was once shared between you was still there. so, he took a risk. he reached forward and pressed his chest against your back, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. 

he waited and waited for you to pull away, and much to his surprise, you never did. you stayed in his arms like old times, but he knew it couldn’t be like that. he didn’t know if he could ever have you like this again. the recovery period of you taking care of him was painful on a multitude of levels. he was giving you space since he already felt like a burden, and it appeared to him like he was the plague. it was for the best, but he still wanted to hold you and kiss you to show his thanks. all he could do was say thank you and quietly retreat back into his mind. so, he held you like it was the last time, which it likely was, and he fell into a deeper, quieter sleep for the first time in weeks. the waves retreated and did not come back for the rest of the night. 

who was this guy standing at his door? why were you smiling so widely at this guy? why was this guy smiling so widely back at you? did he just sleep in the same bed with you when you had a boyfriend? so many questions, and so little patience left on his end. this guy was so handsome, with a sharp nose and intense eyes. he could see how you could go to someone like that, someone completely opposite of him. any hope of last night not being a one-off thing leaving his mind. the guy glanced over at him and gave him a look he was all too familiar with. the old ladies at the supermarket gave him this look. his mother gave him this look. even you sometimes. he was broken and mangled and people loved to look. so, to hide their nosiness, they concealed it with concern and pity. he hated that. sometimes you would do it, and he wanted to rip his hair out. he hated it when you would generate idle conversation or say his name like some sort of swear word. what ever happened to being your cheol? 

the doubt came flooding back into his mind, and he was lost in the sea of his own thoughts again. the waves were back, and he didn’t know how to keep them at bay. the tide was coming in stronger, and he could feel every brick he had built crumble under the pressure. when could this conversation be over?

he didn’t mean to lash out at you and your work friend. it was the waves. the waves that splashed into his face. the water that fell into his throat and choked him. he had to spit it out or it was going to drown him. every little thing he had hidden away came out. the confessions, insecurities, and everything else that held him back now and back then. he just needed to get it out before the waves came crashing in on him again when you would inevitably leave. 

“you’re so cruel,” you had said, and you were right. he was. how could he be so cruel to one of the only people who ever showed him unconditional kindness? it was over, and he knew it. 

all of his memories felt disjointed. almost as if someone had glued them together into a scrapbook. you were trying so hard to follow what he was telling you. the entire time he refused to look at you. his hands were clasped together, face flushed. “i suppose that was a long winded way to say i’m sorry,” he said finally looking at you for the first time. “i’m sorry for treating you so horribly when we were together, and even now. i’m sorry for standing you up and coming home drunk. you’re right, i am cruel, and i will never forgive myself for how i treated you,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

you knew he had problems with anxiety and doubt, but you never thought it was this bad. you were mad at him, but you wished he had told you. told you about how he felt like he was drowning everywhere he went. “seungcheol, i-” you began but he cut you off.

“i understand if you want to leave. i can just have joshua take me to physical therapy and my appointments. i’ve asked you to stay for too long. it wasn’t right of me. if anything, i owe you so much. you shouldn’t have to be forced to be anywhere you don’t want to be,” he said. 

you stared at him. you had never seen him so defeated. when you came to talk to him, you didn’t expect him to be the one prepared with an apology. you just wanted to talk, but now that you began piecing together the things he told you. you realized how much he did care. he saw the food you made for him. he saw the effort you put in. for some reason, that just made you feel a little better. you always felt like he didn’t see you, but he did. this entire time. “what if i want to be here?” you asked, meeting his gaze. his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. “then, i would ask you to stay. i would promise to treat you the way you deserve. i would make every wrong i made right with you,” he confessed, moving closer to you on the couch. he reached forward and grabbed your hand. “i'm sorry for being such an asshole to you. i would apologize every second of every day.anything to get you to trust me again,” he continued. “anything so i can be yours.”

your heart felt full. it was healing. for some reason, you believed him. minjeong would probably yell at you for “falling for his trap,” but you had a feeling he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t going to mess it up again. “then, let’s start over,” you smiled, eyes welling up. he lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears that threatened to fall with his thumb. “gladly,” he smiled. you pulled your hand away from the one he was grasping at, and extended it to him. “i’m ___, nice to meet you,” you smiled. he grinned, glancing between your face and your outstretched hand. “nice to meet you too. i’m seungcheol,” he said clasping your hands together. he felt the waves were receding, and by the look on your face, you felt it too. 

you were out shopping for what felt like the fourth time this week. you just kept forgetting something on your list that honestly couldn’t wait until the next week. then your phone began to ring. you slid it out of your pocket and answered it. “what am i forgetting?” you asked as soon as the line connected. 

“nothing, i was just wondering if you could get some milk bread,” the voice on the other side of the phone asked. you laughed quietly to yourself. “what’s the occasion?” you joked.

“it’s the weekend, and i love you,” seungcheol said. you felt your heart soar. you sighed happily and made your way over to the milk bread. you were still on the line with him, and you could hear him humming. maybe now was the time you brought it up. “so, you want the same kind from the bakery, right?” you asked, stalling. 

“of course,” he scoffed. “the fresh ones from the bakery are obviously superior to the ones that one brand makes.” it was funny since he said it like it was obvious. you hummed and placed one of the loaves in your cart. “is there anything else?” you asked. you heard seungcheol shifting around. “nope, that should be all for me,” he replied. 

“everything i’m getting is for you,” you rolled your eyes. he chuckled. you continued to chat with him as you walked through the store, picking up a few leftover things. you decided it would be a good time to end the call when you got to the register, but not before you brought it up. “look, cheol, i’m at the register, so i’ll have to go,” you said, getting in line. 

“oh, okay, sounds good. i’ll see you at home?” he asked to confirm.

“yes, after i get back, though, can we talk about that red velvet box in your sock drawer?” you smirked. 

“yeah, sure of co- wait! how do you know about that?” seungcheol took a second to process what you had told him. he sounded frantic on the other side of the phone, and it made you laugh. “oh, looks like the line is moving, i’ve got to go! we’ll talk more when i get back, right?” you smiled.

“yes, for sure, yes! we will be talking because you weren’t supposed to see that!” seungcheol exclaimed. “see you soon, i love you, ___.”

“i love you too, cheol,” you replied easily. because, in this life, you loved him, and he loved you back.  

minli | sort of proofread! working on it… i think the plot makes sense… right… please say it does. this has sort of been my child for the past month or so… i actually used the max amount of pictures in this LOL ASLDKJ. please leave some feedback if you want :) likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

tagging | @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

[eiightysixbaby]

eddie comes home from work after a grueling week, shuffling through the door looking like he’s going to deflate.

he doesn’t know how to ask to be taken care of, but his body aches and his eyes are heavy and he’s so exhausted. he should know he doesn’t even have to ask, that you know him like you know your favorite song or the streets of your hometown and you can definitely tell when he needs some extra love.

and so when he silently slips into the shower, you make sure he’s not alone in there for long. you retrieve some comfortable clothes for him from his drawer, putting them in the dryer to be soft and warm when he’s ready to slip into them. you light a candle, carrying it carefully as you step into the bathroom to join him.

you place the candle on the countertop, letting the aroma fill the room. stripping your clothes, you let the steam from the hot water warm your skin.

you pull back the curtain gently, not wanting to startle him. he doesn’t startle, never on edge around you, and his pretty eyes look back at you from over his shoulder.

“hi, baby,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

you don’t say anything, just wrap your arms around his middle, your face pressing against his back. his arms rest over your own, hands holding them in place. and you don’t let go for a while, just rock back and forth slightly as you hold him. the water from the shower trickles down his skin, the stream barely hitting you with him as your shield.

no words are needed here, your affection is spoken through the way you turn him to face you, lathering shampoo between your hands before running it through his unruly curls. your love for him bounces off the walls with the way you gently soap up his body, hands working harder into the spot between his shoulder blades that you know always gets tight. he can nearly feel the way your heart beats soft for him when he presses you tight against him, chest to chest, letting his stress and his pain wash down the drain.

and he feels so safe, so wanted and cared for. he doesn’t always know how to ask for it, used to taking care of himself. being there for himself when no one else would be. but he’s realizing more and more every day that he isn’t alone, anymore. and that you’ll be there to lather and rinse every bad day from his bones.

[brewingcoffi]

Blud does NOT know how Determination works‼️

So yeah! Here’s Aftermath story of Revived!Clover.

They still have their eyebag’s from their revived state, but it’s now faded less since now they have their soul back. That means their energy isn’t getting drained. Yet they still drink energy beverages and caffeine despite not needing that anymore, because Clover was so used to it, and forced into it. It became normal for them.

( I gave them this T-shirt that says “I ‘BARELY’ survived MT. Ebott.” Because I thought it was neat and funny.)

The Aftermath of Revived!Clover takes place in the UT True pacifist ending, where Asriel breaks the barrier. And I’ve received REALLY GREAT ideas from the comments of previous post about my AU!(WHICH I ENJOY CHEWING ON.)

I think that this scene takes place when Clover takes (And probably tries convincing) Flowey to go with them, and goes STRAIGHT to their house (Clover's Parents are already old but not dead.) If not, Frisk and Toriel would probably take care of him, and let Clover come and visit to check up on their Bestie, Clover begins doing every soul research to find a way to get Flowey a soul so they could bring back his emotions (Without killing anyone.) Which might’ve made their newly discovered addictions worse.

[Not a Ship.]

[holylulusworld]

Pick you up

Summary: Daddy comes to save the day.

Pairing: Biker!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: angst, bitchy girls, heavy daddy kink, caregiver Ari, sexual harassment (not Ari), implied violence, hurt & comfort (kinda), fluff, comforting, protective Ari

Read the prequel here: Let you down

Pick you up masterlist

“Daddy, please come pick me up. They are all so mean to me,” you sniff on the phone. “I don’t want to stay here. I thought this is going to be fun, but it’s not.”

The girls from your workplace watch you on the phone. They roll their eyes and huff.

“She calls her daddy to pick her up. We were right. She’s not mature enough for our little club. I don’t know what a girl like her wants in New York.”

You hang up and sigh. The plan to spend the weekend with the people you’re working with went down the drain the moment they started to talk low about your outfit, your make-up (or rather the lack of it), and the fact that you don’t want to talk about yourself with people you barely know.

Ignoring your nagging colleagues, you walk out of the living room to grab your bag and jacket. You will wait outside for your daddy to pick you up.

You exhale sharply when one of them follows you outside. “You didn’t have to call your daddy. How old are you, twelve?”

“Just leave me alone,” you shoulder your bag and grab the door handle. “I’ll be waiting outside. I want nothing to do with you and the others.”

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes before you see his bike. Your heart flutters when your daddy brings the motorcycle to a complete stop. He plants both feet firmly on the ground, making you shiver as you stare at his long legs.

You wring your hands as he kicks the kickstand down with his left foot and leans the bike on it. 

“Fuck, daddy,” you press your thighs together, adding pressure to your tingling clit.

Ari swings his right foot over the motorcycle to get off it. He takes off his helmet and grins when his eyes land on you.

Eyes glued to Ari; you swallow thickly as he shakes his head to tame his mane.

“That’s…her … daddy?” Your colleagues gathered outside to get a look at your father. Or so they thought. They didn’t know you called your daddy, not your father. “He looks too young for being her father.”

“You are telling me!” Suzanne, the leader of the little group harassing you sneers. “That guy is not her father.”

“He’s so tall and handsome,” Caroline says. “No wonder she didn’t want to play with one of the guys. She’s got a hunk at home.”

“A daddy,” Suzanne grunts. “I knew something is off with that bitch.”

While your colleagues watch you and Ari, he worriedly calls your name.

“Y/N, what happened,” Ari asks, furrowing his brows as you run toward him to bury your face in his chest. “Baby kitten. Do I need to break bones or faces?”

“They wanted to play truth or dare, and spin the bottle,” you begin. “I agreed, because why not?”

“Okay.” Ari hums. “Go ahead. Daddy is here now.”

“Uh-I didn’t know there will be guys too, I swear.” You feel Ari stiffen. A deep rumble emits from his chest, and you know, someone is in trouble. You only hope it isn’t you. “I didn’t want to spin the bottle anymore because they changed the rules.”

“What rules? Tell me about it, princess,” you relax and take a deep breath. Ari always makes you feel safe and calm.

“They said we need to choose truth or dare. I chose dare, and suddenly the guys from the company were there too. They wanted to play too and Suzanne said I must kiss one of them.”

“I’ll kill them,” he growls. No one touches you but him. “No one forces my girl to kiss them.”

“I refused and chose truth instead. I said that I cannot kiss someone else because I got my boyfriend at home. They laughed, but agreed,” You sniffle. “They wanted me to tell them about the last time we had sex. I refused and they made fun of me. Calling me an uptight virgin.”

“It’s alright, I’m here now. Even if you were a virgin, it wouldn’t be a reason to make fun of you. They are awful people,” Ari softly speaks to you. You’re already worked up and he doesn’t want to risk you starting to hyperventilate. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“That’s not all.” You whimper now. “The game continued. The guys joined us. After a few rounds, the bottle landed on me. One of them chose dare and they…they wanted me to…”

“Baby, what happened?”

“They wanted me to ride one of the guys’ thighs. I told them that I got a boyfriend and won’t cheat on him. At first, I thought it was a joke. But they tried to push me onto that guy. I cried and grabbed my phone.”

“And then you called me,” Ari concludes as you slowly nod against him. “Good girl. You knew daddy always comes to your aid. Let me just kill them for you.”

“Please don’t leave me alone. Please,” you sniffle. “I don’t want to be alone with them ever again.”

“Princess, come with me.” Ari takes your bag out of your hands. He wraps one arm around your shoulders to guide you away from your colleague’s house and toward the street.

“Where are we going…?” you gasp as you see the whole club waiting for you and Ari.

You forgot that they wanted to go for a ride. Guilt washes over you. It was Ari’s day off and he wanted to spend it with his friends. Now you messed this up too.

Steve, the boss of the club gets off his bike. He nods at Ari as your boyfriend points at you. “Steve will take care of you for a moment. You like Steve right? He’s a good man and will protect you. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

“I’ve got her, Ari. Do what you must do,” Steve’s features soften when you watch Ari leave your side. “He’ll be right back, Y/N. Don’t worry. Ari was out of his mind when he heard you cry on the phone.”

“Maybe we should help him?” Bucky, another member of the club asks. He sneaked around the area and heard every word. “I wouldn’t mind roughing those douchebags up. Break a bone or two.”

“Buck, that’s Ari’s job,” Steve warns. “If he needs our help, we will help. Give him a moment…”

Meanwhile, at the house, Ari barks at the women harassing you. “My girl loves her job and won’t quit because of you. If you ever make her life harder or just look at her the wrong way, we all will pay you a visit.”

“We…we didn’t…” Suzanne stammers. She never got yelled at by a tall guy like Ari before and is close to wetting herself.

“I know what you did,” Ari snaps at her. “Who is the guy putting his hands on my girl? Who wanted to force her to ride his thigh?”

“Uh-it’s him!” The other men point at the man wanting you to ride him. “He said that he wants her before we started the game. We didn’t have anything to do with it. It was all Suzanne and him.”

“You—” Ari cracks his neck. “Well, then. Let me show you what happens when you harass a woman.”

“Ari. Daddy,” you run toward Ari the moment you see him. “What happened?” You look at his bloody knuckles. “You’re hurt.”

“Did you give it to them good?” Bucky smirks. “I can help. Let me break a few bones.”

“Buck, stop. I know you are antsy since your girl left, but we’ve got no time to start a fight,” Steve grunts. “Let’s bring Y/N home. She had a rough day.”

Ari carefully guides you toward his bikes. He softly speaks your name and caresses your back. “I’ll bring you home now, princess.”

After a short ride back home you are in Ari’s arms. He whispers soothing words and nuzzles his face in your neck.

You’re lying on a soft mattress, hidden under the pillowfort you and Ari built for days like these. Days in which the world gets too much for you.

“You’re safe with me, princess. Always.”

“I know,” you mumble sleepily. “My protector…”

>> Prequel

Tags in reblog.

[coryosbaby]

Your Face .

Fandom: “Saw (2004)”

Pairing: Adam Faulkner Stanheight x fem! Reader

Synopsis: you’ll never leave him again.

Cw: angst, mentions of past murder, injuries, money struggles, mentions of past sex work, night terrors, codependency, attachment issues // nsfw . hand jobs, nipple play, cum eating, praise, mommy kink, oral (f recieving)

🪚

Couple’s therapy really isn’t easy when the both of you were victims of a fucking serial killer.

If you can even call it couples therapy— talking about how you feel towards each other and trying to fix your relationship is some sort of therapy, you guess.

Maybe it’s not healthy to stay with the person you were held in captivity with. But even before that, you were attached at the hip. Even if you were both on and off before the incident, you were still both incredibly infatuated with one another. You would never be able to escape that face: Adam’s beautiful, almost angelic face. It’s been that way since the end of high school graduation, and it’ll be that way until the end of your life.

You know why Jigsaw had chosen you. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Your money situation had been terrible before he had taken you, and in his mind, you were a whore, a dancer, a prostitute. But never in your mind could you ever contemplate why he chose Adam: your sweet boy, your best friend, your sweetheart. Adam.

You still dream about the last day you were there, sometimes. When you had carried out the plan Adam had come up with: just shoot me. Shoot me in the shoulder so he thinks I’m dead. And then get us both out. And when you had, trying every desperate attempt to find the key to the chains, you had reached your hand down into the sink drain. It was a wonder you had somehow escaped those chains without having to cut your own foot off. Adam’s cries sounded a lot in your ears, now. In your own haste to go and get help you had left him there with John Kramer. Even when he had begged you not to. Even when he almost died.

It was a wonder you both got out alive. It was a wonder you had managed to come back, fight the man off, and get him out of there.

And ever since, it’s like Adam has only ever though about that. The moment you left him in that room. The fear he felt, the impending doom.

Maybe you both need an actual therapist .

Some nights, nights like these, Adam has problems sleeping. When he does, it’s like he’s placed back in there in that room with you— being tortured, shot, and humiliated. And on some nights like these, he wakes you up for your affection and assistance. Eyes shooting open, an extreme amount of fear goes through the poor boy’s tired body. He’s there.

He’s quick to shake you awake. Your eyes open with confusion, and then once the situation settles in you understand it’s one of those nights. Lifting yourself up, you frown when you see the tears beginning to well in Adam’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

He sniffles, trying to cover his face now that he’s being half brought back into reality.

“I just woke up. I don’t—“ his hands grab at his hair, pulling, as he cries. “— I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetheart..”

You push his hands out of his hair and replace them with yours instead. You soothe his scalp with your fingernails, and kiss him. You used to have night terrors for this same reason, so you understand how this must feel for him. He moves down so he can lay on your thighs. He feels sad and embarrassed and scared. You stroke the outline of his face with gentle fingers: beautiful, strong nose, sharp jawline, gorgeous eyes, plump lips. Any woman’s dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You murmur to him. He quickly shakes his head. He lets out a pained little moan, almost like a scared little rabbit. You lean down, and kiss him on his nose.

“I know, honey. I know it’s hard. But you aren’t there anymore, okay? You’re right here. I’m right here.”

He nods, but you know he’s just trying to stop you from seeing how deeply the night terrors affect him. He’s always been such a strong boy.

Your forehead pressed against his cheek, you whisper to him.

“Do you want something to drink? Some water, some tea? I can make you some..”

“Y-Yeah. Maybe some water, momma, if that’s okay.”

That sweet little nickname you adore so much from him. You smile.

“Okay.” You lift him off of you, rounding the bed to make your way out of the bedroom. “I’m gonna go into the kitchen—“

“Please don’t leave me!”

It’s immediate, the way you freeze up and stop at the end of the bed. You almost start to cry yourself.

Adam is embarrassed at his outburst, and he sobs, all of his emotions flooding out. He crawls over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He rests his head against your thighs. You know now that the glass of water will have to wait a bit when he utters that familiar set of words. The same tone, same amount of fear lacing his cracking voice. It brings it all back to you, just as Adam’s dreams bring it back to him.

You let him cry out for a few more minutes, stopping to grab some tissues from the bedside table and clean him up when he’s calmed. Your fingers settle into his hair; soft and wavy under your fingertips, you shush him with a gentle hum.

“I’ll never leave you, Adam,” you whisper, soft. “Never. I swear.”

And you know that it’s true. Your fingertips move down to his jaw, lifting his face up so he can look at you. He’s coming back down from his nightmare, and real life is starting to seep in. He isn’t in that bathroom anymore. He’s in his apartment— our apartment, including you, in his brain. Not the one he got taken from. Not the bathroom. This is new, this is safe— and jigsaw is dead.

You sit down next to him on the queen sized mattress you had bought together. He buries his face in your neck, breathes in the familiar scent of vanilla, laundry detergent, and sweet strawberry perfume. Unadulterated bliss.

“Promise?” He sniffles, sticking his hands in between the valley of your breasts and traveling down to your tummy. He rests it there, soft.

“I promise.”

And when he’s calmed, when you’ve wiped all his tears away, you go and get him a glass of water. Only this time, his arms are wrapped around you from behind tightly the entire way to the kitchen.

Safe.

He drinks about two glasses. When you guide him back to your shared room you sit him down on the bed.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” he murmurs, embarrassed. You make sure that he doesn’t become ashamed of nights like these.

“It’s okay,” you reply. You smile as you kiss his forehead “Im off tomorrow. We can just stay up and go to sleep when you feel like it.”

Adam is now thankful that you’ve moved on from your life of sex work and into retail, because that means that he doesn’t have to worry about you as much. So it puts him in a good mood to remember that, and also to remember that he’s gonna have you for the rest of the day. He leans forward, plants a kiss to your lips. He smells like cigarettes.

You kiss him again. Harsher, a bit. Tongue slipping inside the warm canal of his mouth. Perfection.

You don’t want to urge him to do anything sexual with you right now unless he doesn’t want to. So you pull away, thumb brushing over the scar on his shoulder. It’s a spot you’ve come accustomed to— one that he’s sensitive about, but not with you. Never with you.

He leans in again and his kiss is heavy. He’s desperate, now, not only craving your body but also craving a distraction.

“Wait,” you breathe against his lips. “Are you sure, baby? Sure you wanna do this right now?”

“I want it..” he whines. His hand grabs yours and places it over his bulge. “Please? It hurts..”

You can’t resist him when he gets like this, and you know it helps him forget the things that plague his thoughts. So your palm grinds down into that spot that he laid your hands on. He breathes out a small breathy sound, one that makes him grind up into your hand. His body is slowly making its way down onto the bed. Laying down, he can see the lace slip adorning your body starting to fall down, down, down. Your cleavage is pretty, he thinks. Nice and soft enough to stick his cock in between.

He’s wearing one of his white shirts, and you lift it up to his shoulders to expose his bare torso. He’s gained a bit of weight since that wretched room, a little bit of his tummy beginning to fatten up. You find it absolutely adorable. Kissing there, you make your way up to his chest and pepper small bites on his chest. Marking him there is your favorite activity.

Your tongue laves over one of his areolas, kissing and scraping your teeth on it. He mewls, a small little “‘s good.” leaving his pretty lips. He’s always had sensitive nipples, and you love to play around with them.

He lifts himself up so he can slide the rest of his shirt off. Pretty muscled biceps replace the white fabric of the sleeves, and on one of them the gunshot scar sits. He’s still so perfect.

“My perfect boy,” you coo. “God, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

He blushes, a thank you making its way from him. You move away from him, farther up to the head of the bed, and lean against the bed frame. He knows instantly that you want him up against your chest. You reach towards the bedside table and reach into the drawer where you keep your special things. When you pull out a vibrator, Adam crawls towards you with morbid curiosity.

You’ve used toys on him before, but for some reason, not this one. He leans back against your chest and adjusts so you can take his cock out of his pajama pants. It slaps against his lower belly, wet and dripping. He’s always had such a pretty cock, all thick and hard and red. He’s got a lot of girth, enough to make it hard to close your fist around him.

The vibrator has a lot of power to it; you know this because you’ve used it on yourself many times. You hold Adam’s cock with one hand, and with another you switch it on. He gulps as he watches the toy in your hand.

“Okay?” You ask. He nods, pretty lashes fluttering shut as you watch his confirmation. His head tilts back and his mouth falls open in ecstasy when you press the vibrator to his aching tip.

“Oh, god.” He moans.

You move it down to his base, rubbing teasing circles into the soft skin there. Adam wraps his hands around your arms, desperate to have something to grab onto.

“So pretty like this,” you praise him. You move one of your hands up to his hair so you can rest it there. You kiss his neck gently. “My sweet Adam. Your cock is so hard, isn’t it? So hard for mommy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chants, whimpering. “It’s ‘s good.. love you so much.”

Your heart flutters, breathing in against his neck. He smells so nice that it almost makes your head tingle.

“I love you too, sweet boy.” You say. You move the vibrator down to his balls, and a moan rips through his throat. He sounds so heavenly that you can’t resist reaching down in between your thighs and rubbing your clit. When you pull away your slick coats your fingers, and you rub them up against the boy’s lips. He accepts them greedily, keening at the taste of you on his tongue. Crooking the digits, you make sure to keep them flush against Adam’s teeth; he loves having them in his mouth.

“Never gonna leave you again, honey. Gonna stay with you forever and ever, gonna make this fat cock cum… ”

And god, if that doesn’t make Adam’s balls draw up tight then he doesn’t know what will. Precious noises spew from his lips as his orgasm approaches him.

“Yes! Please, mommy, pleasepleaseplease, gonna cum—“

And although he didn’t last long this time, it doesn’t matter to you. Once his cock is dripping white, you set the vibrator aside. Your fingers scoop up some of his creamy spend, and with a lolling tongue you lick it all up. He tastes amazing, just perfect. Your perfect boy.

Sighing, he leans against you for a moment. He turns around, gives you a sweet little sultry smile, and returns to you the same perfect amount of pleasure. He does this by shoving his magnificent tongue in between your thighs. And skilled, the boy is— he loves to please. He thinks your pussy is the best he’s ever tasted or smelled in his entire life, and while he rubs his soft wet muscle against your clit his eyes roll back and small moans leave him. When you cum he makes sure you have two more orgasms— one from his fingers, another from his cock that had somehow gotten hard for you again.

And in the scene where his cock is inside you, you’re on top of him while he lets out little grunts and moans. You bounce up and down on him until your slick is white and wet, dripping down his thighs and onto the sheets. He had lit a cigarette somewhere between three fingers inside you and now, and his lips are wrapped around it while he watches you ride him. Holding it between two of his fingers, he exhales smoke at the same time that your teeth scrape along his nipple and your nails dig into his shoulders. He gasps— angelic. Then he tilts his head back, and cums.

That face is another one you’ll never forget— his pretty eyes shutting, mouth agape and cheeks ablaze. You don’t think you could ever leave this pretty thing ever again.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[its-time-to-write]

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day. 

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared. 

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.  

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town. 

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.” 

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice. 

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do. 

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience. 

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities. 

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain. 

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air. 

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to  each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in. 

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard. 

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out. 

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing. 

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped. 

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack. 

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up. 

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes. 

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth. 

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared. 

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath. 

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better. 

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs. 

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist. 

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie. 

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five. 

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms. 

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back. 

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.” 

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

[mrswint3rs]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐬

pairings- bela dimitrescu x fem! reader

content / warnings: vampire stuff is based off of the show true blood so !! reader gets high off of vamp blood, loss of blood, imprisonment, loss of consciousness, predator vs. prey, use of pet names, finger sucking, vaginal fingering (r! receiving), biting, praise and degradation (sorry the smut part was short).

a/n- ik this isn’t my best but. i hope you can see the vision was once there 😓🤞🏻my writing motivation is just non existent 90% of the time now..

wc- 1.2k

It’s dark, but you wouldn’t be able to see two feet in front of you even if it wasn’t. It’s cold, only getting colder. The fog of your weakening breaths is your only sign of still being alive.

Just a little further, you think. But you don’t even know where you are.

Snow crunches beneath the weight of your shoes as you limp your way along. You can’t even feel the pain from the gash in your leg anymore. The wind is strong, makes it even harder to keep going. Stings. yet numbs every bit of your exposed skin. You’re almost grateful for that.

A little further, and something finally aligns with your field of view. Something impossible to miss. A castle of sorts. An eerie one, but your only chance at survival.

Your hands, stiff and practically frozen work at the large door of the place. Barely enough strength left in you to get it open, but eventually it does. And you’re not so sure it was all your doing. Nevertheless, you’re inside.

It’s spacious. Overwhelmingly so, but finally a bit of warmth sets in.

Every part of you is on edge. Nothing to stop your bleeding. Nobody seemed to be around to help. No voice for you to even call for help. It was just silent.

Your body sinks down onto the solid ground, unable to maintain its stance. This is the end, you think. At least your last moments were spent in such a beautiful place and not out in the harsh of winter. Your eyes flutter to a close, and your mind shuts off. Total and utter darkness. No light at the end of the tunnel like you see in the movies. Just an empty void.

Always, you’d been curious about what the afterlife would bring. Definitely never expected it to feel like this.

Even now, you’re being drained for all your worth. Like the wax of a candle left to burn into a pool at the bottom of tempered glass. Or rather, a victim to a parasitic leech.

Quite literally.

Your eyes open, teeth gritting as the true pain sets in. A pair of teeth are drilled deep into the meat of your thigh, lips pressed to the opening. You don’t have the strength to pull away or do anything to stop it.

Yellow eyes settle onto your half-lidded ones and a sinister grin graces the being's face. “Finally awake?” she separates from your wound with an open mouth, a mess trickling down her chin. “Oh, you poor thing. Don’t worry, I won’t let you die just yet.”

Instead of continuing to feed off of you like you expected her to, she bites into her own wrist, holding it out to you as if making you an offer. “Open,” she urges. You grimace, turning your head in the opposite direction. In no way was someone else’s blood tempting to you. But she forces you. Grips your jaw and pries your mouth open as much as you allow. “Drink up, little one. I plan to make use of you.”

A bitter, coppery taste pools onto your tongue. You’ve no choice but to swallow. You can tell you’re close to death again. So much lost blood. You have a chance maybe.. just drinking a little would put you back on your feet. Your body was shaking, and your stomach was empty, in desperate need of something. Anything. So you take what you’re given, and the urge to keep taking only grows as you drink. You can’t control it. Can’t stop yourself.

It felt as if a thousand wounds were healing at once. Like a surge of energy flowing through you and you could feel life returning to your veins once more. You felt more alive than you ever had.

In a sudden move, the hand was ripped away. She looked at you, amused at your look of urgency. “Good,” she laughs. “You’ll make a fine pet.”

Her words run through you, igniting a fire. In that moment, she seemed like a goddess. A beautiful, sinister goddess. And she saved you. Something was off. You’d been mentally out of it since you arrived, but not in this way. An unexplainable serotonin boost. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, and you’re openly aware of everything. The feel of the cold concrete floor. The sound of your mixed breathing. But more than anything, her scent. You find yourself feeling more and more drawn to her. The scent, the sweet tang was making you feel weak to the knees.

“You’ve gone and made a mess,” she draws you in closer, eyes scanning over your dazed expression. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

You shake your head in response to her rhetorical question, like a mind controlled dummy. You lean in, lips parted with no words coming out. There was no way for you to express yourself. You were too far gone. Completely taken by her. Whoever and whatever she was. You didn’t care.

Her thumb swipes your lower lip, collecting the sweet crimson along before popping it back into your mouth. Needily, you suck. “Good girl,” she coos, a pleased grin etched on her face. “Let’s clean you up.”

She removes her finger, using her mouth instead. He lips meet yours, in less of a kiss. More like she’s devouring your face. Her tongue glides along the mess of blood, sure to take care of all of it before pulling away. Just the simple contact turned you into a panting mess. One she can’t ignore.

“Spread for me,” she orders. You move your thighs apart without question.

“Such an obedient little pet. I’m going to take good care of you.” her hand cups your crotch, and she maintains eye contact, almost daring you to try and move away. You weren’t going anywhere. Didn’t even want to. “Aw… just look at you. So wet and needy for your captor. Just a deprived little girl, aren’t you? No coincidence you found your way to me.”

Hands pull your remaining clothes out of the way, discarding them in the corner of your cell. She wastes no time, dipping her fingers into your tight opening and drawing a whine from you.

“That’s it, let me hear you.” she giggles, curving into your walls and sliding over your sweet spot repeatedly. “Cry for me.”

Faster, they pummel into you. Your eyes flutter open and shut, eager to see her but it’s difficult to keep them from closing. You’re not sure if it’s her or the effects of her blood, but you’re close to something you’ve never reached before.

“C-cumming,” you whimper, breaths short and harsh. “m’ cumming.”

In response, she adds in her other hand, palming your clit in rapid strokes. “Good, pet. Cum for me. Just from my fingers alone.”

Your back arches slightly, brows knitting together as you reach your breaking point. You can’t stop your legs from shaking. Nor can you stop the desperate moans pouring out from you.

“Such a good girl,” she praises, letting her fingers slip out of your cunt and back into your mouth. “Lick them clean now.”

And you do. You obey her every word like a dog trying to appease its master. Your life was now in her hands after all.

[slut4thebroken]

Erotomania pt. 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon isn’t adjusting as well as you thought he would and his behavior finally breaks you.

Warnings | Angst, violence (on accident lol), blood, eating disorder? (technically), slow burn, a lil bit of sexual tension, he’s still really mean, and a little whiny lol.

Words | 4.3 k

Notes | Ty for everyone who helped me out w this lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

gif: @kittenonpluto

Part 1

The following morning, you woke up to your alarm and immediately turned it off. Your head hurt, your eyes felt puffy, and you were just so tired and drained. So you decided to call off work. As you were trying to fall back asleep, you almost didn’t register the sound of your door opening because of how tired you were. 

“You’re going to be late.” You whined and buried your face in the pillow. 

“I’m not going.” You mumbled. 

“Get up. I don’t want to be stuck with you the entire day.” He said sternly, bringing back all the emotions you were feeling last night. 

“I’ll stay in here then. I don’t exactly feel like doing much else besides this.” The bitterness in your tone was mostly overshadowed by the sadness you were desperately trying to hide. You waited for his response, but after a while, he just slammed the door shut. 

True to your word, you mostly stayed in your room. You left to go to the bathroom and sometimes get food, but you didn’t eat with him. The day was spent reading, doing some work to make up for missing a day, trying to distract yourself so you didn’t make yourself cry, and moping. Every time you went out he was always in the exact same spot. Before dinner, you showered and changed into some clean pajamas, not wanting to physically feel the same way you felt mentally. 

“Have you eaten today?” He almost seemed startled by your voice. “If you tell me what you want, I can try to make it.” You said softly. He didn’t respond or look at you and you sighed before continuing. “Why aren’t you eating?” You were quickly growing frustrated with his behavior. 

“You’re the psychologist, you tell me.” Deep down you knew why, especially based on his words yesterday, but you were still hoping it would be because of some kind of temporary hunger strike or something instead. 

“You’d really rather die than be here with me?” You couldn’t help the way your voice broke. 

“Yes.” He spat and you immediately frowned as your bottom lip trembled. 

“Fine.” You grabbed a carving knife from the knife stand and stormed over to him, making him quickly stand up and take a step away from you. Once you were a few feet from him, you tossed the knife onto the ground in front of him. “Do it then. If this is so terrible and you hate me so much then just fucking do it.” He stared at the knife and you waited impatiently. 

“Or better yet, kill me.” That made him look up again. “I know you want to— and I can’t fucking take this anymore so just do it.” He stared at you, then narrowed his eyes. 

“Are you serious? My rejection is making you suicidal?” He scoffed. Your eyes burned with tears and you rushed forward, making him step back, but you reached for the knife on the floor instead of him. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Now that it’s in your hand, you don’t know how you should do it— The carotid should hopefully be quick. When you raised the knife, he rushed forward and grabbed your arm, yanking it away from you. 

“Stop!” You cried, pulling back against his hold, trying to wrench yourself free. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” He asked, beginning to raise his voice now. His grip on your arm tightened as his other hand tried to take the knife from you. When you let out a choked sob and started crying, your arm went slack and the force of him pulling it away from yourself made your hand fly toward him. He couldn’t stop it before the blade sliced the top of his chest, making you gasp as he winced. He released you and staggered back, and you dropped the knife as if it had burned you. 

“Oh god— fuck. Are you okay?” His hand was pressed tight to the wound so you couldn’t see how bad it was but the pain on his face was evident. When you moved toward him, he stepped back again. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Even through the pain, his tone was still incredibly harsh. 

“I- I’m sorry. It was an accident.” You took another tentative step and he did the same, but his back met the wall. He leaned his weight against it and took a deep breath as his eyes fluttered shut. You quickly wiped your tears and tried to calm down long enough to think of what to do. 

As you examined him, you noticed the blood seeping through his fingers as his arm grew tired holding his hand tightly against the wound. You also noticed how pale and sweaty he got in that short amount of time. He was putting as much of his weight on the wall as he could now. 

Deciding to start with the imperative, you moved closer until you were in front of him and removed his hand to look at the wound, then put pressure on it. It wasn’t… that bad— it wouldn’t need stitches, but it still almost made you gag. He winced and opened his eyes as if to make sure he wasn’t just imagining you daring to come this close. 

“Get the fuck.. off…” His words slurred together and you could tell he was fighting to keep his eyes open. When his knees buckled, you tried to hide your distress, but that and the blood seeping through your fingers made it almost impossible to do so. 

“Okay.. okay, hang on.” You looked around for something to absorb the bleeding but there was nothing nearby other than a blanket that you haven’t washed recently. Tentatively releasing him, making sure he wouldn’t fall, you took your shirt off— feeling incredibly grateful that you decided to wear a bra— and pushed it against the wound. He let out a pained groan and your heart panged, knowing you were only worsening his suffering. “I know, I’m sorry. I have to press hard though.” He didn’t respond and just started sliding down the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck.. fall on the couch, fall on the couch,” You held him up and guided him to the couch just as he lost consciousness. 

You could feel his chest moving under your hands so you knew he wasn’t dead, you were just worried about how to solve the malnutrition issue while he was unconscious. It’s not like you have an IV… so you’ll just have to wait until he’s awake. 

Lifting your shirt from his chest, you checked on the bleeding— it was definitely less, but it was still bleeding a decent amount. So you continued pushing down on it. While you waited, you let out a heavy breath and closed your eyes. That escalated so quickly, it felt like you’d been holding your breath since you picked up the knife. 

After a few minutes you checked again and decided it would be okay for you to run to the bathroom to grab a few things as well as some water and painkillers really quickly. When you returned, you kneeled on the couch next to him and tried to lift up the shirt he was wearing. Since it was yours, it was already a little tight on him, so it barely moved, especially because his back was against the couch. 

Minding the gash, you carefully took both sides of the now cut fabric and pulled as hard as you could. It ripped a lot easier than you were expecting though and was now torn from the collar to the bottom hem. You cleared your throat and tried to keep your eyes on the wound, but couldn’t help it when your eyes strayed to the exposed skin. You could distinctly see the outline of his sternum and ribs and you stifled a gasp as you pushed the shirt open more— no wonder he passed out, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. 

The sight of blood trailing down his chest snapped you out of your trance and you made quick work of using the damp washcloth to clean as much of the blood off as you could. When he wakes up, you’ll have him go to the bathroom so he can wash with soap and water, but for now you covered it with the largest bandaid you had, then sagged back into the couch with a heavy breath, just needing a second to calm down. 

After what felt like hours but was only about 15 minutes, he woke up with a groan. You grabbed the water bottle and took out three pills, having them ready for him. His eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bright light, and he scowled when he saw you next to him. 

“Take this.” You held it out to him and he looked down at his chest, then let his head fall back into the couch again as his eyes closed. “Please take it. It’ll help with the pain.”

“How did I get here?” He rasped, voice strained. 

“You passed out and I wanted you to fall here instead of the floor.” You wanted to reprimand him for not eating but you knew now wasn’t the time. It almost seemed like he wasn’t taking the painkillers out of spite, but after a moment, he huffed and held his hand out. You handed everything to him and he only drank enough water to take the pills. 

“You have to drink it. The whole reason you passed out is because of how malnourished you are.” You urged gently. 

“The whole reason I passed out is because you stabbed me.” 

“Jon, please just drink it.” You said, exacerbated. All he did was glare at you so you let out a disappointed sigh and stood up to go to the kitchen. He didn’t say anything as you started pulling things out and cooking. You weren’t exactly sure what the best option would be for malnutrition and blood loss, but you figured something with high protein and iron would be a good start. 

When you walked back over with a plate of grilled chicken breast and steamed spinach, he raised his brows as you held it out to him. You were pleased to see that while you were busy, he did drink some of the water. 

“What?” He asked, when you just waited for him to take it. 

“You need to eat. Clearly you don’t want to starve to death since you tried to stop me so just quit being so goddamn stubborn and eat the fucking food.” Your tone got significantly harsher by the end of the sentence and he almost seemed shocked. After a moment, he huffed, but took it from you anyway. You sat down next to him and tried to ignore how the smell of the chicken was roaring your stomach back to life. 

“After you finish eating, you should clean it with soap and water.” You said quietly. “I can help if you want.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I haven’t used that knife in ages, it wasn’t exactly sterile. You need to clean it or it’ll get infected.” 

“I’ve had worse.” Now that you weren’t focused on the large gash, you could see a few scars on the exposed skin of his torso. 

“Fine.” You stood up and left to grab two clean washcloths, a bottle of soap, and a bowl that you filled with water. When you walked back over and set the items on the coffee table, he narrowed his eyes and scowled at you, watching you get down on your knees in front of him. You reached for the bandage and he circled your wrist in a bruising grip. So you moved your other hand forward and he did the same thing, but winced when the motion made his shoulder shift. “If you let me do this I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.” 

“We’re not going to fucking play nurse. I can do it myself.” He spat. 

“I believe you. But I don’t believe that you actually will.” You challenged, making him roll his eyes with a scoff. “The quickest way to get rid of me is to let me do this.” He clenched his jaw and looked away from you for a moment, then released your wrists, letting you continue with your original plan of removing the bandage. When you ripped it off, he hissed in pain and you glanced at him nervously. “Sorry.” You said sheepishly. 

You hesitantly pushed the shirt open a little more, worried it would make him snap, but he just glared at you, letting you do it. Once you had enough room, you dipped the washcloth in the water then squirted some soap on it and worked it into the fabric. Getting up on your knees a little more, you shuffled closer, ignoring the feeling of his leg against your side— or… trying to, at least.

“I'm sorry again.” You said quietly as you started cleaning it. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen.” When you looked up at him, he was still watching you carefully, his guard fully up. “I’ll see if I can get something stronger for the pain when I go back to work.” You let your focus move back down to the task at him, trying not to blush under the heat of his gaze. 

“That’s illegal, you know.” He murmured, sounding uncharacteristically… neutral. 

“So is breaking out a criminal.” You countered. You didn’t really like talking about him like that though. Sure, he’s technically a criminal, but anyone failed that many times was bound to walk away without their sanity completely intact.

“You think I deserve to be in there?” He asked after a moment of silence. You couldn’t decipher his tone and you looked up at him again, his eyes a little softer now. 

“I don’t think anyone deserves to be in that hell hole.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Your hand slowed to a stop, resting against his chest. 

“I think… given your history, it would’ve been a miracle if you grew up “normal.’” You said quietly. “I think you deserve to be in there for the things you’ve done, but not just to be imprisoned, to get help.” 

“If you’re going to survive there, you need to learn this sooner rather than later; the people in there have no remorse for what they’ve done, and neither do I.” He warned. 

“I can’t let myself believe that.” 

“Those people don’t want to be saved. I mean seriously, did you think our little talk sessions would change me? Make me a better man?” He cooed mockingly, making you frown. 

“I hoped they’d help you work through your trauma. After that? I wouldn’t need to do much else.” He scoffed at that, all but rolling his eyes. 

“You think I don’t know how to identify the root of what made me so fucked up?” His voice was back to the viciousness that you’ve started getting used to. 

“No, I think you do know how to identify it. I just think you don’t know how to overcome it.” You said calmly, trying not to agitate him any further. 

“I do not need to be lectured about trauma by someone who would’ve been my subordinate.” He snapped. 

“I’m not lecturing you, Jon. And don’t you think there’s maybe a reason why you’re getting so defensive right now?” He clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose. 

“Fine. If you’re so interested in psychoanalysis, why don’t we talk about you then?” 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” 

“Your need for my praise and approval is almost pathetic.” He cut you off, making your mouth instantly close. “You’re so fucking desperate for it— Why do you think that is?” He tilted his head slightly and you swallowed the lump in your throat, barely able to look at him. “You break down at just the slightest amount of rejection. I mean for fucks sake- you literally tried to kill yourself because of it.” 

“Stop it, Jon.” You said quietly. 

“C’mon.. I’m sure you’ve heard of something that fits that description, even if it’s not an official disorder.” He said facetiously. “Personally, I think I’d just use the word “delusional.’” 

“That’s not what this is! I love you.” He raised his brows and gave you a knowing look, so you doubled down. “Being in love does not make me crazy.” 

“No, it doesn’t. But kidnapping someone and trying to kill yourself because you were rejected certainly does.” You paused and tried to control your expression so he didn’t know how much his words were affecting you. 

“I didn’t.. kidnap you. I got you out of there, like you wanted.” You said quietly. “And having you here is keeping you safe from being found and sent back to Arkham again.” He scoffed a disbelieving laugh and looked away from you. So you sighed and resumed cleaning the wound. 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to help you sleep at night.” He muttered, making your frown deepen. You looked at him for another moment, then sighed and tried to finish cleaning quickly. 

Once you were done and another bandage was in place, you got up and headed toward your bedroom. You searched your closet for something he could wear, but the only thing you had that he’d be able to get into easily was a zip up hoodie. So you grabbed that and walked back out, which he clearly wasn’t pleased with since he probably thought you’d be gone longer. 

“Lean forward.” You said softly, sitting next to him to help put it on, making him scowl. 

“I can dress myself.” He spat and you sighed, but agreed, watching him struggle to get it on. Eventually, he succeeded and you leaned back on the couch when he continued eating, keeping your eyes down so you didn’t make him uncomfortable. “Are you planning on staying half nude?” Your entire face heated up when you realized you’ve yet to replace your shirt. You were just so anxious and upset that you didn’t even notice it. 

“N-no. Sorry.” Your voice cracked embarrassingly and you stood up to go grab a shirt from your room. He was on the last few bites of food when you walked back out. “Are you feeling any better?” 

“It fucking hurts.” He grumbled. You checked the time, seeing that it was already past seven. 

“I can try and go right now to get you something for the pain.” You suggested and he scoffed in response. 

“Do you want to lose your job?” That made you frown— you just wanted to help. “You stop by after hours for whatever reason and eventually they notice something’s missing and you think you won’t be made the primary suspect immediately?”  

“Okay, I get it.” You sighed. “I'm sorry. I was just trying to help.” You looked away from him as you thought of what else you could do. There aren’t any over the counter pain relievers that are any stronger than what you already gave him. “Wait,” You suddenly stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “I don’t know if you have a preference but either way it should help. It affects the central nervous system so the pain doesn’t seem as bad,”

“I know how it works, I’m not an idiot.” He snapped. “But you must be if you think I’ll willingly intoxicate myself around you.” Even though his words stung, you tried not to take it personally and just move on from the insult. 

“It’ll help, Jon.” 

“I don’t care.” You sighed, then walked back over and sat down again, keeping your eyes on your lap. You felt horrible. The only reason he’s in pain is because you were acting irrationally. 

“I know it won’t make it better, but I really am sorry.” You said quietly, chancing a glance at him. 

“I thought you promised to leave me alone if I let you play nurse.” He huffed. 

“Right. Okay, I’ll… I’ll go.” You cleared your throat and tried to hide your disappointment as you stood up. “If you want to shower, there are towels in the hall closet.” You offered. When he didn’t respond again, you sighed quietly and went to your room to leave him alone. 

You woke in the middle of the night and tried to go back to sleep since you had to be up for work in a few hours, but you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that something happened while you were asleep. Like the wound was infected and he was dead. 

That thought was a little extreme, but it was enough to get you out of bed to go check on him. He was asleep, laying on his back, and you moved closer to slowly unzip the jacket enough to see it. He hadn’t bled through the bandaid and you gently lifted a corner to see inside. Everything looked fine. At least you thought it did… You’re not that kind of doctor. 

When you zipped it back up, you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. He looked so peaceful, not angry or full of hatred. You wished he’d look like that all the time. 

Once you were satisfied knowing he wasn’t dead, you managed to fall back asleep. When you got up again, you somehow woke up fully after the first alarm so you were about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. You walked into the kitchen, still in your pajamas, and saw that he was awake this time. 

“Do you want some coffee? Actually,” you knew he wouldn’t answer it like that, “how do you take your coffee?” He scoffed a laugh and you couldn’t help but blush even though he was clearly laughing at you, not with you. 

“Black.” Was all he said, but it made you smile so big that it almost hurt your cheeks. It felt like you were finally getting somewhere with him. Walking over with two mugs, you handed one to him, then sat down, much to his displeasure. “Don’t you have to get ready?” 

“I woke up early.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee. “You need to eat and quite frankly I don’t have many options here so I’m going to stop somewhere after work. What do you want?”

“I’m fine.” He muttered, drinking the coffee and keeping his eyes straight ahead instead of on you. 

“That’s not what I asked.” You said firmly— you had no clue where this boldness was coming from. He looked over at you with raised brows, almost… impressed.. by your audacity. “There must be something you’ve been craving since being in there. Tell me what it is and I’ll get it.” He huffed but seemed to understand that the quickest way to get rid of you is to just answer. 

“There’s a Southern place in Otisburg, right across the street from the Botanical Gardens. I don’t have a preference, I like everything they have.” You smiled, happy that you finally got a real answer out of him. Even though it’s out of your way, you’re excited that he actually shared something with you and agreed to eat. 

“Perfect. I can stop by the store too. Do you want anything specific for breakfast or lunch?” 

“Eggs.” He said simply, almost making you laugh. 

“Eggs it is. Anything else?” 

“What you have here is fine.” At least that means he looked and considered eating. 

“Do you like the coffee? Or should I get a different one.” He huffed, clearly getting annoyed with your questions. 

“It's coffee.” 

“Well, I like blonde roast. I don’t know if you prefer dark roast or something.” You said defensively. He didn’t answer so you assumed that meant he didn’t care what kind of coffee you had. You checked the time and decided you could sit here for five more minutes before you should start getting ready. You didn’t want to bother him so you just stared out the window, smiling at the way the morning sun was peeking through the buildings. If you ignored the very obvious contempt he has for you, this moment could’ve been perfect. 

“Does it still hurt?” You asked, turning to face him and blushing when you noticed his eyes were already on you. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’d been caught though. 

“Not as much.” He finally looked away and took another drink. 

“Do you think you still need something stronger than what I have here?” 

“I’ll be fine.” His tone left no room for argument, but you could tell he wasn’t being truthful. 

“Okay…” You said, still unsure. “Can I just check it really quick? Then I’ll leave you alone and go get ready.” He let out an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes, annoyed by your concern. But once again, he seemed to understand that the fastest way to get rid of you was to just agree. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, leaning back on the couch. You set your mug on the coffee table and scooched closer to him, getting on your knees on the couch so you could fully face him. You slowly reached for the zipper as if approaching a wild animal that could attack at any moment. He didn’t say or do anything as you unzipped it and pushed it aside. You lifted half of the bandage and leaned closer to get a better look as your fingers delicately ran over the skin around it. 

“It looks like it’s scabbing.” You said absentmindedly. “So that’s good at least.” When you looked up at him, you suddenly noticed how close you’d gotten. You also noticed the way his eyes snapped up from your body to your face. You blushed, now hyper aware of the small, thin pajama set you were wearing. Clearing your throat, you quickly zipped up the hoodie again and leaned back. “It— Try to wash it today please.” He almost looked amused by your flustered state. “I… I should— I’m going to get ready now.” You quickly grabbed your mug and stood up, practically running to your room. 

Part 3

Again, sorry it’s cut a little awkwardly lol. This was written as a one shot.

Taglist (join here)

@cillianslvt @69your-best-night-mare69

[velvetmud]

Stanley Kubrick on film

joel finds a camera and expresses his desire to make a smut film.

warning(s): 18+ explicit, daddy kink, smoking weed, also lots of dirty talk, dirty things

silver fox two decades into outbreak!joel where cameras are a rare thing to come across but somehow weed isn’t. not a request just another fun little thing that kinda came out of nowhere. still working on some other stuff ! why he always comes out so dirty in everything i start to write is beyond me :)

-

the smell of smoke, sweat, and sex filled the air of the quaint room.

the stereo’s playing a mixtape from some romantic-alternative nineties albums on shuffle. joel bought a quarter ounce of weed from one of Tommy’s friends. went as far as lighting all kinds of candles and placing them throughout on various countertops. as soon as you walked in you couldn’t help yourself from grabbing him and laughing, “are you trying to fuck me or set me on fire?”

he grumbled about this being one of his trying efforts to woo you. while you relax and unwind together sharing the first spliff, he pointedly mentions how he found a camera while he was going out salvaging for stupid goodies with Ellie that afternoon. screen uncracked, quality like new. even the battery was at a lucky hundred percent. he wanted to take advantage of a lingering fantasy now that he’d been presented with an open opportunity.

it wasn’t until a few hours later, fucking and devouring you every way you’ve always liked, he managed to assure you only his and your eyes get to re-watch the hypothetical smutty tape.

reality also was that you got high and felt too fucked out to put up a fight anymore, and he needed to savor it all on film.

it wasn’t necessarily a hypothetical anymore.

joel’s hungry expression hides behind the camera lens as his thumb clicked to capture your each and every movement. he went on to start video recording after a little while of obtaining a lengthy photo gallery.

while he’s puffing on the roach end of another joint, he blows the smoke out from the side of his mouth. puts it down and starts to focus solely on you, ashing whatever’s left. he could see you were already smoked out over half an hour ago anyway. once he gets his fill of watching you tease yourself, rubbing your tits, thighs and legs up and down, he coaches you into opening up a little more.

“yeah, yeah. don’t be afraid to spread those lips apart—just like that, atta girl. gorgeous.”

he zooms in on your naked legs until the screen shows nothing but your drooling, freshly fucked pussy into frame. still pulsing around nothing, leaking the cum that’s yours and his combined inside.

sweat sticks to his forehead and his hair is comparable to a birds nest at this point. he’s hard again, even if he’s drained his dick in you several times in different places earlier. he easily slips into the role of film director, starts telling you how to move and what to say.

“gonna play this back and watch it whenever I miss you. wanna thank you for doing this, baby,” he sighs. runs his hands up your legs with admiration. “let’s see that pussy, yeah. spread ‘em nice and wide, wanna see.” two of his fingers scissor your puffy lips open. his thick spend slowly starts running down your leg.

“fuck, that’s gorgeous. looks so pretty when you’re all used up. full of my cum.” he already knows future him will easily finish less than two minutes into this. “tell the camera who fucked this sweet pussy.”

”you did daddy…” you answer, shy pink cheeks stuffed into the pillow, turned over to the side.

“mmm it’s okay, baby girl. don’t gotta be shy. you know I’ll always tell you exactly how bad I want you.” he breathes, leaning his head down to yours to hold your chin as he spoke. the camera’s still in joel’s grip. it picks up the soft sounds of his rough voice reassuring you. gentle and smiling. he just wants to watch you have fun for him, over and over, on repeat. this was the best solution.

he gets the camera and puts your body back in frame. he thinks he’s turned into Stanley Kubrick as he moves it around to get different lighting and angles of your pussy. once he’s found the most lewd, up-close shot possible, he keeps the lens focused.

“so go ‘head baby. since we’re playing show and tell, go on showing and telling the camera everything you begged daddy to do to you.” he instructed, keeping his eyes glued on you through the square little screen.

you’re grinning ear to ear, still flushed under the spotlight of attention he’s putting on you.

“I…I begged daddy to cum inside me.”

“that’s right, sweet girl. what else? did it feel good, feeling daddy fuck you hard like that?”

he’s stroking himself in a tight fist now, your leftover juices still lubricating his shaft. now the camera’s framed on the two of you, eagerly pleading and teasing with him. you’re harsh when you slip two of your fingers inside, watching him with an open mouth.

“yeah, mmhm. I see that look in your eyes. needin’ my cock again. this,” he holds the tip right up to your lips, making sure the camera sees. “is yours baby. could fuck and suck it all you want. whenever you need.”

he moves the camera higher to capture a nice bird’s eye view as you suckle down on a mouthful of his tip, running your fingers through the milky evidence still pooling between your legs.

a warning pops up on the screen, something about a low battery. joel curses under his breath then picks up speed with his hips, reaching down with the other hand to find your clit. he holds his breath while looking at the sight, delighted by the visual. he starts to feel the build up as he remembers that he gets to re-watch this over, and over, and over again.

“gonna have to go a little faster baby, yeah. just like that, that’s perfect.”

-

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi

[jihyocentric]

usually, getting to see jihyo pliantly lied down and reactive to a certain display of dominance wasn’t so easy. not because jihyo strictly wanted control or because she was against showing an intimately needy side of her to nayeon — that was nayeon, after all. it was simply more interesting, and it became their usual dynamic, for jihyo to take charge in bed.

hormonal changes could be a pain to deal with. by the end of the fourth month of her pregnancy, jihyo was well aware that she was being affected by it, only that now, with the pregnancy of their second child, jihyo didn’t feel the usual fatigue caused by the increase of certain hormone levels anymore, but her strong sex drive was making nayeon crazy.

“put it back in!”

nayeon would have found it cute, the way jihyo pouts and bucks her hips, the puffy lips of her core against her limp cock making a slick noise that could get nayeon hard again on itself, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was nearly morning and she had been fucking jihyo since late afternoon. nayeon felt dizzy, after coming inside jihyo so many times she’d lost count, and the idea of doing it again makes her tremble.

nayeon hates to see jihyo cry if it isn’t for pleasure. the crystal clear tears almost make her give up and notch the soft head of her cock back into the warmth it belonged to. she resists the temptation lying under her, keeping jihyo’s wrists pinned to the bed, just so to prevent her from doing what she’d been asking for with her own hands.

“just one more. unnie, please!” a whine comes out faintly past jihyo’s lips, followed by a whimper when the grip nayeon has on her wrists become tighter. “just this time... unnie, fill me up!”

it’s her weakness, when jihyo calls her unnie. even after all of those years together, and especially when her cock is right over or inside her dripping pussy. with jihyo asking so nicely, saying no to anything she could possibly ask for is not an option for nayeon.

so nayeon grants her wish, pulling a hand away from jihyo’s wrists while the other keeps them where they are — nayeon’s back was starting to bleed after the constant, abrupt contact with jihyo’s nails, slightly stinging from being bruised, but it was nothing that nayeon couldn’t handle. she pumps herself back to full power, wasting no time and sinking into jihyo once she wasn’t soft anymore.

nayeon can’t fathom how her body still manages to move after hours of draining sex. she lets go of jihyo’s wrists, supporting her own weight on her elbows, grunting because the bump between them prevents her from fully pressing jihyo against the bed. she’s as careful as she can be, thrown on the edge too soon, embarrassingly worked up from being repeatedly called unnie, losing her senses as jihyo clenches tightly around her.

none of them last long. jihyo comes first, gushing around nayeon while trying not to scream, and the built up pressure in nayeon’s stomach dissolves right next, caving in to jihyo’s wish and filling her up. nayeon nearly passes out, her body shaking as she pulls out and moves away, falling weakly on the bed next to jihyo and closing her eyes in exhaustion.

“i’m sorry.” jihyo mutters after a while.

it takes her a few seconds to recover from her last orgasm, jihyo can barely move, but she lies on her side to face nayeon, feeling guilty for keeping her up to deal with her hormonal matter.

“babygirl,” nayeon babbles. her eyes open and she releases a whimper as she inches closer to jihyo, leaving a loving kiss at the tip of her nose. “you almost killed me. such a feral little kitten.”

“stop talking to me like that.” jihyo whines, cheeks pink. they’re silent for a moment, until jihyo brings a hand to nayeon’s arms, a frown on her face, the regret hitting her immediately. “i hurt you.”

nayeon shakes her head. “’s nothin’, hyo. all good. i like it when you get needy, and it doesn’t hurt.”

“but this looks painful,” jihyo squeezes nayeon’s arm, hearing a soft whimper from nayeon. “i’ll take care of this when we wake up.” she promises.

“you have to reapply it after three hours, nayeon.” jihyo says, concentrated on spreading the ointment on nayeon’s arm. she had already applied it on her back, a thin layer, because that was all nayeon could have if she didn’t want her shirt to glue on her back.

jihyo pulls away then, looking at nayeon, who’s rubbing her covered tummy lovingly, eyes shining with love as she enjoys her last moments with them before she has to go to work.

“were you listening to me?” jihyo asks, a soft smile on her lips.

“uh-huh. not sure if i can reapply it on my back though.” nayeon answers, whining when jihyo goes for the right arm, despite not feeling any real pain. it was only an instinctive response to being taken care of the same way jisoo would when she got bruises.

“unless seulgi is there, you won’t.” jihyo says, sharp eyes making contact with nayeon for a brief second.

“so jealous.” nayeon coos, amused.

“i’m not jealous.” jihyo retorts. nayeon teases her again, but jihyo’s attention is back on nayeon’s arms.

this time, the ointment is resting on the table and jihyo wasn’t focusing on the bruises she’d mercilessly left on nayeon, but on her soft muscles that, unfortunately for jihyo, were quite apparent even covered by nayeon’s shirt.

“you got squishy, nayeonie.” jihyo mutters.

nayeon gasps. “squi- i’m not squishy!”

jihyo squeezes her arms, curiously palming nayeon, playing with the flesh with fondness. “definitely squishy. so soft. can't even feel the muscles.”

a tiny voice screams for ‘mommy!’ and jihyo has to leave then. nayeon remains with her mouth open and out of words as jihyo tends to jisoo.

what jihyo says in the morning lingers in nayeon’s mind throughout the day.

nayeon had stopped going to the gym regularly after she found out jihyo was pregnant — she had to be close to jihyo all the time, and work was the only excuse jihyo had to keep some distance from nayeon.

(it’s not that any of them wanted distance to begin with, but nayeon could be too much, too possessive, too obsessed with the idea of protecting her most beloved ones that she became a hassle.)

but nayeon wasn’t squishy. at all. jihyo was certainly just trying to tease her, of course that was the case…

“’m not that squishy.” nayeon mumbles to herself, quietly whining from time to time while trying to get work done.

“enough.” a coworker, yeri, lets out a sigh. “can you stop rambling? some people are trying to work.”

“kim yerim,” nayeon gets up from her chair swiftly, the sound making another coworker flinch, loud enough for them to hear from relatively far. “first of all, we’re on a break. you don’t get to silence me this time. give me your opinion on something.”

“you have…” yeri looks at the watch on her wrist. “two minutes.”

nayeon looks around, finding empty seats at the firm, with the exception of one coworker. they didn’t seem to mind her conversation with yeri, so nayeon proceeds to flex her biceps, smiling proudly when she sees a faint line that indicated she still had some muscular mass on her arms, but nayeon couldn’t decide if she was squishier or if jihyo was only trying to mess with her.

“what do you think?” nayeon asks, a convinced smile on her face.

“about what?” yeri blinks, emotionless. nayeon clicks her tongue, bitter when she realizes yeri was, by far, the worst person she could be asking to analyze her muscles, but every opinion mattered. as long as they rubbed her ego, of course.

“these babies. big, aren’t they?” nayeon pushes yeri into agreeing, walking closer to her. “wanna see them closer? jus’ don’t touch them ‘cause my wife…”

“ew, no!” yeri squeals. the coworker behind them clears their throat, clearly annoyed with their antics, which was nothing different from their usual routine at work. “they’re not big, though. that friend of yours, momo, was that her name? she was… something. something you’re not, im. am i allowed to go back to work?”

“hey! she’s married. and why are you so cold?!” nayeon whines, sitting back on her chair. “so mean to me.”

yeri glues her eyes to the monitor on her table once again. “only when you keep talking to yourself for hours when i’m trying to work.”

nayeon huffs but remains silent — even she, herself, sometimes wanted to keep quiet. there was nothing she could do, however, to fight the need to express herself through her voice when she wanted to. the only problem was that nayeon wanted that perhaps too often.

“i didn’t think you were coming today.”

momo shows nayeon a smile that deeply irritates her. it’s as if momo is mocking her, trying to get under her skin and managing to do it. nayeon wasn’t there to discuss her frequency at the gym, so she doesn’t reply momo’s snarky comment, but she stops in front of her while momo is going through her set, working on her triceps.

“do you think i lost my arm muscles?” nayeon blatantly lets out. instead of starting her set, she watches momo and drinks water — well, at least she was at the gym. it didn’t matter if she was going to exercise or not. being in such an environment was already enough.

momo agrees with a humming sound. “even jihyo has more than you.”

“of course she does not!” nayeon whines. “maybe in the past, i’ll admit i wasn’t that active. but she called me squishy today. squishy! it’s not like i totally stopped coming. and even if i did, i still do other stuff to keep these babies,” nayeon almost loses her breath while rambling. “like… like lifting jisoo. she got heavier. and… well- there’s also bbuyo! that cat is chunky. i’m the one who handles the groceries too, and…”

nayeon was truly affected by the idea of losing her beloved muscles.

she’d worked hard for them — really hard, because nayeon wasn’t the biggest fan of the gym before, but she liked how her muscles looked and how jihyo would constantly ogle them, and so she started enjoying the place. going there meant she got to spend time with momo and keep her babies safely growing under her skin.

“mrs. squishy, i would like to exercise in silence.” momo replied. at least nobody was judging nayeon for being loud, unlike it was at the firm. that was because most people had their headphones with them, or else they would be giving nayeon cold stares.

the way momo refers to nayeon her gets her off guard. “what did you just call me?”

“if you want your muscles back, you should start exercising instead of whining and looking at me,” momo dismisses her question. “have you stretched already?”

nayeon huffs. “yeah, but i won’t forget what you just-”

“good. here, take this.” momo steps away from the cable machine, handing nayeon the attachment for triceps. “this will do. you’ll see them back in a week.”

nayeon pouts, trying to execute the set, but momo hadn’t changed the weight on the machine. “too heavy.”

momo wants to tease nayeon again, because that had been light for her and nayeon was already asking for lighter. she doesn’t, because then nayeon wouldn’t stop sulking and, most importantly, talking about how she wasn’t squishy. momo wanted peace and quiet if she was spending an hour with im nayeon.

“are you sure you want to sleep now, baby? it’s too early,” jihyo says softly, brushing jisoo’s scalp calmly. “we can read a book together.”

jihyo knows jisoo would hardly agree on staying up any longer. jisoo had already done her homework, eaten dinner and taken a shower, so she was allowed to rest now. surprisingly, she had even refused to watch cartoons, and jihyo rarely allowed her to watch those before bed, but jisoo had had a long day, a day certainly longer than jihyo’s from the way jisoo described it to her.

jisoo answers jihyo with a noisy whine. words become too complicated when she’d been actively using them all day, so jisoo closes her eyes and jihyo understands that her answer is a no. she’d much rather stay on her mommy’s lap and fall asleep in complete silence.

jihyo knows that she shouldn’t let jisoo fully rest on her lap, over her belly, and she doesn’t know how that can be comfortable for jisoo given the fact that her tummy was more evident now, but she allows the baby to stay there. the still-growing baby could handle it inside her tummy. that lap was still exclusive to jisoo, and jihyo would let her have it until her belly was too big.

until jisoo’s breathing becomes fainter, jihyo keeps caressing her head and her back, resisting the urge to stay there with her baby because jisoo would eventually wake up if she stayed. the bed was too small and jisoo moved a lot while sleeping.

bbuyo stays there when jihyo places jisoo on the bed and covers her with a warm blanket. he’s busy playing with his fish toy, but attentive to anything that could cause the house’s baby any harm during her sleep, like a full time babysitter.

just as jihyo is making sure that the lamp isn’t too bright, she hears the sound of footsteps getting closer.

“hey,” nayeon whispers. “sleeping?”

jihyo nods. “played too hard today. her teacher said she’s becoming more energetic. not as shy anymore.”

“then i’ll just give her a kiss. this soon-to-be social butterfly needs to rest.” nayeon coos.

nayeon does her best not to make any harsh sounds, but bbuyo looks annoyed to see her. the couple shouldn’t be there, as it was jisoo’s time to sleep, and it didn’t matter if they were her parents. he even stops chewing his toy when nayeon gets close enough to kneel next to the bed, quietly meowing when nayeon presses her lips to the baby’s forehead.

“’m sorry, kitty. i’ll go away now.” nayeon pats his head a couple times after pulling away.

the first thing jihyo notices when they leave the room is that nayeon is sweating. she’s flushed and wearing tight gym clothes, and jihyo wants to curse when she’s instantly aroused by what she sees. the hormones. jihyo hated them.

“im nayeon!” jihyo whines suddenly and crosses her arms, apparently mad at nayeon. she leaves nayeon standing alone, heading to their room quickly, acting quick before she attacked nayeon the same way she had done the night before.

“i’m wrong!” nayeon accepts defeat, walking fast to match jihyo’s pace. “but what did i do?”

“me. and now i’m pregnant. and these hormones…” jihyo storms into their room. “it’s embarrassing. i feel like a teenager again.”

“oh, you’re horny.” nayeon grins. jihyo sits on their bed and looks at nayeon sharply before burying her face in her hands. “well, i should be mad at you. hirai momo called me mrs. squishy because of you.”

“what?” jihyo laughs. the heat pooling at her stomach is no longer there, dissipating as she laughed.

“since you think i’m…” she avoids using the word ‘squishy’. “no longer muscly, i went to the gym with her.” nayeon crosses her arms, attempting to look angry. “turns out these are still as hard as a rock.” she flexes her now sore arms, showing jihyo that she was wrong.

“you took that to the heart, didn’t you?” jihyo taunts. she taps the empty place next to her, inviting nayeon to the bed despite her being sweaty. she was always sexier like that anyway, and jihyo wouldn’t mind to change the sheets. “sit here.”

“i know you regret and all, so no need to apologize…” nayeon sits on the bed, clueless about jihyo’s prying eyes on her. “but if you really care about me, you’ll have to deal with her if she calls me that again!”

jihyo nods, amused but pretending to take what nayeon says seriously. “i will. she won’t mess with you, i promise.”

the topic seems to die there as jihyo moves to nayeon’s lap. nayeon smiles, holding jihyo lovingly despite spending the day worried about her muscles because of her, but none of that mattered anymore.

“hi.” nayeon greets her.

“hi.” jihyo replies, excessively sultry, big eyes scanning nayeon as if she was a hungry predator who was about to catch a prey. “i’m so wet for you.”

“of course you are,” nayeon teases.

“you don’t understand… i’m wet all the time. because of you. this is your fault, im nayeon,” jihyo whispers, nose brushing against nayeon’s. “knocked me up and now i have to deal with all of this.”

“i’ll do anything to fix what i’ve done.” nayeon replies, honest and hard in her pants, despite worrying about her night of sleep. her body would be ready for jihyo as long as jihyo wanted her, and that was what scared nayeon. “but… we’ll sleep tonight, right?”

“maybe.” jihyo kisses her then, pushing nayeon backwards so that her back was against the bed. “by the way, you’re not all squishy. these are hard,” jihyo squeezes her arms. “but you’re huggable. that’s what i meant. you’re arms are soft when they hug me, not when you’re lifting weights.”

nayeon groans. “you totally did that to tease me!”

jihyo laughs. “i totally did that to tease you.”

[luckykiwiii101]

Hey kiiwi

How are you?

I'm here to talk about something like a rant (if it's ok with you)

I'm in law of assumption since 2019 and in void since 2020 i have tried numerous times to enter/wake up in the void and i failed everytime now it's 2024 and i still haven't entered/wake up in the void and feel like loser i have tried EVERY.SINGLE.METHOD but nothing helped at this point idk what should I do I just want to enter/wake up in the void and change my life I just can't take all this anymore

Stop using methods. Stop saying that you are failing. Stop with the “trying” mindset. Methods are so ridiculously useless. It’s not the methods that work, it’s YOU that makes them work. Stop putting methods on the pedestal because you are literally the creator of your reality. Once you realise that, and actually APPLY, you are unstoppable. There are no limits whatsoever.

Go read @babygothprincess manifestation tips. It’s in her pinned post. She even has proof of manifestation if you need a boost of faith.

Watch electrasoul’s living in the 4D part 1&2 videos on youtube. It’s all you need. Here you go: Part 1 & Part 2

Know that you are a void master once you accept it in the 4D. Because the 4D (imagination) is the true reality because it creates everything in your 3D. Stop accepting the 3D as the real reality. It isn’t!

How people succeed after realising that the 4D is the real reality and to stop identifying with the 3D: @loasuccessarchive literally every success story on here is from people accepting that they already have their desire in the 4D because it’s a fact that the 4D is the true reality and there is no choice but to reflect that.

My fav success story from @loasuccessarchive :

This person manifested everything they wanted in just 2 days after living in the 4D (living in the end). It’s that easy. And they didn’t drain themselves by affirming all day and night. They just simply accepted that they have their desire NOW.