#and me and some of my friends were in my house during a thunderstorm storm

[very-uncorrect]

I just heard a massive crash of thunder and literally starting JUMPING up and down in excitement and then ran over to my window to watch the rain and wait for more thunder and lightning

Maybe I am cute

[cirtusmistress]

Hurricane

Authors Note: I wrote this about two years ago and posted it to AO3, and never cross-posted it to Tumblr. But given I want to get back into writing, I may as well start by posting what I got! So enjoy my first fic, two years late.

Ship ~ Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Tags ~ Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader is Competent, Storm prep, Brahms is Scared of Storms, Touch-Starved Brahms Heelshire, Reader Replaces Greta Evans, Minor Injuries, Doll Brahms Heelshire, One Shot, Gender-Neutral Pronouns

AO3 Crosspost

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A storm? Like, a thunderstorm? Or is it worse?” You asked. You’d been working for the Heelshire’s for around two months now. And though they’d left you with very detailed instructions on how to care for their beloved son, they had never brought up things such as house care. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying this long. Not into Autumn.

“A full on hurricane.” Malcolm answered, setting the last of the grocery bags down. He continued, “The worst one we’ve had in years apparently. They’re predicting outages and downed trees. I can help you secure the windows and doors if you’d like?” He offered. A sweet gesture. An olive branch of friendship. But you knew better than to take it.

During your short time at the Heelshire estate, and caring for Brahms, you’d learned a great many things. The most crucial being that whenever someone stayed around too long and stole your attention away from the doll you cared for, there was hell to pay. In one instance you found the dining room in complete disarray after simply inviting Malcolm in for tea, during a rare social moment for you. The worst case was when a friend of yours stopped by. They were a globetrotter, and seeing as you already had residence found it simpler to just stay with you. A mistake. One night was enough to send Brahms into the worst tantrum you’d ever seen. Multiple rooms destroyed, a window had been broken, and he had stolen your friend's passport. Your friendship didn’t last long after that. After all, who was to believe that a doll could cause so much harm?

“Thank you, Malcolm, but I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a few storms in my life, I’ll manage.” You replied. Malcolm studied you for a moment. Likely trying to read you, sniff out any signs of dishonesty. But, there were none. Just that warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. He gave a sigh of defeat and nodded.

“If you say so. Just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll come check on you when the hurricane passes.” With that he gave you a wave and headed back to his truck. You muttered a soft thanks, finally returning to your chores.

Brahms sat in the kitchen where he’d been waiting. Like he was listening to your conversation. You’d grown used to this odd job of yours. Caring for a doll as if it were human. Though you’d always figured there was more to this situation then most believed. You’d heard of people using dolls to cope with loss, the concept wasn’t lost on you. But for a couple well into their later years? And there were just.. Too many small things. Even in the rules. Playing music loud, reading in a loud clear voice, leaving food in the freezer. Food which you knew was going missing.

But the biggest tell was an accident. It had been about a month into the job. You’d actually begun to believe Brahms was a child's spirit trapped in the doll. What with him moving around on his own, and leaving you little offerings, and once saying your goddamn name when he was upset. But then, just by accident as you were putting Brahms to bed, you hit your foot against the wall. It had hurt so badly you thought you’d broken a toe. But what stood out in your mind even now was the sound the wall made. It didn’t make the thud you knew from stubbing your toe time and time again in youth. The wall sounded hollow. There had been an echo. Now you knew some older houses had hollow walls. Normally the cavities between the two layers were used for insulation. But that echo.. That wasn’t a normal hollow wall.

After that you’d started paying closer attention to the house and Brahms as you went about your day. Watching and listening. Countless nights where you’d lay in bed and just listen. You’d hear shuffling, the rare footstep like someone had stumbled. Once you swore you heard breathing. You noticed how many rooms had large paintings or cabinets, your size or larger. For a while you thought you were going mad. There was no way in hell that an elderly couple had been keeping their son in the walls for twenty years. But then you learned of the Heelshire’s deaths. Suicides. So many things pointing to something you didn’t quite know how to feel about. On one hand, you were now basically the sole guardian of a doll who was actually a stand-in for the hypothetical twenty-eight year old man in the walls. On the other, Brahms was now completely alone after twenty years of isolation. Alone, save for you. Sweet, kind, loving you who treated a porcelain doll like a real boy. Who read to him every night and tucked him in with a kiss. You couldn’t just leave him. No matter what Brahms was.

“We’re in for a storm, Brahms. I guess that means we’re having a slumber party downstairs tonight.” You cortled, putting the last of the groceries away. You took note of how little perishables Malcolm had dropped off. Thinking ahead. You wouldn’t be able to cook for however long the power was gone, if it did go that was.

You turned back to the doll, scooping him up and taking him with you. You figured the downstairs office would be the safest place. The windows were relatively small and were less likely to break. It would do for your purposes. You sat Brahms in the corner and got to work moving the desk out of the way. You’d have to lay down blankets and things to sleep on. You doubted the old fashioned Heelshire’s were going to have something like an air mattress.

You spent a good hour doing basic storm prep. Dragging some old blankets and comforters out of wardrobes and laying them down on the floor. Filling up buckets and the tubs with water. Getting crossword puzzles and cards. By the time that was all done, it had begun to rain outside. The calm before the storm you supposed. The last thing on your storm checklist was lanterns. This was an old house, you were certain that the Heelshire’s would have oil lamps somewhere. Naturally the first place you wanted to check was the attic.. But you knew better. After all, if your theory was right you didn’t want to scare the poor man by invading his space. So you settled on checking the cellar first.

Only issue was, you really couldn’t bring Brahms. You knew he was never meant to be alone but taking a fragile doll into a dark cellar was too risky. He’d have to stay upstairs. You were hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Brahms, I’m headed to the cellar. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You hummed. With that, you headed down alone. You had been right, it was dark and musty and damp. You started to wonder if there was mold down here. You flicked on the old dingy light which surprisingly still worked. You began digging through the clutter. Old things like furniture, clothes never worn since the sixties, even some art pieces. It was like a time capsule. You didn’t have time to walk through history though, you needed to find anything that could give light without the use of electricity. Lower and lower you went through the piles, until finally you found something. A pair of old oil lamps and a small can of oil to go with it. You muttered a soft thanks, pulling them out from beneath wicker chairs. But what was behind them gave you pause.

The bricks were singed. Dark burn marks that showed age. Your eyes followed the marks. The furniture in here had covered them, but now they were exposed after your rummaging. They flowed over the bricks going upwards. They almost looked beautiful. But that beauty hid a tragedy that plagued this home. You knew why they’d been hidden with so much clutter.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something crashed behind you, making you scream and jump. When you turned you saw one of the mirrored vanities stored away had been smashed. The mirror shards now littered the floor. And on the steps sat the Brahms doll, staring you down. It took you a moment to catch your breath, realizing your error. Brahms didn’t want you uncovering his painful memories. And he’d made sure you knew that. Gathering yourself, you pushed the lamps aside and began to put all that you’d moved back into its place. Covering those painful memories back up, letting them remain hidden and forgotten. Once finished you picked the lamps and the can up and approached Brahms. Kneeling to his height you gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Brahms,” you spoke with such a genuine tone of sincerity, “I shouldn’t have snooped around. But look! I found the lamps we’ll need!” You held up the lamps, jostling them a little so they clinked together. Of course the doll remained frozen. But just faintly, almost missable under the sound of rain pouring down, you heard panting. Like someone coming down from a rage.

“I’ll clean up the shards, then we’ll head back upstairs, okay?” You’d started speaking to Brahms out loud more after you’d learned about the walls. Feeding your own delusions some would say. You held your word, starting to pick up the larger shards and resting them on top of the vanity. The smaller ones you just brushed away with some loose fabric you found. You didn’t really plan on coming back down here anyways, not after that outburst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always found time moves slower when there was a storm. The day seemed to drag on as the storm became worse and worse. The wind had picked up and those raindrops just kept getting larger. It was loud, even on the bottom floor. You had settled on just simple sandwiches for dinner, making sure to put a ‘spare’ in the freezer. And after that you’d just settled in to do a crossword. It was.. Probably the first time in weeks where you felt safe. There was something about the dim lighting and blankets that just felt right. Secure. Warm. Brahms sat under the covers and you’d even given him a crossword book of his own. Slightly cruel, knowing he couldn’t move with you there with him. But at least you’d been talking to him. Funny, you always struggled talking with real people. But this doll turned you into a chatterbox. Maybe it was the simple fact no one was attempting to speak over you. Like someone was actually listening.

Your tranquility was disrupted by a large gust of wind, followed by a crash that made the manor shake. And what sounded like a scream. It had come from upstairs. Something inside you just knew. That crash was in the attic. You were running upstairs before you even had time to think. Up the stairs, and finding the attic ladder down. You were unsure if it had come undone itself or if someone had moved it. That didn’t matter as you climbed up. It was your first time in the attic but you didn’t get a chance to explore. A branch had flown off a tree and crashed through the wall, opening it up to the elements. You could only act, no time for clear thoughts. You grabbed a nearby blanket and started to desperately try to cover the hole, but another gale blew you back. There was nothing you could do to patch it right now, not unless you wanted to risk injury or worse, death.

Your rattled mind returned to the scream you had heard. Or at least you thought you had heard. Looking around you didn’t see a body but there was a bed up here. A tv, a sink.. Someone was living here. You didn’t have time to celebrate your theory being proven. Where was Brahms? Your eyes flitted around, finally landing back on the ladder. Somehow you had missed the very clear bloody handprint on it during your panic. But if Brahms was bleeding.. Oh God, how badly was he injured? Quickly you descended the steps, trying to find any sign of him. You were too panicked to even fear this man who was hiding from you for so long. All you knew somewhere in this house he was hurt and bleeding.

“Brahms?” You called, starting to check every room. Could he have climbed back into the walls? Fearing you discovering him? You checked everything on the top floor and worked down, calling his name in a more desperate tone with each exclamation. But finally you found him. Turning the corner back into the downstairs study. There he sat, in place of the doll. It wasn’t what you expected to see. The mask was shocking at first glance. You were momentarily stun locked. He was bigger than you anticipated, even sitting down. Finally you snapped out of it when he looked at you, and held out his bleeding hand. It had a sizable gash across the palm.

“It hurts,” He spoke in a child-like voice. The voice you’d heard months ago. His head drooped a touch as he spoke, “Can you fix it?” He asked. Finally, after another beat, you nodded. Your mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak. In the kitchen you found the first aid, and took it back with you. He hadn’t moved from his place on the makeshift bed. You knelt beside him, and carefully took his hand in yours. Up close you could see the burn scars that ran along his entire right side. Suddenly his outburst in the cellar made much more sense.. Carefully you applied some rubbing alcohol to the cut. That made Brahms whimper and pull his hand back. The look in his eyes behind that mask was murderous.

“I’m sorry, Brahms, but I have to.. To clean it.” You choke out. Your mouth is still far too dry. You hold your hand out for his again, giving him those warm eyes again. He would trust you wouldn’t he? After all, you had been the one to care for him all this time. He looked at your hand, then back to your face. For a moment Brahms almost seemed entranced by your eyes before conceding and resting his hand back in yours.

“Good boy..” You said, starting to clean the wound. He made a noise akin to that of a moan at your praise. You supposed you were the first person to touch him or give him praise in years. He was likely touch starved. Once the cut was clean, you grabbed the bandages and began to wrap his hand. He kept watching you. His breath was heavy behind that mask.

Finally you were done, and you let his hand go. Brahms examined your work, how carefully you’d wrapped him, and the cute little bow you’d tied it off with. As he studied his hand, you studied him. Despite the childish voice he put on, he was very much an adult. You could see his beard poking out from beneath the porcelain. He was actually rather handsome, you’d admit. The rain picked up again, and the lights began flickering. Brahms jumped and quickly moved closer to you. Before you knew it his head was hiding in your lap. Apparently he was afraid of the storm. Made sense, it had attacked him after all. Carefully you began to stroke his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“We’ll be okay. Just a little wind and rain, that’s all. Maybe we can play cards? Or I can tell you a story?” You offered. Just trying to find anything to distract him from the weather outside damaging his home. Slowly he nodded, not lifting his head from your waist. Actually his grip seemed to grow tighter. You could feel him inhaling a little too deeply, and his hands started to squeeze your thighs as he held tight. You felt bad thinking how unsurprised that made you. But he had lived in the walls for twenty years.. And you were likely the first person he’d had stick around.

You settled back on to the makeshift mattress, Brahms never letting you go. He shuffled up a bit, so his face was resting against your chest. You kept stroking his hair, picking your brain for a story to tell. Something romantic as you had a wild feeling that was right up his alley. You recounted the story of Pride and Prejudice, not skipping any details of the classic story. Brahms seemed all too enthralled by the tale. He even began to kick his feet in the air when you recounted the climax between Elizabeth and the beloved Mr.Darcy. Just before you could finish though, the lights finally gave out. Brahms tensed up against you and again hugged you tight against him. You let out a wheeze. You needed to get the lamps but he seemed content just smothering you until the lights came back themselves. Finally you managed to sit up as he continued to cling like a baby koala.

“Brahms, sweetheart, I need to light the lamps.” You manage to get out. But that seems to make his grip tighter. He shakes his head, face pulling your shirt back and forth.

“No. No lamps. I don’t want any fire in the house.” He whimpered. Your heart broke a little. That night seemed to have never left Brahms.. You stroked his back soothingly before trailing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Brahms, we need light. It’ll be okay, I can work an oil lamp-” You were cut off as Brahms slammed you back down against the floor. Even with the cushioning it knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands fell from his face beside yourself as his own gripped your shoulders.

“No fire in the house. Never again.” His voice was no longer that high falsetto. Instead it was deep, aggressive. He sounded his age. You gasped for air, before nodding. Tears had pricked your eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt as you questioned whether or not he’d hurt you.

Finally you found your voice again, “Okay Brahms. No lamps, I promise. Do you want another story?” You asked in a feeble attempt to calm him back down. Lucky for you it seemed to work. Brahms grip on your shoulders loosened, and he returned his head to your chest. He nodded and urged you on to tell your story.

A shaky sigh escaped you. You thanked your lucky stars that you could calm him so easily. As you began telling another story, the rain and wind outside crashed into the manor. You knew Brahms would never harm you. Not you. Not his caretaker. But you began to wonder. How long would this storm last? Suddenly, in the dark, the room no longer felt secure.

[noellawrites]

Comfort - Sonny Carisi x sibling!reader

summary: your big brother comes to check on you and decides to stay a while.

author’s note: dedicated to my beloved, @rafaslittleboy <3

warnings: incest (touching and kissing), thunderstorms

—

The house was totally quiet. Not a single sound to be heard, and you were tucked into your bed tightly as you waited for your big brother to arrive home.

Time dragged by and suddenly you found yourself falling into a deep sleep filled with dreams of your big brother, Sonny.

You hear a noise and begin to stir, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You were tucked in tight and the feeling of your warm blankets was so comforting. You try not to move around too much, instead focusing on the noises downstairs.

It has to be Sonny, it just has to be. Your parents were gone for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary and your sisters hardly ever came home.

You threw back the covers, already biting your lip in anticipation. The wooden floors creak beneath your feet as you walk downstairs, right to the comforting arms of your older brother.

“Hey, doll! Hope I didn’t wake ya?” he said, wrapping his long arms around your torso and pulling you into a hug.

“Of course not, Dommy. Did mom ‘n dad send you to check up on me?”

“Nah, I wanted t’make sure you were okay. Thought I could spend the night, if it’s alright w’you? Don’t want ‘ya to be all alone in this big house all night,” he teases, cupping your cheek in his hand. You try to hide the blush rising up your face.

“Of course, you’re more than welcome. It’s been a little scary here the past few nights,” you admit, causing your brother to look at you with a concerned expression.

“Shoulda’ told me, doll. I woulda’ come ova’ right away,” he frowns.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, clasping your hands behind your back.

It was already evening and the darkness had begun to set in through the windows of your family’s house. Staten Island was quiet compared to the other boroughs, but sometimes the lack of noise creeped you out.

It didn’t help that a thunderstorm was supposed to be rolling in tonight. You were secretly glad to have the company. You would hate to be alone during a bad storm.

“I grabbed ‘ya favorite from Silvestro’s on my way here,” your brother says, handing you the red printed plastic ‘Thank You’ bag with a smile.

“Oh, Dommy! You shouldn’t have!” you smile, taking the bag from him.

“Nah, I wanted to. It’s been a tough week. Some bad cases, stuff with ‘manda ‘n the kids…” he trails off, looking away. You can tell he wants to change the subject.

“Oh, I also have something you might want after a stressful week,” you say, suddenly remembering the bottle of cheap whiskey you’d bought from the bodega yesterday.

For some reason, you’d thought you might need it if you invited some friends over, but you figured you could take it to some of your friends who live in the dorms if you didn’t end up needing it.

“And what could that be, doll?” he asks, “Maybe a back rub? Some cannoli?”

“Better,” you smirk, reaching your hand deep into a cabinet and pulling out a cheap bottle of Four Freedoms Whiskey.

“Hey— you know the rule, you’re not supposed to drink in ‘ma ‘n dad’s house,” he snaps, grabbing the bottle from you.

“That’s not fair! I’m the legal drinking age, I can drink whenever I want!” you whine, leaning over to try and grab the bottle from your brother.

You’re too late, as he’s already standing up and opening the bottle. Your brother is a lot taller than you, and you can only watch as he takes a large swig of the whiskey.

Furious, you jump up and try to reach his long arm, where his hand grasped the bottle you’d paid for.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll pay ‘ya back,” he laughs, taking another drink.

“You better, that was nine dollars,” you grumble.

“Hey, ‘ya know ma’s rule, no drinkin’ at home ‘til ‘ya twenty five,” he warns, putting the bottle on top of a cabinet you couldn’t reach.

“And you all wonder why I spend so much time at the dorms and the clubs. At least they don’t make me feel bad for being a normal twenty-one year old!” you yell.

Nothing pissed you off more than all the rules your siblings had “mostly” followed and you also had to obey as the youngest Carisi.

“That’s enough. Now sit down and eat your sandwich,” Sonny sighs, rubbing his forehead and plopping down in one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

You could tell your brother had been having issues with Amanda for a while. And now, after you had acted like a petulant child, you could see just how exhausted your older brother looked.

“I’m sorry, Dommy. It’s just— some of the rules make it tough for me to, you know, just be an adult.”

“I know, doll. I’m sorry. Things’ve been hard with ‘manda ‘n the girls lately. ‘N I’m just happy to see ‘ya,” he gives you a tired smile and rubs his hand along your arm.

“Just relax while you’re here, Dommy. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just you and me.”

Between the two of you eating your sandwiches, your brother told you a few stories of him growing up to try and make you feel better. And it did, all the way up until you heard a loud rumble and a clap of thunder striking.

Your eyes widened, looking out the kitchen window as a flash of lightning crossed the sky.

Another clap of thunder rang out and a gasp escaped your mouth. You clamped your hand over your mouth and Sonny dragged his chair closer to you, concerned.

“I-I’m okay,” you squeak, sounding decidedly less-than-okay.

All of a sudden, rain started to patter against the windows, fat droplets like the tears that were threatening to spill. You hated thunderstorms, specifically loud ones. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was ending whenever they struck Staten Island.

“You wanna go lay down, doll? I’ll bring ‘ya up some tea.”

All you can do is nod and turn to the staircase, taking a deep breath as you go one step at a time. It usually isn’t this hard for you to go up the stairs, but the weather outside is enough to make your body tremble as you clutch the handrail.

You’re only laying down for a few moments when you hear your older brother enter. He pulls on the bedside lamp and your room fills with a soft light.

“Oh, doll—“ he says upon seeing your shaking figure hiding partially under the covers.

“Dommy, c-can you lay with me?” you ask, voice wavering. Your brother immediately softens, laying the mug on your nightstand and throwing the covers back just enough for him to wiggle his way in.

“I’m here, ‘ya don’t have to be scared. I’ve got ‘ya,” Sonny promises, laying his hand on your shoulder.

Wordlessly, you turn and burrow into his arms, pressing your face against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

For some reason, the action pains you. You want him to kiss you on the lips and all the way down your tummy. You want to kiss him back, to comfort him in the way Amanda can’t.

“I love you, Dommy,” you whimper. Rain patters harder against the window and his arms tighten.

“I’m gettin’ divorced. Me ‘n ‘manda… we just ain’t workin’ out,” he whispers, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, trying to hide the shock in your voice. As much as you despised Amanda for taking your brother’s attention away and treating him so poorly, you had always thought things were going smoothly between them.

You lift your chin, looking at your brother’s face as it’s illuminated by the lightning outside. He looks like the same Dommy he’s always been, but more open somehow. He looks at you almost expectantly, and you’re not entirely sure what to make of it.

All you know is that you desperately want to kiss him. And so you do.

You lean up slightly, meeting his lips. You’re kissing your big brother, twenty years older than you and married, although not for long. And you’re even more shocked that he’s kissing you back, pressing against you enough to make you realize that he wants this just as much as you. Or maybe even more.

His big, warm hand reaches down and presses against your lower tummy. You gasp pleasantly, and as his fingers drift lower, the storm is all but forgotten.

“Dommy— r-right there,” you gasp as his fingers inch between your legs and into your warmth.

“Jus’ like this, doll?” he smirks and you nod, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

“I’m gonna take off ‘ya shirt, okay doll? And I’ll take mine off, too.”

You want nothing more than for him to take your tiny little hole, stretch it out for your big brother. You can feel a heated desire blooming in your center and you’re close to tears, so needy for him.

You nod and he lifts up your shirt, coldness hitting you despite being under the covers. His shirt is the next to go, and you’re left ogling at his toned torso, although with a slightly rounded tummy after all of ma’s cannolis.

“Want ‘ya like this foreva’, doll. You’re mine,” he huffs before pulling you into an open-mouthed kiss. You wouldn’t want to belong to anybody else.

[seuonji]

if your requests are still open, could you do how svt would comfort their partner during a thunderstorm? i love your works a lot and congrats on 100 friend \(^-^)/

from aya: hii!! thank you, you’re so sweet! this is so cute esp since the boys would adore and protect their partner so well!! <3 thank you so much for requesting and happy you like my work (*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ thank you for the support!

(some may be mischaracterised, if ever they are, i am sorry!!)

you’re both doing your own thing on the bed but as soon as you flinch/close your eyes or react to the harsh thunders,

seungcheol would instantly go to you and ask if you’re okay. he’d come to your side and place your head on his shoulder muffling one ear as he covers the other ear with his hand. but that got uncomfortable quick. you both end up just cuddling and talking to calm you down. whenever a lightning came, that was his cue to cover your ears.

jeonghan looked at you concerned (when you expected him to laugh—) he quickly went closer to you and held your face, “ahh- i never knew you we’re scared, it’s okay i’m here. he tried to comfort. but another thunder hit and you grabbed his arm. he just caressed you but wondered how he could muffle the sounds. he suddenly placed the thick blanket over both of your heads, “wow you can barely hear it right!” and then another lightning followed by a thunder came but this time you were less startled. “i think i can still hear it,” you laughed and he laughed as well while bringing your body over his, blanket still covering you two, “just relax, i’ll protect you.”

joshua being the persistent and sweet guy he is, he’s taken note of the way you react to loud sounds. when he saw in his weather app that there would be a storm he let you know. he’d find things to do than be in the house like go to a mall or cinema where the storm was less likely to be heard.

jun/seokmin/mingyu covers your ears whenever a lightning comes but his frantic reaction gives you more of a shock than the thunder— his funny reactions were taking your mind off the thunder tho so perhaps it was working?

soonyoung/chan would use speakers and play your shared playlist. he’d pull you up to dance, your laughs distracting you from what’s outside. but if you’re not up to that he’s more than willing to just stay with you on the bed for you to hold onto him. he’s relatively diverse in what he’s up to do and would follow whatever you want.

wonwoo/vernon looked at you worried, “are you frightened by the lighting?” you nodded and he got up from his seat unplugging his headset from his laptop. he connected it to his phone and put on your favourite playlist. he gently placed the headphones on your head, luckily it was noise cancellation headphones (but he never wore them properly so that he can hear you). he moved one side of the headphones so that you could hear him, “tell me if you want to do something else okay?”

jihoon/minghao/seungkwan when he noticed you getting shocked from the thunder he’d make you lay your head on his lap and make conversation to distract you from the noise. (for jihoon, don’t you think being in his studio would block out the thunder— jk)

[rosemary-morgan]

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 7) 18+

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. Collage made by me 🌺)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Chapter seven is online 🖤 You have been with me through so many chapters now, suffering along with the characters. Y'all are so great! Thank you for your support, that means so much to me. You have no idea 🖤

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👉Read Part 1 /Read Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Summary: Where happiness is, the devil is not far away. And he sends his demons to torment those who have found happiness...

Warning: Trigger Warning! Rape! Read at your own risk! Huge angst alert!

Words: 1574 

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 7) 18+

It was very late at night and you were still lying wide awake in your bed. Outside it was storming and raining like crazy. It was always uncomfortable for you when thunderstorms were coming; you just felt uncomfortable. Every time it rumbled, you winced, and you could never understand how some people could see that as relaxation. Javier was such a person who could fall asleep very well during thunderstorms. 

Javier had been gone for a week now and of course, you missed him. But on the other hand, you were very proud of him, because he worked really hard to earn his money and to start a new life together you needed every cent. The dress you had made for Mrs. Hantoon had brought you good money and she had been so enthusiastic about your work that she had told her friends all about your skills and you could be sure to get more requests soon.

Since there was no point in tossing and turning in bed to find sleep, you get yourself up out of bed. You turn on the light by lighting an oil lamp, and put on your robe before leaving the bedroom. You felt the need to eat something small. Sometimes hunger came at night and you couldn't do anything to get rid of that feeling; or rather, you didn't want to do anything about it. What was wrong with satisfying your hunger? You still had some oatmeal cookies in the tin and you were looking forward to enjoying them with a cup of tea. You were a bit surprised when you saw a burning oil lamp on the dining table. Have you forgotten about it? This was not typical for you, but on the other hand you were alone in this house. 

However, you noticed a strange smell that you could not inhale at all and a strange feeling came over you immediately. 

You carefully placed the oil lamp in your hand on the table and carefully observed your surroundings. Something told you to leave this house immediately, but it was already too late.

You stopped, transfixed, when suddenly dark voices spoke to you and the shadows slowly formed into two men. Two strange men you had never seen before. Instantly you recoil and the only thought you have right now is the shotgun hanging on the wall that was within your reach. But you knew you had to be careful because these strangers were also armed and you would have a bullet between your eyes faster than you would reach your shotgun.

"What are you doing in my house?"

"We're just here for Mister Escuella."

"Javier? What business do you have with my man?"

They both laughed. They were the same men who had watched Javier and you from a safe distance some time ago. Cole was waiting outside for his men. Javier was not the priority right now; Angel Eyes wanted you, for  he knew that Javier would come to him once you were his prisoner. Still, he wouldn't make it quite so easy for Javier to find you...

"There is someone, including us, who has unfinished business with Javier. To find you here is a great pleasure for us."

"You better go now."

But the men were not intimidated by you, they were more amused at your attempt to force them out of the house.

"We don't take orders from women."

Henry, the big, robust man who looked like a bear, approached you and you could smell strong alcohol on his breath coming out of his mouth. You instantly felt sick.

"Sam, go to Cole. I'll be with you in a minute with this fine woman."

"What, you want her all to yourself?"

"Get the fuck out of here! I will fuck this whore's pretty pussy good! I've got priority! You can have her afterwards!"

"No!" you scream at the men in panic and horror. 

"Now go!"

Reluctantly, Sam left, unable to argue his case as he was last in the gang hierarchy and so he had no choice but to listen to Henry and reluctantly left the house.

You didn't care what would happen if you reached for your shotgun now, because you wouldn't let those bastards violate you! But Henry immediately reached for you, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He sets you down on the dining table and you instantly fight back as he pushes himself between your legs. He wastes no time in pushing your nightgown over your legs. Immediately you hit him and scratched his face, which made him very angry. Without warning he hit you in the face, pressing your entire body on the wooden table and you scream aloud. 

"Don't touch me! NO!"

You were scared and you panicked, because this man would rape you and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Hold still, little bitch!"

Another slap and the pain almost made you go numb.

"No... no..."

As he forcefully penetrated you, you screamed in pain and you couldn't believe what just was happening. This man was brutal and your whole body stiffened. He got what he wanted, yet you tried to escape him, but he kept pulling you back against him. 

"You dirty bastard! Stop it!"

You instantly remembered the oil lamp that was placed on the table, just a few centimeters away from you and you tried to reach for it, over and over again, but with each of his brutal thrusts you were pulled towards him again.

"Yes, you like that, don't you?! Does Javier fuck you that well?! Whore!"

You manage to grab the oil lamp and hit him right in the face with it, whereupon your tormentor cries out in pain, because you just burned half his face. The one moment where he lets go of you is enough for you to get your shotgun and you didn't hesitate, but you knew it wasn't loaded. Still, you managed to intimidate him with it. He remained standing on the spot as you threatened him with a look of rage.

"Get out of here, you bastard. Or I'll blow your brain to pieces!"

But everything was about to go wrong for you tonight because,  in the next moment, another man entered your home. It was Cole and immediately you aimed at him too, but he wasn't so easily to fool. 

"Miss." 

He took off his hat at the greeting and you could only shake your head as this behavior was absolutely inappropriate and ridiculous.

"Henry, what did you do to that lady?"

"What?! That fucking whore! Look at my face! I'll kill her!"

"You will do nothing of the sort. Calm down."

Cole was calm, relaxed. He was a man who was cold, who had no compassion for others. He always did a job cleanly and without detours.

"Miss, put the gun down before I'm forced to shoot you."

"GET OUT! YOU BASTARDS! OR I'LL KILL YOU BOTH!"

"We both know your shotgun isn't loaded."

Cole was very sure of himself. He pulled off his fine leather glove as he approached you and you knew you wouldn't get out of this desperate situation...

♦♦♦♦

"Javier, thank you for your help. You did a fantastic job!"

"Thank you, Mister Hazard."

"George. Just call me George."

The man's sympathetic smile was infectious and made Javier return it. He really couldn't have picked a better boss. 

It was just before sunset when the two men took another walk down to the lake.

"Ah, I could use a good beer right about now. How about you, Javier?"

"Yeah, sounds good!"

"Let's head on over to Billy's then."

Javier and George enjoyed the sunset for a moment longer. It was quiet and peaceful around them. 

"George?"

Javier gazed out into the lake, also looking at the sky, which was turning the most beautiful shades of red as the sun slowly set. Leaning against the wooden railing, he relaxed.

"Huh?"

"I still wanted to thank you."

George didn't know why or for what, so he looked at him a little confused at first.

"For what, Javier?"

"For clearing my head. But also for taking me in, giving me a chance to start a new life."

But George just smiled and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it softly.

"Don't mention it, Javier."

Real life was just beginning for Javier and you, and he would do anything so you could have a happy life, too. And who knew if you wouldn't become parents again? The desire was deeply rooted in Javier, but that was a very sensitive subject for both of you...

It was still dark when Javier saddled his horse in the early morning hours and started his journey home. He wanted to be with you as soon as possible. With a smile on his lips, he thought of you and he couldn't wait to hold you in his arms. It occurred to him that he could get you another gift, because he had earned really well for his last job and he wanted to make you happy. Maybe a big bouquet of red roses? And something sweet to go with it? And another beautiful necklace? In Blackwater he would surely find what he was looking for in jewelry! Javier smiled a little, because he simply enjoyed making you happy. He would have some time to think of something nice. 

Javier didn't even suspect what terrible thing had happened...

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

If Found, Please Burn- Chapter 3

Daya helps Jasmine with babysitting, and then they have a talk about their friendship after Delia goes to bed.

Thank you @imtooobsessedrn for proofreading this chapter. Also small Wedding Planner AU cameo in this!!

Read on ao3

Dear Daya, 

First off, fuck you. 

I’m way too pissed off to write about you. You locked me out during a fucking storm at the beach house, as a stupid joke. I barely even want to think about you right now, it’s just going to make me more pissed off about last night. 

I bet you didn’t even know that I’m terrified of thunderstorms. Or if you did know, it’s a joke to you. 

Anetra brought Delia here this morning since she wanted to see me and Kerri, and I need a distraction. So Dee and I are going to the beach to play princesses and collect some seashells. Hopefully, you’ll be off my mind by the time we’re back. 

Once again, fuck you, 

Jasmine

Daya finished reading the letter on her phone, waiting for Jasmine to text her the address of the Colby’s house. Now she felt like an even bigger asshole. 

She had no idea that Jasmine had a big fear of thunderstorms. Daya realized now why she looked so pissed off when she found a way back inside that night. 

Also, Daya knows the one secret that Jasmine has kept guarded for two years. That made her feel like an even bigger asshole. 

Daya felt her phone vibrate as she closed the photos app with an incoming text of an address a couple of miles away, followed by a few more messages.

Jasmine: They just left, so come over whenever. 

Jasmine: Also, don’t park on the street.

Jasmine: The neighbors will immediately call the cops if they see that. 

When Daya pulled into the driveway, she saw manicured nails and a pair of green eyes peeking through the blinds. Jasmine watched her as she got out of her truck and started walking up the driveway, but disappeared from the window.

Before Daya could raise her hand to knock, Jasmine pulled open the large wooden door for her. Daya stepped inside and started to take off her shoes as Jasmine looked at her up and down.

“What’s with the once-over?” Daya asked as they both stood in the foyer. 

“Just making sure you’re dressed somewhat normal today. Some of your outfits might scare Dee.” Jasmine explained as she peeked around the wall to the living room. Daya heard the faint sounds of Austrailian accents from where she stood.

“How could I possibly scare a six-year-old who watches Bluey all day and collects seashells for her moms?” 

“My point exactly.”Jasmine sighed as she led Daya into the living room. 

Daya saw a young girl with long dark hair and bright green eyes sitting cross-legged on the couch with a stuffed yellow duck in her arms. Delia hummed along to the theme song as a new episode played, enthralled by the television. 

“I brought a friend,” Jasmine cheerfully said as she sat on the other side of the couch and pointed to Daya. Daya found a place on one of the armchairs nearby as she settled into her seat. 

Delia looked over at Daya in the chair, and her eyes widened slightly, “You’re one of Kerri’s friends, aren’t you?” She asked as she turned closer to look at Daya. 

Daya nodded slowly, not used to talking with children “I am, but I’m also Jasmine’s friend too, you know.” She leaned slightly to look at the same eye level as Delia (as well as avoid eye contact with Jasmine).

The young girl immediately shook her head, “You aren’t Jasmine’s friend. I saw you two fight about that one singing show before Mama told me to stop staring at you two.” she said matter-of-factly before turning her attention back to the animated dogs on the television.

Daya and Jasmine looked over at each other across the room. Daya remembered that argument, it was a petty argument they had over what year Glee came out. Daya was certain that it premiered in 2008, while Jasmine was sure it was in 2010.

“We were both wrong,” Daya said out of the blue, looking back at Jasmine. Jasmine tilted her head in confusion as Daya continued, “Wrong about Glee, it came out in 2009. So we were both wrong that time.”

“That argument was months ago.” Jasmine pointed out. 

“Right, but isn’t this turning over a new leaf?” Daya asked. They never actually talked about anything since Jasmine returned to LA, but this felt like a good starting point. 

 Jasmine thought for a moment, “Maybe we can talk about it after Delia goes to bed?” She suggested. 

Daya was about to agree with Jasmine when the young girl between them spoke up, her attention away from the television.

“But I wanted to stay up with you, Jazzy!” Delia said, leaning closer to the copper-haired girl. 

“If I don’t make sure you get your sleep, your mom is going to kill me,” Jasmine responded, glancing at the Colby family photo on the wall. 

Daya followed Jasmine’s line of sight, “Anetra does seem like she would be more strict, now that you mention it.” she said.

“Anetra isn’t the strict parent in this house,” Jasmine quickly corrected while shaking her head.

Hours after the sun went down, Jasmine came out from the hallway bathroom, hair in Dutch braids and wearing a pink satin pajama set. In the dim lighting of the living room, her green eyes complimented her chestnut-colored hair. 

Daya muted the television, now playing the local nightly news instead of the cartoon dogs it had been playing earlier. Moving to the far end of the couch, she sat cross-legged as she waited for Jasmine to sit next to her. 

“She’s fast asleep, so we’ll be good until the morning,” Jasmine said as she settled into the other end of the couch. She folded her legs in front of her while facing Daya. Her hands loosely joined in the middle, gently holding herself as she looked at Daya. 

They both looked at each other for a few moments before either of them spoke. Daya wasn’t sure if this was an awkward or comfortable silence. 

“So...this is us turning a new leaf?” Jasmine asked, head resting on the back of the plush couch. 

“I think that it was about time that we did so,” Daya said, finding that eye contact was the hardest thing to do now. 

Jasmine took a deep breath, “Kerri mentioned that you started acting nice to me suddenly.” she said.  

“Suddenly? What did she mean by that?” Daya tried to calm her voice but felt slightly worried when she mentioned Kerri. 

“As soon as I got back to LA, she thinks you’ve been acting weird. You haven’t fought with me, then you complimented me, and you’re even helping me babysit.” Jasmine explained. 

“And?” Daya asked. 

“So why are you acting so nice to me? We’ve been fighting since the day we met. What’s with the change?” Jasmine asked, looking directly at Daya.  

That was the question that Daya had been avoiding, especially from Jasmine. She had no idea how she would answer this, so she better put her high school improv skills to use.

 Which wasn’t much, but it was all she had at this moment.

“I don’t know what started it, I guess. I think I just felt a little off after the weekend at the beach house.” Daya said. 

“You mean when you locked me outside?” Jasmine said, her tone flat.

 Daya gave a meek nod as she let Jasmine continue, “I think this is a good first step for us. I don’t think you have any ulterior motives like Kerri was worried about.” Her lips turned up slightly, and Daya saw a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

Except that Daya has been holding Jasmine’s biggest secret for weeks. But what Jasmine doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?

“What was your favorite part of the park from today?” Jasmine asked Delia as Daya walked by her side down the sidewalk the following afternoon. Delia rode her pink tricycle a few feet in front of them but still listened to the two adults behind her. 

“I think when Daya was showing us the different flowers, and then the bee strung her on the finger.” the young girl said before giggling. 

Jasmine couldn’t help but smile as well while Daya grumbled, “That wasn’t my favorite part at all.”, as the taller girl gently rubbed the string mark.

“I’ll find you some calamine lotion when we get back inside, you big baby.” Jasmine teased. 

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m the injured one here,” Daya said as she showed off her bee sting like she was showing off an engagement ring. Both laughed as they reached the end of the block, looking for incoming traffic.

For the first time in the years that they had been friends, Daya felt calm around Jasmine. Usually, she felt slightly on edge, like she always expected to be in an argument with Jasmine. But since they talked it out the night before, Daya realized she was missing out on having Jasmine as an actual friend. 

All the years of fighting and bickering didn’t seem as worthwhile as this feeling Daya gets around Jasmine now. It was a feeling she couldn’t exactly describe just yet. 

Spotting a familiar SUV in the driveway, Delia started pedaling her tricycle faster, “Moms are home!” as Jasmine and Daya picked up their paces to keep up. 

After a few minutes of putting away the tricycle and Delia pulling off her shoes, the two women followed Delia running into the rest of the house, in a search.

Soon, she turned into the kitchen and her green eyes brightened “Mommy!” 

Daya and Jasmine turned the corner to see Anetra kneeling on the tiled floor as Delia ran into her open arms. Both were smiling as Anetra pulled her into a hug,

 “Mama and I missed you so much. Were you a good girl for your babysitters?” The older woman said as she glanced at the two girls in the doorway.

Delia nodded and her mother continued, “Mama has something for you upstairs. Why don’t you go see her while I start making dinner?”

As Delia disappeared up the stairs, Anetra dug through the purse on the counter and pulled out an envelope of money. “Thanks again for watching her. She wasn’t too much trouble, was she?” She said as she gave Daya and Jasmine even stacks of the bills. 

“Nope, she was perfect for us,” Jasmine said as she slipped the money in the pocket of her leggings. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” Anetra took her phone from where it lay on the counter. “Daya, you’re in a band, right? I think Kerri mentioned it one time.” 

Daya nodded, “I am, why do you ask?”

“The DJ at the club I work at is on vacation all next week. Could your band fill in on some of the days?” She asked. “Irene is looking for anyone available at this point.”

Daya and Jasmine shared a look, and Jasmine gave her a small nod of encouragement. Daya looked back to the red-headed woman in front of her “We would love to.” 

“Great, I’ll let Irene know that you’re interested, and you get to bring a plus-one with no cover,” she said as they all heard two pairs of feet walking down the stairs. 

As Daya and Jasmine made their way with their packed overnight bags to the front door, they waved goodbye at Delia, who now carried a stuffed pink cat. 

“Thank you again for watching her. All she talked about upstairs was how much fun she had with you two.” Sasha said from where she stood behind her younger daughter, gently moving the hair out of Delia’s face. 

“No problem, we would love to watch her again,” Daya said before they all said their goodbyes, and she and Jasmine walked towards the driveway.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you need it.” Daya offered with the keys to her truck in hand. 

“I’d appreciate it,” Jasmine said as they climbed into the cab. 

Soon Daya pulled into the parking lot of Jasmine’s apartment complex, and before Jasmine could thank her for the ride, Daya spoke up.

“So I can bring a plus one for free to the club next week. Do you want to go with me, as friends?” she asked.

“Count me in,” Jasmine said with a bright smile. 

[cooking-with-hailstones]

HOLY CRAP I wrote something! For a prompt that was posted in August! But @zeldaelmo did say there was no deadline so, yanno, I made it eventually. Thank you for the prompt, Zelmo! This was super fun to do.

Anyways, please enjoy some domestic Zelink post BOTW fluff.

Memories After Midnight

Read it here or on ao3! (Gen, domestic fluff in Hateno, established relationship)

A storm was raging fiercely overhead, thunder and lightning echoing through the hills. Link had repeatedly assured Zelda that Hateno was used to such storms, that the warm summers on the coast often brought whipping winds and lashing rain. But even now, months after the Calamity’s defeat, the roar of thunder still gave her shivers. 

Link had built up a small fire, and was busying himself making a pot of warm safflina tea while Zelda curled up on the floor cushions by the fireplace. He hummed to himself as he sprinkled a pinch of a Gerudo spice mix into the tea. Zelda smiled. He never used to sing, in the before times. Link had such a lovely voice; it was such a precious gift to be able to hear it every day. 

She sat up as he walked over to her, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thank you, my love.” She smiled as he handed her a hand-made mug glazed with a deep blue lacquer. He had acquired a stunning variety of new skills in the time since waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection two years ago - throwing pottery, woodworking, sewing, among others. Every month it seemed she discovered something else that he’d made for the house they shared.

He sat down next to her, crossing his legs and draping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into this familiar gesture of comfort. One of the many luxuries she was now content to freely indulge in. 

“I never used to be scared of thunderstorms. But every clap of thunder just sounds too much like the roar of the Calamity...” A shiver ran down her spine, and Link pulled her in closer, tucking her more deeply into her blanket cocoon. 

“You know, I often wonder if this is how Lion must have felt,” she mused. 

“Lion?” Link’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean a lynel?”

“No, Lion. He was... your dog. Your family’s dog. Before...” 

Link froze. “Oh.”

Zelda silently cursed herself. This was not the first time she had done this, accidentally stumbled over a painful reminder that everything from Link’s life before had been ripped away—the only exceptions being the scant few memories she had been able to leave with the Sheikah slate. They had both lost everything, but at least she still had memories of life before. Every time she’d done this before, they had both immediately dropped the line of conversation. But tonight, something shifted. 

His voice was small, and so soft she could barely hear it over the lashing rain. “Can you tell me more about him?”

Her heart ached, but she blinked back her tears and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Of course. You told me about him on a night like this one, while we were camping out during a sudden downburst. He was golden brown and very friendly and absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. When you were a little boy, he would come running to you and curl up under your bed every time a storm rolled through.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice somehow even smaller than before. “Was there... Do you know anything else?”

“Link, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t–”

He cut her off. “I want to.” Her mouth snapped shut. 

“...Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I... I don’t know a lot about Lion. You only mentioned him a few times, but you would often come back from a visit home absolutely covered in dog hair. I remember Captain Rusl reprimanding you about it once. That was before we were friends.” She remembered laughing about it with her maids, mocking one of his few moments of carelessness. She regretted that, now.

“Hmm,.” he muttered, his eyes closed, safflina tea long forgotten on the table beside him. 

“You told me he was big and friendly, and he would play with the children in your village.”

“Where was my village?” he whispered.

Zelda froze, steeling herself for what must come. “Deya.”

He nodded. “I... I had a feeling that might be it. There was something about it that hurt more than the other ruins.”

“Link, I’m so sorry...”

He slumped down to the floor, head falling into her lap as he stared into the fire. “Tell me about my family?”

She paused, stroking his hair and trying to dig up those little details that slipped out on long days in the saddle. 

“Well... Your mother was named Gineve. She was a wonderful cook, used to make a freshwater fish fillet that you complained you could never get quite right when you tried to make it yourself. I think she learned it from the Zora, but put her own twist on it. You fed me several of your attempts at recreating it while we were on the road. I never got a chance to see your house, but you told me it was small. The other guards told me that when you got your own quarters after becoming my knight attendant, you were uncomfortable with the amount of space you had all to yourself. You shared a room with your parents and your little sister, Malia. She had just turned 10, before...”

She paused. Before the Calamity. Link had been frustrated that he wasn’t granted leave to go home for her birthday, but given its proximity to Zelda’s 17th birthday and the looming threat of the Calamity, the generals had determined that it would be “an inappropriate breach of responsibilities” for him to take leave at that time. 

She couldn’t tell him that. Already she could hear him softly weeping.

“Do you want me to keep going?” she murmured, resting her hand on his shoulder.

A slight nod.

“Okay.” She took another deep breath, dredging up every possible detail she could. “Your father, Tonu, was a knight in my father’s service. Competent, but not high ranking. He was so proud when you drew the sword. I think he didn’t realize how much pressure he put you under, but he loved you so much and wanted only the best for you. I do know that he was particularly impressed with the pay raise you got when you entered my personal service.”

That got a laugh, though one that was admittedly quite damp.

“Every time you travelled, you would bring back something for Malia. I only met her once, at the ceremony for the champions we had at the palace. She was a squirmy little one, hair just like yours, but a little bit curlier. I had thought that she was going to try and run up to you in the middle of the ceremony. She wouldn’t stop fidgeting in her seat, I think it drove your mother to near distraction.”

Zelda smiled to herself as she recalled the story. She remembered Malia quite well, having been fixated on this fidgety blonde girl, half hoping she would disrupt the entire melancholy affair. She herself had done her best to disappear as soon as the ceremony was over, only rejoining the champions in the courtyard much later. 

She shook herself out of that reverie. This was for Link, not her own musings. 

“Whether it was Goron City or Gerudo Town, you always had something for her. A pressed flower, an interesting rock, a little toy from Rito Village. You always made sure to send something home, wherever we were.”

“I think...” Link started, pausing to take a few shuddering breaths. “I think I remember that. Being at the Rito general store, seeing a colourful little pinwheel, and thinking ‘this would be perfect for her.’ I couldn’t remember who ‘she’ was.”

“That must have been it.” Zelda said. “I remember you trying to figure out how to package it so it wouldn’t get squished in the post.”

Link was still gazing into the fire, but even from this angle, Zelda could tell his eyes had the glassy stare of a memory washing over him.

“My father died,” he said simply. “Before... before it all happened.”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“...Yiga?” he asked, waiting for her confirmation. 

“Yes,” she said, shivering. “It was the closest attempt they made on us after the desert. It happened while we were on our way to the Spring of Courage. Your father was in the scouting party that discovered their ambush...” she trailed off. Link looked glassy again.

“Funeral,” he murmured. “You held my hand, covered it with your sleeve so people wouldn’t see.”

Zelda almost laughed. She had been so afraid that someone might see them, but Link had looked so wretched. He needed some comfort, even if back then he couldn’t possibly have admitted it. 

That was only three months before the Calamity struck. How small any other fears seemed in retrospect. 

She reached down, lacing her fingers in between his own. “I’ll keep holding on to you.”

He brought their clasped hands up to his lips, pressing the softest kiss onto her knuckles. “Thanks, Zel.”

She didn’t sleep that night. Link was always exhausted after any memory overtook him, and he had nodded off in her lap not long after their conversation. She had gently lifted him out of her lap, shrugging off the blanket that had been around her shoulders and draping it over him. 

She carefully started rummaging around in her desk, looking for... there it was! The sketch paper she had bought for making field notes and drawings. She knew she couldn’t rest until she finished this. He lost his memories in service to her. It was the least she could do to hold on to everything she could, to give back everything she still had.

Her hands trembled as she sketched under the weak candle light of the dining room table and occasional flashes of lightning. She was far more used to drawing interesting insects, curious mushrooms, and technical diagrams. This was a true test of her skills, and she cursed under her breath every time her charcoal went awry. She sketched and sketched, until her eyes blurred and the candle burned all the way down.

...........................

Link woke early the next morning, the sun just starting to peek through the shuttered windows. He stretched, turning to see Zelda slumped over, asleep on the dining room table. He smiled to himself. It was hardly the first time she had fallen asleep while going over field notes, or working on some project or other. He walked over to the kitchen to start boiling the kettle. She always appreciated some electric safflina tea to get her going after a long night of work. 

He came back over to the dining room table, wondering what work she could possibly have been doing last night during the thunderstorm. She had a small pile of crumpled papers around her, evidence of what was undoubtedly a frustrating project. He leaned over to see what she had been working on.

He froze. There, outlined in rough charcoal, slightly smudged from where her face was resting on the page, was a sketch. A man in the uniform of the royal guard, sporting a mustache that couldn’t conceal a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eye. A serious looking woman, strong from years of farm work, holding a little girl on her hip. The girl had curly hair valiantly held back by a couple of ribbons. She was holding a pinwheel in one hand, the other wrapped around her mother’s shoulders. And at their feet, a big dog with shaggy, mottled fur. 

Link sniffled and wiped his eyes, suddenly aware that he was crying. Zelda, always a light sleeper since the Calamity’s defeat, startled awake at the sound.

“Link!” she yelped. “What time is it? Are you okay? What..?” She blinked the sleep from her eyes, focusing on what was in front of her. “Oh Link, I... I’m sorry, it’s not very good, I just -” 

He cut her off with a kiss, and she melted into him. 

“Zelda,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

She looked at him, green eyes full of grief and love that he knew all too well. 

“The least I can do is try to give them back to you.”

Thank you @ladyhoneydee and @alucanid for betaing. Genuinely the fact that y'all jumped into this story for me after not having written anything for MONTHS means so much :') Also, if you love one shots, Dee is currently doing a month-long daily fic challenge and it's DELIGHTFUL.

[hensley-thomas]

What's Done in The Dark...

The sky was becoming more ominous as the evening blurred on. Sitting at home alone anxiously awaiting the storm to arrive. The weather man predicted this one to be a doozy with a possibility of power outages and high winds, so you had prepared. You bought plenty of junk food from the local market and made sure you were stocked up on emergency candles. Spencer had left a few days ago on a new case in Georgia. He had called you earlier in the day after seeing the weather reports and knowing how terrified you are of big thunderstorms. "Hello?" you answered. "Hello Beautiful! How are you?" his voice was calm, but you could feel his anxiety through the phone. "I'm ok, just missing my favorite profiler!" you said with the biggest smile you'd worn since he'd left earlier in the week. "I'm glad to hear it baby. Have you been paying attention to the weather reports?" he asked in a much more serious tone than the one from mere moments prior. "Yes, I saw the forecast earlier today and went to the store for provisions. Junk food, candles and a new bag of coffee beans came home with me. I also brought some quilts downstairs from the attic just in case." You said with a halfhearted laugh Spencer immediately recognized as your way of trying to make light of the situation. He knew you didn't want him worrying about you while he was trying to work on a case. "Well, I'm glad you're prepared. I've been trying to keep an eye on the weather from here." he said anxiously. "I do appreciate the thought, Love, but I am perfectly fine right here at home. I just wish you were here with me." you replied. Spencer knew very well that you being home alone during what was predicted to be a massive storm, was a huge stressor for you. "I just want to know you are safe and comfortable, Bunny." Spencer replied sweetly, calling you by the nickname he'd given you right after you had become more than coworkers and friends. "I know you do, and I know you are worried, but I promise you that I am fine. If I feel like I need to, I will go to headquarters and I will let you know." You said trying to give him some sense of comfort. Just as you had finished your statement, the power went out and the house became a dark abyss. You gasped, having been caught off guard. "Baby! What is it? Are you ok?" Spencer called out to you, his tone lined with concern but trying to remain calm. It took you a second to process what had happened before replying to him. "I'm ok, the power just went out. I'm lighting candles as we speak. I have lined up my favorite junk food and I brewed a fresh pot of tea right before you called. I'm all set." you replied trying your best to remain calm so he wouldn't worry even more. "How's the case going, any leads?" You asked as you sat down in your favorite chair, covering yourself with your softest quilt and staring out the bay window into the back yard. "So far, it's been a wild goose chase. Every lead we receive turns out to be a dead end." he replied. You could hear the frustration in his voice. you could also tell he was exhausted. "Are you off for the evening?" you asked in hopes the answer would be yes. "Yea, we just got back to the hotel, and I took a quick shower before I called." he replied. "I think I know a way we can pass the time and get both of our minds off of the storm." you said softly but with a tone that let Spencer know you had something in mind. "Oh really, what are you thinking, Bunny?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I'm not wearing any clothes and this quilt can only keep me so warm. You think you can help me?"

To be continued....

[the-epitome-of-routine]

I wish I could see Jupiter tonight, they say it's brighter than it will ever be in my life

but I got home so late & had to rest and make my dinner & ended up in bed by nine and when I looked up at the sky through my window

the clouds blocked everything

not a single star to count and not a glimpse of Jupiter at all

what does it feel like to know

that I am missing out on it

the parts of life that other people get when they go out and see their friends

when I have no one to see

nobody checking in with me

and I looked into the screen

I only see myself

not a single star to count and not a glimpse of Jupiter at all

maybe I was wrong

to think that there was more to understand before I could accept the fact

this is how it's always felt

or deep down something off

made me see past the artifacts of a happenstance

now beat around the bush and call it fear

of missing out

nothing to do with how

we were some cosmic mess and I saw

a shining ring of light off in the distance from my hands

I reached out and there it lands

not a planet but a rock

I thought i kept my body safe but

now a crater in your place

I couldn't take it back

from your love and your impact

so I say that I forgot

how it really goes

maybe I was wrong

this is how it's always felt

now beat around the bush and call it

only memories that landed only here with me

I have it woven

like a fairytale

but so brothers Grimm

I feel the fire coming in

and leaving pieces

flinging up debris

and shaking as you leave

I counted fragments in my knees

the cosmic dust you claimed to spin

embedded deep into my skin

call it what it is

now I'm a

victim

nobody checking in with me

but that's not why it burns

I was hiding like a child in their blankets during thunderstorms

and every time the house shook I could see you in the glass

the windows shaking just like me

until the storm had passed

and I looked into the screen

I only see myself

not a single star to count and not a glimpse of Jupiter at all

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The view of a lifetime

Sept 27 2022

[firetrucks-fastcars]

Hot Chocolate Weather

For TWP 12 Days of Tarlos @tarlosweeklyprompts

Dec. 12: Enjoying Hot Chocolate Together

TK and Carlos ride out a storm together and test out a Reyes family recipe.

Read on ao3 here

“I’m not liking the way this looks,” Carlos grumbled, stepping away from the window where he’d been peeking out at the storm. The plastic blinds crackled when he released them and TK pushed down the urge to fuss about him bending the pieces. It was a pet peeve he'd never been able to get over after years of being scolded for peering through the blinds of rented apartments in the same fashion. As if sensing his frustration, Carlos gently adjusted the bent piece before drawing the curtains over the window. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Do you think it’s gonna get bad? Judd was saying something about tornado weather.”

TK really hated storms. They weren’t an anomaly in New York but something about the humidity of the South and the potential for tornadoes made it worse. Plus past experiences with storms, rain, ice, dust, or otherwise, he was understandably wary of weather that wasn’t sunny and blue skies. 

“The news is saying just some bad thunderstorms here, babe. But I’m gonna pull out some candles just in case the power goes out.”

Severe thunderstorms had been brewing in Austin over the last several days with the potential of tornadoes in other parts of the state and it was finally coming to a head. Luckily, TK had just finished his last twenty-four-hour shift for the week and Carlos was finishing up a highly annoying stint on the night shift, so they had a long weekend together to ride out the storm. 

Carlos moved across the loft, digging up their abundance of candles that had been thrown into a random drawer during the moving process. Living in Texas his whole life, Carlos had amassed a collection of mismatched tea lights and taper candles only to be used in the event of a power outage. 

“It looked pretty nasty when we were out on calls today. When do you think the bottom is gonna fall out?”

His answer didn’t come from Carlos but from the loud crack of thunder and the subsequent torrential downpour that began beating the windows of the loft. 

“Never mind, I have my answer. Thank you Mother Nature.”

Carlos chuckled and joined him in his sprawled-out position on the couch. “You wanna watch Grand Designs? We have a couple of episodes to catch up on and nothing else to do for the next few days.”

“Sounds perfect,” TK tucked his feet under him and curled into Carlos’ warmth. “Let’s just pray the power doesn’t go out.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“Doesn’t this building have backup generators?”

“Only for the lights in the hallway, so we don’t fall and kill ourselves if we have to evacuate.”

“If all else fails we can try and play Catan with two people.”

“I’m not sure how well that would work babe,” Carlos stifled his laugh where his face was buried in TK’s hair. “We do have Scrabble though.”

“Wasn’t it you that said, and I quote ‘In this house we Catan’?”

“You’ve got me there.”

Carlos navigated the TV menu, pulling up Grand Designs and pressing play on an episode they hadn’t seen yet. He relaxed into the couch, glad to have some time just the two of them. The previously scheduled 126 hang had been canceled due to weather, and while Carlos loved their friends, he was bone tired and not feeling in a very host-like mood. He wanted nothing more than to spend the next four days in their current position, and maybe a few others once he caught up on sleep.

TK leaned heavily on this shoulder, occasionally making comments about the choices the builders and owners were making, but otherwise content to just enjoy the show and his company. 

Carlos had barely dozed off when TK tugged on his shirt, “Baby, we should make hot chocolate. It’s the perfect weather for it.”

It took him a minute to process the request, his sleep-addled brain still coming back online.

“That sounds good babe,” he agreed, once his body had gotten with the program. “Let me just make sure we have the ingredients.”

“Ingredients? Don’t we just need milk and the little packets?”

“Have I taught you nothing Tyler? Homemade is much better. Come on, I’m gonna teach you a family recipe.”

Carlos moved into the kitchen muttering to himself as he began pulling things out of the pantry. TK padded in behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist as he watched him pull out more ingredients than TK had ever seen used for hot chocolate. 

“Can you grab me a saucepan and turn the heat on to medium?”

“Yep.”

TK rummaged through the lower cabinet as Carlos moved over to a small wooden box and flipped through a handful of index cards until he found what he was looking for. TK emerged victorious with the saucepan and sat it on the stove, then flipped the knob over until the flame lit and adjusted the heat according to Carlos’ directions. 

“Grab the milk from the fridge too please?”

TK once again obeyed his instructions, bringing over the oat milk Carlos always laughed at him for putting in the cart, but had become a staple in their fridge. 

“My Mami would slap me upside the head for using oat milk in this,” he teased, measuring it out and pouring it into the pan anyway. 

“Just don’t let her know I converted you,” TK leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Measure out these spices,” he handed over a faded index card, ripped around the edges, with various spices and measurements scrawled on it. It wasn’t Carlos’ handwriting and he wasn’t sure that it was Andrea’s either. “Cut the cayenne in half though, since you’re a lightweight.”

“Very funny.”

They worked in amicable silence, moving around each other in a way that had only been perfected by months of running into each other until they learned their partner’s natural orbit. Carlos hummed along to the quiet music he had turned on, never being able to cook in the quiet, stirring the mixture as TK very carefully measured out the spices according to the directions bestowed upon him and handed them over. 

“You said this was a family recipe,” TK said, hopping up on the counter next to the stove, careful to avoid the heat. “How long have you been making this?”

“My whole life,” Carlos reached around him for the chocolate and poured some in without consulting the directions then resumed his stirring. “There’s been a few iterations in my family. My dad’s grandmother made the first one, but it’s had some tweaks and changes over the years. This is a combination of her recipe and my Tia Lucy’s.”

“It looks amazing, I’ve never seen so much go into just hot chocolate.”

“My family does nothing by halves.”

Carlos finally deemed the concoction ready, reaching above TK’s head to pull out mugs. TK couldn’t help but giggle at the choices, Carlos subconsciously grabbing each of their favorite mugs. TK’s was a gag gift from Judd for his birthday, covered in pictures of Buttercup’s big, goofy face. Carlos’ was one that TK had found and bought for him just because, hand painted with the Northern Lights. 

Carlos ladled a healthy amount into both mugs, topping them with marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“Tell me what you think.”

TK took a sip, careful not to burn his tongue. It wasn’t as sweet as what he was used to, and he could taste the heat of the spices but it wasn’t unpleasant. It made him feel warm in the best possible way and he eagerly took another sip.

“This is literally the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” Carlos said, finally taking a sip from his own mug and humming contentedly. “My Mami will be glad to know it got your seal of approval.”

“If you make this again, I might just have to marry you,” TK teased, leaning up to kiss him, chasing the taste of bittersweet chocolate on his lips. 

“I guess I’ll just have to make it for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re gonna ruin norma; hot chocolate for our kids,” TK said casually. “They’re gonna think it’s crazy the first time they try Swiss Miss.”

Carlos hid his blush at the mention of their future children behind the rim of his mug, but TK caught the barest hints of a smile in his eyes. 

They were startled from their moment by the flickering of lights just before the apartment was plunged into darkness.

“You had to tempt fate didn’t you.”

Carlos used his phone flashlight to navigate to the living area, lighting enough candles to make things visible, but not enough to be concerned about a five-alarm. Luckily he lived with a firefighter and based on previous experience, had a fire extinguisher in every room. 

TK joined him, looking perfectly cozy in the candlelight, his mug cradled in his hands. They finished their drinks, now warmed from the inside out, and placed their mugs on the coffee table to be taken care of later.

Carlos laid back on the couch, pulling TK on top of him like a finance-shaped weighted blanket.

“You know,” TK mumbled from where his face was buried in Carlos’ neck. “If I get to spend all of them like this, I might actually learn to like storms.”

“There you go tempting fate again,” Carlos groaned, no real annoyance in his voice. “If we get you liking storms the rain may never stop.”

“Yeah whatever,” TK laughed, snuggling impossibly closer. “Blow out those candles so I can take a nap.

The power came back on a few hours later, startling them both out of their slumber when various devices started beeping as they came back online. They threw a frozen pizza in the oven, too lazy to make a real meal, and picked up where they left off on their show. The rain continued on through the night, a soundtrack to their evening as they washed dishes and showered together before turning into bed early. 

Carlos took his position as big spoon, nuzzling his nose into TK’s damp hair. He was once again almost asleep when the other man spoke, “I thought up something you can put in your vows.”

“What is it?”

“I promise to make you hot chocolate every time it rains.”

“I think we can work something out,” he chuckled. “Now go to bed Tyler.”

“Goodnight Carlos.”

“Goodnight babe.”

(If a few months later the line was worked into his vows, that was no one’s business but theirs. And if TK had the recipe memorized by the end of the year, then that was no one’s business either)

[ozma914]

Tornado Terrors: Twisted Twisters, or Breaking Winds

This coming week is Severe Weather Preparedness Week. Here are some useful safety tips from actual experts: https://www.in.gov/dhs/get-prepared/nature-safety/severe-weather-preparedness/

 Some say the best advice you can give when it comes to tornadoes is to keep your insurance paid up and update your will. I prefer preparation: At the beginning of March, dig a big hole in your back yard, then get into it while wearing a helmet and one of those "Red man" protective suits that a police dog can't penetrate. Then have the hole lined in concrete, and covered with an armored steel plate. The order is very important: Get in the hole before it's sealed off. You might want to bring in water, snacks, a portable toilet, a book to read, and, of course, a bottle of oxygen. (I would suggest you take along my novel Storm Chaser. 'Cause--theme. Or at least The Wizard of Oz.)

"Say ... has anyone told that lady there's a tornado behind her?"

Then wait until, say, November. Then winter is approaching but hurricane season is past, so you could move to the Gulf Coast. But, because tornado season down there is pretty much year round, you'll have to dig another hole and buy more concrete and steel. Vicious cycle, there.  So, a quick review of weather terms. A severe thunderstorm watch means you might get severe thunderstorms. A severe thunderstorm warning means the light show has started. I don't get what's hard about that, but it still confuses people. Similarly, a tornado watch means conditions are right for a tornado to form, and you should, you know, watch. In the novel The Wizard of Oz that's literal: Uncle Henry goes outside, watches, and announces, "There's a cyclone coming, Em ... I'll go look after the stock". How exactly he plans to protect the stock remains unclear, but if there's one thing the movie Twister taught us, it's to to watch for low flying cows. Meanwhile, in the time it takes for Toto to hide under the bed and thus endanger Dorothy (man's best friend--hah), the cyclone is upon them and the next thing you know ... witch pancake.

Before you think you're safe from tornadoes, remember what one did to this chick.

If Henry only had a radio, TV, alert scanner, or nearby siren, he might have had enough warning to look after the stock and see Em and Dorothy safely to the cellar. The witch would still get smooshed, so--happy ending for all. Except for the Scarecrow on his pole, and the rusted Tin Woodman, and the Winkies being terrorized by the other witch ... okay, bad example. But hey, it was 1900. The point is, you don't have to literally watch anymore. You don't want to be under that cow when it drops in. Or a house. Now, a tornado warning means that if you go outside, you will die. Actually, a tornado or funnel cloud has been spotted in your area, so you may die. Over the years I've managed to take a few pictures of funnel clouds, which puts me firmly in the camp of people who are too dumb to metaphorically (and sometimes literally) come in out of the rain. There are now millions of photos and videos of tornadoes; is it worth having one of your own?

It is not.

Remember this easy rhyme: Red Sky In the Morning: You're Screwed.

What should you do if a tornado warning is declared? Go to a windowless interior room on the lowest level of your house. If you're in a building with no basement--what were you thinking? But lower is always better, anyway. Windows are bad. Tornadoes, hurricanes, meteor strikes--people get cut up by glass during natural disasters. (I'm not kidding about the meteor strikes: just ask the people in Chelyabinsk, Russia.) Old timers will tell you to crack a window to equalize pressure, or go to a specific corner of a room, but that's proven to be unhelpful. Besides, the tornado will take care of cracking all the windows. You're better off under a piece of sturdy furniture--Toto had the right idea--that you can hold onto. A small center room, such as a closet, or under a stairwell is good, and a bathtub might offer some protection.

Well, that can't be good.

So, let's review: Your safest location is in a bathtub that's in a closet under a stairwell in your basement. My bathroom is the size of a closet, so that's a start. Actually, your safest location would be in the states of Alaska, Rhode Island, or Vermont, which each average less than one tornado a year. But we're in the Midwest, under the tourism-attracting nickname of "Tornado Alley". Indiana ranks #14 in states for the number of tornadoes. I suspect, if adjusted for square miles, our rank would be higher. Okay, I just checked. When it comes to tornadoes per 10,000 square miles, Indiana ranks three. When it comes to killer tornadoes we're eight, and when it comes to the total length of a tornado path we're also eight. So there you go. Be afraid. It's only smart. And train your dog to go straight to the storm cellar. Now, since tornado safety is really a serious subject, here are a couple of links to websites that treat things way more seriously than I do: http://www.tornadoproject.com/safety/safety.htm http://www.redcross.org/get-help/how-to-prepare-for-emergencies/types-of-emergencies/tornado#Before

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

Substack:  https://substack.com/@markrhunter

Tumblr:  https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

Remember: As long as you have a flashlight, reading is weather resistant.

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Chapters 1-4

Moments Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, OFC (John Darby) x fem!reader

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Follow on to No Good Advice. Best to read that first, however In case you haven’t/don’t - reader has an arranged marriage to childhood friend John Darby, but has a passionate pre-marital relationship with Benedict Bridgerton which results in the conception of a child on her wedding day. Reader is now married to John Darby and he believes himself the father of the child. This fic is what happens next for all of these characters.

Word count: 4.8k (for these 4 chapters)

Warnings: angst, illness, original character death, pining. Warnings/ratings will go up in future chapters.

Authors Note: this is my first attempt at multi-chapter. Please be kind lol <3 I expect there to be at least another 4 chapters, likely more. Thank you to @makaylan for all of your wonderful advice and beta work on these chapters.

Chapter 1: Moments from a family life

John Darby is many things, but most important to you is that he is a great parent to your son James. He is a companionable husband as well. He is probably your best and certainly oldest friend in the world. There could be worse ways to spend your life. There are moments of contentment that bring you solace, and what more could you reasonably ask for?

---

The thunder wakes you up. You spring out of bed to check on baby James, on instinct, not even noticing John's side of the bed is empty,

You round the corner into the nursery but stop short. In the low candlelight is John, holding little James in his arms, swaying gently and pointing at something out the window. You can hear him talking quietly but not the words he is saying.

You lean against the doorframe, your hand closing over your chest instinctively, watching your two boys. He looks up, sees you and smiles, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head.

“James, look who is here? It's your mummy.”

“How is he?” you whisper as the rain starts beating against the window in earnest.

“He is such a good boy. Arent you James? Yes, you are.” John busses a kiss onto his forehead, and James smiles up at him. 

“I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to see him,” John explains, pulling funny faces that make James smile.

“Does the storm bother him?” you ask, curious; it's the first one you recall since he was born.

“Not at all. I think I woke him, to be honest. He’s such a good boy” John runs his hand affectionately over James' forehead and then kisses it again. “Nothing like me. I was so scared during storms as a baby and a child I used to wail. How about you?”

“Surely you remember?” You reply. He frowns, so you continue. “That time I was at your house aged 5? There was a big thunderstorm? I peed myself and had to borrow a maid's child’s dress just to go home. I was always petrified of storms until I was an adult.”

John barks a quiet laugh in response, “I remember now. You could barely walk in the thing; it drowned you. But it was the closest thing we had to your size.”

You grin at the memory too. So much shared time together. 

“So where on earth does this bravery come from, my beautiful boy?” John asks rhetorically, looking down at James. “Both of your parents were so scared, but look at you, calm as anything.”

Your smile takes on a brittle edge as you hope he doesn’t piece together too many things that don’t quite add up about James.

---

“What's this, papa?” four-year-old James comes wandering up from the side of the country path you are all walking, someplace amid the vast Darby estate on a warm spring afternoon.

He hands John a rusted metal object that is almost triangular.

“Where did you find this, James?” John asks, turning the item over in his hands, brushing off some loose soil.

“Over there by the field”, he points. “I was looking for rocks for my collection,” he adds proudly.

“Well, this is much better than a silly rock,” unseen by his father, James' little face skews into a pout at John’s passing comment. “I do believe this is a very ancient item, my son”, John continues, giving him a proud pat on the shoulder. “I would need to check with a few friends to get more detail, but I think this is an arrowhead from a spear, used hundreds of years ago.”

“Oh really, papa?” James seems awed, squinting in the sun as he looks up at his father.

“The plough must have turned it over with the soil last week,” John says thoughtfully, as much to himself as James, continuing to examine the item.

“Well done, darling,” you praise, kneeling to kiss James on the cheek.

“Can I keep it, mama?” he asks, making hands to take it back from John.

“Let’s see what your father thinks,” you answer democratically, giving John a pointed look; you can tell he wants to take it and show it to his museum friends. But you want James to have it. He did find it, and there's likely not much monetary value, certainly not to a man of the means John has. John catches your eye and sees everything in your expression, his shoulders slumping as he knows he lost the argument before it begins.

“You can, but make sure you take good care of it,” John replies indulgently, ruffling James’ chestnut hair and handing him the arrowhead. “Now, how about a lift home?”

James grins as John picks him up and places him on his shoulders, the three of you making your way back towards your house as the sun starts to bleed into the horizon - John regaling you both with stories of historical battles on the land you now walk. You smile indulgently at your boys, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun on your face.

---

“JAMES DARBY!” you hear the roar before John rounds the corner into the drawing-room from his small office next door. “What is the meaning of this?” he exclaims, holding some official-looking papers aloft, with childlike drawings scribbled over them in pencil.

“I... I drew you some pictures, papa,” James replies timidly, his lip trembling. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you happy, papa; you looked sad,” he says solemnly. “Drawings make me happy,” James adds under his breath which only you can hear as he sits at your feet.

You see all the irritation drain from John’s face as James’ blue eyes well with tears. John closes his eyes in frustration, then opens them and moves a few paces to kneel, embracing and soothing his son.

“James, I know you meant well with this,” he says after a pause, gesturing at the pages in his hand. “But this is important paperwork related to the family business; one day, you will need this paperwork to run this estate as Viscount. If you want to draw, please use the sketchpads we gave you,” he ends with a weary sigh, kissing James on the head affectionately.

“But I ran out, papa,” James answers, hugging him back.

“You used up all the sketchpads already?” John seems incredulous as he stands back up.

“He really loves to draw, dear,” you point out to John. “Also, it's in pencil; I'm sure we can erase it,”  you add to mollify your husband.

“I know that,” he replies, his tone a little short, “I just have absolutely no idea where this incessant urge comes from,” he grumbles before breaking into a bout of coughing.

“Are you alright?” you are concerned; it's the second round of coughing you have heard from him in the last hour.

“I'm fine,” his reply dismissive. “Just a cough; I was in the same office as an old man last week who was coughing; I'm sure it's nothing.” 

“Please see the doctor about it,” you request politely as you watch James go back to playing with his toys, “Your mother has just gotten over a bout of her latest ailments; I don't want her to catch something else. Especially not now the autumnal chill is in the air.”

John glances sideways at you, grudgingly acknowledging what you say is correct but not particularly wanting to heed the advice.

“Speaking of, I’m going to spend the evening at the main house with them. Do you care to join?” he inquires, almost as an afterthought.

“I'm fine here with James,” you answer truthfully. 

He nods and returns to his office. You are content to let them have Darby family time; chances are he and his father will want to talk family business, and his mother will retire early as she usually does. You would be left alone in the drawing-room there; it's much preferable to be so here, where at least you have your books. Besides, you are happiest in your house at the edge of the estate. It seems a little intimidating to think that one day you will have to move up to the grandeur of the big house when John becomes Viscount. You always pictured life in a more modest dwelling, a country house perhaps surrounded by rose bushes and some woods beyond. Not sure where that image comes from, you shake your head and return to your book.

Only a couple of days later, when you find a handkerchief spotted with blood on his desk, do you genuinely start to worry about John’s persistent cough.

Chapter 2: Moments from a tragedy 

They say tragedy comes in threes, and it indeed visits you and your son as such in a very small window of time—one very sad autumn. While the family you married into often seemed plagued with health issues of various kinds, this is still a massive shock.

John’s cough gets progressively worse over the next few weeks, and, once his parents are struck the same way, he is moved up to the big house to be monitored by the trusted Dr Smith. However, despite the doctor's valiant efforts, they all become gravely ill in frighteningly rapid succession. 

James Darby is only four and a half years old when he loses three-quarters of the only family he knows and loves - his grandfather, the viscount, his grandmother, the viscountess and his father, John - all to the dreaded consumption. He is just glad you, his beloved mama, are spared. It also means he becomes Viscount Darby before starting school, even though his father never even got to use the title.

Being a widow at 25 is not something you had ever envisaged; neither is inheriting a country estate and various assets. Well, they are inherited by your son, but for all intents and purposes, they will be your custodial concern for at least the next fourteen years. 

Mostly you grieve for your son - his whole world turned upside down so young. Your personal grief is muted and subdued. The loss of John’s friendship hurts you more than losing him as a life partner or lover. When someone you have known since childhood dies, it always feels like something is missing. 

Your husband John was an only son, and, it turns out, his son is the same. You never managed to conceive another child. 

In truth, you never even conceived one together. The more James grows up, the more that fact is staring you right back in the face. Not that John or anyone else ever suspected. But dear god, you know a Bridgerton if ever you saw one. And James is unmistakably a Bridgerton with his chestnut hair and blue eyes. He barely has any of your physical traits or features, but you don't mind. Somehow it is your greatest comfort to watch a miniature copy of the man you truly love growing up. But also your greatest source of guilt. By rights, neither of you should have any claim over the Darby estate. Yet here is your future secured and no living relatives to challenge it. 

One message of condolence of the many you receive jogs your heart the most. It’s in beautiful handwriting and accompanies an arrangement of all your favourite flowers. I am so sorry for your untimely loss. You are, always were, and always will be in my thoughts. It’s not signed, but it doesn't need to be; you know who it’s from. 

---

“Mama, is papa in heaven?” James asks you over dinner a few weeks after the funeral.

“Yes, darling. Papa, grandma and grandpa are all in heaven. But they still love you very much,” your heart aches as you watch his little mind processing the idea.

“I won't get to see them again, will I?” His voice is quiet, and he looks so sad. You pull him into your lap and drag his plate next to yours so you can eat while cuddling.

“One day, darling, a long way into the future, you will see him again,” you assure, “and he will give you the biggest hug because he misses you every day. Until then, just remember papa loves you very much and is watching down on all the good things you do. And the naughty things, so don't be too naughty,” you whisper and blow a raspberry onto his neck to lift his spirits as much as you can. 

“Stop it,” he giggles, pushing you away and spearing some food onto his fork. 

You smile, content to see his appetite back after a few weeks of barely eating.

“Mama, I don’t think I will go to the same heaven as papa and grandma and grandpa,” he says after a pause to chew and swallow.

“Of course, you will, darling,” you confirm quickly.

“I mean, I don't think I will go to the same bit of heaven,” he says, his mien thoughtful. ”I will be somewhere else, but maybe I can visit them?”

“Whatever do you mean, James?” Sometimes, you forget this child is only four years old with the intriguing and imaginative things he comes up with.

“I don't know; I just don't think they will be there,” he says with a shrug. “You will be, mama, of course. And my sisters. Not my brother, though.”

“What sisters? Brother? James, what are you talking about?” you look at him, utterly bewildered.

“I will have sisters and a brother one day,” he insists, “and some of them will be there in heaven when I arrive.” 

You frown at your child and his unshakable belief in something that makes no sense. It’s not like he even has any cousins he could be mistakenly referring to either. He has been through so much in the last few weeks that you don't want to question or refute his arguments, so you just let the subject drop.

Chapter 3: Moments from a ballroom

After the grief fades over the following months, the overwhelming feeling you are left with is loneliness. It's just you and little James on a vast estate. Yes, there are all the wonderful staff, but no one who is not in your employ to keep you company.

So you decide, not long after James’ fifth birthday, to leave your cottage on the Darby Estate - you still have never moved up to the manor house - and decamp to Darby House in London to partake in the year’s summer social season. Maybe you will see some old friends and their children, be able to catch up and feel the warmth of family and friendship again. 

Rather foolishly, it doesn't occur to you who else you might run into.

---

A few weeks later, you arrive in London after a gruelling six-hour carriage ride with just enough time to bathe, change and head out again to the inaugural event of the season, the Danbury Ball. James fell asleep during the journey, and his nanny happily carried him to bed, where he slept all night soundly. You envy him just a little bit.

You should have arrived the day before, you belatedly realise, noting your exhaustion as you pull on your gloves and appraise your reflection. It will just have to do.

As your carriage pulls up into the melee of others outside Danbury House, you have the sudden urge to run back home. It dawns on you this will be the first event you have attended as a widow. You start to fret about everything - who might you know attending? What do you even call yourself - are you a Dowager Viscountess when you never even got to be Viscountess? 

Your footman swings open the carriage door, and you realise it's too late. Taking a deep breath, you descend and follow the crowd into the main hallway. The scent of flowers, the melodic musical notes, the sight of hundreds of candles - it's all so very grand. 

“Dowager Viscountess Darby!” Lady Danbury exclaims, answering your quandary about your title with the ease of a seasoned hostess. “How delightful to see you back in London after all these years! We were all so aggrieved to hear of your husband's and in-laws' tragic loss last year. Our deepest sympathies.” 

“Thank you, Lady Danbury” genuinely grateful for such a warm welcome. “It's rather unsettling to be back in the hubbub of London, after the peace of the countryside, but seeing you and so many familiar faces is wonderful.”

“Please, enjoy your evening, and don't forget there is plenty of champagne to go around”, she ends with a conspiratorial wink before effortlessly flitting her attention to the following people entering the party.

You slowly circle the room, picking up a proffered glass of champagne. You spend a good hour catching up with faces you have not seen in years. Each, in turn, is friendly and offers sympathies. At some point, the endless merry-go-round of greetings becomes a blur of similar interactions, and you crave something a little different.  

For a change of pace, you drift to the edge of the dancefloor to watch the young ladies at the debutante ball, all aflutter with excitement and hope of a marriage match. You never got to experience the heady excitement of a season as an eligible Miss, having been matched from so young. You don't even remember a time both of your families did not refer to John as your ‘future husband’. It seems a cruel irony that he was your ‘future husband’ for almost four times as many years as your actual husband. While he was not the love of your life, he was a constant, and his presence is something you miss every day. He was, in many respects, your closest and most trusted childhood friend. It was a shame that you never felt the great love for him you believed you should have owed him. The heart can be a fickle beast.

Speaking of the heart, yours was in for a hell of a jolt. Descending a distant staircase, you suddenly see the man who stole yours six years prior and who, in all reality, still holds it and probably always will. Daily you watch the living, breathing extension of that heart grow more and more like the spitting image of his father - the man you now watch. He hasn't seen you yet, and in many ways, you hope he doesn’t. But oh god, does he look breathtaking. Dressed up as he is in black and white for the formal ball. Looking as handsome as ever. You know you are not the only one who has caught sight of him. He has been a bachelor for far too long and is prime prey for the predator mamas of the Ton, which appears to number most if not all of them.

Then it happens. Like all those years ago, the moth to a flame, he somehow inexorably finds you. His eyes land on you, and you feel akin to a butterfly trapped under glass, helpless and pinned to the spot. You watch as an entire catalogue of reactions crosses his face, likely a mirror image of your own. After a few moments of intense eye contact, he leans toward the person standing next to him, a young woman you don't recognise and says something to her. Still, his eyes don't leave yours. You can tell from her appearance that she's not a Bridgerton, and suddenly you get that oily unrestful feeling in your stomach. That can only mean one thing, surely? Has Benedict Bridgerton done the unthinkable and found himself an eligible woman? 

It's ridiculous that your overwhelming emotion is jealousy. You were quite literally married to another man for the last few years. And yet. And yet. That's precisely what it is. Somehow in your mind, Benedict should always always be yours, even if you are not his. A patently absurd notion of ownership. 

Before you can entertain any more ridiculous ideas, you decide it's best not to find out anything else tonight. You are mentally and physically exhausted; seeing him just tipped your scales, and there is no other logical course of action to take.

You turn around and flee, not looking back as you enter your carriage and steal off back to Darby House.

Chapter 4: Moments from a drawing room

Mid-morning the following day, after a restless night of haunted dreams, your butler informs you of a visitor.

“There’s a Mr Bridgerton here to see you, my lady.”

Oh, good grief. You wouldn’t mind the ground swallowing you up right about now, but sadly no such convenient fate awaits you.

“Send him in,” you sigh, smoothing down your dress, knowing you will have to explain what happened last night.

“Lady Darby,” he bows politely, entering the room. He, unfortunately for you, looks stunning in the signature Bridgerton blues today. Your body still reacts as it did years ago, as it did last night. He's so much closer than he was yesterday. Within a few feet, too close. Danger, danger is all your mind is screaming. 

“God's sake Benedict, just call me y/n,” you bemoan, already frustrated with yourself.

He frowns, slightly perplexed by your outburst “y/n” he amends slowly. “I just wanted to check you are well after you left the Danbury Ball in such a hurry last night; we didn't even get the chance to greet each other.”

“I am fine”, you reassure, gesturing for him to sit opposite you, which he does. “I’d forgotten what a whirlwind those events can be. I've been used to the quiet country life for too long, I suppose. I haven't been to London for years, and I just found it all a bit too much after the journey down yesterday.” you shrug, knowing you are babbling nervously.

“Yes, that's understandable. So there was no other reason?” he inquires pointedly.

“No, why would there be?” Your reply is a little sharp as you distractedly play with a loose thread on your dress.

“No reason,” he schools his expression with a bite of his lip and downcast eyes. Oh, the cocky bastard. You definitely won't give him the damn satisfaction of admitting that, yes, seeing him was part of the ‘all a bit too much’ you alluded to. 

“Hubris doesn't suit you, Mr Bridgerton”, you admonish, slightly playful, despite yourself.

He shoots you his signature crooked smile of old, and quite suddenly, all the air has apparently left the room. The warning sign in your mind flashes brighter as your eye contact lingers. Good god, you itch to touch him. 

But there are also so many questions. Who was that woman he was with at the ball? Are they a couple? If so, why is he here with you today, flirting as no time has passed?

The noise of a door opening loudly down the hallway breaks the spell between you.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I just wanted to drop by and check on you briefly, say hello properly after all these years - hello, by the way. I'm on my way to a family lunch; well, actually, I'm already late for it. So I won't bother you any further,” he states, going to stand up again so soon, to your relief and consternation.

You hear a rush of tiny footsteps approaching outside the room and realise there is nothing you can do to stop what is about to happen next.

“Mama, mama, look at what I made!” James comes running into the drawing-room holding aloft a piece of paper, brightly daubed with red, green and blue paint. The paint is still wet and is all over his hands and wrists.

Benedict freezes as James runs by, rooted to the spot. It’s the moment you’ve been dreading and anticipating for more than five years.

James smears paint on his forehead absentmindedly as he pushes a lock of hair away and leans into your knees to show you proudly what he has painted.

“That is a kite, and that is a flower,” he says, getting yet more paint on his fingers as his pointing presses into the paper.

“It’s lovely, darling,” you kiss his cheek indulgently, “but we have company,” attempting to shush his enthusiasm.

James whirls around and looks up at Benedict. Blue eyes meeting blue eyes. Your world shifts. Benedict knows. In an instant. The way any man knows his offspring. The way he looks at you. At his son. At you again. It’s all in slow motion and so fast at the same time.

“This is Mr Bridgerton,” you say to the back of your son's head, your voice unsteady, not wanting to meet Benedict’s gaze again. “Say hello.”

James steps forward and squares his little shoulders.

“Hello, Mr Bridgerton. I’m James Darby, and I like to paint.” He smiles winningly and holds out his picture proudly—quite the introduction.

Benedict crouches to his knee, staring at the boy, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions. 

“Hello, James. You can call me Benedict. I also like to paint,” his voice almost cracks on the last word. “That’s a wonderful picture, James,” he adds softly. 

“Are you here to paint as well?” James asks with the uncomplicated logic and curiosity of a child. 

“Your mummy is an old friend of mine, and we were just catching up”, Benedict answers truthfully, looking over James’ shoulder at you, “it appears we have a lot to discuss.” 

You try to ignore his pointed remark.

He focuses back on your son, his son. “But I’d be happy to paint with you any other time, James.” 

Your heart flutters at the thought.

James nods and runs out of the room. “Goodbye, Mr Bridgerton! I'm going to paint some cows!” his carefree voice peals from the hallway.

There is silence as Benedict slowly gets back to his feet. You stand up as well; it seems only fitting for the moment.

“Is he?” his voice seems shell-shocked; it's only just sinking in.

“Yes” is all you can say.

“How long have you known?” he sounds winded.

“I think I've always known”, you respond truthfully.

“The… the wedding day?” he questions.

“Could only be”, your responding shrug.

“Are there others? Does James have siblings?” he clarifies when you frown.

“No. We were never blessed” you hang your head.

“I don't think that's because of any fault on your part”, he responds. “James seems very fine, healthy.” That point had never really occurred to you before. James was indeed an uncomplicated pregnancy, always a healthy child. But then, he was never indeed a Darby.

There is a long silence. 

“Why did you not tell me?” Benedict hisses.

“I… what good would it have done?” you whisper back, distressed.

“I could have… I don't know,” he gestures vaguely.

“Benedict, James had a wonderful childhood until this tragedy. No one had any suspicions. He was loved by a family; he had a life of comfort and safety. He wanted and continues to want for nothing. He is now a Viscount, for god's sake. He has the same rank as your brother Anthony.” 

Your point makes him bristle slightly, which you regret.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he says after a long moment.

“Thank you, it's been an adjustment,” you reply carefully. “James has taken it all in his stride, considering.” 

“Because he has a wonderful mother,” Benedict expresses fiercely.

It makes you look up at his face. Oh god, you ache for him. He is still so so beautiful, just like his son.

“Believe me, more than anything, I want him to know the truth,” you begin, having to look away, “but you know he never can. It would jeopardise everything he has.”

“I know that; I would never want that.” He pauses and closes his eyes for a few moments. “But I would like to get to know him? Spend some time with him? If that's okay?” He hedges, almost nervous.

You exhale a breath you didn't know you had been holding. 

“Nothing would make me happier,” you respond a little jaggedly, a tear forming in your eye.

“I don't want to, but I really must go. I'm now so very late for that family lunch,” he says, pained.

“No, no, of course, please do.” You wipe the corner of your eye subtly as you can. “Thank you for dropping by to check on me. And I'm sorry again about last night. It's been a good few years since I was part of the London scene, and it was all slightly overwhelming.”

“I understand, and please, please pass on my goodbyes to James”, his voice hopeful.

“I will” 

He moves half a step forward as if to embrace you, and you inhale sharply, wanting nothing more. At the last minute, he seems to change his mind and pulls back, giving you a brief, polite bow and turning on his heels.

You collapse onto the fainting couch, just now realising what an apt name that is.

The following day at breakfast, your butler informs you of the delivery of a child-sized easel and paint palette. He hands you the accompanying envelope. Inside, the note in that beautiful, familiar handwriting reads: 

To James, from one artist to another, paint fearlessly, Benedict.

That utterly wonderful, utterly frustrating man.

[fanatic1997]

Nightmares

Rooster x roommate!reader 

Summary: Rooster comforts you after you have a nightmare. You wake up the next morning tangled in him and you realize that your silly crush on your roommate has turned into something more. 

Warnings: pure fluff. 

Requested by @kp9983

...

You felt slightly bad about the tension between you and Rooster. But you couldn’t help feeling awkward around him. Not since waking up this morning tangled in him.

The only salvageable part about the situation was that the two of you were fully clothed. At least you hadn’t crossed that line.

You chewed the last bite of your burger slowly to avoid speaking to your roommate. Luckily, you had managed to stay silent throughout dinner thus far. You had felt Rooster’s gaze multiple times but he didn’t say anything.

You watched Rooster finish the last bite of his burger. “It’s supposed to storm tonight again.” Rooster stated. He wasn’t looking at you. Instead, his eyes were on his beer.

Your mind flashed to last night. You had woken up in cold sweat from a nightmare. And then a loud clap of thunder rattled the house and you had screamed. Rooster was in your room within a second looking around for the source of your fear. Your panic must have been evident on your face because he had taken one look at you and he understood. He sat down next to you on our bed and hugged you. He didn’t ask. After a few minutes, when you had calmed down some, you scooted over offering him some space to lay down. He did and then cuddled you close to his chest until you had fallen asleep.

You fled the house the instant you woke up. You avoided Rooster in training. You had ignored the hurt that flashed across his face when you had chosen Hangman as your wingman. Hangman had smirked and made a comment about trouble in paradise, but you chose to ignore that too.

You would have avoided Rooster some more if he hadn’t made dinner. Your stomach growled the moment your eyes landed on the plate of burgers he was offering you.

He hadn’t said anything, but you saw the small smirk on his lips as he placed the two plates on the kitchen table. You felt baited but you couldn’t say no to food. The man knew how to cook.

“You know you can tell me anything.” You looked up to see Rooster scanning your face.

How could you tell him that you were avoiding him because you still hadn’t made sense of all the emotions you were currently feeling? You had realized after waking up in Rooster’s arms that you weren’t just crushing on your attractive roommate. You were in love with him. And you feared how this would change your relationship.

Rooster frowned when you still didn’t say anything. He finished his beer and then got up, picking up his plate. He grabbed yours as well and walked over to the sink.

You grimaced feeling guilt wash over you. “I’m scared of storms,” you finally broke the silence. “Because I always have the same nightmare.” Rooster turned off the faucet and turned around to face you.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to y/n,” Rooster’s eyes swirled with concern. He walked slowly towards you until he was only a foot away.

“My dad died in a car accident during a thunderstorm,” you swallowed hard. “I have the same nightmare every time. Ever since I was little.” You rubbed your arms suddenly feeling cold. “I used to lay my head on my mom’s lap until I fell asleep,” you inhaled, “I thought it had gotten better but I guess it hasn’t,” you finished.  

Rooster used his thumb to tilt your chin up to him. “You can sleep in my bed  tonight if you want.” His thumb stroked your jaw lightly. You felt your heart stutter. You wished this meant what you wanted it to mean.

But you knew he only saw you as a friend. “Thanks, Rooster, but I really should try to figure this out on my own. I can’t run to you every time it rains.”

“I don’t mind sleeping next to you.” Bless your roommate. He should be careful dishing out comments like that.

You tugged your chin away and shook your head. You missed the disappointment that flashed across his brown eyes. You stood up and threw him a thankful half-smile as you walked to your bedroom.

You tossed and turned in your bed. The storm had started half an hour ago. You knew if you fell asleep, you’d have the nightmare again. The first thunder of the night shook the house making your heart rate spike. You regretted not taking up Rooster on his offer.

I am a Top Gun pilot. I can handle a little storm. Another rumble of thunder made you jump. Fuck this.

You ran to Rooster’s room. His door was surprisingly open. You didn’t stop to ponder what that meant. Instead, you ran straight in. Rooster was sitting up in his bed. He looked up from his book.

“I can’t sleep.” Rooster nodded and closed his book. He picked up the corner of his blanket signaling for you to join him.

You slid in next to him. You almost yelped when he started to manhandle you until your head rested on his lap. 

“I..” Rooster shushed you. He tucked the blanket more securely around you and then began to stroke your hair. 

You were so screwed.

...

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[depravity-n-savagery]

Tongues of Worship

♡ Pairing: Eddie Munson x (fem)Reader

♡ Summary: Eddie offers to help you sleep during a thunderstorm, but you get the idea to switch roles and take the lead for a change 😏. You like sub!Eddie a lot more than you expected to.~

♡ CW: P in V, smut, teasing, 'Goddess' and 'good boy' being used, sub!Eddie/dom!Reader, unprotected sex, slight edging, corruption kink if you squint.

🛑18+ MINORS DNI🛑

♡ Word Count: 2.5k

♡ A/N: This is the 1st fic I'm posting on here! 😁 I'm crawling my way out of writer's block, so be gentle with me. Let me know what you think, and even give me some recommendations for what to write next. 💌

The crackle of lightning and thunder outside is what rudely snatched you from your sleep. A lazy groan slipping through your lips as what was one the best dreams you've had all week, fades out into the waking world. Even if you tried to go back to sleep now, the dream wouldn't resurface. It was you, your boyfriend, and his gang of D&D buddies all sharing a picnic table. Their expressions studying you with curiosity, but mostly approval as Eddie finally introduces you as his girl.

His girl.

You wanted more than anything to go public with your relationship. God forbid you actually do what a normal girlfriend would do. Stroll across that damned school cafeteria and plop yourself into that gorgeous man's lap like it was your personal throne. The gaggle of assholes at Jason's table would have a field day, and for a moment you could see yourself reveling in it. Maybe even flipping him the bird like you've - and a few other people - always wanted to. Still, reality had to crash the party and remind you of who Jason was. Who he knew. The second he catches wind of you in any way associating with the likes of 'The Freak', he would march straight to your parents at the next church service. Even with the underage drinking and shenanigans he got up to, it would pale in comparison to you dating the apparent cult leader of Hawkins High School. Your parents, if they didn't suffer a heart attack on the spot, would lock you down and snuff out whatever freedom you had until you got the financial freedom to live on your own. Or worse, they could disown you altogether. Cut off the rotten branch and spare their perfectly managed family tree of religious restriction and bullshit. It was all a bunch of bullshit.

Little did they know, you had fallen off of the religious route years ago. It was a secret you were fed up with keeping. Hiding the music and band shirts Eddie gave you, stashing your not-so-modest clothes, keeping your grades high enough to get you into a college far away from them. Far away from him…

"Hey. You alright, Princess?"

The object of your desire stirred in bed beside you, lifting his frizzed mass of hair up from the pillow. It was too dark in his bedroom for you to see his face, but you could hear the concern in his voice. "The storm wake you up?" He half grumbled, pulling himself out of sleep's grip to reach for your cheek. You leaned into his touch, welcoming the comfort it brought. The coolness of his rings against the nervous sweat you were unaware you broke out in. It was worth lying to your parents about staying the night at a friend's house, just to feel the heat of his touch.

"Yeah… I can't fall back to sleep."

"Mhmm." Strong arms snaked around your waist and pulled you against his bare chest. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, snuggling into you like a security blanket. He definitely inhaled the lingering scent of your favorite shampoo, and the mix of your joint sweat after several rounds of extracurricular activity. "I got a way to fix that."

You could feel the smirk on his lips against your skin, transforming into the first of many peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone. Each one made it harder to focus on the troubling thoughts that clouded your mind. An expert when it came to your pleasure, he knew just where to touch you. Mapped out the spots that made you gasp and tangle your fingers in his curls - like the kiss he had just placed over the fresh bruise he sucked into the soft skin above your breast. Unlike your romp a few hours ago, he was taking his sweet time with you. Taking in the little reactions he could draw out of you. It made his dick twitch, knowing every sound was just for him. Nobody could please you the way he can. Seeing how he took your virginity, nobody else even stood a chance.

Tonight, however, you felt differently. Not a change in opinion when it came to his skills in the bedroom. Never that. You were doubting your own abilities. Did you please him? Sure, he would tell you how great you felt around him when he was buried inside you, and he would always reach his climax when you slept together but… that didn't say much. Time after time he took the lead, and you sort of just fell into the role of letting him have his way with you. Offering no resistance when he insisted that it was okay, since you didn't have as much experience. Well, fuck that. Only way to get experience is to put in the work. So, much to Eddie's dismay, you pulled away and unlatched his lips from the next mark he was working into your shoulder.

"Wha-" You interrupted his question with a soft hush, flipping over to straddle him and settle down on his clothed crotch. By now your eyes were adjusting to the darkness again, giving you a rewarding glimpse of him. One eyebrow hiked up in curious anticipation, the way you've seen him wait for you to make a move when he attempts to teach you how to play D&D.

"I love listening to you talk, but I need you to shut up right now." His eyelids fluttered, taken aback by your words and the way you stirred your hips. Holy shit, those sweatpants he wore didn't put much fabric between the two of you. You were already bare below the waist, sleeping in nothing else besides one of his shirts. His cock situated perfectly between your folds, hardening while you practically stroked him with your hips. Oh if he wasn't fully awake before, he surely was now. There had to be a damp spot forming where you sat, as the harder he got, the more pressure you felt against your clit.

'You'll be paying for this later' was written all over his face, fighting to mask how much you were getting to him. The storm hid the drumming of his heart, pounding away as he lifted his hips ever so slightly to be closer to the junction between your thighs. He could fucking feel you, pussy clenching and dribbling your arousal, soaking the crotch of his pants. "Y/N…" He warned, straining to keep control. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips before he spoke again. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out if you keep this up."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You purred, bucking into him again. This time he couldn't hold back the hiss, sucking in air through his teeth. Another brick to contribute in building your castle of confidence.

This was a turn of events for Munson - being the one on his back desperately writhing and searching for a crumb of friction where he needed it most. Those pretty features softening piece by piece while his dominance was taking a backseat. Something about it turned him on more than he expected. Mixed with a sense of pride, seeing you come into your own and knowing he had a hand in getting you there. His pride would be next on the list of things given up tonight, as a request - meant to be a command, but you weren't that confident yet - was spoken out into the darkness.

"Tell me what you want.. p-please." Was that too demanding? Too soft? Uggh, he made it seem so easy when he was in charge. Unknown to you, that little request stirred his desperation for you and had his cock leaking precum. His adam's apple bobbed, swallowing down a whimper that was rising in his throat. Calloused fingertips squeezing and kneading your pillowy thighs. It was driving him mad, all the ways he wanted to take you. Lustful images flashing across his mind of you, bent beneath him with your back arched, ass bouncing back on him so hard the slapping sounds echoed throughout his trailer.

"You. Fucking hell, babygirl, I want out of these pants and in that wet little pussy." Deciding to give you more bang for your buck, in the hopes of ending his suffering quicker, he laid it on thick. "Pleeease. I need it."

Sweet, sweet heaven to your ears. The rhythmic winding of your hips stuttered, affected by the head of his cock spasming against your sensitive nub. He had to be doing that on purpose somehow. Every helpless moan and huff from him made your walls clench and ache for him to fill you. Getting off on ruining him without even fucking him yet. Maybe he really had corrupted you.

Riding a brand new high, your very first power trip, you wanted to bring him to the edge. So you rose up enough to dip your fingers under the waistband of his pants and lower them until his cock sprang free. Of course he was commando. You purposely didn't allow him to completely remove them, forcing his legs to be slightly restricted in movement. The second he tried to shimmy the unwanted material further down his legs you lowered down again, spreading your slick along his length. Working him from tip to base. He was so big, the head peeked out enough for you to see it as you situated yourself on his crotch, fully sitting down again. A fresh drop of precum forming and making a mess in his happy trail.

As expected, Eddie cursed and whined beneath you, grasping at your hips to try and shift you where he wanted you. No such luck. Instead, you took his hands and guided them to the hem of his shirt on you. "Make yourself useful." It was your turn to smirk.

The shirt was gone and tossed so fast you'd think it was on fire. It would match how hot he was to the touch, now that you were skin to skin. His mouth hung open, husk in his voice as he carried your name on his tongue mixed with unintelligible pleas. Your own breathing was shaky and uneven. Resuming your previous task of grinding back and forth along the full length of his cock, creating a lewd squelch when you reached the head. You let it get dangerously close to your entrance, daring him to slip in, just to back up again.

That familiar knot began building in your abdomen, quickening your pace. Eddie knew the signs all too well. Keep this up any longer, and you were bound to bring yourself to orgasm just like this. "Come onnn, baby. Pleeease." He was ready to snap, dripping his words in as much seduction as he could muster. "It would feel so. Much. Better. If you came with me inside you." He bucked his hips upward to emphasize each word, sending an electric current right through you. An opening. Bingo.

When you didn't respond he continued his acts of sabotage, staring right into your eyes. "I can make you cum harder. You want that, don't you Princess?"

It was becoming difficult to concentrate on his torture when he looked at you like that. Held you in a gaze that made you feel like the sexiest woman in the world, and he was the only one who could fuck that belief into you. If you were a Goddess in this headspace, he was your most devoted follower. All he wanted was to worship at your core till you were screaming his praises.

His thumb sneaked its way to your clit, rubbing mercilessly. Your body went rigid, mewling and stuttering. "Eddie! W-W-Wait!!"

There was no stopping him now. He saw a way to get the upper hand, and you played into it so nicely. "Don't you deserve to be made into the prettiest little fuck toy, Goddess?" He was singing your praises alright, but there was poison beneath them. The hand that wasn't between your legs grasped onto your ass, pulling you into his motions. Right where he wanted you all along. "I think you deserve to come as much as possible. Don't you agree?"

Ohhh no. No no nononono-

"I don't uhm, I-" The words lined up in your head flew right out the window, the moment Eddie guided you back far enough to slide right onto his cock. With all the mess from your slick it was effortless. He made sure to bury himself inside until he bottomed out, holding you down with a vice grip on your hips. White blurred the corners of your vision, showing you stars and a glimpse of heaven. Just for Eddie to drag you back down to sin.

You were allowed a second to adjust, and even that was generous. The girth of him was enough to knock the wind out of you. Humbling you back into your soft origins. There was no taking this back now, and honestly you didn't want to. Each assertive thrust freed you from your nerves. Freed you from your stress. Freed you from your mind in general. He stripped you bare to the essentials, and rebuilt you with affirmations that were…unconventional, but effective. Being in charge was fun for the moment, but this was where you belonged. At his mercy.

"This is what you needed huh, Goddess? A good boy to remind you how precious you are?"

"Yes, oh fuck don't stop!" Crying out in response, you folded forward to capture his lips while he fucked up into you. A mess of hot breath and sloppy tongue. You couldn't keep your mouth closed to save your life. He freed up his left hand and brought it to your throat, lifting your head up enough to look into his eyes.

"You're so perfect." He huffed out, his pace unsteady but harsh and deep. "I know you're close. Come for me.. Tell me how much my Goddess loves being fucked like this." There was a need for response in his urgent thrusts. You questioned if it was possible to bruise on the inside. "Tell me."

There it was again. Heaven making its way to your eyes, and this time Eddie could see it. Pupils blown and blissed out with heavy lids. "I love it, I love you, I love- AUGHH!!" The dam within you broke and took you with it. Ruined, and spilling out till it dripped down his balls and onto the sheets.

Eddie's thrusts slowed to a rolling of the hips and finally halted, giving you a chance to catch your breath. Wait a minute. You still felt him inside of you, rock hard. He didn't climax with you. Didn't soften one bit. You raised your head up and swallowed when you saw the sadistic glint in his eyes.

"That was only the first of many, Goddess." He mocked you playfully, but made it clear that you weren't getting sleep any time soon. "Now… let's work on the rest."

♡ A/N: I'm still figuring out how to work certain things on here. Making tweaks and improvements. Requests are welcomed! Thanks for reading ✨️

+

Ao3 , Masterlist ☆

[wifi-crusader]

*kicks down a door* Ok so I started watching "Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun" and my unga bunga banana brain went "crossover with sagau cult fic". Now we're here

Welcome to Demon School! Creator!

Alright, here's the drill. You were a big fan of Genshin and loved every character in the game. One night during a thunderstorm you were playing Genshin and bam! Lightning hit your home and now suddenly you're being dragged by a bald guy with horns speaking in enchantment table.

"W-wha-?" You yelled out in shocked as the demon snapped his fingers and started to sound like English. The man, now known to you as Sullivan or grandpa cuase he basically adopted you as his grandchild. You agree because let's just say you're parents ain't the best.

Moving on, you gotten acquainted with Iruma, the blackhole stomach, who I guess is now your brother or something. I don't know, I'm just the narrator. You've also found out that Hell also has videogames and you continued your passion with Genshin.

But oh boy, that lightning storm was rather inconvenient. Why? Well you see, there's some sort of barrier between you and them but the lightning storm weakened it. Now all a certain scientist in Dragonspine, Albedo is finding a way to breach into "your" realm.

But you don't half to worry about that for now because you're getting enrolled to Demon School. There you were now about to fight Mr. Alice Asmodeus because Iruma chanted a forbidden spell at the opening. You being a good sibling wanted to be fair and challenged Iruma to Rock, Paper, Scissors and Iruma can't say no, literally. Loser has to fight Alice and you can already guess who lost.

Now outside you put your dukes up and as Asmodeus charges, you threw a punch and Alice gotten launched by a strong gust of wind (ehe~). You, being freaked out, went with it and somehow summon a cartoonishly large Geo hammer and slammed it down on Alice. Don't worry, he's still alive.

Now here's the kicker, Alice became your servant after losing to you and also became your simp pogchamp. (I mean, I wouldn't mind, dude reminds me of strawberry sweet roll. He literally looks like a snack).

You also meet Clara, a green haired female demon that you thought was on drugs and high amounts of caffine. You ended up getting roped into playing house.

Now let's check in on the wonderful, totally-sane world of Teyvat: Sagau edition! Albedo construct a portal like device as every playable character (or "blessed vessels" as they're called) were standing on a podium infront a rather large crowd at Dragonspine. The reason is that today is the "Heavenly Ascension" where the blessed vessels will travel to their creator's world to possibly bring them back home. Now the vessels walk up Dragonspine after a speech as Albedo activated the portal.

Now cut back to you sleeping peacefully as the TV in your room began to start. The screen was static as silhouettes with white holes for eyes grew larger as a gloved hand broke through the screen as the Genshin characters crawled out of it. You woke up to the multiple sounds of footsteps and screamed out loud as Sullivan, Iruma, and the neko butler I haven't mentioned before rushed in and saw the intruders.

After a while of talking (and pain), you found out that you're apparently their God.

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

"And that's why I have a hoard of people behind me" You finished talking to your friend group of Asmodeus, Clara, and Iruma.

"I knew you were powerful master, but I didn't know you were a god!" Asmodeus said as he started bowing at you.

"Your excellence, may I inquire about who this is?" Lizard daddy Zhongli (Me: *pukes in a bucket*) asked you.

"Ah, he's a friend of mine. Alice Asmodeus, this is Zhongli. Zhongli, this is Alice Asmodeus" You responded back to Zhongli.

"What's a friend?" Asmodeus asked as he look up at you.

"Well uh-" You were about to respond-

BUT YOU JUST GOT "TO BE CONTINUED"!

[jisungsmochi]

held by me - zhong chenle

chenle x reader - college au (part of my nct dream as the vamps songs series) you can read more here ! 

word count: 2.5k 

summary: “we��re both under ceilings staring up sharing feelings, you should be held by me”

chenle from next door was always inviting you over to hang out with him. you would kindly agree, building a strong friendship with the cheery boy. but there was one secret being hidden by the both of you, the undeniable feeling that you were both helplessly inlove with the other. so what happens during the night of a thunderstorm, that has you both shaking?

//

you remembered the first day you moved into your apartment building. your parents were practically kicking you out, claiming you were old enough to fend for yourself against the outside world while you were studying. although they did help you find the apartment and made the down payment, you were glad to finally live independently. there were things you didn’t really know how to do, but that’s what youtube and google were for. 

you first met your next door neighbour, chenle, when there was an emergency fire evacuation. it was just past midnight when the alarm went off. you rushed outside, only in your pajamas and bunny slippers, hair disheveled. chenle caught sight of you, internally giggling at your current state. your eyes widened at him, you had never seen him before, even though it had been about two weeks since you moved in. he gestured for you to walk with him to the lobby, waiting for the alarm to stop ringing. you quickly followed his footsteps, entrusting him with guiding you to safety. he stopped once you reached the front desk, observing the ridiculous residents complaining about their interrupted sleep.

the guy living next door, stayed close by to you, not saying a word. you didn’t mind how close he decided to stand near you, it made you feel comfortable, in some odd way.

“okay everyone! it was a false alarm! there was no fire detected. you may now return to your rooms, we are sorry for any inconvenience” the apartment complex manager announced, as you watched everyone scatter back to their rooms. some were grunting, still unhappy with the sudden wailing of the sirens. the boy urged you to follow him again, walking in silence as you made it back to your rooms. the boy stopped for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it,

“hey wanna come in for some tea? i don’t think i’ll be falling back asleep anytime soon” you kindly offer, watching as his face lit up in delight. he nodded gently, following you into your apartment. you switched on the lights, making your way to your kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“so i never got your name, i’m y/n” you started preparing the mugs,

“i’m chenle, i live next door, as you know now” he finally spoke, catching you off guard.

“ah yes, i would have introduced myself when i first moved in, but unpacking and starting college just got in the way” you explained as you poured warm water into each of your mugs, bringing them over to chenle as you sat next to him on the bar stools by your counter. he thanked you softly, blowing the drink cautiously before taking a sip.

“it’s alright, i should have come by first! i just wasn’t sure how to do so” he shyly admitted, making you smile.

“well we’re both here now, who would have thought! do you live alone?” you asked,

“uh yeah i do, my parents actually bought me the apartment, something about wanting me to be independent and a proper adult” he slightly rolled his eyes at the last part, making you nod,

“same here! they really wanted me out of the house, so here i am” you shrugged.

the rest of the night was spent chatting away, the both of you suddenly couldn’t stop talking. chenle found you entertaining, he never thought he’d be chatting with a random girl who lived next door after a false fire alarm. this was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

//

a few weeks later, chenle woke up to banging on his front door. there was only one person he knew that would be awake at 7am, voluntarily. as he opened the door, he saw your bright smile greeting his tired eyes. he allowed you to enter his apartment, still grumbling that he was tired.

“oh shush, i need some more toilet paper” you quickly made your way to his bathroom, snagging some rolls for yourself.

“you know you can just buy your own? they’re always on sale!” chenle grumbled, moving to lay down on his couch, waiting for you to return.

“where’s the resourcefulness in that? you always buy them in bulk, and you’re the only one who lives here. sharing is caring right?” you greedily smirked as you sat down next to him, your tote bag full of toilet paper rolls. chenle moves to sit up next to you, finally feeling more awake.

“so what are we gonna do today? i’m thinking we can get some lunch, maybe go to the park or something?” you started rambling, too energised in the morning.

“can we just stay in? i’m not in the mood to go out today” chenle softly pouted at you, making you immediately agree. how could you say no to that face?

“sure, i’ll make pancakes for breakfast” you softly squeezed his shoulder and he leant into your touch. most of the affection between you, were in the form of soft (platonic) touches, and words of affirmation. chenle filled the void of loneliness you thought you would experience whilst living alone. you’d hang out in his apartment almost everyday, claiming that you were too lonely or you were bored. chenle never opposed, enjoying your company, and your cooking skills. sometimes his friends would make sly comments and tease him about always hanging out with you, but he didn’t mind. it didn’t really matter what others said, he just enjoyed being around you, it didn’t mean he had to feel something more...yet.

“here we are!” you hand him the beautifully plated pancakes as you both started munching on the delicious pancakes.

“dude, these are amazing. can you live her permanently? i need a personal chef” chenle teased, causing you to shove him lightly.

“you’re rich enough to find a chef, unless...you wanna pay me?” you smirked as he rolled his eyes.

“doesn’t your job pay you enough?” he shot back, causing you to act fake offended,

“i work at the dingy cafe on campus, i’m not exactly living large” you continue to nibble on your pancakes.

sometimes you had thought about what it’d be like to live with chenle. you had spent a few odd nights at his apartment, as he had a spare bedroom. you didn’t mind the idea at all, but you didn’t want people getting the wrong idea that you two were more than friends. there was always that one concern at the back of your mind. the natural flow of your friendship with chenle was something you had never had with anyone else. the people you met at college just didn’t click the same as you did with chenle the first time you met. he was special to you, but if anyone ever asked you that, you’d deny it, playfully responding that he’s just a friend. chenle felt the same way, just because you two were close, didn’t mean he was inlove with you.

could he see himself being with you? yes. he could. but at this moment in time? no. you were both not fond of relationships, feeling immense pressure to constantly be perfect or make eachother happy. by staying friends, it avoided all the conflict that couples had. and no one would get hurt. but the thing about love, is that you don’t really get to choose who you fall inlove with.

you realised this when you saw a girl approach chenle while he was studying at the cafe you worked at. you assumed she was just a classmate but when you saw her sit across from him, softly touching his arm, you started feeling uneasy. who were you to be thinking these things? he could see whoever he wanted.

you saw how he responded, shyly reacting to her words, laughing at her jokes. you wanted to look away, you wanted to go up to him and pull him away. but you couldn’t.

the rest of the day was spent thinking back to what you had witnessed. you didn’t want to bring it up with chenle, incase he questioned why you were even watching him in the first place. chenle insisted he stay until you closed, waiting to walk home with you. when he said things like this, or made these gestures, you thought that meant he cared about you, as more than a friend. but you had been watching way too many kdramas lately, he was just being nice. it started pouring rain as you exited the cafe, you let out a soft grunt before chenle stepped in with his umbrella.

“i got you, let’s go” he smiled softly, walking close to you as he held the umbrella above the both of you. sounds of thunder rang through your ears. chenle became worried, he knew you hated thunderstorms. as you reached your apartments, chenle pulled his hand to grab your wrist,

“wanna stay the night?” he insisted, your heart swelled at his words. why did he have to be so considerate?

you slowly nodded, following him into his apartment. chenle set down his keys, before helping you remove your damp jacket. he rushed to his room, pulling out a spare set of clothes for you to sleep in. you liked how you barely said anything to him, and he just knew exactly what to do. you couldn’t fault him at all.

“how was your day?” chenle started chatting to you, wanting to get your mind off the storm outside. you were both sitting on his bed, each at one end while facing eachother.

“it was decent, i finished my group project! and work was okay, not much happened” you felt yourself avoid his eyes after mentioning work. chenle noticed, eyes furrowing at your actions.

“are you alright? is something wrong?” he moved closer to you, eyes filled with concern. why does he have to do this?

“everything’s fine, i swear” you quickly shut him down, moving off his bed.

“okay something is definitely up, why can’t you tell me?” he stood up to stand across from you. why the hell were you being like this? just tell him how you feel.

“i-it’s nothing, can we just move on?” you continued being stubborn, something that chenle had picked up on. you really could put up a fight.

“alright, if you don’t wanna talk, it’s fine. just don’t push me away” he sighed, moving to tuck himself into bed. his back ended up facing you as you joined him soon after. you turned your back to him, feeling embarrassed about the entire situation. why couldn’t you just admit you were jealous? why was it so hard to admit to yourself?

silence filled the room, the storm outside becoming background noise. until a loud boom of thunder hit, causing you to shake. chenle felt it instantly, turning back to you. he saw how you were shivering, your hands coming up to cover your ears. he gently placed his hand over yours, pulling them away from your ears. you turned to face him, eyes slowly tearing up. he wiped the tear that fell from them, pulling you into him.

“it’s alright, you’re going to be alright” he muttered as he held you close to him. no matter how irritated he got with you sometimes, seeing you so vulnerable like this made his heart ache.

“i was jealous today” you suddenly admit, feeling chenle freeze against you. he looked down at your face, feeling your cheeks slowly heat up.

“w-what are you talking about?” he moved to there was a small distance between your faces.

“i saw you with that girl at the cafe. she wouldn’t stop talking to you. and she squeezed your shoulder, like how i do! it annoyed me” you shyly admit, watching as his lips slowly cocked up into a smirk. was he really enjoying this?

“you were really jealous of her? she’s just a classmate, i gave her some of my notes for class, and she thanked me today. it was nothing, i swear” he assured you, feeling amused that you cared about him, enough to get jealous. you felt like an idiot, of course that’s all it was.

“o-oh my bad then” you whispered, feeling embarrassed. but chenle was quick to interject,

“hey it’s alright. you didn’t know. i’m kind of flattered that you were jealous” he started gently brushing his fingers through your hair.

“ugh i knew you were gonna get an ego boost!” you sighed, snuggling closer to him.

“you know you love me” he jokingly strikes back, feeling your arms slowly untangle from him torso. he immediately stopped what he was doing, looking into your eyes deeply.

“i-i do” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. but he definitely heard you clearly.

“really?” was all he managed to say back. that was not the response you were expecting.

“yeah, i do” you confirmed to both chenle and yourself. the truth was finally out.

“woah, that’s...a relief” he smiled slightly at you, “i thought i was the fool who was hopelessly inlove with you” your eyes practically popped out of your head.

“w-what? you’re kidding, right?” you couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth.

“oh yeah i’m totally kidding. that’s why i offer to walk you home after work, even when it’s inconvenient for my schedule. that’s why i always ask you to come over and keep me company. that’s why i’m here with you right now, protecting you from one of your biggest fears. it’s because i’m totally not inlove with you” chenle playfully responded, causing you to hit his chest softly.

“i don’t know who’s the bigger idiot. you or me?” you giggled,

“definitely you, how could you love someone as lame and goofy as me?” you knew chenle was partially joking, but you still felt like he didn’t fully believe your feelings for him.

“you’re most definitely not lame, you’re so special to me. even if i don’t admit it to you sometimes. you mean the world to me” you whispered to him, feeling your lips inch closer to his. you felt heat rise to his cheeks as you gently cupped his face in your palm. chenle couldn’t contain how giddy you made him feel, closing the gap between you both. you felt his lips mould effortlessly with yours. soft sounds of your lips clashing together, distracted you from the storm. because chenle was your umbrella, shielding you from the storm of the outside world. he was all you needed to get through your youth. moving into the apartment was one of the best decisions of your life. you met someone who had your back during the hard times, always laughing with you during the good times. someone who held you close, too scared of losing you. you never intended to fall for your next door neighbour, but things happen. you couldn’t imagine a world where chenle wasn’t by your side, he became your entire world. and nothing couldn’t ever amount to you in his eyes.