#floor restoration meaning

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[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[lenteur]

literally painful day today

[stvolanis]

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[unyieldingmemory]

Reckless (Sylus x reader)

He sees you take a bullet, and remembers what it feels like to be scared.

Tags: sfw, hate/love relationship, very angry mc

It all happened fast. The screaming, the flying bullets, and the realization that you, your aethor core to be precise, was the root cause of it. You were invited to this party as mere bait.

You ducked under a table and scanned the room for the nearest exit. Then your eyes fell on a little girl trembling under another table. You were filled with more rage. This had to be the most selfish, psychotic thing he'd ever done. 

You helped the little girl towards the back exit but before you could follow her out, something clipped the back of your thigh and your body hit the tiled floor. You ignored the strange shadows and eerie whispers that then followed because it hurt like hell to move. You had never been shot with a bullet before.

The amazing thing about the human body is that even through terrible pain, it will generate the energy to cuss at someone who deserves it. The strange shadows from before were Sylus' evol, transporting you to the rooftop of one of the nearby buildings. He'd propped you up against a wall, demanding how many bullets you'd absorbed. Now as you took a good look at him, you were filled with energy. 

"Bastard," you glared. His eyes rose from your bleeding leg to your glowering eyes. "Use me as bait, fine!" It wasn't. You wanted to strangle him for it, "But there were women, and children, and families there," you had to catch your breath. The indifference he wore on his face drove you crazy. "You scumbag!" you shoved him. He caught your arm, and regarded you coldly. 

"Some kids are born unlucky. You need to grow up, sweetie" his answered condescendingly. 

With that, your hatred for him was restored. "You're the worst." He might not have taken your family, but he belonged with those ruthless criminals. He only cared about power and those stupid weapons. "And I mean it this time," you hissed.

The corners of his lips drooped at the conviction in your voice, and he trained his eyes on your injured leg instead, "save it for later. We have an urgent problem right now."

You swat his hand away. "Don't touch me. I don't need your help," you snapped. He ignored you.

"These aren't normal bullets---" he swiftly caught your flying fist. "I need take them out now," he tried to reason but you weren't listening.  

"I don't care," you yelled at him. You wanted to get away from him. He was the reason you got shot in the first place.  

He squeezed your fist. He was growing frustrated, but he couldn't simply walk it off. Not this time. "If you cherish your life at all, you will cooperate with me."

"Let go of me!" You kicked him with your other leg. He caught your knee and slammed it down.

"You're not going anywhere," he pushed you down on the concrete by a strong hold on your shoulder. Pain coursed through you and you closed your eyes and counted silently, waiting for the pain to subside. "You're not going anywhere," he repeated, more calmly, "until they are out." 

You focused on the cool, rough stone pressed against your cheek. You knew you were laying on your stomach, but it hurt too much to move.

The tight fabric of your pant leg came loose and provided you with some relief. "I will be as fast as possible," he said from above, "brace yourself."

The pain nearly took you out. You didn't care who saw or heard you scream. All you wished for was an anesthetic. After a while, it subsided to a manageable degree and your breathing evened.

You felt him release your shoulder and you rolled onto your back slowly, breathing heavily. He stood watch over you. Your eyes followed his towering figure, and lingered on his glistening fingers. They dripped with your blood. He'd taken the bullet out. 

"Better?" his voice was shaken, as if he wasn't the one who shed blood on a regular basis. You wanted to chastise him, but not a muscle in you moved. "Y/n." He said your name more impatiently, the panic rising in his tone. He hated how pale you looked, how quiet you'd grown. Where did all your energy go?

Your eyes followed him as he came to his knees and leaned over you. His eyes searched your face and his chest rose and fell unevenly. He didn't look so calm and smug now. He looked scared, the way he should have looked when he brought you to this party.

He never got scared. Ever. Not until now. All because of you. Your heart swelled against your better judgement. "Why can't you care like a normal person?" your throat tightened, "why do I have to get hurt for you to look at me like that?"

"I'm so sorry, kitten," his voice was full of regret. He forgot you were not the impenetrable woman who conquered him so long ago. He'd almost lost you. 

He remembered then what it felt like to be scared.

Thank you for reading!

[fic-over-cannon]

After years of patching himself up and repairing his own gear, Jason Todd is pretty good with a needle and thread.

That means that when you catch your favourite shirt in a door and rip it, he quietly takes it from the laundry pile and mends it. It reappears in your closet, good as knew with nothing said about it.

He’ll dedicate Sunday afternoons to going over his equipment, needle flashing between deft fingers to repair small rips and tears. Humming thoughtfully over bullet holes too big to patch over or tears too large to keep the material uncompromised.

One day, when you’re sorting through your childhood things, you find your favourite stuffed toy from when you were a kid. It’s more worn than you’d remembered, nose almost rubbed off, one eye dangling loose on a thread. Hugging it to your chest causes its head to loll awkwardly, neck stitches starting to rip. You’ve got tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat when Jason sits down on the floor beside you, sewing kit in hand. His hands are so gentle as he takes the toy from you, tender in how each stitch affixes its head back onto the plush body. Fishing around in his kit, he finds a thread to match the colour of your toy’s eye and stitches it on securely. You hold your breath as you watch him, large hands putting back together this remnant of your childhood. He hands it back to you, presses a kiss to your forehead as you snuggle the restored toy to your chest, before packing away his kit.

[rizsu]

the cat accident or incident ? gojo satoru.

sum. what happens when you mindlessly pick up things without reading when shopping // short drabble, satoru turns ur cat into a minion ( ref image at the end )

"would you love me if i was a worm?"

"no."

"what about if i was a dinosaur?"

"you'd be dead."

"okay, what if i was a skunk?"

"satoru, what do you want?"

he fakes a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "whatever do you mean, my dear?"

you sighed, reverting your attention from your laptop to him. in this house, online shopping is near impossible when satoru's around. it's painfully obvious he's up to something mischievous — or, he will be up to something.

a long stare in silence doesn't take long to break him. plopping himself on the bed, he raises both hands in a defensive gesture before speaking, "okay, don't get mad at me but i think i accidentally dyed our cat purple."

"you WHAT?!" you sit up, shoving your laptop off your thighs. out of everything he could've done, accidentally dying the cat purple was not in your list. you give satoru a simple task and trust he will find a way to make it difficult.

he waves his hands side-to-side, standing up to justify himself, "i didn't mean to i swear—" he cuts himself off, taking your hand to lead you to his disaster. "actually, just come see for yourself."

entering the bathroom, a shocked gasp escapes you. the scene is just chaotic: a bathtub coloured purple, a cat that's busy with his tail, discarded gloves, and a bottle of purple shampoo. you tiptoe around the wet floor, bending over to carefully retrieve your beloved cat from the disaster.

"babyyy, look what you did! he's purple now!" you complained, giving gojo a 360 view of the cat.

"oh my god, it's almost as if i didn't know that," he replies sarcastically, forcefully grabbing the damned bottle that started everything. this marks the beginning of him explaining the previous matter.

"i bought this a while ago thinking it was one of those colour correction shampoos, right? lo and fucking behold it turned the thing purple," he wiggles the shampoo in his hand, screwing his face at it.

you're not looking at him, too busy pouting at your now-purple cat, "hey, he's not 'the thing', his name is toots!"

"babe, that's not any better."

"yeah, yeah. unpurple my cat before tomorrow, satoru," you changed your voice's tone, replicating one that warns him of what's to come if he doesn't restore your toots back to his colour.

gojo does nothing but rolls his eyes, squinting at the cat. he's not even worried about it, he thinks, observing the way toots calmly enjoys being in your arms. the privilege he has is tremendous. he's all purple staining your clothes but had gojo been the one he would've been sent to the next year.

"stupid cat."

"did you say something, satoru?"

"yeah, i said i'll book an appointment at the pet's shop thing."

"'kay," you gave him a quick smile before it turned into a pout again. the sight of your toots saddens you. he now looks like the purple, crazy minions.

the purple minion:

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret Creator Reader Pt 2

warnings(s): slight angst, kinda? humanish wanderer (he can bleed, throw-up and cry), its unedited cause i’m spam posting my drafts <3

word count: nunya

First Part: Here

Wanderer never realized how much you affected his daily life until your absence began to sink in. He never noticed how much your smile and kind greetings made his heart flutter until his heart ached from the emptiness.

At first, he didn’t really think your absence was such a big deal til he’d wake up with tears in his eyes and the faint whisper of the name you had given him ringing in his ears. It was like you were haunting him. How could you name him with such care but disappear and not even think to visit? Did you really abandon him? Were you lying when you told him the meaning of his name?

Wanderer began traveling the world, following any reported sightings of the creator. Each time he’s left with a dead end, he feels his sanity wear thinner and thinner, a gentle touch away from snapping.

It isn’t until he hears of a parade being held to welcome and thank the creator for restoring the kingdom of Khaenri’ah. He drops everything he’s doing, and heads straight to your supposed location.

When he gets there, the streets were crowded with people watching as you give a speech high up on a balcony.

He ignores everything else, his focus entirely on you. It’s as everything melts into the background and his actions are on autopilot.

He flies over your position, not hearing any of the gasps erupt from the crowd nor noticing the guards that seem alert at his presence.

His are wide and blown out as he grips your wrists tightly.

“Wanderer…”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT…” he says, tears lining his eyes. Your eyes furrow in confusion. He seems unstable, face full of desperation.

“What do you mean…”

“… my name,” he says quietly. “Say my name!” You pause for a bit, not understanding what he wants. Finally, you speak.

“__”

The voice he has been longing to hear… the name he dreamt of you saying reaches his ears.

He lets out a choked sob, all the emotions he held in finally spilling out as he grips your clothing. It’s like nothing else in the world matters but the two of you.

Even as there are whispers all around speaking of blasphemy.

Amidst his sobs, he asks you all the questions that had been plaguing his mind.

“Do you really see me as a gift… a blessing? Am I really that important to you…”

You’re silent, unsure what to say as all eyes watch you. He feels his heart break at your silence.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, hands trembling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been using it. I love it! I love what you named me, I really do!”

“I’m your blessing, right? Why aren’t you saying anything.” His movements grow desperate as he shakes you. “… you said so yourself, you can’t take it back. Why aren’t you speaking?!”

You notice the judging eyes staring at the man on the floor. You try to push him off of you but he lets out another heavy, choked out sob, his tears flowing harder. Your attempts to get him off you is seen as a form of rejection. “You-“ he suddenly doubles over, throwing up on the ground. ”…you can’t abandon me!” He screams.

The guards grow closer and he finally notices them. “Please…” he crumples to the floor, trembling hands clutching his chest. He gasps as he finds it hard to breathe. He feels a pressure in his head, and suddenly blood flows from his nose.

You begin to panic, seeing him cry so hard his nose begins to bleed. You bend over and bring him into your arms. Rubbing his back, you call out the name you’ve given him. “I’m not abandoning you. You’re a gift.”

He shakes his head, pushing himself further into your arms. “I’m yours! I’m your gift…” He needs to hear you say it. He needs you clear all the insecurities and doubts in his heart. He truly looks pitiful, his face covered in snot and tears.

The guards are unable to pull him away from you no matter how hard they try. His grip on you is like iron. The guards have no choice but to disperse the crowd. With a nod of your head, the guards allow the two of you some privacy.

Almost an hour passes of him crying into your arms, begging you not to abandon him and demanding you say his name over and over again.

Finally, his tears run out and he’s left sniffling with his eyes swollen shut from the salty tears.

“You love me, right?” he whispers, staring up at you from his position in your arms. You sigh and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, I love you ___.”

He smiles with his red puffy eyes and tear stained face.

“I love you, too…” he whispers before he passes out, the exhaustion finally taking over. You try to move but even unconscious, his grip is tight and unrelenting.

You sigh and let him cling to you. You’re glad that he likes the name you’ve given him but you’re a bit concerned on how much importance he’s placed on it. As you relax in his hold, you fail to realize that simply typing in a cluster of letters into a game has set your fate in stone and that no matter how hard you try to deviate from it’s tracks, you’ll never be free from it’s grasp.

[xxchumanixx]

No problem ma dear. I'm sure you're going to make the absolute freaking best our of my request. Happy to hear that you are going to make a story out of it 🥹♥️

Restoring faith

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tag: fluff, language, comfort, angst, hurt, readers ex was abusive, grumpy Tim (yes, he's a warning), not entirely proof read yet Word count: 5.933 Authors note: Hello love, thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing it, and again, I'm sorry for losing the original request (but, tell you what, I managed to get the request at least copied and pasted, because I hadn't closed tumblr on my laptop yesterday and it was still there (even though it was just a bug, but hey, i managed to copy the text)) Fun fact: My daughters name is gonna be Hailee one day (If I ever get a daughter). Also, I might have messed a little with the timeline (in terms of Celina appearing a little earlier) Here's the original request:

"I currently can't stop thinking about Tim Bradford so I came up with this grumpy Tim request, cause I need grumpy Tim becoming the protective sweet guy he is. Tim has a new neighbor, a single mom. Afraid that now his peace and quiet in his home will be over, he's convinced of the contrary when reader's little girl wrapped the grumpy neighbor around her little fingers.  

Reader wants to start a new life away from her abusive ex and so she moved states with her daughter. Tim instantly melts when the cute little girl gets bubbly when she sees Tim. 

In the meantime Tim has a suspicion why reader is a single mom, she flinches when there're loud noises or when he gets too close to her. One night she wanted to do something in her apartment and fell from the ladder hitting her head hard. Her daughter runs to Tim telling him her mommy is hurt. Reader has a bad concussion and at first doesn't recognize Tim thinking it's her ex hurting her. From that moment her secret is revealed and Tim swears to himself he's going to protect these two at all costs. Perhaps we can also see Tim nursing her back to health with her concussion 😱🙃🥹 "

Now, without further ado, enjoy!

"Hailee?"  

Rolling your eyes you sat the box in your hands down. Where did she go now? "Hailee?" you repeated louder, leaving the kitchen to go look for your daughter.  

Leaving the house you saw her at your car, with a stranger.  

"Hailee!" you called, as you suddenly panicked, running towards her. The stranger took a step back, holding up his hands.  

Stopping in front of your daughter, shielding her as you softly pushed her behind you, you looked up at the stranger.  

"Can I help you?" you asked, heart racing. 

Did he find you? But he was in jail - he shouldn't even know you moved states.  

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." the man returned, smiling slightly. "My name's Tim Bradford, I'm your neighbor. I saw that your daughter was alone and I just wanted to make sure she's okay."  

Eyes widening, you sighed in relief.  

"Sorry, I just-" you started, but cut yourself off. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. We just moved here. Nice to meet you." He nodded, eyes wandering over the many boxes in and around your car. 

"Do you need help?" he asked, motioning at the boxes. "Oh..." you made, swallowing. "Yeah, some help would be nice, thank you." He smiled, a smile that caused you to return it.  

"Okay..." he mumbled, randomly picking one of the boxes and starting to walk towards the house. Picking up a box as well, you let Hailee walk in front of you, following Tim.  

He stood in the entryway, looking around. "Where do these boxes go?" he wanted to know. Reading what was written on the side of the box you motioned for the living room.  

He nodded, putting the box down.  

His eyes wandered over the numerous kids toys already scattered on the floor, cocking a brow.  

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you put your box down beside his.  

"She loves these toys, she's five." you explained, licking your bottom lip. He didn't seem too convinced of a five-year-old in his neighborhood, but you wouldn't let him judge early. 

Motioning outside, he walked out, picking up another box.  

"Hailee, honey, would you please stay here and wait for mommy and Tim to get the boxes inside?" you asked of her, motioning at the toys. She nodded, sitting down on a blanket and grabbing a few of her barbies.  

Nodding to yourself you walked outside, as Tim met you halfway, box in hand. 

It took an hour for you to bring all of the boxes inside, but when you were done you sighed in relief.  

"Thank you so much." you thanked Tim, handing him a beer. "I wish I could invite you for a dinner as a thanks, but my kitchen isn't ready for cooking yet, so more than takeout isn't possible for tonight." 

"Oh, don't worry, me and my girlfriend are going out for dinner tonight." he responded, smiling as he sipped his beer. 

His girlfriend. 

Damn, you should have known that a man this handsome would be in a relationship. 

Keeping a straight face, you nodded. "Well then, even better." you told him, smiling.  

When he was gone you and your daughter decided what to eat. "What about chicken nuggets?" you asked, watching her, as she drew flowers. 

"And fries?" Her eyes lit up, as she looked at you, hopefully. "Fries and nuggets for the lady it is, then." you told her, smiling. She cheered, eating a blueberry, before she continued drawing. 

_____ 

It had been a month, since you and Hailee moved into the house.  

The boxes had been unpacked and the house looked finished. You had seen Tim a few times, had talked to him and met his girlfriend Ashley.  

She seemed nice. 

Your new job had already begun, and Hailee was at the kindergarden. It seemed all good, letting you breathe more freely, since you moved states.  

Tim seemed hesitant whenever Hailee was near, like he was afraid she could disturb his peace, the quietness that convinced you to move to this street. 

You had just been grocery shopping, Hailee was playing with a stuffed animal you had bought for her, whilst you were unloading the car, when Tims truck parked in his driveway. 

He got out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, as he saw you. Coming over, he greeted you. "Hey." you gave back, heart pumping a little faster. 

Even though he was in a relationship, that didn't mean that he wasn't handsome.  

His eyes briefly wandered to Hailee, who was playing with the stuffed animal, making sounds to emphasize it. He bit his cheek, not seeming convinced that she wouldn't start shouting any second. 

Clearing your throat you averted his attention back to you. "How is Ashley?" you asked, smiling. He stiffened, biting his cheek, but he tried to cover it up. "Oh, she's doing great." he lied, wearing a tight lipped smile. 

Biting your lip, you nodded. You weren't bad at profiling people, but you could've still been wrong about it. 

"How was work?" he wanted to know, adjusting his backpack. "Oh, it was great." you told him, nodding with a smile. "The coworkers are very nice, I think I'll stay."  

He nodded, and you made a little more smalltalk, before you realized that you had groceries that needed to be cooled.  

Apologizing, you said goodbye, before you and Hailee went inside. You looked back over your shoulder, seeing as he did the same. He waved goodbye, and you did the same, before closing the door. 

"Mommy?" Hailee asked, sitting down on the couch as you began to unpack the paperbags. You hummed, signalling for her to continue. "Why did Tim lie to you?"  

Eyes widening, you halted for a second, before you continued to pack the grocieries into the fridge. 

"What makes you think that he lied?" you wanted to know, surprised about her even noticing. "He..." she paused, searching for the right words. "He seemed like he didn't like your question."  

Huffing to yourself, you smiled. She clearly came after you. 

"You know, honey, sometimes people don't like to talk about their private life." you told her, continuing to unpack some fruits. "If he doesn't want to talk about breaking up with his girlfriend, than that's okay." 

"But mommy, you told me not to lie." she gave back, brows furrowing. "Lying is bad."  

You nodded, walking over to her with a small juice box with a tiger on it. Handing her the box, you sat down beside her. "That's right." you agreed, as she took the box and opened it. "But some things are private. And maybe he's just too hurt right now, to talk about it." 

Drinking the juice, she nodded. "Okay." she spoke, after putting the juice down on the coffee table. "Can I have some cookies?" Laughing, you shook your head. "No, honey, we'll cook now - cookies later." 

_____ 

The next day was your day off. Hailee stayed at home as well, so you could spend some time with her.  

You were baking, Hailee helping with the batter. Going through the list of things you needed for the batter, you noticed, that you didn't buy milk. 

"Damn it." you mumbled, biting your lip. "Dam-" Hailee wanted to mimick you, but you shut her up, your hand over her mouth as you sent her a pointed look. 

She grinned, causing you to shake your head, a smile on your lips, as you let go of her.  

You had real luck with her. She was a calm kid, one that wasn't stubborn or petulant - only in the right ways.  

Not like her father. 

Contemplating where to get milk from without driving to the next store, you bit your lip. 

You could go to Tim and ask him. 

"Hailee, what do you say if we ask Tim for some milk?" you asked your daughter, whose eyes lit up at the mention of him. She seemed to have grown a liking to him. 

"Okay." you mumbled, helping her down from the kitchen aisle. She ran forward and to the front door, before you stopped her. "Do you really want to go to Tim with your Frozen slippers?" you asked, cocking a brow. 

She blushed, giggling. "Do you think he likes Elsa, too?" she wanted to know, eyes sparkling. Chuckling, you kneeled down to help her into her boots.  

"I bet he loves her, just as much as you do." you told her, smiling. Giggling again, she slipped into the boots, the little lights on them flashing in multiple colors.  

Opening the door, she ran foward. Luckily Tims house was next to yours, so you didn't have to worry about her running out on the street.  

Picking her up, you helped her to ring the doorbell. It took a few seconds, in which you sat her down again, for Tim to open the door. 

His eyes widened slightly, as he saw you. "Hi." you greeted, blushing a little. "Hey." he returned, eyes narrowing. "We're sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to bake and I forgot to buy milk." you explained, sending him a crooked smile, as you wrung your hands nervously.  

"Do you happen to have some spare, that we can borrow?" His brows rose, one corner of his mouth turning upwards. "Borrow?"  

Biting your lip, you chuckled. "Yeah, with the intention to buy a new one." you explained. He huffed in amusement, before he nodded. "Sure, just give me a second." he told you, before he disappeared back into the house. 

A few seconds later, he returned, handing you the milk. You shrinked back, flinching, before you reminded yourself that he didn't want to cause you any harm. 

His mouth slightly opened, as his arm sank down a little, brows furrowing. Taking the milk from him, you breathed in deeply, trying to cover your reaction up. "Thank you." you nodded, forcing yourself to smile. "I'm gonna go grocery shopping tomorrow, then I'll get you a new one." 

He nodded as well, still a little confused from your reaction.  

When he was about to say goodbye, Hailee spoke up, holding up the new stuffed animal. "This is mr. Bubbles." she told him. You hadn't noticed her bringing it along.  

It was an elefant in the shape of a teacup. She had instantly loved it, after discovering it at the kids section.  

Tim looked at you, like he was looking for help. Motioning at your daughter with your head, you smiled a little. He looked down at her, inspecting the toy.  

"Cool." he told her, forcing himself to smile. "Looks... interesting." She giggled, not noticing his discomfort. But you did. Swallowing, your hand found her back. "Say bye to Tim." you told her. "Bye Tim!" she shouted, already running towards your front door.  

Clearing your throat, you nodded at him. "See you." He nodded in return. "Yeah, see you." 

Sighing on your way back, you swallowed.  

He clearly wasn't fond of the idea of a child next door.  

_____ 

When the pie and muffins were done, you sighed. 

Your kitchen looked like shit. 

Starting to clean up, your daughter came up to you, chewing on a muffin. "Do you think Tim would like some muffins?" she wanted to know, batting her lashes. 

Licking your lip, you knew exactly what she tried to do.  

But the amount of muffins you had baked, convinced you to say yes - right after her hopeful eyes. 

Nodding, you started to pack some muffins into a box. "I bet he'll like a few muffins." you agreed, smiling encouragingly down at her. She jumped in excitement, waiting for you to put the muffins into the box. 

"Do you want to give him the muffins?" you asked your daughter. She nodded, smiling brightly, as you handed her the box. 

Humming to herself she walked to the front door, slipping into her boots, as she patiently waited for you to follow. 

When you were both ready, you left the house, walking over to Tims. Ringing the doorbell, you waited for him. When he opened the door, Hailee was the first to speak.  

"Hi Tim, I have muffins for you!" 

His brows rose, mouth agape. Swallowing, he licked his lips, crouching down to get a better look at the box in Hailee's hands.  

You were surprised that he did so, after he was so hesitant towards her before.  

"We want to cheer you up!" Hailee told him, smiling brightly. Tims gaze wandered towards you, brow cocked in a silent question, but Hailee was faster than you. 

"Mommy said that you broke up with your girlfriend." she explained, causing his eyes to harden. Your mouth opened, but you kept silent. "When I'm said, I ask my mommy to have some sweets. So I thought, you could use some as well, so you wouldn't be sad anymore."  

He nodded slowly, biting on the inside of his lip. 

God damn it. Kids and their fast mouths. 

"Thank you, Hailee." he told her, smiling at her, as he took the box from her hands. Then he stood back up, gaze fixed on you. "Listen-" you started, but he cut you off. "Thanks for the muffins." he told you, before he went back inside his house, closing the door. 

"Mommy?" Hailee tried to gather your attention, tugging at your sleeve as your gaze was glued to the door. "Did I do something wrong?"  

Looking at your daughter, you knelt in front of her. "No, honey, you did nothing wrong." you told her, stroking her arms lovingly. "He just didn't know, that we know about him breaking up with Ashley."  

Her eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry!" she apologized, eyes watering. Hugging her, you stroked her back. "Don't be, precious. It's all fine." "Is he angry with me now?" she cried, causing your heart to ache.  

The last time she said these words, her father had yelled at her for letting a cup of water drop to the floor.  

It was the last time she had seen him. 

Sighing to yourself, you picked her up. One of the curtains moved, as you walked past them and back to your house.  

Did he see Hailee cry?  

Shaking your head, you stepped inside, closing the door, before setting Hailee down to remove her shoes.  

"Are you angry at me?"  

Your brows furrowed at her question, as you shook your head. "No!" you told her, brushing some hair out of her face. "I'm not angry at you, honey. You did nothing wrong. But, next time, I would be grateful if something like this stays between us, okay? I'm not angry, Hailee."  

She looked up at you with big, round eyes, sticking out her pinky towards you. "Pinky promise?" she asked and you nodded, as your pinky curled around hers. "Pinky promise." 

_____ 

A few days later, the box you had brought Tim sat on your porch, cleaned and emptied.  

Hailee was at the kindergarden, as you came home. Your work ended earliy, so you had some spare time until you had to pick her up. 

Taking the box, you wanted to open the door, as someone cleared their throat behind you. You flinched, instantly trying to shield yourself, as you turned around. 

It was Tim. 

Letting go of the breath you had held in, your heart hammered in your chest.  

"Hi." you said out of breath, as his brows furrowed in worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, licking his bottom lip. Nodding, you adjusted your bag, as it slid down your shoulder.  

"Everythings fine." you assured him, swallowing. "Just easy to startle, thats all." He nodded, before he cleared his throat. "Listen, I appreciate the muffins - I really do -, but my love life is something I'd like to keep private." he explained. "Yes, Ashley and I broke up, but thats my business, not yours." 

Your cheeks reddened, growing hot.  

"I'm sorry." you apologized, fumbling with the strap of your bag. "My daughter - she was just curious, she thought that you might have not been honest when I asked about Ashley. I know that its not my business, really. I just told her that you might not want to talk about it, and that she shouldn't worry about it. I didn't think much of it."  

He took a deep breath and you flinched again - you just couldn't help it.  

"Is really everything okay?" he asked. You knew it wasn't what he initially wanted to say. "Mhm." you made, biting your lip. He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press further. 

"Its okay, I just wanted to make clear that its my business." he spoke instead, sending you a crooked smile that was surely meant to lighten the mood a little.  

Nodding, you agreed. "Yeah, I totally get that. Won't happen again." He nodded as well, a light smile gracing his lips. "Okay, thanks for the muffins again." he said, taking a few steps backwards. "They were great." With that he turned, walking to his truck. 

Only then did you notice the backpack resting on his back, indicating that he was off to work. You didn't know what he worked as, but it seemed to be in shifts. 

Getting inside, you breathed in deeply. 

He seemed reserved, but he was nice enough.  

_____ 

A week later, you and Hailee were at a BBQ hosted by one of your neighbors. You couldn't help but look out for Tim, waiting for him to appear.  

The atmosphere was nice, the people were all friendly and open. Hailee was playing with a few kids around her age, as you were sipping some coke.  

The food was almost ready and you slowly lost hope that he'd still come. 

The fire crackled, heating up, as it suddenly banged, something inside it most likely having caused a reaction. 

You flinched, shrinking together almost unnoticably, as you frantically looked for Hailee. Finding her, still playing chase with the other kids, you breathed a sigh of relief, slowly calming down. 

But, as one of your neighbors - Jeff - pushed another - Henry -, they started to fight. Walking over to Hailee, taking her by the hand, you made sure to be out of harms way, as the men punched at each other. 

When no one was able to stop them, Monica, the wife of Henry, called the police. 

It took them only a few minutes, in which Henry knocked Jeff out, to arrive. When they entered the garden, you couldn't believe, who it was. 

Tim. 

"Mommy!" Hailee whisper-yelled. "Its Tim!" You nodded, somehow flooded with relief. He was a cop. He was one of the safest neighbors you could have. 

Tim and the other officer, a young woman, took a few statements, as you others waited. When they were done, Hailee let go of your hand and before you could have stopped her, she was on her way towards Tim. 

You followed her, sighing. 

"Hi Tim!" she greeted him, smiling up at him. He blinked a few times in confusion, before he smiled, kneeling down in front of her. "Hey Hailee." he greeted her, before his eyes landed on you.  

"Hi, sorry for that." you apologized, blushing. "I couldn't stop her. I think she's excited that you're a cop." He smiled, huffing quietly. "Don't worry." he told you, as you greeted the other officer - officer Chen.  

"It was all fine, until that douchebag-" you cut yourself off, as you squinted your eyes. "Until Jeff pushed Henry." you corrected yourself, sending Hailee a warning look not to repeat what you accidentally said. 

"Don't worry, we have them under control now." officer Chen told you, smiling slightly at Hailee, who seemed far more excited to see a cop, than some others would have been. 

You nodded, thanking her, as Hailee started to ask Tim questions about the various things clipped to his belt. He chuckled at her curiosity, explaining what the things were. 

You huffed to yourself, a little confused.  

She seemed to have him wrapped around her little fingers, after all.

That would surely get interesting. 

_____ 

A few days had passed since the BBQ, leaving you to think more and more about Seargent Bradford.  

You had learned that he was a Sergeant, working for the LAPD. That explained the shifts.  

You were currently trying to fix a light that bothered you for quite some time now. Sometimes, it would work, sometimes not. 

Even though you were afraid of heights, you had climbed up the old ladder that you found in your basement, having your fingers crossed that it wouldn't shatter under your weight. 

Hailee was sat in the living room, playing with her dolls, as you tried to reach the lightbulb. Taking a shaky breath, you stretched a little further, as you suddenly slipped. 

Losing your balance you fell, your head hitting the ground rather hard. Your sight blurred, as you heard your daughter call out for you.  

She seemed to panic and you wanted to tell her that you would be alright, but you couldn't, as suddenly, the lights went out. 

"Tim!" Hailee called, crying as she frantically kocked on his door. "Tim!"  

The door opened, revealing Tim who looked down at the little girl with worry in his eyes, it only intensifying at her tear stained face. 

"Whats wrong?" he wanted to know, crouching down. "M-My mommy!" she called out, sobbing. "Its my mommy!"  

As fast as he could he picked her up, running towards the open front door of her house. Cursing at himself for not bringing his weapon, he slowly inched forward and into the living room, where her mother lay unconcious.  

"Fuck!" he breathed out, setting Hailee down and calling an ambulance, before he approached her mother. 

"Y/N?" you heard someone call out your name, luring you back into conciousness. "Y/N!"  

Your eyes slowly opened, trying to make sense of the blur you saw. "Hey, what happened?" the person who called out your name wanted to know. Its silhouette came into view and your eyes widened, as you sat up and inched backwards. 

"No, no, no, no!" you breathed out, as the person followed you, before your back hit the wall. "No!" you shouted, as he wanted to grab you, shielding your face with your hands. 

"Why are you here?" you wanted to know, as tears made their way out of your eyes. "You should be in jail, Robert!"  

He halted, you could sense it. "What?" he said, sounding confused. "Who's Robert?" He must have been messing with you, after all you were sure it was him you were seeing. 

"Go away!" you yelled, crying as your thoughts were with your daughter. "Where is Hailee?" "She's here, sitting on the couch." he told you, crouching down in front of you, as he carefully grabbed your hands, removing them from your face.  

"It's me, Tim." he explained, as your view slowly got clearer. "What?" you breathed, searching his face for any indication that it wasn't Tim. But you found none. 

"What happened?" you wanted to know, as you heard sirens. "Hailee came over, calling out for me." he explained, swallowing, as his gaze never left yours. "She said it's her mommy, so I grabbed her and went looking. You were unconscious. I assume you fell down the ladder?"  

Looking over at the ladder, you flinched. Your head exploded. 

"Don't move your head too much." he advised, as paramedics entered the room. "You might have a concussion." 

The paramedics asked what happened and Tim explained, saying that you were unconscious when he found you, that you had fallen off the ladder.  

They put you on a stretcher, securing your head and neck.  

"Wait," you told them, eyes widening. "What about my daughter?" The paramedics looked at each other, as Tim spoke up. "We'll drive after you to the hospital." he assured you. "Okay, thank you." 

He nodded, before you were brought to the ambulance. 

_____

Once you were checked, the doctor, Dr. Sierra, told you the results.

"You have a concussion, miss Y/L/N." she said, reading through the papers she held in hand. Tim and Hailee were at your side, your daughter sitting on your bed.

"We made a scan to see if you have other injuries and requested the data from the hospital in Ohio, which you used to visit rather often, as I see." the doctor continiued, and you swallowed.

Your cheeks got warmer, as she closed the chart.

"There were multiple traumata, broken bones and other injuries." she explained what you already knew. Glancing at Tim she sent you a silent question, but you shook your head.

"No, he's in jail." you explained quietly, fumbling with the bedsheet. The doctor nodded, seemingly relieved.

"You can go in the morning, if your condition stays good." she explained, before she bid you goodbye.

The room grew silent, the only noise being the bedsheets you fisted rather aggressively.

You sensed that Tim had questions; he wanted to know what happened and more importantly, why you were so scared of him at first.

Sighing, you contemplated where your daughter was supposed to stay the night. She couldn't sleep at the hospital, they wouldn't allow it.

Swallowing, you looked at Tim.

"Can I ask you something?" you wanted to know quietly, brushing through your daughters hair absentmindedly. "Sure." he gave back, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"You don't have to say yes of course..." you started, looking away for a split second. "But, can Hailee stay at your place tonight?" You prayed he would say yes, otherwise you didn't know where else she could stay at.

He nodded, as he bit his cheek.

"Of course." he said. "Where else should she go, when she could cuddle with Kojo?" He smiled, one that made your heart flutter despite the headache that was killing you.

"Thank you, Tim." you returned sincerely, smiling back through the pain. He nodded, before he brushed over his chin, thinking about something. You patiently waited for him, as Hailee played a game on your phone.

It wasn't the best way to keep her occupied, but right now it had to do, especially if it meant she was distracted enough to not listen to you two.

"I don't know what happened back then, but maybe you want to talk to me about it tomorrow?" he offered, sincerity in his eyes. "Or whenever you feel ready."

He was right. He deserved to know.

You nodded, flinching at the pain that shot through your head at the movement. He nodded in return, before he stood. "Hailee, what do you think about ice cream and nuggets?" he wanted to know, looking down at her.

She looked at you, unsure, but you smiled at her.

"Go with Tim, honey." you told her, hugging her. "He'll look after you tonight, whilst mommy stays at the hospital. You can trust him."

She nodded, kissing your cheek and you did the same. "I love you, buttercup." you told her, causing her to smile. "I love you too, mommy."

Tim picked her up, deciding to carry her to the car, as you handed him your keys.

"She's gonna sleep when you're at the car." you whispered, and he nodded, grinning. "I know." he mouthed back, before he said goodbye.

Your daughter waved over his shoulder at you, and you waved back, smiling at her.

_____

The next morning, Tim came with Hailee to pick you up.

Your daughter was excited, jumping into your arms after not having seen you for a couple hours. You hugged her tightly, making her giggle as you tickled her.

Tim smiled, he seemed to be in a good mood.

Not grumpy anymore.

The doctor had dismissed you earlier, right before Tim and Hailee arrived.

When you left the room, walking into the waiting area, you were greeted by two officers. "Sergeant Bradford." one of them greeted him, a man that seemed around his forties.

"Nolan." Tim returned, nodding at him, before he looked at the woman beside him. "Juarez." She nodded in return, greeting him as well, before her gaze landed on you and Hailee, eyes widening.

"Oh, is this your girlfriend?" she asked curiously, but still a little hesitant. Your mouth opened, eyes widening as well.

Why was it so hard for you to respond, suddenly?

Clearing his throat, Tim looked at you, before he looked back at officer Juarez. "No, but she's a friend." he told her. "What are you doing here?"

Officer Nolan seemed hesitant, before he answered Tims question. "We have arrested a robber, but he fell, and we just wanted to make sure, that he's okay, before we bring him in."

Tim nodded, but you were sure there was more behind the story.

He motioned towards the exit, and you nodded. "Was nice to meet you." you told the officers, before you followed Tim out of the hospital and towards his truck.

When you arrived home, you weren't sure how to thank Tim for looking after Hailee, whilst you were at the hospital. Should you invite him for dinner?

Getting out of the truck, you helped Hailee to get out as well. Your head still hurt a little, but it was already better than hours ago, thanks to the painkillers they gave you at the hospital.

"I have a few days off from work, so I can help you with a few things." Tim spoke up, when you and your daughter rounded the truck and came to a stop beside him.

Mouth agape, you looked at him in shock.

"You don't need to do that." you told him, still grateful, but he shook his head. "I want to. Your concussion isn't gone after a day, and you need to rest or otherwise it could get even worse."

Biting your lip, you nodded carefully.

"Thank you, Tim" you gave back. "I really mean it." He smiled slightly, walking towards your front door and you followed him with Hailee by your side.

"You can thank me by getting well."

_____

A few days had gone by, in which Tim had helped you with a few things. He played with Hailee, so you could take a nap or a bath, or would help to cook, so you wouldn't overstrain yourself.

He was different than before.

His grumpiness was all gone, replaced by a person as sweet as the muffins you and Hailee had baked together.

You weren't sure how he got to take these days off from work, but you were grateful for it. One time he was called to the station, because of an emergency that had occurred, but he came straight back afterwards.

You had gotten to learn a few things about him during the days you had spent together, about his past and the things he had seen in his life.

Deciding to make pizza, you made the dough with him helping you, kneading it with his big and strong hands.

Hailee had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from playing with him. She only had fallen more for him during the last few days. She really liked him, and so did you, you had to admit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim asked, looking up from the dough.

You knew what he meant, still you had a lump in your throat at the thought of it. Biting your lip, you nodded. He deserved to know, if not for saving you, then for his help during the last couple days.

"I married rather young." you began, licking your lip, as you wiped your hands on a towel. "I was dumb and naive, not having seen the obvious warning signs that came with Robert."

He nodded, as his suspicions about the name you had called him, after you hit your head, were proved true.

"He was abusive." you continued, eyes watering as you bit your lip to stop the tears that threatened to spill. "Even when I was pregnant with Hailee he didn't stop. He took drugs, drank a lot. He used me as his very own punching bag, letting out his anger on me."

You breathed in deeply, leaning against the kitchen counter, as he continued to knead the dough, still listening.

"Half a year ago, he got arrested. He sold drugs, but the cops caught him. When he was finally gone, I made sure to get the divorce through as fast as possible, before we moved here. He'll be in jail for twelve years."

His brows furrowed, as he paused.

"For selling drugs?" he asked, confused. Shaking your head, you swallowed. "Homicide." you breathed, clearing your throat as your eyes filled with tears again. "After he got arrested, they found out that he had killed someone only a few days prior. He was able to make a deal."

He sighed, nodding as it made sense now.

"That's why you flinch, when there's loud noise or when someone gets too close." he concluded, setting the dough aside, wiping his hands clean on a towel.

You nodded, looking away for a split second, before you reminded yourself that you could trust him, looking back up.

"It's something I adapted after all these years with him."

You covered the dough up, so it could rise. It felt good, talking about it with him. Tim cleaned the countertop, before he put the cloth in the sink, drying his hands.

"Now you're safe." he told you, his eyes finding yours. "I promise. I'm gonna protect you and Hailee, as long as you let me." You nodded, cheeks heating up. You already felt safer than you had during the last years, all because of his presence.

“You have some flour on your cheek.” he told you, motioning towards it. You tried to remove it, but he shook his head. “Let me.” he mumbled, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek, removing the flour.

For the first time in years, you didn’t flinch at the contact. 

His thumb rested on your cheek, as his breath fanned over your face, causing your heart to race dangerously fast. Slowly, he leaned closer, your noses brushing as you did the same. 

Your lips softly made contact, his slowly moving against yours. You leaned more in his direction, deepening the kiss. His lips felt perfect, like they had been made to be kissed by yours.

His hands found their way to your hips, tugging you closer, as yours rested on his muscular chest. You knew that it was muscular, because you could feel it through the shirt he wore.

He softly guided your head back with his lips, deepening the kiss even more. His tongue brushed over your lip, asking for entrance.

You gladly granted it.

The kiss was soft, not demanding. His tongue brushed yours, fingers lightly digging into your hips.

Your hands went upwards, one finding his cheek, as the other stopped at his neck.

Only when you almost suffocated, did you break the kiss. It definitely was worth it.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, his gaze finding yours. "What do you say," he started, hand resting on your cheek, sending a warmth through your body, that you hadn't felt in years. "if we go out for dinner?"

You smiled up at him, having a hard time to believe the luck you had. How could someone this perfect be interested in you?

"I'd love to go out for dinner with you, Tim." you told him, causing him to smile as well, before his lips connected with yours again.

It felt like he filled you with energy through his kisses. They caused something inside you to come alive again, only tearing apart as you suddenly heard your daughter behind you.

"Ew, mommy!"

[illubean]

Miniskirt ♡

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto Type: NSFW, NoCurse!au, Fem!Reader, Bi!SatoSugu

wrote this cus @maddie-jayne put the idea out there 😏 mayhaps an alternate ver/part 2 where Geto is in the skirt next?

Warnings: NSFW reader discretion advised (threesome, crossdressing, sub!Gojo, switch!Geto & reader, handjobs, blowjobs, satosugu are kissboys, maybe butt stuff, Geto is a lil mean, they touch bananas, gojo gets called princess, just FILTH) also this ended up being very long so yeah

It was unusual for Geto to come home without being greeted by at least one of his partners. Usually one, if not both of you, would get home before him and await his return, greeting him sweetly the minute he steps through the door. But today, there was nothing. He could tell that both you and Gojo were home, judging by the fact your shoes were left on the rack and house slippers now missing.

Confused, the black haired man took his shoes off and set his things down before heading up to your shared bedroom. As he neared, he heard muted giggles coming from behind the partially closed door.

Geto opened the door fully to find Gojo sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in your clothes while you stood in front of him with a tube of lip gloss in your hand. Gojo was in one of your frilly pink tops with a white miniskirt to match, makeup having just gotten finished as you reached towards your makeup bag to restore it's contents and move it to the floor.

The white haired man was the first to notice the presence of your boyfriend, leaning against the doorframe with a sly smirk on his face.

"We'll it looks like you two had fun today."

You jumped, slightly startled by his sudden appearance and turned around to face Geto.

"Welcome home, Sugu! Isn't our 'toru so pretty?"

You placed your hands around his slim waist, guiding him to stand up and show Suguru the whole fit.

"I think he's beautiful, my love."

He approaches the both of you, giving each of you a quick kiss on the lips. Satoru had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this entire ordeal, a light blush dusting his cheeks that Suguru wasn't able to notice until he got closer. Upon noticing this, he grabs the white haired man's face and directs him to look into his eyes.

"What's the matter sweetheart?"

"It's nothing. I'm okay-"

A sinister giggle sounded at his response, as both men turned to look at you; Geto confused and Gojo flustered. You grip the bottom of Gojo's (or really your) skirt and flipped it up to show Suguru what was underneath.

Satoru's cock strained against a pair of your panties, pink lace barely able to contain much of anything. It left little to the imagination. He tried to reach for your hands and pull the skirt back down, but you only swatted his hands away and pulled him to sit against your chest while you settled against the headboard of your shared bed.

"C'mon 'toru, the whole point of this was to see how pretty you are. Don't get shy now."

The man let out a whimper as you reached your hands around to his front, slipping your hands underneath the shirt you put him in to caress his abs, making your way up to his perky nipples. All of Satoru's usual confidence melted away as you touched him, all while Suguru watched. You pulled one of your hands away from Satoru, using it to beckon the black haired male towards the two of you as you planted hot, open mouth kisses against Satoru's neck.

Suguru obliged, settling between Satoru's legs as he leaned in to give him a passionate kiss on the lips. The white haired man moaned and whined into his boyfriend's mouth while you continued to touch his overly sensitive nipples, leaving a trail of hickeys down his neck.

You maneuver yourself from behind Satoru, settling beside the two men to reach between them and free your snowy-haired boyfriend's weeping cock from it's dainty confines. A pleasured yelp leaves his kiss bitten lips which gets swallowed up by Suguru as you offered a few languid strokes.

Satoru grips the back of Suguru's shirt, pulling away from him momentarily, panting from the lack of air and the feeling of your thumb stroking his leaky tip.

"Thouch me more. Please," he whines, craving more than the lazy flicks of your wrist that you're giving him. Chucking, you turn to see Suguru beginning to get just as flustered, ears burning red and cock straining painfully against his trousers. You tug against the ravenette's waistband, signaling for him to press himself impossibly closer to Satoru as you make quick work of freeing him as well.

He scoots closer, both of their members now touching as you grip both of them, jerking them both off at the same time. A satisfied groan leaves Suguru as Satoru lets out shallow, whiny breaths, hips twitching into your touch.

"I knew Satoru was easy, but are you really so worked up already? It was only a little kissing, Sugu," you teased. One hand rested at the base of their cocks, steadying them as you lean down to spit on their tips, mixing with the slick of precum and aiding the glide of your other hand.

"'m not easy!" Satoru whines, despite the pulsing of his cock. All of you knew it didn't take much for him to finish, and by the blush that made its way across his face and down to his shoulders he was close.

"'Course not, princess. Lets see how many times you can cum before Suguru does, hm?"

As if on cue, Satoru's back arches against the headboard as a loud moan leaves his lips, cum spurting over your hand and onto your other boyfriend's cock as well. You continued your ministrations, ignoring the white haired man's pathetic pleas as he continued to twitch against your hand.

"Too much! 'S too much-"

"Come on, baby, I haven't even gotten to finish yet," Suguru quips, cutting the white haired man off by gripping his face. Tears pricked at the corner of his baby blue eyes, his body feeling hot and overstimulated. There was nothing he could do but just sit there and take it, your strokes never faltering and Suguru pulling him into a heated kiss.

You watched as their tongues tangle together, pressing your thighs together at the erotic scene. You'd be lying if you said all of this didn't have an affect on you. Seeing both of your boyfriends make out in front of you with their cocks pressed together between your hands had your pussy drooling.

You settle yourself between the two men, tongue poking out to swipe across both of them before your lips wrapped around their blushing heads. Suguru grunts, pulling away from Satoru's lips to bite harshly into his shoulder. Your snowy haired boyfriends moans and whimpers got increasingly louder, his eyes lidded with a mix of lust and embarrassment as tears of pleasure slipped down his cheeks.

"W-wait! If you do that I'm gonna- Ohh, I'm cumming!!"

Satoru's moans were borderline pornographic as he reached his second climax of the night, spilling your seed into your mouth as his hips jutted upwards.

His rosy, tear stained cheeks and the feeling of your tongue was enough to push Suguru over the edge, finishing shortly after his boyfriend's second orgasm.

You caught as much of their seed as you could, sitting up and pulling Suguru into a filthy kiss, sharing the taste of both him and Satoru. The ravenette groans, hand wrapping around to the back of your neck to pull you even closer.

Satoru sat himself up completely, pawing at the both of you. In typical Satoru manner, he couldn't bear not having all eyes on him, even if he was just complaining about how the attention was too much. Suguru releases you as you lean in to kiss your other boyfriend, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You're such a needy bitch, 'toru."

"Sugu, don't be mean!"

"But I'm right, aren't I? Besides, you haven't gotten much action, pretty. So good to us, we can't forget about her now, can we?" Suguru purrs, reaching a hand into the waistband of your shorts. His fingers slid over the wet spot of your panties. You gasp as he presses them firmly against your clothed clit.

You move to position yourself in front of Satoru, skirt flipped up, cock still impossibly hard and in full display. Suguru was stood behind you, removing the rest of his own clothing before stripping you as well. He caresses the smoothness of your ass, aligning himself with your entrance while he looked down at the both of you.

"God, both of you are so pretty like this," he moans as he bottoms out. You let out a shaky breath at the newfound intrusion to your warmth, nuzzling your face into Satoru and placing kisses across his length.

"That's right, just focus on him, baby. Focus on 'toru while I take care of this pussy."

You whine as Suguru took you from behind, trying your best to focus while begging to suck Satoru off. His fingers laced through your hair while you took him in, one hand fondling his balls while the other teased at the rim of his puckered hole.

He squealed as you pushed one of your fingers into him, pulling at the stands of your hair with his back arched. His reaction had you clenching around Suguru, which draws pleasured noises out of him as well.

Suguru pumped his length into you with incredible speed, cock head reaching depths you otherwise wouldn't know existed. The added resistance of you clenching around him made it all the more pleasurable as you felt the glide of every single ridge and vein inside of you. One hand rested against your hip while the other wrapped around you to rub your clit.

This causes you to pull off of Satoru with a loud yelp. You pant as you rest your face against one of his thighs, one hand leaving his balls to stroke his length. You pushed a second finger into his ass, pumping them in and out as they curled into his prostate. Satoru was already quick to finish, but the simulation from both ends has him nutting once again, spurts coating your hand and face. If things keep going like this, he'll end up shooting blanks.

You let out a fucked out giggle, finally giving the guy's dick a break. Your hands caressed lovingly over his milky thighs, only to grip them tightly as Suguru pulls your head up by the front of your throat.

He held you flush against his chest, bullying his cock deep inside of you while still playing with your poor clit. You turn your head to look at him. At some point, his bun came undone and now his inky black locks spilt down over his shoulders. He plants his mouth on yours, tongue swirling with yours momentarily before he pulls away. Strings of spit kept you connected before wearing thin and breaking, dark eyes staring passionately into your own.

"Look at 'toru, baby. I want you to look at him, show him how good we make you feel."

With his demand he moved his grip to your cheeks, thrusting into you with vigor as you made eye contact with the snowy haired man in front of you.

His bright eyes were still damp from his tears, droplets clinging to his lashes like crystals. His chest heaved as he continued to recover from the pure ecstasy he felt moments before, dick sticky and spent, laying against his abs.

You moaned at the sight before you, eyes rolling back as you came around Suguru. His hips continued to smack against your ass, heavy balls swinging before you hear a soft 'oh, fuck' as his seed spills into you. Suguru stills for a moment, releasing all of him before pulling out from inside your silky walls.

You signed in content, crawling up Satoru's body and settling against his chest. Suguru's cum dripped out of you slowly, pooling on Satoru's abdomen.

Suguru settles beside the both of you as you lean your head forward to kiss Satoru on the cheek.

"Maybe you should wear my clothes more often."

[queer-little-demigod]

Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader

Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites 😭) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???

Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!

Thank you! :)

you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue

summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings none

The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.

So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.

And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.

"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.

For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.

"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.

"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"

This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.

If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.

The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.

Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.

One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.

You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, “Clar, you cannot pick favourites!”

Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.

"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.

"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.

But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.

Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.

But for you it just made your love for her grow.

One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.

"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.

"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.

You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.

If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.

"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."

You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.

Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.

However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.

But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.

Nor did you.

"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.

"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."

"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"

"What do we tell the little ones?"

"The truth?"

"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"

"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."

"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."

The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.

"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"

She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.

"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"

The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.

"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"

Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.

"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."

While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.

You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.

She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.

Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.

You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sun’s rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.

But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.

Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.

The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.

At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.

Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.

Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.

When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...

"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.

She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.

Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.

Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"

Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?

She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.

"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.

Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.

Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.

Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.

"It's a date, L/n."

hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Stuck

~1.5k words || rating: teen || cws: dissociation; unlabeled neurodivergencies and mental illnesses

He’s never quite sure how it happens, seeming to always sneak up on him. One minute he’s up and moving around, usually cleaning, organizing, or just meandering around the house. The next, he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the living room. He tries to move but can’t. Not because he’s physically restrained, like when the rope from the Russians cut into his wrists or how the vines constricted his neck. 

No, Steve’s just lying here on the floor, trapped in his own mind. His eyes are raw, stinging with dryness. Painful tingles pop throughout his right arm from where his head rests heavy on his bicep. His hip and shoulder ache. He can’t move or talk or blink. Can barely think. He’s not in his body. 

He’s lost. Stuck.

Getting stuck means losing time, chunks of days lost to a void. It means missing meals and unanswered phone calls. Growing up, it felt like an escape. A safe way to pass the time between eating and sleeping. He’d come back to himself, sometimes hours later, sore and hungry, mustering up energy he didn’t have. Once, his parents discovered him frozen on the ground. Mom’s yelling and Dad’s foot shoving his side brought him jolting back into his body. Like waking from a nightmare, rising from the dead chased by panic. 

It happens less now, but still catches up to him when he’s exhausted. He thinks today it was the kids– they were particularly obnoxious. Yelling excitedly about Eddie’s new campaign ideas, trucking in snow from outside after building a demo-snowman. Cooking for them, cleaning after them, getting them home safe.

Yeah, he gets how he maybe overdid it a bit. 

But with Eddie here, it’s easier. His sweetheart always knows how to help, usually checking up on him after stressful days. Hopefully he comes to check on him soon.

Because Steve can’t move. Or talk. Or even blink.

The sun is starting to set.

~~~

The Party were extra chaotic today, pushing him to the fringes of patience. He’s thrilled they’re excited about his newest campaign ideas, but god, did they have to be so unbearably loud about it? Dustin’s screeches are still rattling between his ears. Not to mention the soreness he feels from helping the kids build a snowman demo-thing and the ensuing snowball fight. 

The idea of an occult campaign has been percolating in Eddie’s brain for weeks, and after the day he’s had, he’s lost to the research. Perched on a chair upstairs in their bedroom, books are scattered across the desk and onto their bed next to him. Typically, creative deep-dives restore his energy after a long day. But when he’s well and truly exhausted, he’ll lose hours at a time to the work. Getting stuck, according to Steve. And yeah, Eddie can see how that fits.

Growing up, Eddie would lose hours throwing himself into his latest and greatest project, whether it be drawing, playing guitar, writing campaigns, reading or even the time he tried juggling. Entranced by his newest obsession, his surroundings would fade into the background. He’d forget to do his homework, to eat or drink. Hell, sometimes he’d forget to pee. Wayne’d drop a gentle hand to his shoulder– pulling him back to reality– and he’d take off like a shot to the bathroom. Every sensation hitting all at once: bladder about to burst, stomach rumbling, dry mouth, headache, body stiff and achy. 

As he gets older, it’s still a frequent occurrence. So Robin had given him the idea of setting alarms, saying it helps her remember to take breaks while studying. And he’s thankful, because it works like a charm when he actually remembers. But when he forgets, his Stevie takes care of him. 

He’ll find Eddie crouched awkwardly by the desk, eyes manic, only seeing what’s in front of him. Eddie will eat or drink anything Steve gives him, barely tasting whatever it is, just as long as he can see it. And Steve lets him be for at least a few hours so he can burn energy into whatever project he's lost himself in. All Steve cares is that he’s fed and hydrated. Usually, Eddie comes to slowly, with Steve’s fingers gently carding through his hair, or soft strokes up and down his spine.

Now Eddie breaks his own musings, eyes strained, hungry, and needing to stretch. He can’t help but wonder why his sweetheart hasn’t checked on him. 

Moonlight is shining through the window.

~~~

It’s eerily quiet as Eddie makes his way down the stairs. He half expects to find Steve stress-baking, but the kitchen is dark. 

So he checks the garage– the car is still here. And the backyard– he never sits by the pool alone. Then the front porch– maybe he went out for a smoke.

Guilt eats at Eddie as he finds his beautiful boy on the living room floor, curled into himself.

Stuck. 

He hates finding Steve like this– stuck and lost like Eddie’s engrossed fantasies. Yet so, so different. 

The first time Eddie found him, unresponsive and immovable, he spiraled into a panic so strong Steve had broken free of his own melancholy, finding Eddie hyperventilating and sobbing in the midst of a flashback. Too much like Chrissy. Like Patrick and Nancy. 

They'd talked about it. And Eddie had appreciated afterwards how Steve struggled to describe what being stuck feels like, why it happens, what to do about it. It'd helped. 

So on grey days, long nights, the holidays, or when the kids are extra rowdy, Eddie looks for the signs. He's been good about getting Steve to slow down before it's too late. 

But on rare occasions, there will be a day like today. When it’s too much for both of them.

Eddie doesn't know how long his baby’s been lying here. Doesn't know when he ate or drank or even blinked. Because he’d holed himself up, desperate for time alone to just think. To be with himself after spending all day surrounded by people. But he forgot to set an alarm, assuming Steve would be there.

He focuses on his sweetheart, slowly kneeling down next to him so as not to startle him. Remembers all of the tips and tricks Steve needs. 

"Hey honey," Eddie whispers, close enough to be present but not overwhelming. "Don't worry baby we'll get you unstuck I promise. I'm going to reach out and grab your hand now ok?" 

He continues to whisper gentle praises and reassurances as he holds Steve's hand. It's limp for a time, and Eddie is hungry, but he doesn't stop. Time is lost to them both again, until he feels a slight squeeze on his fingers. Steve finally blinks, slow and hard. 

"Hey big boy, love to see those pretty, long eyelashes.” He smiles down at his baby, honeyed hazel eyes slowly refocusing. “Alright, once for no and two for yes: do you want me to help you onto the couch?" 

A full minute passes before Eddie feels two gentle squeezes to his fingers. 

"That's great sweetheart. I'm gonna tilt you to sit up and we'll get you settled. Then I'm going to ask if you want anything. Ready?" Two squeezes.

They finally get to the couch, and Eddie can already feel a strong sense of relief at just seeing his baby move off the floor. He hears Steve's back pop as they stand, decides he'll give him a massage later. 

It goes on. And on and on. Eddie follows the process of squeezes until Steve is unstuck and back in his body. 

"Water?" Two squeezes.

"Food?" One squeeze.

"Blanket?" Two squeezes. 

Eddie's patience always pays off. He's got Steve set up on the couch, hydrated and relaxed, with his favorite movie playing softly. He’s managed to grab a bowl of cereal for himself. They're cuddled and warm with Steve’s head in his lap. Eddie glides his fingers up and down the sore side of Steve’s body, gently squeezing as he goes.

~~~

Steve comes back to himself surrounded by love. 

His eyes sting and his mouth is dry. He doesn't know what time it is, but notices the sun has long set, moonlight shining through the curtains. The bones in his neck crack and his joints pop as he stretches.

But he's warm under the blankets, tucked into his boyfriend's chest as they watch the teddy bear Star Wars. Eddie's loosely twirling the hairs at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging and sending tingles down his spine. There's a glass of water and crackers on the table in front of him. 

Getting stuck inside his head terrifies him, something he dreads as much as the night terrors. 

But with Eddie, it's easier, happens less often. And when it does, he always wakes up to love.

~~

This was a pure self-indulgence fic. An exact recreation of my relationship with my partner. It fits my headcanon for the boys perfectly (though I'm obviously biased haha)

[deliciousangelfestival]

Cozy Secrets || Bucky Barnes

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N discovers her seemingly perfect roommate, Bucky, is a spy.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

In the heart of the bustling city, Y/N  found herself looking for the perfect roommate. Her previous housemate had bid adieu after getting engaged, leaving Y/N in the lurch to find a suitable replacement.

After countless interviews, Y/N finally stumbled upon what seemed to be the answer to her roommate's quest – Bucky, a sports photographer with a penchant for cleanliness and a propensity for quiet nights.

His nocturnal work hours meshed well with Y/N's daytime routine, and his willingness to contribute to the apartment's upkeep made him the ideal housemate.

The first three months of their living arrangement went smoothly. He was always punctual with rent, impeccably tidy, and even willing to take on household chores without complaint – he was the roommate Y/N had always dreamed of.

However, something twisted happened one day when she returned home later than usual.

As she swung open the door, ready to unwind in her sanctuary, her eyes widened in disbelief and horror.

Her once-immaculate living space was now a chaotic mess, and right in the middle of the turmoil were two men engaged in a heated scuffle, with Bucky caught in the crossfire.

"Excuse me, what the heck is this?" Y/N exclaimed, her initial shock transforming into a mix of rage and confusion. The three combatants froze, turning their attention to Y/N.

The two men, realizing they were caught in the act, exchanged nervous glances but didn't utter a word. Bucky seized the opportunity for a strategic move in the split second of confusion.

With a swift motion, he expertly maneuvered between the brawlers and shut them down with a series of impeccably executed moves, leaving them in a stunned heap on the floor.

"Bucky, what in the world is happening here?" Y/N demanded, her eyes darting between the mess and her roommate, who was now defensive.

Bucky, seeing the need for a more honest approach, took a deep breath and decided to come clean. "Y/N, there's something you should know. I'm not just a sports photographer. I'm actually a spy."

Y/N stared at him, her initial anger giving way to sheer disbelief. "A spy? Are you serious, Bucky? Is this some sort of elaborate prank?"

Bucky shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I'm dead serious. I chose this apartment because it provides the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on a target across the building. Those guys you just saw? They were after the same target, and things got a bit out of hand."

Y/N blinked, processing this unexpected revelation. "Wait, so you're telling me that all this time, while I thought you were just a neat freak sports photographer, you've been living a double life as a spy?"

Looking genuinely remorseful, Bucky began, "Y/N, I'm really sorry about the mess. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I didn't mean to put you in this situation. It was a mistake, and I take full responsibility."

Y/N, arms still crossed, nodded. "Apologies won't fix my now-ruined living room, Bucky. This is unacceptable. I thought I finally found the perfect roommate, not a spy who turns my place into a battlefield."

Bucky, understanding the gravity of the situation, nodded solemnly. "I understand, Y/N. My agency will cover the expenses for the repairs and replacements. I'll make sure everything is back to normal. You have my word."

True to his word, Bucky coordinated with his agency, ensuring a team was dispatched to clean up the aftermath of the brawl. Broken items were replaced with new ones, and the apartment was restored to its former glory.

A few days later, as Y/N surveyed the now spotless living room, Bucky approached her tentatively. "I hope this makes up for the mess, Y/N. I really didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Y/N, now feeling a bit more forgiving, sighed. "Fine, Bucky. You've cleaned up your mess, literally. But I still need time to get over the fact that my roommate is a spy who uses my apartment for covert operations."

Bucky hesitated, "Y/N, I hope you don't want me to move out. I really like it here."

As Y/N contemplated whether she should ask Bucky to find a new place, her phone buzzed with a notification about her upcoming high school reunion. The idea of attending filled her with dread.

"Ugh, a high school reunion," she muttered to herself.

Bucky, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. "Problem with the reunion?"

Y/N grimaced. "I despise those events.” She doesn’t want to meet the popular girl from her school who constantly bullies her. But this time, she wants to show off. She got an excellent job nice apartment. But there’s one she doesn’t have. 

A boyfriend. 

Y/N looked Bucky from head to toe and mumbled, “What if..." But this idea was insane; she shook her head. 

Bucky looked curious. "What if what?"

“Nothing.”

Bucky, understanding the high school dynamics, chuckled. "Ah, trying to one-up the mean girls from the past. So you need someone to accompany you? I'm in.”

Y/N fell silent for a moment, a realization slowly dawning on her. "You knew about my personal life?"

Bucky rubbed his head, a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. He didn't deny it, saying, "Well, I'm a spy, and my agency does background checks on everyone."

Her hands now covering her face, Y/N sighed, "Oh no...."

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "What do you think? With my spy skills, I bet I could impress everyone at the reunion. In exchange, please don't kick me out. Pleasee...."

Y/N grumbled, her frustration apparent. "Fine."

Bucky grinned, a mix of relief and amusement in his eyes. "Thanks Y/N. I swear you won’t regret this."

As they navigated the quirks of their unique living situation, little did they know that more surprises and adventures awaited them in the days ahead.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

Epoxy floor coating is not just a practical choice for enhancing the durability of your flooring; it's also a stylish solution that can transform any space. Whether you're a homeowner looking to revamp your garage or a business owner seeking reliable commercial flooring solutions, understanding the benefits of epoxy will help you make informed decisions. As you search for "floor polishing near me," consider how an expertly applied epoxy coating can elevate your interiors while providing a long-lasting finish. 

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Epoxy floor coating is a highly durable and resilient flooring solution that has gained popularity in both residential and commercial spaces. This type of coating is made from a combination of resin and hardener, creating a strong bond when applied to existing concrete surfaces. The result is a seamless surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic, chemicals, and abrasions.

One of the major benefits of epoxy floor coating is its versatility. It can be customized in various colors and finishes, including high-gloss and matte textures. This means that property owners can choose a look that complements their interior design while still providing the durability they require. Additionally, the smooth finish of epoxy makes it easy to clean and maintain, which is particularly advantageous in commercial settings.

Furthermore, the installation process for epoxy floor coating is relatively quick, often completed within a few days. However, it’s essential to hire professionals who have the expertise and equipment to ensure a flawless application. The right team will properly prepare the surface, allowing for optimal adhesion and longevity of the coating.

Floor Polishing Near Me

When searching for floor polishing near me, it's essential to find a service that not only meets your expectations but also understands the unique needs of your flooring. Professional floor polishing can revitalize old surfaces, restoring their shine and luster while protecting them from future wear and tear.

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Commercial flooring solutions are essential for businesses seeking to enhance their aesthetic appeal while also ensuring durability and functionality. The choice of flooring can greatly influence the overall atmosphere of a commercial space, leading to improved employee morale and customer satisfaction.

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One of the significant advantages of a metallic epoxy floor is its durability. This flooring solution is resistant to stains, chemicals, and impacts, making it ideal for high-traffic areas. Additionally, it is easy to clean and maintain, which means that business owners and homeowners can save time and resources. The seamless nature of epoxy flooring also contributes to a hygienic environment, especially in spaces like hospitals or laboratories.

Installing a metallic epoxy floor can be a customized process, allowing property owners to choose their preferred colors and patterns. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, industrial look or a vibrant, artistic finish, this flooring solution can be tailored to meet your unique vision. By consulting with professionals, you can ensure that your metallic epoxy floor is installed correctly and maximizes its longevity and beauty.

[runariya]

Prompt game:

🥰🤪👽

Alien Jungkook's tentacles try to get attention from the reader. But reader is mad and giving Jungkook the silent treatment. So tentacles decide to take it in their hands (?). I'm sorry my imagination is bad, but i trust yours ;)

a/n: I hope it's alright that I used this request as a Y(E)ARNED bonus...it just fits the couple so well

To spend your days alongside Jungkook is nothing short of pure bliss, a kind of beauty that shows itself in moments both grand and unspoken. There is, indeed, a profound sweetness in being the object of his love, of his adoration, a warmth that seeps into every corner of your existence, making even the most ordinary hours shimmer with a peculiar magic. 

Yet, as with all such beautiful things, this love, though a balm for your soul, does not come without its moments of maddening frustration—little flashes of exasperation that threaten, every now and again, to undo all the softness with their dizzying intensity.

It is during these moments of quiet contentment, where you’ve developed a peculiar fondness for collecting miniature porcelain figurines of Earth’s animals—everything from delicate little ducks to turtles no bigger than a thumb, from bees captured mid-flight to cows rendered in the most absurd detail. 

You‘ve chosen each piece meticulously, though the greater part of the collection, truth be told, bears the mark of Jungkook’s love and generosity. There’s no species left unrepresented, no space on the shelf unfilled. But amidst them all, there is one that‘s your favourite, a tiny maneki-neko with a raised paw and a chubby little face, who commands the centre of the shelf of your now shared home. And of all the figurines, this one—Jackson, with his impossibly cute charm—holds a special place in your heart, the only figurine affectionately christened with a name, as if that alone elevates him from all the others. 

So when you hear the unmistakable, gut-wrenching sound of porcelain colliding with the hard floor while you’re busy tidying the kitchen, something inside you breaks too. 

You turn and see Jungkook standing by the shelf, frozen, his wide eyes filled with a kind of helpless guilt, his lips parting to release the softest, most regretful “oh-oh” that barely registers in the quiet room. Jackson, once proudly perched in his rightful place, is nowhere to be seen, and the realisation dawns on you as swiftly as the growing pit of frustration inside you.

“What did you do?” you ask, your voice tinged with horror as you throw unceremoniously the dish towel aside, running towards the shelf, your heart and mind already brace themselves for the worst.

Jungkook’s wide, panic-filled eyes lock onto yours, and as you glance down to to find poor Jackson, or rather what remains of him, shattered and scattered across the floor in a hundred tiny pieces before Jungkook’s feet, your heart shatters too, as though a part of it has been dashed against the cold floor with Jackson. 

“No…” you desperately whisper, the word as fragile as all your figurines, as you resist the overwhelming urge to drop to your knees  and gather the broken pieces, knowing full well that no amount of careful reconstruction will restore Jackson to his former state.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook, with all his towering presence and boundless energy, has accidentally decimated one of your precious figurines, his sheer physicality, though endearing at many other times, always at odds with the delicate world you curated and that is so easily fractured. But this time, it’s Jackson, and somehow that makes it worse.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, his voice fumbling over itself as he scrambles for some sort of excuse, eyes darting as if searching for a way out of the mess he’s created.

“Oh, right,” you say, incredulous, “Jackson just leapt off the shelf, did he? Jungkook, you knew he was my favourite! How could you—how could you let this happen?”

“I swear, it wasn’t me… it… it was them!” he protests, pointing towards his remaining two and free tentacles that hover ominously behind him, as though they too have witnessed the grand disaster. The tentacles, however, seem none too pleased with his accusation; they rear up, jaws flexing as though insulted, ready to challenge his words, daring him to continue with the absurdity.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, turning away, exasperation and resignation rolling off you in waves, the whole spectacle having become too much to bear, leaving the wreckage of both Jackson and your patience in your wake as you walk away, tired of this particular chaos.

"Princess, please, I’m sorry!" Jungkook follows you in a desperate attempt to soothe your anger, fully aware that he’s really messed up this time.

But you don’t answer. He’s destroyed your things more times than you can count—accidentally, yes, but still enough for you to give him the silent treatment before you say something you might regret. So when you enter your bedroom, lying down on your side and huffing with a blank stare, you refuse to acknowledge Jungkook, who’s now kneeling before you, clasping your tiny hands in his, puppy eyes in overdrive.

"I’m really sorry, Princess. Please forgive me, I’ll buy you another Jackson." Jungkook’s pleading eyes would usually make you give in, but this time he’s destroyed more than just a replaceable figurine. No, he murdered Jackson, your precious maneki-neko, taking your good fortune with him. So, no, you’re not giving in. You pull your hands away from his and huffily turn around to avoid his face.

Jungkook scrambles to his feet at that, running around the bed, stumbling over his own big feet, and jumping onto his side. "I mean it, I’ll buy you ten! A hundred! A million! Please, Princess, don’t be mad at me." But again, you just turn back around.

You hear Jungkook sigh in resignation as he plops down on his pillow, mumbling apology after apology that you’re not willing to acknowledge. It doesn’t take long before you feel one of his tentacles tentatively brush along your shoulder, but you shake it off, too fed up to accept any affection.

It tries again, but this time, you stop yourself from pushing it away, realising the tentacle—or rather, they—aren’t the ones at fault. A second tentacle soon joins, poking your side as if to tease you into letting go of your anger. But you still are, not at them, but at Jungkook. You start to pet them, though, and the simple action begins to soothe your frustration.

"Oh, so you’re giving them attention but not me?!" Jungkook whines.

"My precious babies," you coo lovingly, "got accused of doing something they didn’t."

"But they did! It’s all their fault!" He shouldn’t have said that, because his tentacles don’t see it like that though, and the next thing you hear is Jungkook yelping, "Ouch! Don’t attack me! Ouch! You’re supposed to protect me! Hey!"

You do your best to suppress the laugh bubbling up, knowing full well Jungkook deserves it for lying so boldly. When his tentacles slither back towards you, settling over and in front of you, you resume petting them, while Jungkook sulks silently behind you.

Your anger gradually fades, the soothing motions of Jungkook’s tentacles helping you calm down. "Do you know why Jackson was my favourote? He was the first figurine you ever gave me. On our 100th day anniversary." 

He remains silent, so you go on. "He wasn’t just a figurine. He was a symbol of our relationship and our good fortune."

"I’m sorry," Jungkook whispers, clearly sad now.

"You can’t replace him."

"I know."

"And you can’t make him whole again."

"I know." His voice is faint now, as if he truly understands just how deeply he’s messed up.

His tentacles begin to run along your arms, sensing your sadness too. You feel movement behind you, and as Jungkook’s breath fans across your neck and his big hand lightly strokes your arm alongside his tentacles, your resolve to stay mad a little longer disappears entirely. You turn around, facing his beautiful face and mesmerising eyes.

"I never understood why he was your favourite, but now I do. I’m really sorry, Princess."

"S’fine," you mumble, gently stroking his cheekbone.

"Do you want to know what my symbol of our relationship is?"

"Hm?"

Jungkook’s connected tentacles lift behind his back. "This. And this is something that’ll never break, no matter what."

Your eyes well up with tears because, frankly, he’s right. It shouldn’t be a fragile figurine that carries the very symbol of your love, but Jungkook himself. You regret ever giving Jackson that meaning, because there’s something so much stronger than porcelain—a living, conscious bond that shows just how meaningful and overwhelming your connection with Jungkook is.

"I’m sorry."

"You don’t have to be. Please don’t say that. I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Jungkook."

And it's true, you’re the happiest woman in the world, now and always.

[cloudshuffle]

cuteness aggression. yan!luofu

Blade

As much as you'd like to encourage his wishes, Blade has this nasty habit of his that's called not dying.

Unfortunately for you, you're very capable of that, and so someone has to feed the two miserable, lonely people living under his roof.

You're in his kitchen again, having restored it to minimal working capability, making a simple cabbage and dumpling stew. Occasionally Kafka would get too busy to ask you both out, meaning that Blade had no plans for dinner and you'd go hungry.

The house is blessedly empty, your humming echoing slightly off the sparsely furnished walls. No Blade there, sitting on the couch, doing nothing but boring a hole through you as you prepare dinner.

Keys rattle in the lock, and your face falls just as Blade comes through the door.

He smells sharply of salt and electricity - the scent of blood, still wet on his cuffs. The two of you stand, frozen, eyeing the other for a moment.

Then suddenly he's in front of you, his expression dark. You utter a small yelp, taking a step back, and Blade follows, chest heaving just an inch from your skin.

"...Hi?" you say meekly, trying not to wilt under his smouldering stare. You're not sure what you might have done this time, but you don't feel like sticking around for the aftermath.

He hesitates. Then you're pressed tightly against him, wound up in his embrace, his stained fingers running through your hair.

It feels almost reverent, if not for the fact that he's... crushing you.

"Blade," you manage to gasp out, pushing uselessly against him. "Too tight."

He looks down at you sharply, as if disappointed that you'd be so weak, but releases you slightly. His amber eyes move slowly, from your eyes to your lips, then back up.

"What's going on?" you ask, face still smushed against him.

A moment of silence. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Jing Yuan

You're curled up in his windowsill, entirely submerged in the pages of a book, the late afternoon turning the paper golden. You've more or less forgotten that he was supposed to be at his desk doing paperwork - until a shadow falls over you.

You look up just in time to see Jing Yuan hoist you into the air. You yelp, helpless as he carries you to the desk and into his lap.

"What- Jing Yuan, what the heck?" He's awfully gentle with you as always, and you're more annoyed at having lost your place in the book than your sudden relocation. He wears his trademark half-smile, full of affection, cuddling you to his chest.

"Nothing, nothing." He chuckles, pressing a kiss onto your head and then inhaling the scent of your hair. "Stay here."

These moments happen often - Jing Yuan suddenly being struck with a surge of affection or whatever it was and interrupting whatever it was you were doing. Cuteness aggression was what the books called it. An annoyance was what you were inclined to name it instead.

Still... at least he was kind. And you had to admit it was nice to be shown affection like this every once in a while. So you settle in, content to indulge in him... just a little while.

Dan Heng (IL)

His tail undulates on the floor in front of you, flicking back and forth like a cat's. And like a cat, you glance at him, making sure his back is turned, and reach out a hand to catch the end, scraping your nails lightly along the scales. They feel so much like a snake's, yet more... luxurious, somehow...

You pause. Suddenly it seems like he hasn't moved in a moment.

Glancing up, Dan Heng's staring back at you, face impassive, expression unreadable.

You let his tail go slowly. "S-sorry..."

Something flickers deep in his green eyes, and you barely register the snarl on his lips before he's pounced, caging you in place on the mattress.

You flinch away, feeling the prick of sharp fangs right below your pulse, his chest heaving against yours, the rumble of a growl building in his chest. Dan Heng's tail flicks, brushing one leg to the other.

But he doesn't move. And you get the courage to open your eyes, just a little.

His eyes are fixed on yours, his lips on your skin but frozen, as if he's afraid to move.

"Heng?" you whisper.

Your voice seems to break whatever spell he's under.

"Sorry. I'm... I'm sorry." He moves away from your pulse, burying his face in your chest instead. "I shouldn't... I'm sorry."

His expression is crestfallen, whatever high he was on immediately crashed.

"It's... it's okay." Hesitantly, you pet his hair. He utters an affectionate rumble, like a giant cat.