#for those who may have missed it earlier this week!

[peridots-pixiwolf]

yknow I play a lot of hard games but usually not "took 73 days to beat" hard

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 14- FINALE!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 - Final

Part 14:

A few weeks had passed by the time you were fully recovered. In those weeks, the hotel was busy and bustling in preparation for the wedding.

To make sure you recovered properly, Charlie insisted that she and Vaggie be in charge of wedding planning during this time. You didn't have any objections to it, your only requirements were that it was kept low-key (meaning a small wedding with only those closest to you guys) and that it was to be a simple and short ceremony with Charlie as the officiant.

While the rest of the gang were busy going about their normal lives and helping out with some preparation here and there, Alastor had your belongings moved to his room and took care of your injuries and saw to your recovery personally.

It broke his heart to see how badly you had been injured prior to your arrival at the hotel. He also felt extremely guilty about how roughly he had treated you, accidentally making some of your injuries worse temporarily. To heal his heart and mind, he had to heal your body first.

The two of you spent so much time together, hardly ever spent a moment apart- you two had a lot of lost time to make up for after all. Often as Alastor tended to your injuries, changed your bandages, and even helped bathe you to ensure you wouldn't slip or fall as you got in and out of the tub- you two exchanged stories of all kinds. Stories from when you were both alive, your pasts when alive, and so much that had happened in the decades in Hell that had passed when the two of you were separated.

As the date of the ceremony approached, after you had mostly recovered, matters required you to leave the hotel more often.

For example, when it came to dress shopping, Alastor was very insistent that he had to come with- he was still very paranoid that if you were separated from his side that you would come to harm. Though with enough pestering- Charlie was finally able to convince him to stay at the hotel so that the wedding dress shopping party only consisted of you, Charlie, and Angel.

Shopping with the two of them was a fun memory you'll never forget, with lots of laughter because of the hilarious contrast between Charlie's wholesome comments/tearing up and Angel's teasing/cat-calling (in a loving way- of course). Though when you finally tried on the dress, even Angel had no witty comebacks to respond with, both him and Charlie were left speechless.

Angel and Charlie weren't the only ones speechless - when those who were invited to the wedding showed up the hotel, they all had their mouths gaping open at the amazing decor. They few guests assumed that the invitation they received in the mail was a prank!

(Charlie may have needed to ask some favors from Lucifer for the decorations- though he couldn't hide his disgust as to who his daughter was asking him to do this for... His distaste for Alastor was always apparent. But who are we kidding- Lucifer can't resist Charlie's puppy-dog begging eyes no matter what.)

Jovial jazz music filled the air as Alastor walked out into the main lobby, "Why hello! It is so good to see you, Rosie! ... Mimzy."

"Oh Alastor! How come ya never introduced me to ya darlin' (y/n) before!" Rosie flashed her signature smile and sauntered over to give Alastor a tight hug.

"Yeah! Geeze, Alastor, after all we've been through, you never thought to bring her over to my joint or ya know, let me know she was even down here! I've missed the gal too, ya know!" Mimzy stomped on over to Alastor, hands on her hips as she glared at him.

"Hmmmm. Ah yes, Mimzy. How could I ever forget to bring her over to your... "sophisticated"... bar where she "definitely wouldn't" be in danger?" Static noises started to interrupt the music that had started playing earlier. Alastor would be lying if he said he was happy to see Mimzy. He knew she was important to you, but part of him can't help but blame her for your early death. Not only that, but she always had a habit of bringing trouble wherever she went, forcing him to clean up her messes. He didn't trust her to keep you out of danger.

"Well! If I do say so myself, I am parched! Where can a lady quench her thirst in this joint?" Rosie piped up to break up the tension as she walked around the room and examined the decor some more. "Alastor, I really love what ya guys did to this place- stunning work, really!"

"Oh my gosh, hi, Rosie! Nice to meet you again, Mimzy! It's been so long!" Charlie seemingly burst out of nowhere and shook both Rosie and Mimzy's hands. For once Alastor was thankful for the princess's ability to not read the room.

"This way, this way! The ceremony will be held in one of the ballrooms, follow me!"

After being relieved of Rosie and Mimzy's presence, Alastor disappeared into the shadows to retreat into this radio tower where he would remain until it was time.

With Rosie and Mimzy's arrival, the last of the guests had arrived. Yup, it was a very small group- just as you had requested (much to Alastor's relief. He could easily handle people, but you knew large groups of people irritated him much more than he would let on).

Meanwhile, Angel was helping you get ready. He knew his way around makeup and beauty the best out of anyone in the hotel after all.

You sat on a stool as Angel fussed over all the little details of your hair and makeup. As he did so with remarkable speed (due to his many arms), you found yourself smiling.

Not only was it the day that you would finally exchange vows with your beloved Alastor, but you found yourself smiling as you reminisced on the journey that led up to this moment- how you've come to truly cherish your newfound friendships with everyone at the hotel.

Angel, who became a very close friend to you after you two had many heart-to-hearts and shared a fondness for cracking jokes, something you discovered over many nights at the bar together. Often after you two were done at the bar, you'd have beauty/spa nights which often led to more gossip sessions- something you were never able to indulge in when you were alive. Occasionally even Cherri joined in on the gossip sessions- practically bursting the door down if she ever felt like stopping by unannounced.

Husk, was someone you could always trust him to give his honest and objective opinion on anything you asked- which you found to be invaluable whenever you showed him any of your art. Though he often didn't understand the abstract complexities you drew, it was always a great source of entertainment for you- his confusion apparent as he tried to interpret it seriously before giving up with a "Fuck it, I don't know anything about this bougie shit!" - always causing you to erupt in laughter every time without fail.

Charlie, of course, was always your ray of sunshine and was someone you very much respected. She saved your life without knowing who you were, regardless of the potential danger. You feel as if you'd never be able to repay her kindness, so you offer to stay at the hotel even after you recover and help work however you can after the wedding.

Vaggie, you felt a kindred spirit in and also respected a great deal. Someone with such an intense sense of justice and duty was truly a sight to see, you could always see it in her eyes. She was often busy, so you hadn't been able to spend as much time with her as you would have liked to so far, the few times you were able to sit down with her were always a pleasure. Whenever she needed love/relationship advice, she came to you. Funnily enough, Charlie did too, so you were flattered that the two girls liked and trusted you so much.

Even Nifty, who always made sure to dust you or pluck some random out-of-place hair whenever she saw you, stopped calling you stinky! You wondered if it was because you spent most of your time around Alastor...?

"Alright! Hehe, you look absolutely stunning if I do say so myself, doll face!" Angel stood back from you to admire his work with a huge satisfied grin on his face.

He spun you around to face the mirror that your back was previously facing, "Hey, whaddya think? One of my best works yet!"

You chuckle and lean in closer to the mirror, "Wow... Angel! Gosh... you never cease to amaze me!"

You then stand up and give Angel a hug, "Thank you... Angel... this means a lot to me..." Angel pulls back from the hug and nudges you in the shoulder, "Hey now toots, no crying on me now! We just finished your makeup, don't go ruining it now!"

"I know! I know! Haha!" You laugh and smack him back playfully.

"Ah shit, it's almost time, we gotta get a move on, come on!" Angel quickly grabs your bouquet with one hand and takes your hand wit another and leads you down what feels like a maze of corridors. He lets go of your hand when the two of you reach a set of double doors that indicates it's one of the ballrooms and not just a regular room.

Upon hearing your arrival, you see Charlie's head peek out of the door. After seeing you standing there, she quickly sneaks of the ballroom. "FIrst of all- oh my gosh (y/n)! You look BEAUTIFUL! But it's time for your entrance, lets go!" Charlie offers her arm out to you. You link your arm through her's, then you look over at Angel who hands you your bouquet, "You got this ,(y/n)." He said with a wink before slipping into the ballroom.

You took a deep breath and looked at Charlie who gave you a heartwarming nod as she took a step closer to the door, hand grasping the handle. "Ready, (y/n)?"

"I've been ready for decades."

Upon entering the small ballroom, soft jazz music filled the air and you gasped as you took a look around the stunningly decorated space. Charlie was very insistent that this be a surprise and by god, you were speechless- you never could have dreamed of a more beautiful space to finally exchange vows with your beloved Alastor. You were starting to get misty-eyed already!

The very same Alastor who was now all dressed up in a new formal outfit and stood at the other end of the ballroom with his hand outstretched towards you. It took all the self-control you had to keep you from running into his arms right then and there.

Walking to the front, you pass by the small group of friends both you and Alastor had invited to this exclusive occasion. You could see Rosie clutching her hands to her chest in awe, Mimzy was trying to fight back tears as she kept dabbing her eyes (ruining her makeup in the process), and the rest of the hotel members. Angel was clinging onto Husk for dear life as you heard a quiet whisper from the spider that was accompanied by a dramatic sniffle, "Oh god I never knew I was capable of feeling so sappy."

You chuckled at the sight of Nifty, who volunteered to be your "flower girl". She was scurrying all around, scattering petals but then immediately picking them back up again like it was the best game ever!

"Oh, be still my dead-yet-beating heart" You thought to yourself as you finally reached the front of the ballroom and were able to place your hands in Alastor's. You'd never seen Alastor this dressed up before. You always thought he was attractive but oh my god, was this a whole new playfield that you didn't even know was possible!

Charlie then went to stand next to Vaggie, who were both your officiants for the wedding. A bit untraditional, sure, but this was Hell- everything's a bit unconventional here.

The music fades to a quiet level before Charlie pipes up, starting the ceremony, "Thank you all for coming to celebrate this momentous occasion with us today! Today we are here to commemorate the marriage between (y/n) and Alastor!"

"In a shocking twist of events, the last few weeks have proven us wrong that yes, even the Radio Demon, is still capable of love." This remark from Vaggie earns a few chuckles from those sitting in the guest seats, earning a glare from Alastor as he tightened his grip on your hands. You rub your thumbs over his hands in reassurance, causing his grip to relax again. You smile at Charlie and Vaggie, nodding as you signal them to continue.

Charlie cleared her throat before she continued, "Ahem! Yes! But with that, we also gained an amazing new friend here - (y/n)! And I just want to say (y/n) that I am SO proud of you, you've done nothing but bring lots of joy and laughter into this hotel. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we love you and appreciate you (y/n)! Alastor is a very lucky man and we are honored to be a part of your journey!" You could hear some applause and a holler that likely came from Angel- because you heard a scoff from Husk that followed immediately after.

"That's right, Charlie! Because we respect you both so much, we'll not delay you two love-birds from finally exchanging your vows any longer." Vaggie said as she dragged Charlie away to take a seat in the audience.

You take a deep breath and look into Alastor's eyes, your heart racing a mile a minute.

"I honestly thought I would know what to say by now! I've been dreaming of this day for decades!" You nervously laugh out loud before continuing, "All I can think about now is how thankful I am to have met you when we were alive. You gave me a spark of light and hope in the darkness that I never thought was possible in my life. Meeting you gave me the courage to break free from the cage that kept me trapped like a poor little bird who couldn't fly free. You showed me what true love should be like- even if it meant eating a few people along the way... haha. But you treasured me, you gave my life meaning again and I'll always love you. I'll always be your's, Alastor."

You look down at the floor, embarrassed that you spilled your heart out in front of so many people. Now it was Alastor's turn to reassure you with a gentle squeeze of the hands.

"My dearest (y/n), now, I am not usually one to be so 'sappy'- especially in the company of others, however, I think I can make an exception for you this one time."

Alastor took one hand, the other still holding your other hand, and gently lifted your chin back up so that your gaze would be back on him. To say that this made your heart skip a few beats would be an understatement!

"It may still shock you all, but yes, (y/n) is indeed my beloved that was taken from me all too soon back when we were alive. When I buried her body and held her in my arms for what I thought was the last time- I said these words that still ring true to this very day and will continue to do so forever more-, ' In life and in death, I am forever yours, as you are forever mine. I love you, (y/n)' " You feel the tears start to well up even more, threatening to burst forth at any second, all while not breaking eye contact with him as he continues on.

"I truly relish in this opportunity to finally make you mine, as I had wished to do so for what feels like an eternity. Much like you had described dear, your surprise appearance in my day-to-day life truly shook my world. Why, upon meeting you for the very first time, hearing your voice felt like it was akin to listening to most beautiful music I had ever heard- truly! As a radio host, I was very familiar with many musicians, but no instrument or vocalist ever held a candle to you my dear. No ever has and no one ever will, and I will be sure to protect you at all costs this time, ma chérie ..."

As he trailed off, your face immediately flushed red all over at Alastor's vows. But before you had time to process what was happening, Alastor manifested a new pair of rings and slid one onto your left hand, replacing the previous one. Then with a snap of the fingers, the other matching ring appeared on his left hand.

Somehow the rings were even more beautiful than the one you had before. Upon seeing the sight of both your and Alastor's hands finally wearing matching rings, you burst out into tears, overcome with emotion.

Alastor chuckles before pulling you in for a kiss- shocking everyone in the room, everyone making a collective gasp. Even your own eyes were wide open in shock, before you then relaxed into the kiss in Alastor's embrace.

It wasn't before long that the room was filled with cheers, hoots, hollers, and clapping.

Pulling away from the kiss, Alastor leaned his forehead against your's- just a brief sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he stared lovingly into your eyes. You sniffle as you return the smile, chuckling at the sensation of your cheeks feeling sore from smiling so much and so intensely.

"I truly adore you with all my heart and soul, dearest. Thank you, for being the one to complete me."

Tag List:

@mysticwitchcraftco @lil-bexie @lonely-burger @cherry-cola-100 @angelxx7 @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @avitute @justhellacesome @mcrtrashfan @spookysisters @galaxywing-has-adhd @ggyalruu @trashbin-nie @fudosl @night-shadowblood-writes2 @memospacexx @yuraaahs @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @ghostdoodlen @moschinski @cannibalcoyote @missam @reader3 @yourworstgf @justaproudslytherpuff @milkspong3 @xdolls-crownx @1potato2rulethemall @1rxsemary1 @xxcrispxx @zardward @robin-the-enby @mylenapony11 @silvermoondarksky @bootylimpics @amarokofficial @euphoricaphrodite @blueyobsessedgirly @need-a-therapist @knifukiller @huayan @hwrimonsjer @no1sillybilly @kimmikreates @icarus-has-falllen @watchinthestarz @lady-lik3r @yunxi-11085 @luzzbuzz @tsukilover11 @plntmxrss @houmi @demoarah @papas-ghoulette @trashbin-nie @d-darlingyourbleeding @hallothankmas

[nereidprinc3ss]

better late than never

in which uni student fem!reader finally shares exactly what she's been worried about with spencer

18+ for pregnancy scare warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, reader doesn't want to be pregnant, age gap (unspecified) a/n: listennn lots of you guys asked for more spence x uni reader... but u didn't specify WHAT u wanted... so now we're fantasizing about pregnancy scares because we're all what?? say it with me!! MENTALLY ILL!!!!

For the fifth time, you have to restart the paragraph you were reading. For the fifth time, it doesn’t make any sense—words strung together like clashing beads on a dancing string, blurred together by the tears you’ve been fighting all day. Anthropology is by far the easiest of the six classes you’re taking this quarter, but suddenly completing this routine assignment feels like scaling a mountain. It is, of course, nothing in comparison to the catalytic source of your immense stress. The thing you’ve been trying to ignore for nearly a week, and as a result, have become more and more obsessive about. 

A flare of rage overwhelms you and you slam your laptop shut. Then as quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, cooling to desolation as you bury your face in your hands with a sob. You hear paper shuffling from the desk where Spencer has been silently working and you try to reign in your emotions, but it’s too late. 

“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches, slowing to a stop in front of your spot on the couch. “What’s going on with you?”

You sniff, quickly brushing the tears away with trembling hands. But your voice is thick and strained when you fruitlessly attempt to lie. 

“Nothing.”

When you refuse to look up at him, he kneels down in front of you. 

“Really? This doesn’t have anything to do with why you’ve been so quiet these past few days?”

Of course, he noticed. You were a fool for thinking he wouldn’t. Finally you break, looking to him for subconscious comfort. And he’s looking up at you so earnestly, with so much genuine concern in those puppy dog eyes, that the waterworks threaten to start up all over again. Your lip quivers. 

“I can’t tell you,” you squeak. 

“That’s a really scary thing for me to hear. Do you understand why?” His voice is calm, carefully grabbing your hand and bringing to his heart. “Because I need to know if something happened to you.”

You shake your head tearfully, looking down at where you’re weakly grasping the front of his shirt. 

“‘s not like that,” comes your reedy whisper. “Nobody hurt me or anything, I just—I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“I won’t get mad, I won’t,” he promises desperately, “right now I just want to know what I can do to make this better. I hate seeing you like this.”

A shuddering sigh forces its way out of your lungs. You suppose this is the kind of thing you probably should tell your boyfriend about, as petrifying as it may be.  

“I don’t know, I… I’ve just been freaking the fuck out because I’m worried I’m pregnant, and this would be the worst possible timing—like I know I want kids one day but I’m still in college and you’re like a real adult with an adult career and I don’t want to fuck that up for you and I know that even if I am pregnant I have choices but that’s still so scary and… and I don’t know.”

You’re expecting a long pause, punctuated by some berating and bemoaning, but it never comes. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Honey, this is exactly the kind of thing you tell me about,” he says, voicing your earlier thoughts. And he doesn’t even sound furious. You glance up, watching his visage swim beyond your teary eyes. “I am not mad. That wouldn’t make any sense. Do you know who’s fault it would be if you accidentally got pregnant?”

“Well—"

“Mine. So if this ever happens again, please don’t keep it to yourself for so long. I won’t be mad at you for something like this, ever.”

“But… you’re not worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, looking utterly unperturbed. 

“I wouldn’t be worried either way. But no, I’m not concerned that you’re pregnant. We’re really safe. The chances of you being pregnant are essentially negligible.”

“But I’m two weeks late.”

“That can happen when you’re taking six upper level classes,” he agrees, swiping your cheek with a thumb. “You’re under a lot of stress. I’m completely unsurprised that your body is reacting to it.”

A weight like a ton of bricks is lifted from your shoulders, but doubt still lingers. 

Spencer sees the hesitation in your eyes. 

“Would it make you feel better to take a test? Just in case?”

You nod gingerly, wrapping your hand around his wrist. He takes it in both of his, kissing the back before dropping them to your lap. 

“Okay. I’ll go get a couple. But I’m confident that you have nothing to worry about, and I’m usually right about these things.”

You take another deep breath, the last of the anxiety floating away with it. He’s usually right about everything. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your palm with his thumb and looking at you with so much love in his eyes. 

“Do you maybe feel like doing my homework for me?”

He smiles. 

“Nice try. Get it done and we can go out for dinner, okay?”

“Always worth a shot,” you shrug. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands. 

“And the answer will always be no.”

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

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

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

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

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Persona Fun Facts

These are all taken from the fanbooks and novels.

So far in the series, the protagonists have managed to avert between seven and eleven "Ends of the World".

Nanako does notice her flan is missing, but assumes she ate it earlier and forgot.

Yukki has at least three younger siblings.

Dr. Nicholai, the guy who helped create the Deva System, is jewish.

Sae practices kickboxing as a hobby.

Nyarlathotep also made deals with King Solomon, Napoleon, and the actual Hitler.

The project that saw the kidnapping of 100 children to create Persona Users was called the "Artificial Persona Users Research Project"... not very original.

Theodore once adopted a shadow and named it Mochi. This shadow became so powerful it adopted the name of "Near Death".

In the Persona timeline, Tatsuzou Sudou replaced Yōhei Kōno as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, though he wouldn't be able to complete his term.

The Demon Painter first entered the Velvet Room by painting a blue door in his canvas. It is probable he finally managed to paint the Fool Arcana before P3 and left the Velvet Room, having nothing left to learn there.

The saleslady of Anima Mundi has the hots for Tatsuya.

Masataka, Maya's father, died in the Soviet-Afghan War when she was eight.

Ken has stated he wishes he had a Death Note.

Mark drew those marks under his eyes himself.

Minato sometimes muttered in his sleep about how "the end is coming". Mitsuru noticed and it worried her.

Katsuya began baking because it made baby Tatsuya happy.

Sojiro wanted to give Morgana the name of a foreign actor or singer he liked.

Ann doesn't cook because she always makes too much and its always just how she likes it, which causes her to overeat.

Shinjiro doesn't remember his Awakening.

Reiji is such a momma's boy his favorite food is listed as "Mom's home cooking".

Katsuya wakes up at 5:30. He always tries to wake Tatsuya at 7:30, but Tatsuya doesn't get up until 9.

Ken's mom once met and saved one of the kids who was part of the Artificial Persona Users Research Project.

Kubo was given a suspension from Morooka for a week, which hurt Kubo's pride so much he transferred.

If Innocent Sin and Eternal Punishment are considered one long game, then their events did take place over the course of a year like the newer games, from May~ of 1999 to February of 2000.

All of this happened in the same year: Labrys and later Aigis were built, the events of P2:IS took place, Ryuji and Ann were born, the Dark Hour was created, and construction of Gekkoukan High School began.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The PledgeManager has launched!

Thank you for bearing with us. We’re happy to say that, as promised, the PledgeManager has officially launched!

In case you missed it, we detailed earlier this week that the publication of the graphic novel has been pushed back from its original July 2024 estimate into Spring 2025 - you can read the full update here. We also want to take a moment to say that we have seen the outpouring of love and support on Kickstarter, and across various platforms, wishing Colleen well in her recovery and the time needed for the graphic novel - a huge thank you from all of the team for your understanding and patience, and for the genuine community and care we’ve seen these past few days. We appreciate you all.

PledgeManager

With this in mind, we think it’s important to underline: though PledgeManager has launched, you do not need to pay for your shipping fees immediately.

The PledgeManager is there for those who missed the campaign to order the graphic novel, and indeed for any backers who would like to upgrade, get some other add-ons, or the new items. You, as a pre-existing backer, should receive an email with information via Kickstarter and/or PledgeManager to inform you that this is now open to you - note, these are sent in waves of smaller batches, so if you don't get yours immediately, don't panic! It will likely take between 12-18 hours to process all the backers.

You are, of course, welcome to pay your shipping right away if you'd like, however we completely understand that you may want to wait until closer to the fulfilment time, or when more solid dates are confirmed, before actioning this.

For this stage, we have compiled a quick FAQ below covering some key questions:

Will the whole project be moving from Kickstarter to PledgeManager? No. This is just for the fulfilment side and logistics - all updates will still remain here.  

Do PledgeManager backers get everything that Kickstarter backers do? No. While the remaining tiers will be made available for those who missed it, with certain stretch goals (e.g. additions to the book, loot boxes, etc), Kickstarter backers have a number of exclusives such as the Good Omens HQ discount code for when the store launches, and the backers only events.  

My PledgeManager address will be different to what is listed on my Kickstarter. Is that fine? Yes. We are handling all logistics through PledgeManager and, as such, that is the only place where we will need your address. If you move or need to change any details, that will be the place to do so.  

Can I change my address? Yes. You can update your address until we are at the shipping stage. We will keep this option open for as long as possible to ensure maximum flexibility around this.  

How are shipping fees calculated? It is based on both weight and the country it is being sent to. We have been working over the past months to streamline processes and bring the costs down from their original starting point.  

Do I have to pay just now? You do not need to pay immediately, but payment will need to be made prior to your items being shipped. You now have a bigger window during which you can make payment. As above, we will keep updating you on the progression of the publication schedule, should you be waiting for firmer dates before doing so.  

What about taxes and import duty? UK: VAT is included in the costs UK backers pay, there should be no extra tax charges. US: We believe (but cannot guarantee) that imports under $800USD in value should not attract import duty, those pledges above may be taxed at import. EU & REST OF THE WORLD: If taxes or duties apply to your pledge, these will need to be paid at time of import into your country. We’ve spent months trying to integrate the costs at this stage, but in having the project open across the globe, it has proven too complex to be able to fully refine and cover all instances and locations, and we’ve been advised that this is the best route forward.  We know a lot of international backers, particularly in the EU – for example – will already be used to this process, and we will keep you all updated on any developments on this front. For all of our backers, we are working hard to make labelling and declaring all of the contents of your pledges as transparent as possible, in order to make taxing and importing as easy and affordable as possible.  

I want to buy the new items, but am waiting to pay shipping. Are they limited? The pins, mugs, notebooks - all the new items specifically added to the PledgeManager are not limited and will be available regardless of whether you get them now, or months down the road. The only limited items are the remaining tiers that have moved over from the Kickstarter (e.g. the Obsidian Tier) that were limited to begin with, and a very limited run of the Alien Parking ticket. Everything else is fully available, in perpetuity.  

Will you be adding extra items to the PledgeManager? No. What is there at launch is all we plan to include at this point - any new items afterwards will instead originate via the Good Omens HQ store.  

Will Kickstarter backers get items first? Yes. We will have a staggered approach for fulfilment: Kickstarter backers, then PledgeManager, then everything that is moving to the Good Omens HQ store will subsequently be made available.

You can also view the more general PledgeManager FAQ at terrypratchett.com.

We will keep PledgeManager and logistical notes present in all the monthly updates going forward, but felt this warranted a dedicated one-off. 

These are available as part of the PledgeManager. Another beauty from our pin designer, Carl Sutton.

Thanks again for your patience. Back in the April monthly update.

In short: :)

The Good Omens Pledge Manager has launched:

those who missed the Graphic Novel Kickstarter: Now you can order the Graphic novel, not all things that were in the original Kicstarter are available but there is stil a lot of options and fuckton of lovely ineffable add-ons! :)<3

those who participated inthe original GO GN Kickstarter: you should an email (Dunmanifestin needs more information to fulfill your reward) with a link that logs you (if not log manually) into the pledgemanager and lets you edit the order (add new add ons) (yep, my wallet weeps :D<3)

The addons:

I mean... how can one resist for example these I do not know... :D

[talktonytome]

Buck’s nervously bouncing his leg on the barstool, hands a little sweaty, as he waits for Hen and Karen to show up. They had invited him to a gay western club, after he came out and he’s excited to finally be here. He’s craning his neck to see if he catches a glimpse of them, when a beast of a man walks up to him.

Wow, Buck knows he’s a big guy himself but this dude is even bigger than him. He’s got insanely broad shoulders, big arms, thick thighs and an ass that had to be sculpted by the gods-

Suddenly, the man is clearing his throat to get his attention. “Excuse me, but I think you took my chair,” he says matter-of-factly, like Buck should have known. And it’s maybe a little infuriating because who does this guy think he is?

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed your name on it,” Buck retorts, eyes narrowed at the stranger. The chair was open when he got there and really, it’s a little childish to be calling dibs.

Hot jerk holds his hands up placatingly, attempting to deescalate the situation. “Sorry, sorry”, he says genuinely enough. There’s something about his eyes that comforts Buck. “It’s just, I only ran out to take what I thought was a work call, and I was hoping my spot would still be free. It’s been a long week,” he sighs.

Buck can understand that. It’d been a long week of hectic calls for the 118 and he’s been looking forward to tonight. “Hey, uh, I get it. It’s been a week for me too,” he offers a rueful smile. “I’m meeting some friends so I’ll give you your chair back soon, don’t worry.” If he didn’t know any better, he could swear the man’s face falls a little.

As if by stroke of luck, the stool next to his opens up and hot guy immediately sits down. “It’s my fault really, I know this place is packed Friday nights. It’s worth it for the live bands, though,” he says. “I’m Tommy, by the way. Fighting the great chair war merits name privileges, right?” He winks.

Buck blushes, suddenly feeling a little breathless. “Oh definitely,” he manages not to stutter. “I’m Bu- um- Evan Buckley.” Wow he almost had it.

“Evan,” Tommy tries out and it sounds like the name was made to be uttered by him and him only. Buck gulps.

“Well, since we’re both here, how about I buy you a drink? I owe you that much for being rude earlier.”

Buck can’t help but smile. “Sure, why not?” He nods, “my friends aren’t here yet, anyway.”

“Great,” Tommy grins. “Craft beer okay? Or I can get you something else?”

“Beer’s fine, I’m not picky,” Buck shrugs.

“I am, at least when it comes to beer,” Tommy chuckles, signaling the bartender for two beers.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Buck teases. Why does this feel so easy?

“Hmm, I think there’s a lot about me that’ll surprise you,” Tommy smirks.

Buck may be inexperienced with the same sex, but he damn well knows how to flirt. He tilts his head a little, knows his eyes are twinkling. “Is that right?”

“Oh absolutely,” Tommy declares. He’s so confident in a way that radiates coolness. “For example, I’m a pretty great dancer.”

Buck thinks back to the times he’s tried to dance and winces. “I’m definitely not.”

“I could teach you,” Tommy says as Buck finishes his sentence.

“Really? Is that gonna be right after our beers?”

“I mean I don’t think we can drink and dance at the same time,” Tommy laughs, “at least not effectively.

“Yeah okay, teach me, Tommy.” Buck says dropping his voice, looking right into his eyes.

Tommy’s eyes grow wide and Buck immediately notices the blush on those gorgeous cheekbones. He preens a little because he did that.

“Ok,” Tommy swallows, holding out his hand. “Let’s do it.”

“What about our beers?”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

Buck laughs incredulously, but gives Tommy his hand and lets him lead them onto the dance floor. The band’s playing something sweet and slow, for lovers. Tommy uses the grip on his hand to pull them close together, until they’re chest to chest. He guides both of Buck’s arms around his neck and he circles Buck’s waist with those big hands, finally turning them into a gentle sway.

You got me out there, honey

We danced until I let go

Never been lost in a moment

But there's hours I can't recall

Buck looks down at his feet trying desperately not to mangle Tommy’s. He feels two fingers under his chin, as Tommy tilts his face up. “Eyes on me,” he says softly. “I got you.” Buck obeys and gets lost in Tommy’s eyes- gosh they’re so blue-as they sway and spin so smoothly he forgets about his feet altogether.

Maybe tonight

You'll let me run

Into your arms

And we'll conquer the heart

Tommy’s guiding them into another spin, when Buck can’t hold back from wanting to kiss him any longer. If Tommy’s eyes constantly flicking down to Buck’s lips are anything to go by, he’s on the same page. Buck tests the waters by leaning in, enough that Tommy’s breath ghosts across his lips.

You came in like a fire

Burned all I ever knew

I've been weighed and found wanting

And all that I want is you

Tommy gently grips his chin again, one big thumb slots right in the middle, and brings him in for the gentlest, most tender kiss Buck’s ever gotten. Tommy’s lips are warm and soft as they slide against his. It’s not long, by any means, but when they part, it leaves him breathless, all the same.

Tommy rests their foreheads together. “Was that okay?” He whispers, a little awestruck.

“More than,” Buck grins, playing with the hair on the nape of Tommy’s neck.

“Good,” Tommy replies, pressing a kiss to Buck’s bicep. “I do have a confession to make.”

Tommy tangles their hands and pulls Buck away from the dance floor. The song is over by now, so they make their way to the edge, where they can lean against a railing.

Bucks stomach drops. Did he get it wrong? Was Tommy not interested? Was he about to let him down gently?

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Tommy cuts into his spiraling. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“I’m a little embarrassed to say it now,” Tommy breathes, “but.. that wasn’t my chair.”

Buck finally lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Huh?”

“Erm, where you were sitting? It wasn’t actually my chair. I just… I saw the most beautiful man I’d ever seen all alone and I knew I had to talk to him,” Tommy rushes out. “Upon reflection, my approach could have been better,” he mutters.

Bucks laughs, but makes sure to squeeze Tommy’s hand in reassurance. “It was… not good,” he laughs again.

“Come on, hey!” Tommy exclaims in mock offense.

“But- you did it anyway. You came up to me all cocky and hot, not knowing the outcome, and it worked out so,” Buck shrugs.

“You think I’m hot?” Tommy smirks, playfully bumping his shoulder.

“Oh like you don’t know?”

“Did I mention you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen?” Tommy looks at him in a way that’s too fond for having just met.

“Maybe, but doesn’t hurt to hear again,” Buck grins. “Thanks for the dance, by the way,” he adds shyly. “It was pretty great.”

“I had the best partner,” Tommy says.

They look at each other for several beats.

“So, you wanna get out of here?” Tommy jerks his head toward the exit.

Buck doesn’t know if he’s ready for what that sentence entails, but he really likes Tommy.

Just like before, Tommy notices his apprehension; he’s so goddamn considerate like that, apparently. “Not like that,” he clarifies. “I’m having such a great time with you and I’m not ready for the night to end. I know this place with the best tacos,” he gives Buck his best puppy eyes.

Buck breathes a sigh of relief. He’s not ready to part ways either. “You had me at tacos! Lead the way.”

Tommy wraps an arm around his waist as they start walking toward the exit, when Buck remembers, “oh wait, my friends!”

“You sure they’re coming?” Tommy raises a doubtful eyebrow.

“I dunno, they said they would. Let me-“ Buck pulls out his phone and opens his messages. Sure enough there’s a couple from Hen.

Sorry buckaroo, Denny has a stomach bug and we’re pretty sure we all have it now :(

We’ll make it up to you, we swear!

Buck can’t feel too disappointed, when he got Tommy out of it. He texts back a quick ok feel better! and slides his phone back into his pocket, then reaches out to take Tommy’s hand again.

“Their kid has a bug and infected them so they are, in fact, not coming,” he explains.

“Kids and their germs,” Tommy laughs. “So you’re free to go?”

“Yes, I- I am free.”

- inspired by the chair (george strait) and conquer the heart (orville peck)

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys what is this book and what is the Bill on it? All I know is gay shapes-

A. Sphere: I'm not calling you "Good Boy" A. Square, that court case was SHIT.

Me earlier: Wow! The Book of Bill just came out, that's cool ig.

Everyone recently: *being super active in the tag, watching the movies, relogging and liking my art*

Me: *me carrying some small doodles over* WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE???

Thanks for bringing me back to brainrot by spam-liking all my old posts guys I forgive none of you (/J I LOVE YOU ALL)

More stuff below cut (BE WARNED NEW FLAT-PEOPLE SOME OF IT IS LOWKEY SPOILERY):

A. Square and A. Faux Line: Damn, that circle kinda a hottie- ...

I had this silly idea after my 29374th time watching Flatland that a majority of the first part of the movie is just A. Sphere watching all the shit go down like the worst telenovela you've ever seen. Also, that A. Line was originally going to be the apostle, but... uh... she can't really do that anymore, so he banks all his money on A. Square.

Also, I thought it would be super funny of A. Square and A. Faux Line both crushed on A. Sphere when he first showed up lol. Crazy smooth priest spawns and everyone swoons.

Older Hex doodles too. I love Hex, they're such a real one the whole time. With all the faults of Sphereland, I do like Hex maining in that one. But I also like picking and choosing which things I take as canon in my own work, so you get young adult Hex with their totally not-romantically-involved-with-at-all partner Punto (P. Octagon).

It's been a bit since Flatland happened in this hypothetical, so A. Square's still around. He's trying to be supportive of his masc-nonbinary kid who likes kissing boys, but still has to be annoying with dad jokes and the occasional backhanded compliment. He means well tho.

A. Tesseract: Hello A. Square!

A. TESSERACT OH HOW I'VE MISSED YOU POOKIE <3333. She's probably one of my most favorite ocs I've made (and the one that gets the most art <3) She's also the one I feel the least awkward about shoving into the source material lol. I yearn to work on A Heightlander's Escape again, but we'll see.

I just wanted to draw something cute between her and A. Square. She may or may not be the voice at the end of the movie hmmmmmmmm.

At least A. Square would end up in good hands.

"There is always something beyond. There is always INFINITY."

Just a little doodle of smth I may or may not render cuz I really like how it looks. There is always something greater after all.

Thank you all for the recent support on those old-ish drawing, y'all made my week tbh. I have a new AU cooking for this so look forward to that lol. Have a good one :)))

[thehandmaidenofcreativity]

The Man Who Talks to Himself and the Girl Who Listens

WC: 6.7k

Rating: 18+, fluff to smut

Comments: idol!Seungmin and female reader. This is my first fic.. hope you like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

•

“That doesn’t even make sense…”

You wouldn’t have heard him if the song hadn’t just ended. For whatever reason, that little bit of muttering caught your interest. You hit pause before the next tune can fill your ears. He’s sitting just behind you. You’re tempted to sneak a peek at what he’s doing. You’re sure he came in alone, so it seems he’s talking to himself.

“Then again, confusion is a higher sense of consciousness...” He trails off.

What a brilliant way of thinking, you muse. He goes on outlining a plan of some sort, maybe for a novel or a play; it’s captivating. Unfortunately, he would stop thinking out loud at some points, but no matter how long the pause, you couldn’t turn your music back on and miss any of his magic. Because that’s what it felt like: magic. He was filling you with such wonder; you could burst.

After a while, he gets a phone call, though, and the show comes to an end. You hear him packing up his things; you watch him stride out of the cafe. Silly as it is, considering you don’t see his face, you think he looks handsome - tall, with broad shoulders and a pretty shade of reddish hair poking out from beneath a baseball cap.

The next day, you decide to return to the cafe. You tell yourself that it’s just a nice, low-key place to get work done and enjoy a few cups of tea, but in the back of your mind, you’re hoping the man will be there again. You arrive half an hour earlier than yesterday and sit at the same table, sipping on blueberry tea with your headphones in, laptop in front of you. Fifteen minutes in, you hear the bell on the door jingle. You try for nonchalance as you glance at the entrance. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him the day before, but you’re sure it’s the same man. To your delight, he brings his things to the table behind you before going to the counter. Despite the mask, you can tell your initial assessment was correct - he’s handsome. He has his hood up rather than a hat today, so you still don’t get the full effect of his hair, just see the slight waves of his bangs covering his forehead. His eyes are quite dark, but nice, and slightly downturned, reminding you of something or someone that you can’t place. How can someone look so good when most of their face is covered?

For the next few hours, you sit transfixed by the man, at times sitting stagnant just listening to him, your own work forgotten. Eventually, you both have to leave, but before you do, you stop by the barista. “Hey, this may be a weird question,” you try to sound as casual as possible. “But does that guy who was at the table behind me come in here often?”

“Yeah, he’s been in here most weekdays,” the girl responded. “But he probably has classes or something on Monday and Wednesday, cause I don’t usually see him then.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Odd as it feels, kind of stalking this man, you continue coming back to the cafe over the next couple weeks, only skipping those days when you’re sure that he won’t be there. At times, you even jot down questions that you’d want to ask him if you could, but you never speak to him. You always sit with your back to him, headphones in, pretending not to listen.

At the end of the week, he gets a phone call. As he heads outside to take it, you hear him say that he’ll be back on the road in about a week and feel a surge of panic for some reason. You realize that you can’t just be the girl who listens anymore.

You flip to the document that holds your questions for him and grab a notebook out of your bag. You quickly jot down the two most recent ones, furtively glancing at the door to check that he’s still on the phone. You can’t decide if you should write your email or your number; you almost can’t believe you’re doing this at all. You add to the top of the page “confusion may be a higher sense of consciousness, but I’m so curious” and write your email to the bottom. One more look at the door tells you that now’s your chance; you quickly set the note in front of his coffee.

While you were somehow brave enough to leave the note, you're certainly not brave enough to hear him read it. You hurriedly collect your things and head for the door. His call must’ve just ended; he opens the door and holds it, nodding at you. You hope your blush isn’t obvious, but even if it is, he must get that all the time. He’d left his mask off when he went outside. He is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever not-actually met. He has a strong, straight nose, and his face is oval shaped - a good mix of masculine and boyish. You kind of hate that he’s giving you that obviously fake, pursed, polite smile instead of a real one, but why wouldn’t he; you’re giving him the same one.

The next night when the notification sounds, you don’t think much of it. You almost decide not to check your email before bed, but something is nudging at the back of your mind. You click into it and see the subject line: Allow me to bring some clarity. You’re a little stunned that he actually wrote you, because it had to be him; who else would it be?

His answers are short, a little cryptic. But he told you that he’s writing music. You have the smallest insight into his head, and you love it. What you aren’t sure about is how you feel about the fact that he clearly knows who you are. Well. Maybe not clearly. He guessed that you’re you, another regular, or the waitress. He also wanted to know if you have more questions. He signed off as ‘Thinking Out Loud’ rather than giving his name. You wonder if you should avoid showing just how long you’ve been stalking him, but you are curious. It’s time to go big or go home. You thank him for his email and copy over the rest of your ‘Questions and Thoughts’ doc. You also consider fessing up, telling him who you are. But you could be mysterious, too. Ultimately, you sign off as ‘the Listener.’

The night passes, then the next day. It’s Monday, so you don’t go to the cafe. The anticipation is killing you. You decide that if he doesn’t respond before the night is over, you just won’t go back. Maybe that’s cowardly, but it would be mortifying. He’d obviously been freaked out by how long you’ve been listening to him. So much for that hobby and unraveling the mystery of Mr. Thinking Out Loud.

The next morning, you see that you received an email around 4 am. He had replied after all. He didn’t answer any questions, though. It simply read: Same time at the cafe today? Smiling like a fool, you get ready for the day and try not to freak out about the invitation. It was an invitation, wasn’t it? You take a little extra care with your appearance - applying a subtle lip stain, a little eyeliner, and mascara.

As usual, you arrive before him. You go back and forth about sitting at ‘your’ table or his. It is possible that he hadn’t been inviting you to truly interact with him. You sit at your own table and somehow manage to focus on your work for a while. You figure you have a bit of time before he arrives, so you head to the restroom. As you’re walking back toward your table, you freeze.

The guy.

He’s sitting there.

At your table.

The seat across from yours.

You force yourself to move. He looks up as you draw near and offers you a small, welcoming smile. And you’d thought he couldn’t get any cuter. You sit as the waitress stops by to drop off his coffee and a fresh tea for you. She winks at you as she walks away.

“I hope you don’t mind; I hear you like the blueberry.” He smiles again and wow. It’s incredible. He extends his hand. “My listener, I presume?”

“You caught me,” you laugh awkwardly, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry if it was weird of me. You just seem so… interesting.”

There’s no way he doesn’t see your blush this time. The corner of his mouth quirks back up. Then he just takes a sip of his coffee and starts talking. You don’t even need to put your headphones on, because this time, he’s talking to you.

•

You both stay longer than usual. Two more rounds of drinks and a couple shared pastries later, you learn that he’s a musician and trying to write a connected story within an album, something he’s never done on his own before. He also, ears reddening, admits to not realizing he talks quite so much while he’s working. He answers your questions, even asks for your feedback and compliments you on your insights. You’ve always loved watching people talk about their passions, and today is no different. He lights up when he talks, practically glowing. If you thought his first smile was nice, then this full, joyful smile is fantastic. And when he laughs? It makes your heart flutter. He’s beautiful.

All too soon, he says that he needs to head out to his next schedule. You finally notice the time, and while you know you should leave, too, you’re sad that this is over. “Same time on Thursday?” you ask meekly.

He smiles at you. You try not to hold your breath. “Sounds good.” He gathers the last of his things, stands to leave, and gives a small wave. “It was great talking to you, Listener.”

You almost tell him your name or ask his, but he’s already walking away.

By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re nearly vibrating with excitement. How can one coffee date, if you can even call it that, get you so eager to meet with a man you barely know? Though in a way you’ve been getting to know him for a while, indirectly. Plus, music can be a very personal expression of one’s self, and that’s clearly his intention considering your first conversation. Two and a half hours before it’s time to leave, however, your light dims.

The subject line of the email reads: ‘Scheduling Conflict.’ He addresses it to ‘My Listener.” My listener. You’re beaming and feel incredibly silly about it. Your smile falls again, though, as you read the rest of the email. He lets you know that he won’t be at the cafe today, and he didn’t want you to show up and think he stood you up. He thinks that he’ll be able to meet you tomorrow, but will let you know if things change. Things at work are picking up for him, it seems. You try not to be too disappointed and resolve to be much more chill about the situation tomorrow; it’s literally just coffee with an attractive man who seems very intelligent and kind. Right.

So with take two on Friday, you stay busy and try not to think too much about him. Still, you can’t help being excited; you practically bounce into the cafe. He’s not here yet, but he didn’t email today, so you’re optimistic. Despite already brimming with nervous energy, you decide to have a latte today. You settle in with it at your table when the bell on the door rings. He’s sporting a black bucket hat today; it’s a great look.

“Coffee today, huh?” He takes his mask off as he sits, offering that brilliant smile. “What’s your order?”

“Oh, it’s a blonde, breve vanilla latte,” you smile back but notice that he doesn’t have his customary bag of writing materials. Your smile fades a little.

He grimaces a bit. “Sounds too sweet and milky.” He signals to the waitress and she brings him his customary americano without him even needing to order it. “So there’s been a little change in plan again today. I can’t stay too long, but I didn’t want to cancel on you again.”

It’s sweet that he made time for you, but you are disappointed. You remember overhearing him saying he’d be on the road next week, so who knows how long it'll be before you might see him again. If you’ll see him again at all. But you said you’d be chill today, so chill you will be! You talk more about the concept of his album, asking and answering questions and offering suggestions and compliments. All too soon, your cups are empty.

He checks his phone and gives a wry smile. “I need to head out… See you around.” As he stands and moves to leave, he looks back at you thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t be interested in getting a drink with me tonight, would you?”

You hope your smile isn’t too wide. “I’d love to, do you have somewhere in mind?”

He jots down an address and his number on the back of his receipt. “Great. I’ll see you at 9? Just call me when you get there, I’ll meet you out front.” He gives you one last smile before he puts on his mask and heads for the door. Across the bottom of the slip, he’d also written his name. Seungmin.

•

You consider trying to look him up before your date. It is a date this time for sure, right? You hadn’t told any friends about him yet, ‘cause you still felt a little like a stalker, but you need help. When Hana arrives at your apartment, you immediately spill the entire story.

“You never took any pictures of him?” She laughs. “What kind of third-rate stalker are you?”

“Hey! I tried my best not to be creepy… or any creepier than I was already being.” You get out two tops and a dress. “Okay, so I don’t wanna seem like I’m trying too hard, but I wanna look good. What do you think?”

She considers your options. “I’d go with the lilac. It gives you a decent amount of cleavage without being too slutty. What bottoms are you thinking?”

You pull out a pair of dark wash jeggings and black wide-legged pants. “Is it too much flowy or do the black ones work?” Ultimately you decide on the jeggings - as Hana said, they do much more for your ass. She consults on your hairstyle and make-up choices, and by the time you’re ready, your nerves have skyrocketed. “Am I crazy for doing this? Like he seems really nice, but I don’t know anything about him. And he seems young.”

“Oh, you stop that!” Hana rolls her eyes at you. “It’s been forever since you went out with someone. And so what if he’s a little young! Might be a good change of pace; he’ll have lots of energy.” She winks at you and laughs. She might be right. You hope so. Then, just like that, it’s time to head out. As you part ways, Hana offers a few last words of encouragement, “You’ll be fine! Just relax and have fun. If it sucks, it sucks, and you never have to see him again. But if it’s great, it might be the start of a fun adventure!”

You’re nearly to the bar, so you pull up his contact. Seungmin. Not for the first time, you wish he’d given you his last name as well. You might’ve been able to cyber-stalk him as well.

He answers on the second ring. He tells you he’ll be out front, and as you near the bar, you see him step out onto the sidewalk. He asks if you’re close, and you speed up a little. You tell him you are, then hang up; he looks down at his phone, head cocked to the side, clearly confused. You tap him on the shoulder and watch as his expression changes. Even with his mask on, you can tell when his smile lands. You meet it with one of your own.

“Shall we?” Seungmin offers his arm like a gentleman leading a lady out onto the ballroom floor. Once inside, you follow him past the bar and out the back door into an alley. Before you can question him, he points over to the right. A couple meters away, you spot a black door sporting red flourishes. He knocks out a slightly complicated rhythm, and one of the red designs opens to reveal a pair of eyes.

It’s a speakeasy. He brought you to a speakeasy. You didn’t even know that they had speakeasies anymore, though you suppose that’s the point. How does he know about it? He gives the password - flufflebuzz - and you make your way inside. It’s as you’d expect, a bit dark with a masculine, leather-based design scheme. There are small groups gathered around cocktail tables or in the booths lining the walls. Light jazz music floats through the space, covering conversations but not loud enough to make it difficult to have one.

Seungmin leads you to a booth in the back, saluting the bartender on his way. Once you’re settled, he takes off his mask and lets out a little sigh. “I hope this is alright; I know it’s a little different.”

You realize that he’s nervous, which calms you down a little bit. “This is so cool,” you smile at him, gesturing to the bar. “I’ve never been anywhere like this! How did you find it?”

“Oh, some people I work with introduced me to it,” he blushes as he tells you. Another little mystery. “Most people in here work in my industry.” As you turn to take a look around, the waitress arrives with two drinks in hand. They’re yellowish with a creamy foam on top. Seungmin thanks her before you can say that you haven’t ordered yet. “It’s a tradition here, your first drink is up to the bartender, but if you don’t like it, don’t feel like you have to drink it.”

“Well, that’s fun!” You give the drink a sniff. It smells fruity, though you expected that. You can’t figure out what its base is, though. You dip your pinky in a little bit. If Seungmin notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Your nail color doesn’t change, so you know it’s safe to drink. You pick up your glass and Seungmin clinks his to yours. You take a tentative sip. It’s good, a mix of sweet and sour. Seungmin makes a face, though. You laugh. “Not quite your style?”

“And he knows that,” Seungmin smiles at you before catching the bartender’s eye and flipping him off. They both laugh, and the bartender heads over, beer in hand.

“Not about the passionfruit?” The bartender slides the fresh drink in front of him. Seungmin just narrows his eyes at him. “I know, too sweet. I had to try, though. Now we’re being rude. Don’t wanna scare off your friend here. I suppose you’re really not a fan, huh?” He directs the question to you.

“Oh no, I love passionfruit. I think this is great.” You give him a polite smile, but they share an odd look and laugh.

The bartender picks up Seungmin’s discarded drink and takes a sip. “Happy to hear it. Could be good for you, Min. You guys have a good night.” With that, he gives a quick wink and walks off, joining another table rather than going back behind the bar where you see another bartender has materialized. You’re more than a little confused.

“I’m sorry about that. Chan Hyung is…” Seungmin looks thoughtfully in the direction Chan went. “A little over-protective. He just wanted to see that you weren’t… That you seemed alright. Sorry, I know that’s vague.”

“It’s fine,” you offer. Though you are still a little lost, you can understand looking out for a friend. “So is he not actually a bartender, or…?”

Seungmin laughs again. Now that you’re alone, you’re able to appreciate the sound of it a bit more. “No, not really. We’re just friends with him, and every now and then Chan likes to try his hand at making drinks somewhere that has a greater variety of ingredients. It’s for the best that they let him; the kitchen would be even more of a mess if he got stuff to make drinks at home. Anyway, enough about him, I wanna learn more about you.”

You blush a little at that and start answering the usual ‘get to know you’ type questions. You try to turn them back to him, but he deflects or quickly asks you follow-ups most of the time. He remains a bit of a mystery. You learn that he works with Chan, but doesn’t live with him - he has other roommates over at the other table, though; he has an older sister, which prompts a question that he answers easily for once.

“I’m 23,” he looks down at his drink, and you can just barely see his ears reddening in the dim light. “Not too young, I hope?” Though you haven’t explicitly told him your age, he clearly recognizes that you’re older than him. Despite not getting too many personal details, you are really starting to like him. And you’re pretty sure that confirms that he likes you, too.

“Not too young at all,” you smile. When your phone buzzes for the fourth time, he tells you to check it and heads for the restroom, stopping at Chan’s table on his way. He almost immediately erupts in the most endearing laugh with the lot of them. He looks so at ease with his friends, making you realize that he has seemed a bit nervous with you.

You look down at your phone to see multiple texts from Hana asking how it’s going, where you are, if you need rescuing. You let her know that you’re fine, having fun, and that you were right about him being younger. She immediately responds, asking if you’re planning on “closing the deal tonight then?” with a wink. At that, you put your phone away and look up to see that Seungmin's on his way back. The rest of the date goes on smoothly, moving from personal details to passions and interests; Seungmin answers a bit more freely now, his face lighting up the way it did in the cafe.

Before you know it, a waitress stops by to let you know it’s nearly time for last call. You’re both a bit surprised. “Wow, it’s gotten late fast,” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck, looking down and biting that perfect lower lip. Hana’s question earlier pops into your mind and now you’re blushing, too. “Would it be too corny if I said I didn’t want the night to end?”

It’s a wonder you can suppress the gigantic smile you know is trying to burst out. “Not at all, I’m having a great time, too.” You consider the table of his friends and roommates over at the other table. Seungmin probably won’t want to ask you to go back to him apparent with so many others potentially being there. You hope you sound casual. “We could always go somewhere else for a bit. Take a walk or have a nightcap at my place or something.”

His eyes meet yours again as he nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

•

The walk back to your apartment is a little quieter than you expected. The closer you get, the more nerves build up. After a few minutes, his hand brushes yours a couple times before he interlocks his fingers with yours. You don’t try too hard to suppress your smile when you see his. As you enter, you gesture to the couch then you head toward the kitchen, running through the rest of the place in your mind, trying to remember if you may have left anything embarrassing out. “What can I get you? Another beer?”

“Actually, I was thinking it might be time to switch to coffee if you have any,” he ventures; he follows you to the kitchen and clearly notices your lack of coffee machine.

You grimace slightly. “I know it’s not very good, but I think I have some leftover instant?” His face tells you that it sounds as bad as you feared it might. “Sorry, I’m more of a tea drinker.”

“Blueberry?” He jokes, or at least you think it’s a joke. He’s lost some of the joviality he had at the bar, becoming a little harder to read. “I like to have tea now and then. Could I have something black?”

He agrees to try some lady grey and asks to look around while you put the kettle on. By the time you come out with your mugs, he’s sitting on the couch. He looks much more uncomfortable now. You don’t know if you should be offering to turn on the TV or some music; it’s been so long since you’ve had a date over. What will make things less awkward?

Luckily he saves you from having to decide; he asks if he can show you a music video. You pull up youtube on your TV and hand him the remote. The video he pulls up is titled ‘Stray Kids "특(S-Class)" M/V’ and asks, “I’m guessing you’ve never heard of them?” When you shake your head no, he turns to face you more fully. “How do you feel about how tonight went? Would you be interested in seeing me again?”

This feels abrupt, and he still looks so nervous. You give him a smile. “Tonight has been wonderful, and I’d love to go out again.” You expect him to relax a little, but if anything he tenses up a bit more.

“Me too. I just… need to tell you something first.” Instead of saying whatever it is, he hits play on the video. You consider his profile, as he’s actively not looking at you. Your head snaps to the TV when the voice starts singing. You suppose if it’s this important to him, you might as well watch. For a second you think you recognize the guys in the group, but you’re not sure why. Around 30 seconds in, you know that you’re looking at Seungmin’s friend Chan on the screen. You shoot him a questioning look, but he’s still focused on the video. About 10 more seconds and you understand why he’s so nervous. Your jaw drops. This time when you look at him, he pauses the video.

He’s still not looking at you when he speaks, suddenly very interested in his tea. “I would really like to see you again. To get to know you better.” He glances up at you, finally, then nods back at the TV. “But it can be really hard to do that when that’s your job.”

You really don’t know what to say. The best you can come up with is, “You sing so well.” Your stupidity breaks the tension a bit; he laughs then you do. “Sorry, I don’t know what to think right now. I know you said you like K-pop at the bar, I just didn’t realize that you, like, are K-pop. Wow. That’s really awesome.”

He laughs again. “Well, that’s one way to put it. I know I just kinda dropped a bomb on you. I can go so you can have time to think about it.”

Your “no” probably comes a little too quickly. “You haven’t finished your tea... Plus, I don’t want you to leave. I’m not sure I even know what to consider about it.”

He gives you a small smile before taking a sip from his mug. “Well, there are a few things to think about. I’m not allowed to date publicly. So if we continued to see each other, it would have to be a secret. And I travel a lot. I’m usually a lot busier; these last few weeks we’ve been on a short break. It would be hard to see each other too often.”

It does sound difficult. Maybe too difficult to consider with someone you just met. But you haven’t connected with someone like this in a long time. He seems like a great guy, he wants to keep seeing you, and he’s so, so handsome. His gaze is on his hands, giving you the opportunity to study his face without feeling self conscious. As your eyes trace his features, you imagine never getting to listen to him write music again, never getting to watch his face light up as he answers one of your questions about it, never hearing him laugh again. As he pulls that beautiful bottom lip between his teeth and raises his head to meet your eyes again, you know what you want. In the morning, this will probably all seem a bit crazier, but for now… you place your hand on his. You lean in and gently press a kiss to his lips.

You pull back and look into his eyes. Time stops for just a moment as you look at each other. You can see the desire in his stare; it matches your own. Then his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you again. His calluses surprise you - you can feel the roughness of them as one hand trails its way down your body and the other snakes back to grip your neck. As his tongue brushes your lip, your mouth opens a bit more in invitation; he accepts, deepening the kiss, his tongue mingling with yours. His hands trace your curves before pulling you closer and you wrap your arms around him. Each movement is insistent, bordering on frantic, as if you can’t get enough of each other. You want to dive into him. He clearly feels the same.

One moment he’s gripping your thigh and the next you’re straddling him, grinding against his growing erection, while his fingers dig into your ass. You pull back and look at him. You’re both breathing heavily. His hands are on your hips now, thumbs rubbing small circles. Your hands are on his shoulders, coasting down to rest on his biceps.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to -” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you smile at him. “Plus, I did kiss you first.”

“I meant to give you more time to think about all this.” He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You give him another quick kiss. “I don’t think I will, regardless of where we go from here. And I do want to see you again. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. So for now, do you think we can just see how this goes?”

He considers you for a moment, those dark eyes boring into yours. He looks so serious, you can’t guess what he’s thinking. Then the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You give him a smile of your own and lean in for another kiss. You sigh into his mouth as his hands slide under your shirt. Your hands find their way into his hair as he grips your waist tightly before pushing your shirt up. You break the kiss to let him take it off, and he shakes his head again before cocking it to the right as he studies you.The look he’s giving you makes you think of a puppy. It’s so adorable and somehow only adds to his sexiness. “You’re really beautiful, noona.” He gives your waist another squeeze as he says it, but his grin starts to falter. “Are you sure about this?”

Your face heats a little at the honorific. Your gaze wanders from his face, down to your seat on his lap, and back up. You roll your hips, savoring the feel of his hard length beneath you. “I’m sure.”

With a small groan, he shocks you by standing up and guiding you to wrap your legs around his thin waist. Your apartment isn’t huge, and he already took a look around, so he knows just where to go. In seconds, you’re on your bed with his weight on top of you. He grinds his hips into yours as he takes your mouth again.

In a flurry of lips and tongues and teeth, you pull at his shirt, needing to touch his skin. He pulls back long enough to pull it over his head, then his lips find your neck while your hands explore his bare back. You should worry about getting a hickey, but all you can think of is how each suck and bite at your neck sends a burst of fire through your body.

A thought strikes you, “I’m - ah - I’m, I’m clean, by the way.”

Seungmin grins, relishing the fact that he’s made it difficult for you to utter a simple sentence. “I am, too.” With that, his lips move south, nipping at the tops of your breasts before he pulls one of the cups down, locking his mouth onto your nipple. He sucks, tongue flicking and circling, while his hands make their way underneath you in an attempt to remove your bra. You arch into his touch, giving him room to work. Once your bra is off, he moves immediately to work on your leggings.

Just like that, you’re fully bared to him, and he finally slows down. He’s kneeling between your legs, just taking you in. You take the opportunity to study him a bit as well. He’s obviously got some muscle, but he’s not built - it fits him. His shoulders are broad, kind of like a swimmer’s. Your gaze drifts down to the considerable bulge in his pants, and you really can’t wait to see the rest of him. Before you can sit up to continue undressing him, he’s back on you. He kisses his way from your lips to your chest, down your stomach, all the while murmuring how beautiful you look, how sexy you are. He nibbles at your inner thigh, eyes on yours.

“Is this okay?” At this point, it feels a little like a silly question, but those puppy dog eyes are back, so you can’t tease him about it.

“Yes, are you–”

Yes was all he needed to hear. The eager thing dives right in, lapping at your clit with a flat tongue before swirling it in circles. He’s barely begun and you’re already starting to squirm, his strong grip on your thighs heightening the experience. You can’t help but let out a small moan. Your hands move into his hair of their own accord. As he laps at your core, pushing you towards your release, your grip tightens.

He pulls back, and you suppress a whimper. He licks his lips and gives you a heart-melting smile. “Does hair pulling mean I’m doing well or do I need to change tactics?” His thumb makes its way to your clit, doing lazy circles as he asks.

It takes you two tries to answer. “Ye-yes, hair pulling means it’s good. Do you mind it?”

His grin widens. “Pull away.” He’s sucking and licking now, driving you wild. You have fistfuls of his hair and, despite his permission, are fighting not to pull. Then he inserts a finger into you, another quickly follows. Your grip tightens again, you let out a gasp, and you can feel his smile. His fingers are curling, massaging into just the right spot as he sucks at your clit again. When you thrust up to meet his mouth, his other arm shifts across your hips and pushes them back down. Your head spins as he adds a third finger. He’s not letting up, pushing you into the stratosphere. An endless stream of moans and gasps spill from your lips and a tear trickles down the side of your face.

“Oh.. Min,” you cry as you come. He slows but doesn’t stop as your body tenses and shakes, clenching around his fingers. As the trembling subsides, he withdraws his fingers and climbs his way back up your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses. He licks his lips again, then wipes his dripping chin before licking his fingers.

“You taste good.” And you can taste yourself as his lips find yours again. “I like when you call me Min.”

“Please,” your hand finds his bulge, pulling at him while the other starts to pull at his waistband. You’re not usually so needy, but your orgasm has only made you want him more. “Please, I need you inside me.”

His eyes darken at that. You almost wonder if you might’ve put him off with your begging as he pushes up off the bed. He keeps his eyes on yours for a moment then starts unbuttoning his pants. “Say it again.”

“Please,” you sit up to take over, freeing his length with a tiny gasp. You could tell he was big before, but seeing it is another story. An ache pulses in your core at the thought of him filling you up. “I need you, Min.”

There’s been a shift in him. He’s not moving as frantically, the look on his face is devastating - so serious, his eyes full of pure desire. He slowly positions himself back between your legs, a hand on your chest, slowly pushing you down onto your back again. He drags the head of his cock through your folds before rubbing it on your clit then settling it back at your entrance. He leans down, one hand posted next to your head, while the other holds himself steady, and his lips caress yours. He pulls back slightly, forehead on yours, gaze boring into you.

You know what he wants. “Fuck me, Seungmin, please.”

His eyes are still locked on yours as his body shifts, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Your breath hitches and a soft moan escapes your lips. That flips his switch. His lips move roughly against yours as he starts to thrust. He quickly falls into a rhythm, and now it’s his hand fisting into your hair. You break the kiss so that you can suck at his neck. He sighs, but backs out of your reach. “I can’t, ah, I can’t have any visible marks.” You pull his mouth back to yours, your other hand grasping at his back. Seungmin slips a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit, and you feel yourself winding up again. As you meet each of his thrusts, you can’t control the mewling gasps coming out of your mouth. Soon you’re moaning his name again, and he’s breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. His movements become more erratic as you both approach your limits. You squeeze around him as you come again, and it sets him off at a faster pace.

“I’m going to, ah, I’m going to come,” he groans. “What do I, ah, where do I…” he straightens as he pulls out and you scramble to sit up and grab at him. He lets you take over pumping him while you quickly resituate yourself. You get your mouth around him and can barely move before his hand is back in your hair, and the other grips your shoulder tightly. You can tell he’s holding back to let you stay in control as you try to swallow him down without gagging (too much). Your name falls from his lips as he finishes; his hold on you loosens, and you both relax back. His hands move to cup your face gently, brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed escaping. “Are you alright?”

You smile up at him, resting your hands on his thighs. “I’m fine. More than fine. You’re just a little big.”

He chuckles before ghosting a kiss over your lips. “As long as I didn’t hurt you.” He lays down then, pulling you with him. With your head on his chest, his hand tracing circles on your back, you start to drift off.

•

[blingblong55]

Nothing- König

Based on a request:

Hey kasper!! >__< i hope this request finds you in good health, i'm that anon who asked earlier if your reqs are open and dont worry! Im willing to wait <33 just take your time and no rush.. Anyways- May I request a fluff fic on konig (or ghost) where they come home from a very long mission to see that their darling is baking something delicious? (Can be any pastry dish you want WAAHH) Maybe a pastry chef reader and shes on her day off and used the time to bake something! The house smelled definitely like heaven and I bet that Konig (or ghost 😭) was immediately the taste tester for the day!! TEEEHEEEE >3< jus some domestic fluff cause i've been reading way too much angst lately BAAAHHHHAHSHAHAH -🍰 anon :3 ---- F!Reader, fluff, domestic, established!relationship, baker!reader ----

A/N: If you came for the Ghost version of this, click here

It was a tough mission. His body was sore, and scars and bruises adorned him. "Home," he whispers once his body is near to giving up. Home is you, he thinks. His pretty darling is home and all he can do is drive faster. How much can a man last when he isn't in the arms of their lover?

Once he steps wearily through the threshold of his home, his boots fall heavy by the entrance. The weight of the mission on his shoulders but as soon as he caught the aroma wafting through the air, his fatigue seemed to dissipate. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he followed the scent. The mask he dreads to wear home is tossed to the side.

There you are, his pretty girl, standing amidst a flurry of flour a sugar. You didn't notice him as you stook your tongue out and tried to clean the corners of the spoon. Flour from the past minutes is still on your blouse and cheek.

He clears his throat, your eyes light up with delight when you notice him. As you rushed to his side, he felt himself grow those everloving butterflies. "Welcome home," you whisper, your voice soothes his weary soul.

König returns the embrace, savouring the familiar scent of your hair. "It's good to be home, Liebling," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Home.

What a funny word, no? At least to him, it is. If you would've told him years ago he'd be calling you his wife or that he'd even have a person to go to, he'd laugh at your nonsense. A man like him isn't worthy of a home–

"I missed you Bär," you say as you cup his face. It's beautiful really, how he lets you love him this much. It's poetic how good he feels when he sees you even more when you hold him like this. Are you truly an angel?

As you both pull away, he can't help but admire the sight before him. Flour dust on that pretty face of yours and your hair pulled back into that clipped messy bun, yet you are still the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The warmth of your smile is chased by shadows that linger in his mind, and he feels a surge of gratitude for your presence in his life.

I mean look at you, what good must he have done to have you here?

"What are you baking?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you gesture to the countertop. "I'm experimenting with a new recipe. Chocolate chip cookies."

König's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he couldn't resist stealing a taste of the dough. You laugh at his eagerness, swatting his hand away. "Patience, Bär," you smile. "They'll be ready soon enough."

Maybe all is well and he doesn't have to run or hide. He can just be here, with you.

As you two wait for the cookies to bake, he finds himself drawn to your side, appreciating the simple pleasure of being in your company. You two exchange stories of your week. Laugh and playful pushes followed along.

What if this is what he is meant for? Maybe life isn't so bad for a man like him. Not with you, at least.

Finally, the timer dinged, signalling the cookies were done. As you pull the tray out of the oven, he finds himself dreaming of more. Maybe next time around, when all is peaceful, there will be a kid, maybe two eagerly waiting for a taste of a new family recipe.

"These are incredible," König declares as he takes another bite and savours the sweetness with his tongue.

You beam with pride, your cheeks flush with pleasure from this compliment. "I'm glad you think so. There's plenty more where that came from," your voice softer now.

As you two indulge in this impromptu midnight snack, König can't shake the feeling of contentment that settles over him. In this moment, surrounded by warmth and love, he knows that there is nowhere else in the world he rather be.

And as he and you lean on the counters, he realises that sometimes, the greatest adventures were found not in the battlefield, but in the quiet moments of domestic blissed with the one he holds dear.

F!Reader, fluff, domestic, established!relationship, baker!reader

It was a tough mission. His body was sore, and scars and bruises adorned him. "Home," he whispers once his body is near to giving up. Home is you, he thinks. His pretty darling is home and all he can do is drive faster. How much can a man last when he isn't in the arms of their lover?

Once he steps wearily through the threshold of his home, his boots fall heavy by the entrance. The weight of the mission on his shoulders but as soon as he caught the aroma wafting through the air, his fatigue seemed to dissipate. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he followed the scent. The mask he dreads to wear home is tossed to the side.

There you are, his pretty girl, standing amidst a flurry of flour a sugar. You didn't notice him as you stook your tongue out and tried to clean the corners of the spoon. Flour from the past minutes is still on your blouse and cheek.

He clears his throat, your eyes light up with delight when you notice him. As you rushed to his side, he felt himself grow those everloving butterflies. "Welcome home," you whisper, your voice soothes his weary soul.

König returns the embrace, savouring the familiar scent of your hair. "It's good to be home, Liebling," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Home.

What a funny word, no? At least to him, it is. If you would've told him years ago he'd be calling you his wife or that he'd even have a person to go to, he'd laugh at your nonsense. A man like him isn't worthy of a home–

"I missed you Bär," you say as you cup his face. It's beautiful really, how he lets you love him this much. It's poetic how good he feels when he sees you even more when you hold him like this. Are you truly an angel?

As you both pull away, he can't help but admire the sight before him. Flour dust on that pretty face of yours and your hair pulled back into that clipped messy bun, yet you are still the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The warmth of your smile is chased by shadows that linger in his mind, and he feels a surge of gratitude for your presence in his life.

I mean look at you, what good must he have done to have you here?

"What are you baking?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you gesture to the countertop. "I'm experimenting with a new recipe. Chocolate chip cookies."

König's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he couldn't resist stealing a taste of the dough. You laugh at his eagerness, swatting his hand away. "Patience, Bär," you smile. "They'll be ready soon enough."

Maybe all is well and he doesn't have to run or hide. He can just be here, with you.

As you two wait for the cookies to bake, he finds himself drawn to your side, appreciating the simple pleasure of being in your company. You two exchange stories of your week. Laugh and playful pushes followed along.

What if this is what he is meant for? Maybe life isn't so bad for a man like him. Not with you, at least.

Finally, the timer dinged, signalling the cookies were done. As you pull the tray out of the oven, he finds himself dreaming of more. Maybe next time around, when all is peaceful, there will be a kid, maybe two eagerly waiting for a taste of a new family recipe.

"These are incredible," König declares as he takes another bite and savours the sweetness with his tongue.

You beam with pride, your cheeks flush with pleasure from this compliment. "I'm glad you think so. There's plenty more where that came from," your voice softer now.

As you two indulge in this impromptu midnight snack, König can't shake the feeling of contentment that settles over him. In this moment, surrounded by warmth and love, he knows that there is nowhere else in the world he rather be.

And as he and you lean on the counters, he realises that sometimes, the greatest adventures were found not in the battlefield, but in the quiet moments of domestic blissed with the one he holds dear.

A/N: I want to hold him.....

Tags:

@simpsallthetime1997 @tipsykeen @lonelybitchs-world @viawritesstuff @avaleigh16 @aprilplage @wtfwhydoesnooneknowthebooksilove @undercover-smutlover @riskyboi123 @madsdawson @rennroo @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frizzseaberries @spicypicklesoh @viomast @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔳𝔬𝔴'𝔰

Summary: It's been a few months since that haunting morning at Saltburn, and life hasn't gotten any easier. You aren't sure if either of you have truly left that day behind, even though your bodies are miles away from those grand, boundless walls.

But together, you know you'll both survive.

Warnings: 18+, MDI! Oral (F! receiving), Face sitting, unprotected sex, AFAB, American!Reader. Some decent amounts of angst. Farleigh is going through it after Saltburn (follows canon and Felix's and Venetia's death's), but there's some corny, domestic fluff to take the edge off. A little small dose of jealous Farleigh. Mentions of alcohol and (implied) cocaine usage as a means of coping (but it's brief).

Notes: 16.9k words. Not proofread yet. @saradika-graphics, placed on Halloween night because I'm already missing fall and I'm completely shameless. Thank you to everyone who has ever left a comment and praise - it's always very much appreciated! Seriously, it makes me so happy! And I am sorry to anyone who I may have kept waiting for this. I hope you enjoy.

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦- 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦

You could still taste the party on your tongue; the scent of the alcohol that had been in the air, pungent and sharp. It was like the blaring music was still playing, vibrating across your skin from the volume of the stereo system instead of the mellow country classic faintly warbling out of the diner's tired speakers. It was a harsh juxtaposition and your brain, still a little sluggish from the chaos of the night is still trying to catch up. You could still feel the sweaty bodies bumping up against you own, smelling with the salt of sweat, the artificial fragrance of face paint, and that sweet plastic scent of fake blood. It was practically embedded in your nose, even with the warm plume of steam wafting up from the plate of food sat directly underneath your face. 

You had scarfed down most of it already. You were practically starving after all of the dancing you had done. It always manages to make you hungry, regardless of the previous meals you've had. You've forgone a sense of decorum in your famished, sensitive state and shove the entirety of your last piece of toast into your mouth, leaning over in case any of the jam wiggles loose and falls. Oh, course that's when the server makes another appearance. When you're wolfing down a mouthful of food. You try to smile up him around your chewing, awkward and apologetic, before lifting a hand up to hide your mouth. 

"Need a refill?" He asks, gently shaking the pitcher of water in his hand while he looks down at you with a polite smile of his own. He's making an odd amount of eye contact with you too, but you try to tell yourself that it might just be the light adrenaline induced buzz humming through your veins making you a little hyperaware. Something about his mannerisms seem strangely familiar, but your slow-moving brain comes up empty when you try to chase after that thought. Instead, you just nod wordlessly, humming out a short "mm-hmm" in lieu of a verbal response and nudge your glass closer to him across the scratched and Sharpie defaced tabletop to make it easier for him to pour. 

The few quick seconds that pass seem entirely too long, and the sound of the flowing stream of water seems to enunciate the time passing by. It feels embarrassing for no reason, and in your effort to shed some of the shame prickling over you, you glance over at the other end of the table to Farleigh. 

It's then you notice the way that he's outright glaring at the waiter without even trying to conceal the look. His mouth is twisted into a scowl as he props himself onto the table with a single elbow, and he takes another drag of his cigarette like he needs it to keep him tethered in place. His habit has skyrocketed these past couple of weeks in the absence of his other vices. You aren't a particular fan of the indoor smoking, but you'd seen the cook pass by a few minutes earlier on the way to the bathroom with a lit cigarette dangling between his lips, so it didn't seem to be a problem. Not to mention, the server had even provided him with a tiny little ashtray which he promptly flicks the embers of burnt tobacco into.  

You send him an inquisitive glance, but he's too caught up with glowering to notice. All you can figure is that they may have some kind of history, but then you can't help but wonder why he'd let you drag him to this particular diner if that were that case. 

The server - Daniel, you note, and the name is familiar too - hasn't seemed to notice Farleigh's displeased expression, and he's gone just as quickly as he had appeared, conveniently just as you're able to swallow your toast. You chase after it with your water before settling your attention back on Farleigh who still looks just as grumpy. Sure, his mood had admittedly dampened a little bit while you were both out celebrating, but that could go the same for you as well. As much as the both of you tried to shrug it off and move on, parties of all kinds have become a little bitter, a little raw after . . . 

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat, ignoring the way the polyester cushion clings to the bare skin of your legs despite the chill in the diner. He perks up a bit, peering at you from over his mug as he takes a sip. 

"What was that about?" You ask, but he just raises an eyebrow at you like he's confused. Even while he looks so disgruntled, you can't help but muse how adorable he looks with those dark kitten whiskers smeared across his cheeks, made from your eyeshadow pallet. 

"What do you mean, 'what was that about'?" He sits his drink down on the table, letting himself recline against the backrest of the booth. 

You shrug, letting your eyes rove over the window beside your shoulders and the cut-out paper decorations pasted to the glass; retro styled Jack o' Lanterns and ghosts. Though it was probably the condensation from the since passed storm that's really keeping them secured to their places. "I don't know. It seemed like you may have known him." 

His brows perk up, almost unamused while he shakes his head. "No. Not really," he responds cryptically.  

He doesn't seem to be lying. Farleigh's ability to be convincing when it comes to concealing the truth is sort of on a spectrum. No matter the scope of the lie, he's never great at hiding them. His eyes can get shifty, or he'll get a little too animated like he forgets how to express himself normally, becoming too self-conscious. It's obviously the smaller ones, the white lies usually, that he's able to be a bit more convincing with. But whatever this is, it's enough for him to be a little restless, fidgeting with the handle of the porcelain mug like he needs to distract himself. But from what, you aren't sure. And despite claiming not to know him, there must be some reason why his mood had taken even more of a decline since seeing the server. 

"He does look familiar though," you mumble absentmindedly. 

"I'm sure he does," Farleigh replies lowly, like the comment was only meant for him. But you hear it regardless and it's said with a kind of snark that you hadn't heard aimed at you in a long time. 

The expression on your face is incredulous. For a second you just stare at him silently and the music drifting across the quiet does little to make the atmosphere feel any less foreign. The old, florescent panel lights flicker above and buzz in an insistent drone, making everything even more bare and alien than it already is. You hadn't taken the brunt of Farleigh's ire in a long time. Okay, 'ire' might be a little dramatic. Irritation is probably more accurate. But it feels so weird - uncomfortable - to have him genuinely annoyed with something that you've apparently done. You're used to his sarcasm and quips, you're on the receiving end of them on a daily basis, just like he's on the receiving end of yours. It's normal. It's a part of your dynamic, and your shared, taunting and impish kind of humor is how the both of you grew close. Long before either of you had even realized. You can count on a single hand the number of times that you've had an actual disagreement or argument with Farleigh. But you don't enjoy them in the slightest, so you'd like to find out the root of this little problem before it builds and blows up in both of your faces. 

"First of all, what is that even supposed to mean?" You ask, pulling back to cross your arms. "And secondly, what's wrong?" 

He shoots you an exasperated look, like he's unconvinced of something. You don't reply aloud. You just shrug, openly confused. 

"Seriously?" He says with what sounds like disbelief. 

"What?" 

He scoffs and pins you with a glare that's simultaneously annoyed and relieved. You can see the minute way that his shoulders seem to relax, shedding the bit of stress that had been winding his body up tight. "You really don't recognize him?" 

The question makes you feel a little dimwitted. It prompts you to lean a little in your both, towards the end of the seat and you let your eyes move away from Farleigh. Scanning the diner, searching for the sight of the waiter in the hopes to toggle free that sense of familiarity that shrouds him. Maybe you'll finally be able to remember just who he is. It's been searing at your brain all night, and Farleigh's insistence that you know him just drives the urge deeper. You finally spot him behind the C shaped bar, refilling the salt and pepper shakers that he must have collected from the vacant tables. There is something there. The kind of acquaintance that comes with seeing the same cashier at a gas station more than once, or noticing the same neighbor trimming the bushes in their lawn when you go out to check the mail. But there isn't anything more than that. The sharp jut of his chin and the tattoo peeking out from underneath the short cut of his sleeve are features that you know that you've seen before, but you just end up drawing another blank. You'd like to blame it on alcohol, but despite having spent the entire night dancing and singing at the top of your lungs in a party, you haven't drank a single drop. 

You tilt back into your seat and return your focus to Farleigh with a lost shrug. 

"Jesus Christ," he huffs. "He's served us at least four other times." 

"Oh, that's it?" You say, a little indifferent. You were expecting something more . . . exciting than that. Maybe some drama involving a drunken fight that you couldn't remember at a bar or house party, and he had been the culprit. Literally anything other than he was just you're regular server. Plus, you hardly found that enough to warrant the heavy scowl that Farleigh had been giving him earlier. 

Farleigh sags even further against the cushion of the booth, and the expression on his face is outright petulant and soaked with annoyance. When he speaks next, his voice is at this odd cross of defeated but passionate. "He flirts with you all the time." 

Ah, there it is. 

You want to counter the argument. You yourself have been a waitress who's been accused of flirting with customers boyfriends just because you had come across as overtly friendly when asking for a drink order or dropping off the bill. An exhausting symptom that seems to come with serving the public and insecure lovers out on dates. But that little comment does manage to jog something free. Vague memories of said waiter - Daniel - staring at you for a little longer than necessary or brushing his fingers along yours whenever you'd hand him a cleared plate during past visits. But that's about all. Just subtle, otherwise harmless interest that he's apparently garnered for you. "Well, clearly he didn't do a very good job, because I hardly remembered him." 

The stormy expression doesn't slip from Farleigh's face, and as much as you're trying to joke, you know that this little bout of jealousy has stemmed from something deeper. Sure, he's always had an inclination of being a little possessive. You've caught glimpses of it in the past with his old flings and exes, but the way that he grips you is entirely different from that. He makes sure to touch you in some capacity when in public; a hand on the back of your waist to guide you through crowded areas, keeping his fingers laced with yours on walks, or pulling you into his lap whenever he's able to. He always makes sure to stake his claim on you somehow. Especially whenever he feels as though someone could be a threat to your relationship, even though you do your best to talk to him and placate those insecurities. On any other occasion, you would have been annoyed that he felt intimidated by some random guy at an IHop, but for whatever reason, this just feels off. But you know that this is different. Tonight is different. 

You had seen the shift in him at the party. It was just some get together for Halloween that one of his old friends had thrown for the holiday. It was meant to be small, and that was really one of the only reasons that you had agreed to go. You had wanted to stay inside your apartment for the night, as lame as it may sound. To just spend time curled up on the couch with him against your back while you both gorged yourself on candy and junk food and watched a few horror movies that you had rented from the Block Buster down the street. But Farleigh had insisted that he wanted to go, complaining that spending the entire Halloween night inside was lame. 

A part of you had been a little reluctant. The first weeks after Saltburn had been particularly hard on Farleigh. He had been on a path of self-destruction, like he was insistent on punishing himself for Felix and Venetia. He had made sure to frequent any and every party that he could manage, drinking and snorting whatever he could get his hands on. For a moment you thought that you might have lost him too.  It put a strain on you both. With you constantly voicing your concerns and him always insisting that he was fine. It had all come to a head one night when Farleigh had made a snarky comment towards someone he shouldn't have. Despite all of his sarcasm and harsh words, Farleigh isn't a fighter. At least, not in the physical aspect. But that's all it had took. Some drunken, scathing remark, that honestly, you can't even remember. But you do remember the fist that came after it. How it had cut through the air, and the loud thump of bone hitting bone, leaving a tender bruise, blue and purple in its wake. 

Even then, you could still see the temptation in his eyes while you had dug around in your freezer for some a makeshift ice pack, the temptation to curl back into a bottom of a bottle and never come back out. Finally, you had been the one who broke down, right in the middle of your kitchen, clutching a pack of frozen peas in your hand while the anger, and fear, and anxiety welled up to the surface. He had been quick to jerk up from his seat at the table, crossing the space between you and pulling you from the fridge and into his arms with broken, "I'm sorry's" spilling from him. 

"I can't lose you Farleigh," you cried, burying your face into his chest, breathing in his scent like it might vanish. "I can't."

His self-hatred and the blame that he held his cousins didn't just clear up overnight after that. There were times where you could still see the temptation and loathing glimmering in his eyes, but he was getting better. He was starting to work past it a little bit at a time. To finally let go of all of the booze and writhing, dancing bodies; the sound of laughter and streamers drifting down in the air. The reminders of that summer night back in England, and the morning after, when Felix had failed to show up to the breakfast table. It was hard for both of you. The vacant, bleeding wound that was left in his absence. The pain that comes with it. But even worse, was the reminder that if you must be hurting from the loss, that the sheer agony that Farleigh feels is something that you'd never truly be able to understand. The anguish and torture that must weigh over him every waking moment from his cousins' unexpected death - the death that he had been blamed for in the eyes of James, all because of the words of a stranger. 

Farleigh holds you like you're a ghost. He holds you like you might disappear if he doesn't. That you'll vanish and turn to smoke, or you'll turn your back on him like the Catton's - his family - have. God, even Venetia. Sweet Venetia is gone too. That's what Elsbeth had said to Farleigh when she reached out in a phone call one random evening. The last call - the last favor, she had said that Farleigh would ever receive from her. He had been inconsolable after that. Collapsing on the floor with violent, heaving breaths tearing from his chest after she had hung up on him. He had gone completely still before the flip phone had slipped from his hand with a harsh clatter. That was the only warning that you got before he had looked up to you, and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes had ripped your heart in half. It was the pained, lost sob that tore from his chest that ripped you from your shock and had you dropping down beside him and pulling him into your embrace. 

You can't recall how long you had sat with him on the carpet, clutching him to your body while he cried and gripped at your arms, and shoulders, and back like he didn't know what to do with himself. It had been your turn to cling to him like he might have been the one to disappear if you hadn't, doing your best to swallow back your own tears as he cried into the junction of your neck. 

You know that's all that his jealousy is. Fear that you'll leave him behind like the rest of his supposed family has. Sure, he has his mother and his father. But truthfully, he's always been saddled with the responsibility of keeping the relationship between them cordial; perpetually caught between the both of them. And his relationship with his mother is strained at best. Taxed by his constant worries for her recklessness with her monetary spending, and her inability to keep track of her expenses and bills. A defect of growing up wealthy, you suppose. 

So when Farleigh insisted that he wanted to get out of the apartment. To go out and celebrate you were reluctant. You voiced your concerns about it, but you didn't fight him on it. You knew that he needed the distraction. A break from all of the loneliness, misery and pain. You both had come to the agreement not to touch any sort of alcohol or drugs during the duration of the little Halloween get together, and that was enough for you. You trusted him completely. 

The first few hours at the party had been great. Even when way more people than planned arrived; all of them bringing friends and those friends brought their own until the house filled to its maximum occupancy. The floorboards and walls had practically been pulsing with the volume of the music blasting. Everything from Rob Zombie's Dragula to old Halloween classics like Thriller and The Monster Mash had blared out from the stereo system hooked up the living room. It had been nice to just let go and relax, letting yourself enjoy the first positive party experience in close to a couple months. For a while you allowed yourself to dance, grinding and moving against Farleigh, soaking in his heat and scent from around the chaos, feeling the warmth of his palms sweeping underneath your skirt and gripping onto your hips. It had been peace despite the excitement and havoc tainting the air like a sharp, heady buzz. But you knew something was wrong when you felt the brush of his lips pause over the skin of your neck, and his body had stilled against yours. It made you stop in turn, looking over your shoulder to check him with the confused whisper of his name on your tongue. And when you caught his eyes, locked onto something past your shoulders like a deer staring into the headlights of an approaching car, you wordlessly turned to track his sight. 

It was a pair of wings. Tinted in shades of a fiery orange and violet from the lights strung around the circumference of the room. Their true color must have been a shade of soft white, but some broken part of you waited for them to shift into a rich, glint of gold. And in that moment, for a quick but painful second you could remember the scent of the summer air. Tinged and damp with dew and sweet with pollen and the alcohol that had been spilt across the lawn. The shifting bodies around you weren't people at all, they were the looming hedges of the maze, and the soft leaves sweep and scratched at your skin. It wasn't a girl in an angel costume wearing those wings, but Felix, dead and sprawled out on the lush grass while the heavy music mutated into the anguished cries of Venetia and Farleigh - 

Farleigh. 

You had snapped out the trance with a gasp. You had turned to him as quickly as you could. Gripping onto his forearms firmly, strong enough to break him from his lost stare. When he had looked down at you then, he was so broken. You could see a layer of tears glittering over his eyes from the cast of the lights; lost and defeated. "Let's go outside " you had said, sliding a hand down to thread your fingers into his own, gently tugging to lead him towards the front door, weaving through the shifting, wild throng of people who were caught up in the night. 

You left without warning, desperate to get outside to breathe in the crisp autumn air. But once you both had made it out onto the front porch, neither of you stopped. You had both kept walking with your hands tightly fastened to each other as you set off down the street, vacant now that all of the trick r' treaters had long since purged the houses of all of their candy and turned in for the night to gobble down their bounties. Soon the loud pulse of music projecting from the house party faded into silence, and the only sound was the sharp clap of your heels and the thump of Farleigh's shoes against the damp concrete while the insistent barking of an unsettled dog a couple of blocks away range out distantly. It was still. Calm. And you just walked with no particular destination in mind, focusing on the feel of each other's presence underneath your hands. You would glance up at him every now and again, silently checking on him and you could tell by the look in his eyes that a part of him was still there. Still trapped in Saltburn; seated at that grand table in a room bathed in red. 

And you suppose that you're still there too. Trapped in that chair, looking across the space that separated you to try and meet Farleigh's shocked, unseeing gaze. And so now you did your best to be there for him. Reminding yourself that you aren't there anymore. You're in the present now. You both are. You did what you could to remind Farleigh of that as well. Talking about anything that would pop up in your head to try and draw him out. You rambled about work, particularly your coworker Joy (which had to be the most ironic name ever) because he's always interested to hear the newest scoop of drama that comes from working with her. He hates Joy even though he has yet to meet her. He dislikes her just because you don't like her. It's always the highlight of your night to come home from a shift and just being able to sit down at the tiny kitchen/dining table for two and venting to Farleigh about your day. He always hangs onto each word like your gossip is an update on his favorite reality TV show. It's ritual of sorts that you'd usually save for at the night, when you were both unwinding from the day, but you found yourself rambling regardless. 

You ranted about today's most recent bout of drama. Drama that he had already heard before when he had gotten home from his own shift, but it didn't keep the story from spilling in some desperate attempt to get him to come back to you. You reiterated how Joy had been caught sleeping with two of her ex's close friends without either of them being aware of it. Adding minute details that you had previously forgotten in an attempt to liven up the story. Retelling the drama that had blown up quite fantastically this morning, with both the both of her boyfriend's showing up to confront her, with the sort of coincidental timing that should have been impossible. You and the customers scattered around the store had been quite entertained for a good ten minutes before your manager had grown privy to the situation - mostly due to the loud shouting match that broken out between the scorned men - and threatened to call the cops on the pair. 

"She deserves it," Farleigh had responded. The sound of genuine mirth had been enough to put you at ease and a quick glance had confirmed that he was smiling. It was faint. Hardly there, but you could still see the light impression of it perking at the corners of his lips. It motivated you to keep talking. About anything and everything that came to mind.  But this time you felt less anxious to get the words out. Less worried. It was all relaxed and at ease as you strolled down the street, idly admiring the decorations strung up the houses along the road, burning string lights in varieties of purple, and green, and orange bordering their roofs. There were quite a few cemeteries made in the front lawns this year; fake Styrofoam headstones with skeletal arms propped up beneath them to mimic the dead rising from their graves. 

But it seemed that your gut had other plans when you eventually found yourselves coming to a stop in familiar fractured parking lot belonging to a frequented IHop. One that could easily be mistaken as abandoned with its faded yellow paint dividing the parking spaces and the sun damaged pylon sign; muted to a dusty robin blue from all the years in the weather. You supposed that it wasn't all that odd that your subconscious brought you here. It was you and Farleigh's go to spot after a night of bar hopping. 

Before you could even ask Farleigh if he was hungry, he was already leading you across the parking lot towards the double front doors with those corny decals stuck on the windows in the shape of witches on brooms and the silhouettes of soaring bats. 

Now you watch Farleigh with a bittersweet smile on your face, tracing over the shape of the cat ears secured into the thick of his curls. It was some random headband of yours that he had dug up from the depths of your closet. To be completely honest, you aren't even sure where it had come from, but you're glad that he found them. You never knew that seeing Farleigh in a pair of cat ears was something that you needed to see. 

It's in your blatant admiration that you realize that you're being watched as well, and it's enough to break you from your trance to look back over to the main dining counter where Daniel is finishing up with refilling the pepper and saltshakers. His stare catches yours and it catches you off guard how confident he seems. There's a playful, assured glimmer in his eyes while he watches you from behind the bar. You can't help but wonder just how long he's been staring at you for, and he makes it even worse when he winks at you. 

Ugh. 

Okay, Farleigh hasn't been wrong about the flirting you suppose. 

You don't even bother hiding the disgust that seeps into your features, pulling your mouth into a scowl and you can see the way that he deflates with disappointment when you pull your focus from him and back onto Farleigh, who thankfully hasn't noticed the exchange. With the hand that balances the lit cigarette between its fingers he's absentmindedly fiddling with the handle of his mug, shifting the cup around like he's studying the way the porcelain glints underneath the pale glow of the fluorescents. You don't even think when you shuffle from your side of the booth. Farleigh watches you curiously when you step around the table to slip onto his seat until your nestled up against his side, smushing your cheek against his shoulder. A wistful smile lifts at the corners of your mouth when you feel him tilt his face onto the crown of your head, going lax against your body with a soft, inaudible sigh. You drag in his cologne in a lungful, taking in the warm spice of it, amber and cigarettes; infused with the subtle saccharine notes of vanilla and it has you relaxing even more. And with a full stomach, the influence of sleep is already beginning to pull at your limbs. 

"We should head home," you suggest, tilting your chin up to peer at him from underneath your lashes - or you look at him as best as you can with him still leaning his cheek on the top of your head. "It's getting late." 

"It's barely three," he counters. You can hear an amused puff of air leave his chest, but his tone almost sounds playfully offended, like he couldn't believe you'd propose such a thing. You just barely fight off the urge to roll your eyes. 

"Don't you have work tomorrow?" You ask, reaching for his coffee to steal a sip, drinking down the sugared beverage without a shred of remorse. Even though you can practically feel the way that he's side eyeing you. 

"Thanks for reminding me," he grouses with no real bite. 

"You're welcome," you reply easily, tone lightly teasing and good-natured. You let your head roll back onto his shoulder, knocking his chin free from its perch so that you're fully able to look at him. He's already focused downward to watch you; the dark of his eyes glittering underneath the harsh glow of the fluorescents, highlighted with flecks of honey and bronze. "C'mon, you can't say that being home right now doesn't sound at least a little bit nice. We could be curled up underneath a warm blanket right now, watching bad scary movies. And we could finally knock out that bag of candy I bought," you tempt. "Or maybe you're just blowing it off because you screamed like a girl that last time we watched horror." 

"I did not!" He denies, sounding and looking wildly offended. 

Your eyebrows perk up, an unattractive snort leaving you. "You absolutely did." 

You can recall that night quite vividly. You'd experienced Farleigh's . . . eh . . . incompatibility with horror films in the past, during movie nights and little get togethers at theaters with friends. So you had done your best to try and pick out something else to watch but he had been insistent that he could handle the movie. Unsurprisingly, he had flinched every time the harsh sound of that iconic chainsaw had blared through the speakers and had tensed up every time the camera had panned off the characters to imply a jump scare or oncoming attack from the unseen slasher. You had given him your hand to squeeze for moral support, but he had decided about midway through the movie that it wasn't enough and had practically begun to use you as a human shield, trying to wedge his body between you and the couch. His excuse had been that he just wanted to hold you, and for a moment you had believed him with how he had all but scooped you into his lap. But the way that he would nearly hide his face into the crook of your neck during the gory parts of the film was pretty telling. And when he wasn't using you as a buffer, he had tried to preoccupy himself by pointing out any plot holes and the dumb decision that any of the characters made. Not that you minded. His commentary is actually pretty hilarious when he gets nervous. 

"That's not how I remember it," he counters confidently, prompting a light laugh from you. 

"My mistake then," you reply softly, voice low but jesting. "I must have remembered it wrong." 

He hums lowly in agreement and there's the hint of a smile on his lips. With the way that your faces are angled towards each other the points of your noses brush just a bit. You can feel the gentle warmth of his body heat wafting over your skin and sinking in deep. For a second you forget that you're curled up the booth of some ratty diner, that it isn't just the two of you in the world. You think that you could stay here forever, huddled up against him with the scent of coffee and his cologne in the air. His head angles closer to you, and you can feel the hint of his lips on yours making your lashes lower, threatening to slip closed. 

"Let's go then," he says suddenly, and the gentle sensation of his lips vanish. 

You jerk back with a look of betrayal on your face, but he doesn't seem offended in the slightest. If anything, there's a sort of satisfaction and mischief glinting in his gaze. You want to offer some kind of retort, but your brain is sluggish, a little addled with the desire to sleep and the waning influence of alcohol that nothing smart makes its way to the tip of your tongue. But you do pass a cursory glance at the table and the empty plates scattered along the countertop. "What about the bill?" 

He looks at you like the answer is obvious, a sassy "really?" type of expression, leaning back against the backrest, stretching his legs out to give himself the leverage to reach into his pocket to retrieve his wallet.  "We eat here all the time, and you always order the same thing. I know how much the bill cost." 

"Damn, all right then," you mumble, watching as he throws a couple of bills onto the table between the plates and cups. Then he's nodding his chin at you, silently asking for you shuffle out from the booth, snuffing out the end of his cigarette and wedging what's left of it between the divot made into the edge of the ashtray. He's quick to follow after you with his body nudging along yours as you both slide from the seat. He tucks his wallet back into its place once he's up on his feet, already reaching to take one of your hands but the sudden projection of a familiar voice rings out, making you both pause. "Do y'all need the check?" 

You turn to see Daniel who's leaning himself away from the bar and pepper shakers like he's ready to move and make his way around towards your table. Farleigh passes the server a look that seems nonchalant, but you know him well enough to still be able to notice the subtle curl of his top lip, judgmental and unimpressed. You just barely resist the amused urge to roll your eyes at the display. 

"No, we're good," Farleigh says as he shrugs off his tux and then he's twirling the jacket around so that he's able to drape it around your shoulders in a single flourish. It's an obvious way of him trying to put a silent claim on you, but you find yourself exchanging smiles regardless; soft and almost private. He steps closer to you, and you turn on your heels to face the exit as he secures one of his arms around your waist, tugging you close against the warmth of his body. "Money's on the table." 

He gives Daniel one last glance as you press one of the double doors open; it's just a pointed as the last and the smile on his face is just a little bit smug when you lean into him. But you don't let him revel in his gloating for long before you subtly grip the hand that he has around your waist and tug him out from the cozy shelter of the diner and into the night, tossing a quick, courteous "have a goodnight!" to Daniel from over your shoulder. 

The walk back to the house seems quicker than the one before it, and before you know it, you're both slipping into the little Civic situated along the curb. Farleigh had rolled his eyes when you had expectantly held you hand out for the keys, which he had relented you to you with a small scoff. It's all for show. There's nothing he loves more than being chauffeured around; sitting in the passenger seat to tell you when the light has turned green and where to turn (even though he might just be one of the most directionally challenged people you know). 

You take the backroads home, ignoring the main drags in an effort to avoid the scattered throngs of traffic that still occupy the popular streets. It's a short drive, but that doesn't stop Farleigh from digging around in the CD binder for music. The song only gets to around the halfway mark by the time you're sweeping the car into the designated parking space underneath a glowing streetlamp, decorated with one of those Halloween tensiles with those tiny pumpkin silhouettes. He doesn't let you turn off the engine, having you let the vehicle idle until the chorus of the song is over. Then and only then are you allowed to shut off the car. Not that you can complain much, you're always more than content to hear Farleigh sing. 

Before you know it, you're both jogging up the steps of the second floor, passing by the door of your close neighbor; bordered with a garland and decorated with a Christmas wreath, already in preparation for the next big holiday. A juxtaposition to the Jack o' lanterns posted outside of your door like guards. The both of them are complete opposites of each other, with the face that Farleigh had carved in his made from smooth, seamless lines. Yours on the other hand . . . is a little less fortunate. To put it lightly, it looked like you had been under the influence of every drug and alcohol known to man and went at the pumpkin while you were seeing double; all jagged edges and overlapping corners. Carving had never been a particular talent of yours. 

You have to wiggle the key into the lock when you twist it, the damn thing always sticks and snags on some inner mechanism that you don't know anything about. And when you nudge the door open, you have to firmly push it with the point of your shoulder to help it swing on its hinges because it always drags over the threshold. But you feel nothing but relief when you step inside with Farleigh closely trailing behind you, making sure to close the door and lock it once he's inside. 

It was a comfort to be home after such a long night out, and the fragrance of a candle that you had burned earlier, fusing with old traces of laundry detergent and the distant scent of the Eggo's that you had toasted this morning (still somehow going strong) feels inviting. It's a small space. Hardly enough room for two people. But you and Farleigh happily make it work. The tight walls feel cozy, decorated with pieces of you both; framed photos from vacations and past road trips, and that painting of a gorgeous golden field that Farleigh had reluctantly gravitated towards at a thrift store (he had snubbed his nose at buying anything second hand for a while, but you had gotten him to come round to it eventually). It was your home. A safe space, a shelter from everything, and everywhere you look there are little hints of him. 

After landing back in America from that awful flight from England with James' cold, harsh words still echoing around both of your skulls, you and Farleigh had practically become inseparable. You clung to each other. You were buoys for each other, keeping yourselves afloat with the unforgiving torrents flooding through your minds. That night at Saltburn feels like a dream. A ghost story. And no matter how hard you tried; you couldn't get that morning out of your head. The flashes of golden feathers; the sight of limp, pale skin; those wine-red curtains pulled over the windows, dousing the room in an awful crimson light, making the streaks of tears pouring down Farleigh's cheeks glitter lowly, his face pinched with confusion and anguish. The memory always has something bitter and sharp washing over your tongue; your chest tightens like your heart might rip in two and burst. 

It had been you who had suggested moving in together. Only a few weeks after returning home from Saltburn. You and Farleigh had practically been cinched at the hip since then. It was odd for everyone on the outside looking in. You had always been at each other's throats before, lashing out with insults and sarcasm, but ever since returning back from England, neither of you could manage to pull away from the other for long. It was clear to see that something had happened during the trip, something to cause a fundamental shift between you and him. But neither of you ever bothered explaining much more past the fact that you had both "made up," so to speak, back in England. And you only told the necessary people about what had happened to Felix, such as Graham, who had built somewhat of a friendship with the Catton during his visits to the States. But that was all.

For a time, you struggled to find your rhythm in everyday life, to get out of that strange, muddled rut that your brain had sunk down into since Felix and Venetia's passing's. Farleigh, obviously, had struggled more than you. The cloud that loomed over him was thick and suffocating, and you could tell that it was threatening to tear him down and burry him underneath its weight. You made more of an effort to be near him, doing you best to visit him, to keep him out of his head and his guilt whenever you had time off from work and personal affairs.

He had, for the most part, moved in with his mother. Not because he had to, Farleigh had been able to save up a small cushion of money when he was still in the good graces with the Catton's, but because he needed it. He needed to be close to some part of his family. A part of it, no matter how small, that hadn't turned their back on him. Frederica did her best to console him too. But it wasn't always a help when she would often wind up just as equally as distraught as he was. Just as ravaged by grief of her niece and nephew's deaths and the hurt of her own brother fully cutting ties with her and Farleigh and renouncing them as part of the family. 

As a result, Farleigh would often spend most of his spare time with you back at your old, shared apartment with Graham. Sometimes you wouldn't even talk. You just sit quietly and feel. Soaking in each other's warmth and scent. Reminding yourselves that you were both okay. That you were still present and here. That Saltburn hadn't taken you from each other and eaten you alive. It was one quiet night just like that, with Farleigh curled up in your arms while you reclined on the old outside couch on the balcony, gazing at the neighboring complexes and looming office towers with that particular question heavy on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes idlily skipped along the glowing windows of another nearby apartment building, taking in the sight of distant silhouettes shifting within them. Of other people going about their task, glimpsing into people's lives. Like the man pacing along his living room floor, angerly shouting into his phone; a young woman a few floors above him gently rocking her infant within the cradle of her arms as she halfheartedly watched something playing on the TV; but what caught your attention the most was an older couple shuffling along their carpet, arms wound around each other in a firm but soft embrace as they danced. Just enjoying the other's presence. Like they were the only two people left alive. 

It had that question back with a vengeance, searing your tongue with the insistence to get out. But you held back. From fear, reluctance, anxiety. You weren't sure if he was ready for a step yet. The timing was admittedly a little awful. He was still mourning. Still bound and wrapped in grief. But you still couldn't help but hope that maybe this would be just what he needed. Maybe this could help to soothe him. It wouldn't heal his wounds. Not entirely. Only time could do that. But maybe it would be enough to let him know that he wasn't alone. That you weren't going to leave him. That you wanted and needed him just as much as he wanted and needed you. 

The lease was coming up in about a month. Something you and Graham had talked about extensively before, mostly because he was planning on moving out to Nashville. Something about his music career because L.A. wasn't panning out how he had imagined it to. He said that he has put out an ad for possible roommates if you wished to stay and keep the apartment. But truthfully, you didn't need a space that expensive, that big. A fresh start was in order, a place to make new memories. And you knew exactly who you wanted to make them with. Who you wanted by your side. All you had to do was ask. It was just a simple question, that's all. But it really wasn't, was it? You don't just ask your boyfriend to move into an apartment with you after not even a full two months of dating. Especially after two of his family members died and his uncle disowned him. But you have known him for years, to be fair. 

"Farleigh?" You spat it out before the anxiety could seal your jaw shut. For a second you had thought that he'd fallen asleep; the puffs of his breathing are warm and steady against your neck. You felt it more than you heard it, a low inquisitive hum that reverberated across your skin. You contemplated about lying, coming up with some kind of excuse and pretending that your question had never existed in the first place. Your silence must have caught his attention or concerned him, because he was shuffling himself back, nudging himself along your body and curling up along the sofa as best as he could without falling off of it, so that he was able to peer up at you from his place on your chest.

"What is it?" He asked, eyes glinting softly in the warm, pale lights strung up along the ceiling of the balcony. You saw something flash in them. Something vulnerable and worried, and you knew then that his brain must have been leaping to the worst possible scenario, hardwired in after all of the misery and tragedy that's fallen over him since Saltburn. It hurt you to know that he was jumping to the most horrible conclusion because of you, as unintentional as it was. It was more than enough incentive for you to spit it out. 

"Do you want to move in with me? " You nearly cringed when you said it, and you made an effort to look anywhere else but him. You were afraid to see even the faintest possibility of hesitance or disgust cross over his features. "Not here. I mean it's fine. The rent and the utilities are honestly insane, and the landlord is kind of an asshole. So, maybe we could try something new? A fresh start for the both of us. I just - it's just an idea. You don't have to agree, obviously. I know it's a lot to sort of just ask you." 

You tensed up when he moved himself fully off of you, and you adjusted yourself against the arm of the couch, drawing your knees close to your chest so that he had room to sit himself up beside you. It felt too stifling. Suddenly everything had been too loud. The sound of the traffic humming down below, the sharp honk of car horns and the squeal of bad brakes. The gentle breeze suddenly felt like it was howling and deafening in your ears. 

"You're serious?" Farleigh's voice split through the chaos, drawing you attention onto him. The expression on his face had struck you. It didn't look betrayed or uncomfortable; it was hopeful, if not a little disbelieving. All of the anxiety lumped within your chest had thawed in an instant, vanishing like it had never been there at all, melting into something warm. 

"I'm serious," you answered, the slight shake in your voice shifting into something firm and assured. 

His throat bobbed, eyebrows slightly furrowing as he stared at you like he didn't know how to react. You wanted to say something. To tell him that he didn't have to answer so soon, or at all for that matter. He didn't have to agree or disagree with you. Either would be fine. His lips parted, the corners quirking with what might have been the faint pull of a smile. "I -" he drew in a short breath like he was trying to ground himself. His throat bobbed, while his gaze roved over your features like he was searching for something. The hint of a lie or a joke maybe, but he found none. "Yeah, " he answered, wincing slightly before correcting himself. "Yes. I'd love to." 

It had only taken a couple of weeks to find something that seemed promising. Though it did help that neither of you had too many requirements to meet. As long as it was affordable (a near impossible condition to meet in a place like L.A. unless you want to live in a complete hole in the wall, but you got lucky - somewhat), and Farleigh also wanted a place that was close enough to his mother, and something that wasn't too far of a commute from your either of your jobs. Not much later, something had come up. It was . . . quaint to say the least. The size of the space was nowhere near the amount of room provided in your past apartment, nor Farleigh's old place. Something that he was less than enthused about when you were given a tour by the landlord, but it was something that he would eventually look past. Mostly. It wasn't perfect. On some nights, you can hear one of the neighbors practicing on their piano - luckily, they're pretty good at it, so it's more of a nice background music than a nuisance - and it takes close to a good ten minutes for the water to heat up, but it's yours. And with Farleigh with you, it's your home. 

And now that you're finally back after a long night out, your first goal was to change out of your costume and clean up the makeup and grime of the night. You and Farleigh went about your usual routines, putting away your clothes and somehow the both of you wind up jumping in the bath together for a quick rinse. Exchanging soft kisses while basking in the warmth of the water and sneaking gentle touches under the guise of spreading bodywash along each other's skin. It didn't surpass any further than that. Not even with that delicate warmth and longing smoldering along each and every touch, the potential to become something more. You can see it in Farleigh's eyes too, glinting like something eager and hungry. But it's also soft when he looks at you. It makes you feel cherished and so wholly wanted, that for a moment, it's almost like your chest could burst open and all of the love and devotion filled up inside might come spilling out. 

It's always been these little private moments between the two of you that you really hold dear. That you cherish and replay over and over again during idle moments throughout the day; quiet lulls in your work shift or when you're home alone. You can only hope that you can offer the same solace for Farleigh. A reprieve from his anguish. His guilt. He feels responsible for Felix, and by proxy, Venetia. You know that he does. You've seen it in his eyes, heard it from his mouth when he's distraught with the tears that come and go. He still jolts awake some nights, harsh enough to rattle and pull you from your sleep. He'll be disoriented, hazed over and still caught within the stubborn hold of sleep and bad memories. His eyes are always a little wild, glassy and damp from tears that have yet to spill over. On others, he does his best not to disturb you, doing his best to swallow down his quiet cries and slipping out of bed. But it's almost like your body can tell that he's gone. Whether it be the loss of his body heat, or the absence of his weight nestled beside your own, you never fail to wake up, slipping a handout over his side of the mattress to check for him. Clarity always rushed over you whenever you feel that he isn't there. Thankfully the panic has finally left after the first couple times he's done it, but the drive to find him never goes away. 

He's usually in the living room, absentmindedly watching the TV. Or sometimes he's at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee or tea while he looks through old pictures on his phone. You always announce yourself with a small 'hey' as not to startle him, and he'll always greet you with a smile. Sometimes it reaches his eyes, sometimes it doesn't. But you always refuse to leave his side. Not until you're able to get a genuine laugh from him, not until you can see some sort of peace reflect in his eyes and you know that the horrors of that morning in the maze finally release their claws and sink back into the recesses of his mind. Not entirely gone, but not at the focus at least. 

"What are you thinking about?" His voice pierces through the reminiscent fog clouded over your brain, drawing you from your thoughts and onto him. You have to tilt your head at an angle from the way that you have yourself tucked towards his chest with some of your back nudging against the chilled enamel of the tub. There's amusement flickering in his eyes, glittering like a dark bronze and molten honey underneath the glow of the warm bathroom lighting. 

"You." A bit of a corny response maybe, but an honest one, and it comes out low and gentle. 

"Sap," Farleigh smirks, an amused huff rising from his chest, but he presses his forehead against yours, sighing deeply when your skin brushes over his. A smile tugs at your lips, but you can't find it in yourself to form a response to his light teasing. Not with the dull lull of sleep in your system. The water is too warm, too pleasant, making your limbs pliant and heavy. And the feel of his body pressed against yours doesn't help fight off the sense of ease weighing your body down. "Come on," he calmly urges. "Let's go watch those movies you've been harassing me about all night." 

"Don't act like you don't want to," you grumbled. "You even picked out one." 

He doesn't verbally reply to you, but he does make sure to land a slap on your ass when you rise up out of the bathtub to slip into the clothes you had left on the sink. You shoot him a playful glare over your shoulder, but all you get in response from him is a cheeky smile.

That's fine, you'll tag him back. You're patient. He's quick to pull the drain on the tub before rising up and stepping over the enamel boarder, and you're hyperaware of his movements, quietly waiting for an open window to strike. You go about your business, trying not to make your anticipation obvious as you apply lotion over your body before slipping into your comfy clothes, all the while watching him out of your peripherals as he towels himself off. But he's still fully facing you, running the thick linen over his damp skin. He must pick up on your focus because his eyes skirt up to you, suspicion flickering in them and he squints at you with a smile curling on his lips. "What?" 

"Hmm?" You hum cluelessly, doing your best feign ignorance with a light shrug. "Nothing." 

He doesn't seem to be fully convinced, but he doesn't speak on it. For a quick moment you forget about your revenge completely. Getting caught inside the intimate atmosphere built within the bathroom; the humid cloud lingering over the space, perfumed with the fragrant notes of your bodywashes and lotion; vanilla, nutmeg, and cardamon. It's warm in here from the moisture, not uncomfortably so, but soothing like a rich balm. And with Farleigh here, it just helps to make the mood that's settled over you feel even more private and placid, like being wrapped inside a familiar blanket. But as peaceful as this is, you can't forget that easily, and a moment presents itself when he turns away from you in favor of reaching for his sleep plants, slightly bending over to tug them up and around his knees. You don't wait, reaching out and cracking your palm down on the soft swell of his cheek just before he manages to tug his sweatpants over his hips.

His head turns in your direction so quickly you briefly fear that he might get whip lash, but you see the warning flash in his eyes before he even moves, and luckily your body is quick to jerk into action before you have to consciously make an effort for it. You dart out of the bathroom, making sure to keep your footing and not slip on the tiles as you all but leapt out onto the carpeted junction situated between all four of the apartment's spaces. You could practically feel him coming up on you, even without the rapid patter of his feet tracking across the distance between you. There's a quick, playful shout of your name, urging you to make a split-second decision and you sharply veer off into the living room, just narrowly escaping the reaching fingers of one of his hands; you could feel them brush over your back as you flinched out of their grasp. 

An excited, breathless laugh bubbles up from you, triggered by a combination of delight and an unserious sense of nerves; a primal instinct urging you to just move and avoid being grabbed. It guides you to swing around the end of the coffee table furthest from the entrance of the room just in time to see Farleigh bolt through the threshold. He's stops himself short before he could all but slam into the coffee table, and his body is pulled taunt, muscles bunched in preparation to sling him around the small piece of furniture and in your direction at any given moment. It has you on edge, even more so than that competitive glimmer in his eyes. "You know I'm gonna catch you," he taunts, leaning forward with a type of confidence that pisses you off. "So you should just give in now, and cling onto what little bit of dignity you have left." 

You can't hold in the scoff that leaves you, the way that your mouth twists into a playful scowl. "Like I'd give in so easily." 

You know realistically, this game isn't going to last long. There's only so many places to run to in the apartment. He's going to catch you at some point, but that doesn't mean that you can try to avoid it for as long as you can. He's growing impatient, you can tell by the way that he keeps shifting to different sides of the table, trying to trick you into flinching close enough for him to reach out and grab you. But that's fine. It's good even. You use it, pretending to jerk over to the left when he moves, prompting him to lurch forward to get ahold of you. But you anticipate the move, darting back on your feet and rounding around the side of the table before he can so much as blink. A loud surprised swear rings out behind you, a strained 'fuck' as you bolt towards the open threshold. 

There's the hope that maybe if you get to the kitchen, you can hold him off better. The space isn't massive by any means, but the sparing amount of furniture provides more of an open area to move around in. The table there is bigger than the compact one in the living room, making it a better shield to provide distance. Your heart rate spikes with excitement as you dash towards your chosen destination, intent to put as big of a gap between you both as possible, tearing across the floor with a laugh. You come up on the kitchen in a matter of seconds, but before your feet can step from the soft carpet and onto the fake, vinyl flooring a sturdy arm snakes around your middle and pulls you into the firm expanse of a chest, ripping a sharp gasp of his name from your lungs. 

It's his turn to laugh now, but it sounds smug and mocking as he backs up deeper into the living room. Every step just drives in your loss. You make idle efforts to get free, squirming and shifting in his grip, but his arms might as well as be steel bands around your abdomen. "So much for putting up a fight," he teases. But you don't get time to make a comeback before you're being spun and shoved down onto the couch. The push was light, but the fall steals the air from your lungs regardless, and the abrupt change in perspective leaves you a little disoriented. It's the sensation of the cushions around you shifting from someone's weight that reorients you, forcing your eyes to focus on the figure that sweeps over your body. His body heat rushes over you with the smell of amber and spice that has you sinking further into the piece of furniture when you should be trying to shuffle out from underneath him to escape. 

The expression on his face is fully gloating, dark eyes twinkling with mirth, and the sight of it is enough to finally have some sort of retort spilling from your mouth, as delayed as it is. "Fuck you," you snap, but it does nothing to snuff out his apparent delight. If anything it seems to amplify it. 

"Careful," he warns, dipping his voice down that low rumble that you love. His hands are placed on either side of your head, keeping you comfortably trapped underneath him. He angles his head with a teasing smile, the tip of his nose ghosting over yours. The shift in mood is obvious, but not jarringly so, nor is it unwelcome. It falls over you both as easily, and suddenly the intention of calming down for the night and enjoying a horror movie marathon leaves you just as the air from your lungs has. "I might just take you up on that offer." 

"What makes you think I was offering?" You query, tilting your head so that his lips brush against yours, soft and inviting. The little amount of space between you gives you enough mobility to rearrange your legs, lifting to them to wrap securely around his waist, and he lets you draw him closer into the gap between your thighs with a light nudge. His eyelashes flutter, a minute gesture that you just barely catch underneath the intimate, dim glow of the lamp in the corner. Farleigh can hardly resist, draping himself against your body until his hips and stomach are pressed along yours and you can feel his body heat radiating from both of your clothes. Your body shifts in its own accord, softly rolling against his in a desperate motion to seek out more of him, and the thrilled look on his face makes a dull sense of embarrassment prickle at your cheeks. 

"Call it a gut feeling," he answers and the pout of his lips whisper of yours when he speaks. 

You fleetingly contemplate on taunting him back, but you toss that train of thought out the window. Instead, you tilt your chin to seal your mouth over his, swiping your tongue over the delicate skin, sweet and bitter with coffee and the smoke of a cigarette. He moans into you, light with what almost sounds like relief, and the noise, as simple as it is, is more than enough to have a dull throb of heat ripple down your spine. You slip your hands up his neck, reaching to scratch your nails up the base of his neck near the curls there, and it you're gratified to pull the desired response from him, satisfaction flaring in you when a pleasured shiver goes down his back. He licks into your mouth, languid and hungry. 

His hips grind over yours, drawing a gasp from your chest when you feel the shape of him, already hot and heavy, through the material of both of your pants. It's more than enough to get you to chase after the sensation, working your own in a desperate attempt to build the warmth smoldering deep inside the base of your abdomen until you're both humping at each other on your living room couch like a couple of teenagers. One of his hands moves to your thigh, drawing it up higher and spreading it further open so that he can lean more of his weight, dragging himself across your clothed cunt meanly. You're already a little wet, slick between your thighs, but even then, you don't feel any urgency to rush. You just want to feel him. To focus on the press of his body against your own, and to breathe in the scent of him. 

But the clothes you both wear serve as an irritating barrier. A buffer that dulls his warmth and the sensation of his skin on yours. The only thought swirling around in your head is that they need to be off, gone and tossed somewhere across the room. You slip your hands underneath the edge of his shirt, wadding it up within your hands and tugging. It earns you an amused laugh with him breaking the kiss to pull back and look at you, but not without a teasing bite against your bottom lip. "Is there something you want?"

"Yes," you say, voice almost petulant and determined. "Off. I want it off." 

You don't stop trying to slip his shirt off, shooting him a glare when it hitches underneath his armpits, and he doesn't make any effort to assist you in shedding his clothes. "Okay, okay, " he relents, shuffling on his palms to readjust himself but he must have caught onto your hair because it has a stinging heat blossoming on the side of your skull, tearing a surprised yelp from your mouth. "Fuck! Hair - you're on my hair!" 

"Wha - shit! Sorry!" He jerks back onto his haunches like you had struck him, thankfully drawing his hands back. The relief is near instant, but you can still feel the side of your scalp throbbing from the pain making you swear lowly. His gaze roves over you like he's expecting to find some kind of visible wound, and the concern in his eyes has affection curling in your chest despite the sharp tenderness echoing throughout your skull. That's what you get, you suppose, for trying to make out on a couch. 

"It's okay," you assure, and the gentleness in your tone has him relaxing. A smile makes its way on his face, and he leans down again, this time making sure to be mindful of your hair, to place soft kisses across the expanse of your face. Peppering the cushion of his lips over your cheeks, your nose, your chin; each one an apology. Neither of you can hold in the small puffs of laughter that spill from you, lighthearted and close. You stroke your hands back up his neck again, curling your fingers over the nape to draw him in closer to return your own bout of kisses along the corners of his mouth and jaw. 

"Still, I do feel bad," he says. That familiar cadence is back already, dipping low into a smoky rumble that you swear you can feel thrumming over your skin. "Let me make it up to you." 

And even with the little slip up and the brief shift in mood that had come from it, it isn't enough to have dampened that coil of desire and want that burns in the cradle of your hips. Not in the slightest. The look in his eyes is consuming, dark and glinting with hunger and longing type of want. It's a look that never fails to weaken you, it's one that you've yet to build an immunity against, and you don't think that you ever will. It's honestly a little embarrassing how quickly it never fails to make you crumble. "I can't say no to that." You try to sound collected and unbothered, but there's a pale quiver in your voice regardless; a gasp nearly catches in your throat. 

The smirk that tugs across his face is impish, entirely too complacent and a little mischievous for your liking. It's the type of gaze that you've been pinned under probably close to a hundred times already, and it's one that spells trouble and pleasure all in one. Just a pleasure that's always given on his time. But maybe . . . if you play your cards right, you might just be able to him underneath you instead. 

Not just yet though. 

"Atta girl," he purrs. 

He moves himself off of you in a nimble blur - a complete opposite of the guy who had just awkwardly caught onto your hair earlier, to situate himself down on the floor. He doesn't wait for you to follow. Choosing to grip you by the hips and tug your body to face him, threatening to pull you right over the edge of the old polyester cushions and sending you ass first onto the carpet. But you manage to get a good grip on the headrest of the sofa to secure your seating. Which proves to be helpful when Farleigh hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear in a single pull and begins to jerk them down without fanfare. His movements are impatient but fluid, working the fabric from your legs in fast rush, balling them up and tossing them across the room. He hardly gives you any time to process anything before he's grasping both of your thighs and spreading you open by hooking your knees over his shoulders. 

The tepid air brushing over the damp heat of your cunt is almost jarring and the gasp it pulls from you shudders across your ribcage. The anticipation welling up inside of you is already unbearable despite having done so little to warrant it; some dry humping and making out. But when it comes to Farleigh, you're damn near insatiable, and even the simplest things about him can set you off and dangle you over the edge. His scent, sweet and syrupy with the subtle notes of vanilla, but also warm from amber and cardamon. There's that spiced musk of cigarettes always on him too. It's never been a habit you've liked, a smell that you've ever enjoyed, but coming from him it still manages to make your mouth water. And then there's his eyes; expressive and bright despite their dark shade; dipping from what almost looks like a near black to a heated bronze, glimmering with flecks of copper and gold depending on the strength of the casted light. The sight of them pinned on you always has your body humming like a live wire and watching them skip around a room or from the faces of people, animated from the fervor of his passion or opinions never fails to make you flood with an array of emotions: peace, happiness, adoration. And then there's the sound of his voice and all of the various shades of it, from the soft, nonchalant rumble it takes during day-to-day conversations; that inflection that hits it in a playful spike when he's feeling particularly mischievous or sardonic; how low it can dip when he's got you malleable and eager underneath his palms, just like he does now. 

You love all of it. All of the various sides of him and all of his qualities and imperfections. You could blame it on the honeymoon phase. That it'll just all wear off once the freshness of your relationship has worn off and sunk in. But truthfully, everything about Farleigh has always set you on fire, practically from the moment you met him, and you don't think it'll ever go away. That the sheer amount of heat and desire that you feel for him - that the aching way that you crave him will ever dampen or dull. 

It's a realization that you've come to a while ago, but it still never fails to surprise you from the sheer scope of your feelings and adoration. Just how much you love all of him. From something as simple as waking up next to him every morning. Especially when he's asleep while the city is still sluggish and casted with the lavender and champagne hue of dawn, giving you time to admire him while he's relaxed and safe from all of his troubles. How expressive he is, all snark and sarcasm and sharp, quick-witted comments that never fail to get a laugh from you. He sometimes uses British terms and slang when he talks, and every now and again you swear you can hear a little bit of an accented lilt on his words when he speaks - especially if he's upset or impassioned in some way. And it even though it pisses you off to no end and you've given him plenty of ear full's about it, you can't find it in yourself to hold it against him when he's rarely able to keep track of time. Not even with red little watch secured around his wrist or the alarms on his phone; dates and schedules always seem to slip his mind. But he's gotten better. He's made and effort to try. And you love that little fact about him, because it's a part of him. Of who he is. And you love him so much that you wonder if it might just eat you alive and light you on fire. God, you really do love him. You love - 

"Farleigh," you nearly whimper. He snags the tender skin of your inner thigh between his teeth and lips, nipping and sucking to tease you and wind you up. 

"Be patient," he says, dragging the point of his tongue next to where you need him the most, leaving a blazing trail along your flesh in its wake." I haven't even started." There's that smug amusement saturating his tone, and you want to snap at him. To say something. But then he's slipping his hands underneath you to cup to the swell of your ass within his heated palms, slipping his thumbs towards the front of you to spread you open even more. You can feel how wet you are, smearing a little along your skin, leaving it chilled. Shame doesn't even register for you. You're already too worked up, too desperate. At this point you just want him to touch you. You know that begging him won't really get you anywhere. Not when he's like this. All you'll end up doing is stroking his ego, but you can hardly care about that right now. 

"C'mon, Farleigh, pleas-" you fully choke on your words when his tongue drags over you, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to your clit in a single stroke. Your legs twitch from the surprise and you can't help but reach out to grasp onto his hair, threading your fingers into his curls as your lungs swallow down a moan in a shaky breath. He's working his mouth against you like a man starved, like he's desperate to drink down your taste and savor every bit of you. Sure, you've been with passionate lovers in the past, people who genuinely enjoy the act of eating someone out, but the enthusiasm that Farleigh always has when he goes down on you never fails to shock you. It takes every bit of conscious effort not to cry out. You do your best not to be loud, reminding yourself that it's got to be around three a.m. by now and you have neighbors. You've already had to deal with that once before. A little after the first week you and Farleigh had moved in, he had made it his mission to fuck you on nearly every available surface in the apartment, and it's safe to say that you two had been a little louder than intended. It had made checking the mailbox compartment outside near the front desk and taking out the trash to the dumpster unbearably awkward with all the side eyed glances and glowers you had gotten. Not that you could necessarily blame your neighbors for being a little disgruntled. Still, it's safe to say that you'd rather not do that again. 

But it doesn't help that Farleigh seems to take your silence as some sort of challenge. You see it flicker in his eyes when you glance down at him, catching sight of his eyes from between your arms and the frame of your thighs. The look that glimmers in them is lethal and almost defiant, but it isn't something that you can brace for. He's always been talented with his mouth. The first night that you had hooked up on that stone balcony back at Saltburn you're pretty sure that he had damn near killed you with his tongue. And in the few months you've been together, somehow, he's gotten even more dangerous with it. He's had time to learn everything about you. How to take you apart piece by piece. What makes you twitch, and shudder, and scream, and you can tell concentrated glare that he has that he's going to do his best to pull you apart by the seams. 

He curls his tongue around your clit and sucks hard, making you jolt and then he's laving the muscle down to sweep it along your entrance. That's the only warning you get before he slips inside, dragging it slow to make sure you feel every bit of it. He's only just started, and that molten heat is already curling down your spine and building between your hips. His hands slip upward to grip onto your thighs, squeezing the sensitive skin there and mushing them against his ears. He moans against you, sending vibrations across your cunt that makes your toes curl. But even in the midst of the bliss searing at your body, your brain is still able to cling onto the fact that the noise he made almost sounded doleful. It's with a ragged gasp that you force yourself to pull your focus onto him, trying to center your attention through the low haze that's already clouding your brain. You can see the way that his eyebrows are pinch closed, almost like he's displeased or annoyed. But before that nervous flutter in your gut can become anything serious or unignorable, he's jerking away from you, forcing a mournful whine to spill past your lips from the absence of his mouth. 

"Far, what -" 

"Sit on my face." 

His request - command, really - comes out a little ragged. Breathless. And he all but flops back on the floor, letting his limbs sprawl out carelessly. But his eyes don't drift from your in his descent, they remain locked onto you with a sort of depraved yearning. For a moment your brain seems to lag, and in turn your body straggles behind, leaving you lie across the couch and stare. Too caught up in the sight of Farleigh. His breathing is already slightly labored, causing his chest to rise and fall, forcing air from his lips, which are glistening and smeared with your arousal. And you don't miss the fact that he's already hard, heavy and straining against the burgundy fabric of his sleep pants. Even with of tempting of image that Farleigh is spread out in front of you, there's still a question on your tongue. He must have been able to see your hesitance, something in your body language or a glimmer in your eyes because the look that he fixes you with is steadfast and maybe even a little exasperated. "Sit. On my face." He enunciates the words slowly, like he's giving each of them time to really sink in through your skull. 

That's really all it takes for the majority of your doubt to waver. Farleigh isn't one to ask for things that he doesn't want. And in your small time together you've already managed to build up a strong level of trust between each other, especially in regard to sex. It's enough to give you the confidence to slink off of the couch, kneeling yourself down over his legs to work yourself along his body until your hovering over his chest. But even with his anticipation palpable in the air, you still can't help but be a little bit nervous and the torrent of thoughts raving your mind does nothing to ease your concerns. 

What if you smother him? What you're too heavy? What if - 

"Hey." 

His voice gives you something to cling to, centering your thoughts with something as simple as its sound. His hands cup your thighs, gripping them with their warmth and caressing the skin with their fingertips. It pulls your focus downward where he gazes up at you from between the apex of your legs, eyebrows raised and the hint of an amused smile perking at the corners of his lips. "You've literally choked me before." 

The comment has a small bubble of laughter leaving you, despite its truth. He isn't wrong. It's not like breath play is a new development between the two of you, so you honestly aren't sure why the idea of sitting directly on his face seems so daunting. Just two taps against your thigh. That's all it would take, and then you'd be pulling yourself off of him in an instant. This really isn't unfamiliar territory in the slightest. It's just nerves, is all. That little realization, no matter how small, is enough to have excitement and heat burning through your veins; flaring and needy. 

"Ready?" You ask, trying to swallow down the faint flutter of nervousness in your stomach. 

The expression that flickers across his face is absolutely delighted, if not a little wicked. "Fuck yes," he pants, sending a warm puff of air across the slick that's smeared across your inner thighs. His hands clench around the grip they have on you when you adjust yourself forward and begin to lower yourself downward. Apparently, you were going much to slow for his liking because he's lifting his head up to meet you, tongue first. It feels as though it's been doused with liquid heat when it lashes along cunt, forcing a sharp cry from your lungs from the pressure of it. It's enough to catch you by surprise, making the muscles of your thighs twitch and give out. The full brunt of your weight would have collapsed onto his head if you hadn't managed to grab onto enough awareness to catch yourself with your palms. 

"Farleigh," You hiss, equally elated and scolding. 

All you get from him is a moan in response, but it sounds purely happy. Almost euphoric. The vibrations of it thrumming over you and the pressure of his nose nudging across your clit fully douses over what little reservations you have left. His fingers flex tight, and his strength bears down on your legs to fully seat you on his mouth, sealing the heat of it over you. If it wasn't for the fact that you're already supporting your weight on your arms, you probably would have doubled over from the sensation of it. It's completely involuntary when your hips begin to roll, seeking out the friction of his nose and tongue. You can't even find it in yourself to be worried about crushing him or cutting off his breathing with the wanton groans that start to pour from him in an uninhibited stream. It's almost as though he's the one . . . 

That trail of thought has you leaning yourself back, just barely managing the coordination and thought it requires to pull your weight into your thighs again and off of your arms. You turn your head to glance over your shoulder and the sight of his hand stroking up and down his cock is enough to tear a whine from you. Your cunt clenches around nothing, achingly empty while he laps and sucks at your clit, stroking molten bliss throughout your veins. You aren't sure when he had pulled himself free from his pants, and you aren't sure how you didn't manage to hear the low wet sound of his palm dragging over his length, slick with the flow of precum, but you're unable to pull your attention away from the sight of it now. 

You can already feel the pressure of that sultry heat coiling deep inside of you, dangling you precariously close towards that delicious edge. You mouth drops open in a silent whine when his tongue slips inside, lapping deep like he's trying to drink you down. Pleasured tremors zip up your thighs and stomach with each drag and suck from his mouth, threatening to make your eyes roll. Even then, you still have enough clarity and drive to want to return the favor. You reach behind yourself, managing a cursory glance over your shoulder just long enough to be able to grab ahold of his cock, just above his own hand. The position is admittedly a little awkward, and you can feel the strain of it simmering along the taut muscles of your back as you squeeze his length and twist your wrist over his heated skin. But it isn't enough to get you to even consider stopping. He whines against you at the feel of your palm on him, and his hips jerk up into both of the holds you have on his cock, desperately seeking out more friction with fervent thrusts from his hips. 

The two of you easily fall into a unanimous, rhythmic pace, and his hand brushes against your own as they both slip and down his girth. You make sure to squeeze the head of his cock with each upstroke, pulling a frayed moan and another flow of precum with each tug. The broken, sharp moans that spill from him help to hurdle you towards that rising, frenzied tide of bliss. The way that his tongue works inside of you makes your muscles seize, threatening to sweep you under quickly. A little too quick. You don't want this to end just yet. On just about any other time, it wouldn't have been a problem, but you don't think that you have more than one round in you tonight. Not with all of the dancing and partying you had done earlier; the emotions that had run; the small glimpses back into Saltburn and wounds that had reopened with just the small glimmer of a pair of Spirit Halloween costume wings. You wanted to feel him. You needed him. But you had to stop now before the smoldering warmth licking across every nerve and cell in your body lit up and engulfed you entirely. 

"Farleigh - wait." You gasp around a choked moan, trying not to mourn the loss, to focus on the heavy ache that racks through your body at the absence of his tongue. "Wait, wait, wait." 

Even though you can feel the hesitance in his grip he allows you to pull your cunt from his mouth, but there's a torn whine from his chest and for second he chases after your hips before letting his head plop back down on the carpet with a defeated sigh. There's a confused furrow set between his eyebrows, though you're sure he's getting mixed signals based on the way that you haven't paused or released the grip you have on his cock. 

"As much as I'd love to cum from your mouth, I need you to fuck me." It's then that you remove your hand from him.

"Okay - fuck - please, yes." He nods his head vigorously and the look that burns in his eyes is bright and eager. Suddenly the hand that he was jerking over his length is now on your waist, following as you begin to shuffle down his body until you can feel the crown of his cock drag across the heat of you, spreading your lips open around the shape of it and dragging along your clit in a delicious grind. You both moan at that little bit of friction, and as worked up as you are, you can't help but stay that way for a moment; slipping a hand down to grip the base of him so that you can roll your cunt over him with tight circles from your hips. His head tilts back against the floor and the expression that melts over his features looks tortured and dazed all at once. You take the time to just watch him; the mixture of his spit and your arousal that gleams over his lips like a perverted sort of balm; the short, almost labored gulps of air that shudder across his ribcage, only concealed by the fabric of his T-shirt; and you can see the light of the lamp glittering dimly across his hair, showing up like streaks and winks of amber and cinnamon. 

"Don't tease me," he complains, hitching his waist up to thrust the head of cock against you in a way that has you crying out in surprise; sending a smoldering shot of lust into your veins. Even then, you can't hide the amused smile that stretches across your lips. But that's as much as you bother to taunt him considering that you're already plenty of worked up yourself. You don't bother with any smug comments or sarcastic quips. Instead, you're taking ahold of him and lining him up with your entrance. And you don't bother giving him time to breathe before you sink down around his girth, taking him in with a single motion that makes him choke on an inhale. Maybe it's a little mean of you, not letting him catch up and adjust to the sensation, but the sheer delight that burns in his eyes lets you know that he isn't bothered in the slightest. 

That doubled with the flexing grip he has on your hips lets you know that he doesn't want you to stop. You press your palms flat on his chest, not enough to be crushing, but enough to provide you the leverage that you need to rotate your hips over him in smooth, deliberate rings that have you both quivering and plunged in an ecstasy that frays your senses and pulses over your nerves. He helps you along by meeting the shift of your hips, thrusting into you with deep, heavy strokes. He's insatiable, running his hands all over you. Like he's afraid you'll vanish, and he has to commit you to memory before you slip through his fingers. It has you dipping your head as low as you can without disrupting the rhythm you've built, and he props himself on his elbows to meet you so that you're able to lock your lips with his. You come together with the brush of teeth and tongue. It's clumsy and messy, but even then, it has nothing but pure want melting over your bones like wax and honey. 

The hold his hands have on you is greedy and fervent, like he wants to soak your warmth in through his palms and keep it to himself. He slips them underneath your shirt, coasting along your skin until they meet the swell of your breasts, kneading them with his fingertips. It's enough to have you keening aloud and fucking yourself on him like you'll die if you don't. Each stroke tips you that much closer to burning alive, and you can tell by the way that Farleigh's muscles tense with each grind and push from your hips, that he isn't that much better off either. You're both going to pull each other under into something alive and lambent until there's nothing left of yourselves but heaving, wrecked pieces clinging to each other. And you want nothing more than to singe and ignite with Farleigh. 

The thought alone gives you the motivation to work yourself on his length, squeezing the walls of your cunt over him, making him groan and swear under his breath against your lips. It has his head tipping back, severing the press of your mouth against his. But you don't have time to mourn the loss when he all but whines into the air, pitched and raucous like he's been overstimulated. Though the near bruising grip he has on your tits and the way that he vigorously meets your thrusts lets you know that he's far from at his limit yet. 

But you can already feel it, rising up and threatening to take you apart. You can taste it on your tongue; sweet and electric, and you chase after it with a desperation that might knock you into oblivion. And God, do you want that. It's so selfish, but you want nothing more than it to be just you and him, tangled together for eternity; caught within the push and pull of reaching limbs and constant desire and love; suspended in time - in this moment permanently. You try to warn him as best as you can, but it comes out as a jumbled pile of mess and a breathless sob when your body seizes tight around him like it wants to take him for all he's worth. It zips up over you like something white and hot and consuming. Stars blanket over your vision, sweeping over your limbs and spine with a weight that knocks you down into his chest despite the hungry grind of your hips. 

It's with a worn gasp of your name that you feel him pulse deep inside of you, filling you with a warmth that you swear settles so far in the pit of your stomach that it has you going boneless. The colorful array of stars blinding your vision blot out and fizzle like you're staring into a sky full of fireworks as pleasure fizzles and wracks through your body bone deep. You seize over him, clamping down on his cock one last time and you distantly register him hissing lowly like he's been wounded. You aren't sure how long you lay like that. Suspended and doused in pleasure and heat, floating above your body. But when you come to, Farleigh's panting beneath you, drawing in heavy lungful's of air while his fingertips run along your ribcage, tracing over the bone. 

You take him in. The moment: the weight of him still nestled within your cunt; the scent of his cologne and sex in the air and the sound of your labored gasps. This is peace, you decide. Just him and you. His heat, his presence. Him. 

"I love you." 

The confession hangs heavy. For a moment you don't register who spoke it. If it was you or him. But the tone of it, smoky and rumbling, paired with the vibrations of a voice thrumming throughout the chest pressed underneath your ear let you know who had spoken. It has you lifting your head to look at him, but his gaze is focused on the ceiling like he's afraid to meet your astonished stare. Your lip's part, ready to speak and assure him. To share a confession of your own and let him know that his feelings are returned but then his voice is drifting out again, cutting you off before the words even leave your throat. 

"I've been wanting to say it for a while," he says. Something flickers across his face, vulnerable but steadfast. "But I waited. I just . . . I didn't want you think I was saying it because of what happened - because I was hurt." 

The admission breaks something it you. It isn't angry but sympathetic and loving. It's warm - gentle. It guides you to prop yourself on your elbows so that you're really able to look at him, and it draws his attention enough to have his eyes flickering onto your face. "It's . . . I have regrets from that night. That morning -" he pulls in a deep breath to steel himself and you move a hand to cup his face, hoping that it'll help to center him somewhat. You feel a bit of relief when he leans into your touch instead of pulling away, and some of the tension in his muscles slip. His eyes suddenly seem as though they're pinning you in place; dark and certain even though there's the hint of tears welling up around them. - " things I would have done differently. You aren't one of them." 

You can feel tears of your own threatening to spill over. But these are of joy. You swear you might actually burst. That the sun might appear within your chest and eat you alive. "I love you too." 

The smile that breaks across his face is euphoric and light. Like the weight of the world has just been lifted from his shoulders from your words alone. It has you dropping your head forward until your forehead nudges against his own and you're breathing his air. His hands sweep up to cradle your face, guiding you to look at him. And for the first time in your life, you truly know what it means to be gazed upon like you had hung the stars in the sky. Like you had suspended the moon in its dark cradle and lit the sun alight. To be looked at like you are everything. "Say it again." 

"I love you," you answer without hesitation, and all you can do is hope that your own eyes convey the sheer magnitude of your own feelings. That your voice properly projects the scope of your love for him. 

"Again," he begs like he's been starved, placing soft kisses along your face. 

"I love you, Farleigh Start. I always have." 

You hardly get time to register the fact that he's flipping you over, swapping your positions with a single move until your back is pressed into the cushion of the carpet. Suddenly he's taking up the entire expanse of your vision; dark eyes twinkling and alive. The laughs that leave you both are chiming - almost musical. Airy and entirely carefree. His lips brush over yours and his breath coasts over the shape of your face, and the only thing that you can smell, and feel is him. The warm, soothing weight of his body and the familiar scent of vanilla and cigarettes. 

"We're gonna get a noise complaint one of these days," you warn without any bite. 

His eyebrows raise, and the smile that stretches over his face is entirely unapologetic. "If the dude with the piano hasn't gotten any shit yet then we should be fine." He runs his nose along yours, nudging you to angle your head so that he can brush his lips over yours. "Fuck 'em." 

You can't hold back the small bout of laughter that puffs from your chest, even as you playfully roll your eyes. "Fuck 'em," you agree just before you meet in a burning kiss. 

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire enhypen part (four)

back to school after ni-ki fudged up

ni-ki meets a stranger who happens to know his secrets

you also meet this stranger who has you questioning the boys and the situation

nsfw - towards the end

please comment share and reblog! but please don’t repost or translate!!

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

you walked on to campus monday morning and everyone acted like last week didn’t happen. the girl was doing better, can’t remember what happen, and the cops never found the culprit.

well, you were looking the culprit in the eyes right now as he was getting a lecture from his two elders.

“you may have classes without us, but you are to be home before 5 pm. all your classes end by 3. if we catch you one on one with any human, we will find a way to get you your own babysitter.” jay ranted to the youngest.

ni-ki nodded. “i understand and i won’t fuck up again, i promise.”

“don’t make a promise you may not be able to keep.” sunghoon stated.

“come on ni-ki, i will walk you to class. my first class isn’t until 11.” you said with a smile.

“and don’t be late.” jay pointed a finger at you. you stuck your tongue out.

linking arms with ni-ki you walked him to his first class which was at 9. it was currently 8:47 am.

ni-ki sighed. “will i ever have their trust?”

you sighed as well. “yes, but it’ll take awhile, okay? just give them time. they just worry and are hard on you because they care.”

while walking to class with ni-ki you noticed a girl with blonde hair watching the both of you.

“who’s that?” you asked.

ni-ki looked over to where you were looking, and shrugged. “dunno, i think she’s in a class or 2 of mine. haven’t really interacted with her. don’t know her name.”

you smiled, “well she’s really pretty.”

ni-ki deeply chuckled, “no fraternizing with humans, remember?”

“i mean you can talk to her, just not alone, okay?” you stopped in front of ni-ki’s class building and patted his shoulders. “do good in class. learn something!”

ni-ki groaned and you happily skipped off.

once you were gone, ni-ki walked into the building, and soon the blonde girl was beside him, cutting him off as she stood in front of him.

“i know what you are, blood sucker. and i know what you did.” she smirked and walked off towards class.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

meanwhile when close to 11 came, you made it to the class jay was a teaching assistant for, and just on time. you sat in the back while 96% of the girls in the class sat up front. mainly to ogle jay.

“we’ve missed this class!” one girl shouted.

“i was so sad when classes got canceled.” another shouted.

one girl argued, “it was for our safety though! i hope that creep is found!”

your heart sank knowing they were talking about ni-ki. jay and sunghoon had warned you and the other boys, people will be talking and saying rude things, but to not take it personally or say anything aloud.

“let’s get class started, shall we?” the professor of the class cleared his throat and began his lecture. as the girls attention was glued to jay and his jawline, jays attention was glued to you as you focused on the lecture.

jay hates the fact you don’t make flirty eyes with him in class, but you told him and the other guys, your studies come first. they respected you for that.

class ended 50 minutes later, and your next class wasn’t until 2, so you agreed to meet your roommate for lunch.

without bothering to say goodbye to jay, since he was busy with the girl students in class, you made your way towards the student center where most of the food options were.

while walking down the path you saw a familiar blonde from earlier. and once again, she was staring at you.

you walked up to her as other students passed, going along their day. “is there a reason you keep staring at me?”

the girl smiled and stuck out her hand. “im eunchae.”

“im—,”

“i know who you are.” she cut you off and stood up. “i also know what you are to those blood suckers.”

as eunchae went to walk away you grabbed her hand, “wait—,”

“don’t worry im not going to tell anyone.” she shook her head. “just know those boys don’t care about you. they give you precious attention now, but what happens in a few years? you get older and what, they stay the same age? they won’t have you as their precious feeding tube much longer. they’ll throw you to the curb sooner or later.”

you were too stunned to speak, and eunchae walked off. when you came to your senses, you walked to meet your roommate for food.

“hey, are you okay?” she asked and you mindlessly nodded, picking at your food. you were currently rethinking, and over analyzing your conversation with eunchae.

what would happen once they were done? you did get older and they wouldn’t, right? you weren’t their first human to primarily feed on and you won’t be the last. how many others have jay and sunghoon roped into this? how many others did they call love and baby doll and treated so well? would they erase your memory once they were done? would they just pack up and leave without telling you? would they kill you?

your mind raced and you felt so sick. “i think im gonna skip my 2 pm class. im not feeling well.” you stated while packing up. you would take the remainder of your food with you.

your roommate looked at you with concern. “okay, get some rest!”

you nodded with all your things and walked to the one place you might get answers. the guys house. and with them all being on campus until at least 4, you would have time to snoop for answers.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

ni-ki was walking on campus when he spotted the blonde girl from earlier. he’s had two classes with her and each time she’s ignored him.

she was lying on a blanket on the grass reading as ni-ki walked up.

“we need to talk.”

“aren’t you not supposed to be around humans alone?”

ni-ki looked around. technically they weren’t alone, there were other students scattered about. “is this a test?”

the girl closed her book and sat up from her lying position. “a test?”

“did jay or sunghoon put you up to this?” ni-ki asked annoyed. did they really not trust him that much?

the girl shook her head but patted the spot next to her. “sit down riki.”

ni-ki’s jaw nearly hit the ground. riki was his birth name, but he always went by ni-ki. only certain people know his name is riki or even call him that.

ni-ki sat down on the blanket.

“im eunchae.” she held out her hand and ni-ki shook it. “and no, the guys didn’t put me up to anything.”

“then how—?” ni-ki couldn’t even finish his sentence as he was so confused. eunchae laughed.

“let’s just say, im not a vampire, but a supernatural creature as well.”

ni-ki’s eyes went wide as he looked at eunchae. “what kind of supernatural creature?”

“ever heard of a seraphim?” eunchae asked. “we’re also known as fallen angels.”

“oh.” ni-ki said. “what is it that you do?”

eunchae smiled, “maybe i can tell you that later tonight.”

ni-ki frowned, “i have to be home by 5.”

“yikes they put you on that much of a strict curfew because you lost control and fed on a human?” eunchae faked gasped. “just ignore it.”

“i—i can’t.”

“what are you gonna do, suck my blood? i promise my blood will not taste good.” eunchae said and stood up grabbing her book. ni-ki followed.

eunchae added, “i’ll also make sure you don’t feed on any innocent people.” eunchae promised with her hand up and her big eyes round and her lashes batting.

“you aren’t a good influence.”

“im a fallen angel riki. and i never said i would be a good influence.”

“how can i trust you’re telling the truth?”

“you can’t, that’s the thrilling the part.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you arrived to the guys house and immediately went up to the library. the library had old books so it had to have something from jay and sunghoons past.

you searched and searched the shelves, not finding anything much helpful. you found a few books on the lore of vampires and made note to look at those later.

your attention turned to the desk. as you opened the drawers, you found a photo book. bingo.

but as you opened it, it was empty.

“love, why aren’t you in class?” at the sound of jay’s unexpected voice, you literally screamed. your heart rate was definitely up, but you took a few deep breaths.

“i wasn’t feeling well. so i came here, to my favorite place.” you smiled hoping jay bought your lie. since your heart rate was already up from being startled, he wouldn’t notice the difference because of your lie.

jays eyes soften. “aw love come here.” he waved for you to leave the comfort of the library into his awaiting arms.

you gave him a hug in the threshold. he smelt so good. you sighed into his chest. “wait, how did you know i wasn’t in class?”

“i went to look for you. i know we aren’t to interfere with your studies so i was gonna ask if i could feed before or after class.”

“how was you going to feed before my class?”

“take you to my office.” jay smirked and your face felt hot.

“well im here now.”

jay frowned, “but you aren’t feeling well.”

you shook your head, “im a bit better. honestly i just didn’t want to go to class and hear more people talk about what happened.”

jay held you closer, rubbing your back. he kissed the side of your head. “thanks for caring about us love, but people will talk, okay? we’ll get through it.”

you nodded and jay led you to his room. “are you sure you’re up for it, love?”

you nodded, and took your shirt off throwing it somewhere in his room then began unbuttoning your jeans.

“hey!” jay scolded. “undressing you is one of my favorite things.” he pouted and you laughed taking your hands off your button.

jay took his time undressing you, kissing every inch of your body, giving light nibbles up your thighs, stomach and chest.

his lips made its way to your lips for a deep and slow kiss. jay was always so gentle and romantic and sometimes you wish he wasn’t. you always wondered deep inside if he had a hardcore dominant side of him.

when you two made eye contact, you asked, “jay, why are you always so gentle with me?”

jay smiled, “honestly, because if anyone of us goes full force you genuinely may not be able to walk for a while.”

“what if that’s something i want?” you teased.

jay shook his head with a smile, “maybe on a day where you don’t have class for the next few days, okay?”

your hands ran through jays hair, “what’s the most public place you’ve had sex? i mean you’ve been a vampire for so long, there has to be somewhere interesting you’ve done it.”

“penthouse balcony.” jay replied. before you could reply further, jays fingers snuck down to your core, and entered your pussy, earning a low moan from your mouth.

he kissed and sucked your neck while his 2 fingers entered in and out of you, all while his thumb laid pressure and lazy circles on your clit. he had to get you pretty ready for him as although jay didn’t have inches, but he sure enough had thickness to his cock.

“so wet for me.” jay whispered in your ear and pulled is fingers out when he thought you were wet enough for him. giving you one last kiss, he aligned himself with your entrance and slowly entered you. you immediately felt the stretch, as he placed your legs on either side of his waist so you could feel him deeper. “i don’t think you’re ready for the damage i could do to you in bed, love.”

that earned another moan from you, “yes—yes i could.” you stuttered as jay was rocking his hips to yours, sounds of skin slapping the only noise to be heard.

jay sat up so he could hold your legs straight up, them vertical against his chest. this position offered a new feeling and ways for him to satisfy you, and he picked up the pace, your ass becoming red with the speed of his thighs hitting them.

spews of profanities left your lips at this new sensation and feeling. you loved it. your hands gripped the sheets to his bed, as jay held you in place. you were close and jay could feel it.

he pulled out, you hissed at the loss of contact, almost in tears when jay helped you get on your hands and knees for him to fuck you from behind. no warning, he bottomed out, a louder than usual moan leaving your mouth, the front of his body connecting with your back, and his lips finding your neck, his favorite spot.

his vampire teeth sunk into your skin, and you let out a moan of pain followed by a groan of pleasure, groaning jays name over and over, encouraging him to pick up his pace and chase both of your orgasms. soon, you felt jay release his come into you, and he slowed down, his vampire teeth retracting as he licked where he fed.

you were so thankful that although he could come, you couldn’t get pregnant since his sperm was dead.

you collapsed on your front on the bed, trying to catch your breath. although you know jay didn’t go full out, he did go harder than usual. jay rubbed your back, his breath already returning to normal, as he put on pants and covered you up with his sheets and comforter.

he looked down so he could face you, “are you okay?”

you nodded. once your brain fog from the orgasm started to go away, you remembered the whole reason why you were even there.

you turned around to face jay who was sitting on his bed next to you scrolling on his phone.

“jay?”

“mhm?” he hummed and looked to give you his attention.

“what happens when yall are done with me?”

jay pouted in confusion. “love, what do you mean?”

you sighed and sat up, covering yourself with the sheets. “i mean when you all are done using me as a human blood bank. do yall kick me to the curb? pack up and leave without telling me? kill me?”

“love, where is this coming from?”

“don’t—don’t call me love right now.”

“where is this coming from? why all of a sudden are you thinking about this?”

“jay, i gotta think about my future, okay? unlike you all, i get older, okay. i will eventually meet the love of my life, get married, have kids,”

“absolutely not.” jay stated, his tone darker than usual. when you looked him in the eyes you realized his eyes were red.

“jay—,”

“you belong to us and only us.”

“jay that’s not fair,” you said, “i can’t be at your beck and call.”

“yes you can and you will.”

“what happens when yall are done with me?”

“we won’t be.”

“then are you gonna turn me to keep me young?” you argued.

jays eyes went back to normal and his face softened, “no. i don’t turn people unless their life depends on it.”

you got up quickly from the bed, “jay, this makes no sense! how are you gonna say i belong to yall only, but not tell me what my future will look like?”

jay tried to reach for you but you pulled away. was you being unreasonable? you didn’t know and you didn’t care. you just know eunchae had you thinking more about this situation you got yourself in.

you looked around for your clothes, and immediately started to get dressed. “i need to go. i need to go home and think.”

“love,”

“NO!” you yelled to stop jay. “just no.”

you finished dressing as jay watched. your belongings were in the library so you walked down the hall to grab your bag and uneaten food. jay was following you around the house.

“im leaving. i don’t think this is a good idea anymore.” you said as you walked down the steps and that perked jays ears as well as sunghoon who happened to be listening.

“baby doll,” sunghoon began and it slightly startled you as you turned to look at both men. they both looked hurt, but angry at the same time.

“love, you belong to us, end of story,”

“not end of story jay, fuck you!”

“baby doll, behave.”

“and fuck you too sunghoon!”

you stormed out of the house, hearing jay tell sunghoon “let her go, for now.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you held back tears as you walked around campus. you weren’t ready to go back to your dorm just in case one of the guys were waiting for you.

but it wouldn’t matter, they could probably track you by your scent. they’ve always said you were different.

“did they hurt you?” for the what, third time today? a voice startled you.

you looked behind you and saw eunchae. “no.” you shook your head then shrugged, “i don’t know.”

“come with me, i have some girls you might want to meet.”

you wiped your tears, “huh?”

“trust me.” eunchae smiled. “plus i think the person i arranged to meet at 5 won’t show up.”

ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[chernabogs]

ERLKÖNIG

Inc: Malleus (/Reader later on), Reader/Prefect, Lilia, Silver, Sebek, Ace, Deuce, Grim, and a lot of fae who should not be in this dimension yet somehow are. Wc: Roughly 9k (Currently sitting at chapter 2/23). Warnings: Violence, reference to war, kidnapping, rituals that fae allegedly did in mythology (wild), psychological horror, body horror (not until much later), and the boys are fighting... a lot. Relies heavily on ancient Celtic and Welsh lore (Tam Lin, Thomas the Rhymer, and Oisin I owe u my life) Summary: Your first encounter with the fae was not in Twisted Wonderland, but rather on the coast of a village your grandmother once lived in—where stones bit into your bare feet and the water poured into your lungs as you were pulled to a world so different from your own. It was by cunning alone that you managed to escape, having since pushed those memories aside. But the fae do not forget—not even when you cross dimensions once more—and as Beltane looms, the time for collecting is near.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) below the cut. Check out the work up to chapter 2 here!

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill's side.

-  La Belle Dame sans Merci, Keats

19??, Dunhill, Ireland. October.

There is an unsettling truth behind the superstitions we hold. After all, why else do we face horseshoes upright, or close our blinds when the sun begins to set? We did not learn to play mute when we hear our names get called at night for no reason, nor did we discover on a whim that blackbirds circling are harbingers of ill outcomes.  

Your grandmother was a woman of superstition. Because she lived in Dunhill, Ireland, you very rarely had the opportunity to see her growing up. This didn’t mean that you weren’t occasionally shipped out to arrive at her doorstep for a few weeks at a time over the summer months.

Your memories of her appearance are mostly flashes of the few moments you saw her. Knotted joints on her body, silver hair hidden behind a headscarf she always wore, and the way her shoulders would stoop with each shuffling step she took. What you remember more vividly was the way she acted when the two of you went out. Her trembling hands—Parkinson’s, you think your parent may have mentioned—would always press an iron nail into yours to put in your pocket before you departed.

“They like to wait on the coastlines,” she had murmured when you asked why she gave this to you. “And they’ll like you the most.”

She would not offer any further information, nor would she let you out until the nail was securely tucked away. Despite how slowly she would move on your many walks along Benvoy Beach, you never once failed to miss the way her sharp gaze would always be fixated on the unruly seas beyond.

She dies when you’re ten years old. Her funeral is a vivid affair. Your grandmother’s humble home has been transformed into a centre of traffic within a matter of hours since her passing, barely giving your family a moment to breathe despite catching the red-eye flight earlier that day. People you have never seen before shaking your small hand and offering their condolences. The strong fragrance of unknown flowers and cheap perfume fills each room, suffocating out any last semblance of your grandmother that may have still lingered. It feels more like they’re spitting on her memory than honouring it. You know your grandmother—she is, was, a quiet woman, and not one for all this pomp and circumstance.

Perhaps this is why no one notices when you sneak out and down the rocky hills.

You slip on several rocks and scrape up your hands really good by the time your feet hit the familiar sandy beach below. With the way the sun is beginning to set, the waters seem to be a wine-red color, swirling in their chaotic fervour to reach the earth you stand on. You pause to take several breaths before kicking your shoes off and stepping forward into that hungry sea.

Your parent will be furious at you for dirtying up your formal garb, but this isn’t at the forefront of your mind right now as your eyes slide shut and you stretch your arms wide. You feel the wind rush along your body and the fragrance of salt overtake you as you spill your grief into the vast waters, letting it mix and swirl into that abyss for a moment of catharsis.

It’s when the wind carries the scent of something pungent that your eyes snap open again. The foulness is brief, and for a moment you write it off as simply a byproduct of the ocean, until it returns again stronger than before. It smothers the brine and has your head turning to look around for the source. You look over your left shoulder at the empty beach around you. The sun continues to set, and your gaze tracks the path of a gull flying overhead before you look over your shoulder once more.

This time, someone is waiting.  

There is an unsettling truth behind the superstitions we hold. The reason why we are scared of things that try to look like us, why we try so hard to ward them off, is because we know that anything that wants to be like a human certainly has no good intent in their heart. This is the case for the figure you see standing on the beach.

They’re wearing the same dark funeral garb you had seen the others in your grandmother’s home wearing. A wide-brimmed hat sits upon their head to conceal most of their features, although you can see scarlet hairs peeking out, and their hands appear to be clasped behind their back as they stand stoically ahead. Despite the winds that bite at your cheeks, not a single scrap of fabric on the figure’s body moves. It’s as though they’re cut from a painting and placed in real life.

You both observe each other in silence. You can feel your body locking up as your mind chants to you wrong, wrong, wrong, over and over again like a mantra. Your right hand drifts down to your pant pocket—you did not take a nail with you before you left the home.

They like to wait on the coastlines, and they’ll like you the most.

Your breath catches in your throat.

The figure smiles—black, sharp, and not quite human. 

Something in your gut tells you to run and you, even as a rebellious child, do as you’re told. Your body twists around to scramble towards the rocks as your feet slip in the wet sand. You completely discard grabbing your shoes in your haste to get away, fully accepting the agony that the stones ripping into your soles will bring as consequence.

You don’t get very far. Whatever is on the beach with you is far quicker than you will ever be. Within moments of you turning, its cold fingers dig into your shoulders. You scream—cry—as the figure leans down and the pungent aroma of rotting fish emanates with each breath it exhales. You thrash and twist in its grip until you face each other, and you lock eyes with her.  

She looks exactly as she did the last time you saw each other. Same knotted limbs, same silvery hairs, same stoop of her shoulders.

She stares down at you. The wind whips the loose strands of her hair around her face, and her eyes are the cloudy blue of the dead as something begins to claw in your mind. You watch as her thin and cracking lips form the syllables to your name—but it’s lost to the roar of an ever-cacophonous sea. The ground surges up around you, wrapping thorns—thorns? —around your legs. They bite into your skin, draw ruby gems from beneath your frigid flesh, and when you lift your head again, your grandmother merely continues to wear her blackened smile at the sight.

You cry out once more, but just like your name, your pleas are stolen away by the winds.

Everything lasts all but a few moments before the sea finally reaches what it has been clawing for. 

[lorelaisdiary]

↱ Content warnings: vomit, mentions of alcohol and a party, smoking cigarettes, some of the characters may be ooc, Dallas is way softer, and a bunch of fluff because I love soft men who are sweet<3 ↰

↱ The Outsiders When You’re Sick (Fem! Reader) ↰

↱ Summary: You get sick and spend the day(s) with your boyfriend. ↰

↱ Characters that are present in this are Darry Curtis, Sodapop Curtis, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Cade, Steve Randle, Dallas Winston, and Two-bit Matthews. ↰

↱ Author’s note: I started writing this when I got extremely sick. Never again will I go out into a public space without germ-x😭. Anyways, I’m thinking about writing a vampire au with Johnny because why not. I don’t know but I want to write more horror with the boys so:). Also, I hope y’all have had an amazing beginning of the year so far!!:)💛 ↰

Darry Curtis:

You coughed from your place on the bed. Your nose had turned a light pink color and you were already exhausted from the sickness. You weren’t in the mood to deal with the boys so you stayed in your own home which was something that wasn’t a normal occurrence for you. You told Darry not to visit under the guise that you simply weren’t feeling well. It wasn’t a complete lie but you didn’t want him overstaying and forgetting his other responsibilities.

Darry had a habit of doing that when you were involved. It was unfortunate as he usually had things he needed to do before you got sick.

You grabbed your glass of water and took another sip of it, coughing the second it was completely down your throat.

It had all started with an itchy feeling in your throat earlier that week. You forgot you were a human as well and didn’t take any medicine before you got to this point of sickness. You rolled over and covered your head with your blanket. You finally got up once someone knocked on the door. “Coming.” You let out a cough afterwards. The door had opened quickly and you covered your mouth with a tissue you had laying on your bedside table.

Darry came in and frowned once he noticed the state you were in. “Why didn’t you let me know?” Darry began pulling you back towards the bed and laid you down.

“You shouldn’t be bothered with me. You have to work today, right?” You asked, confused and a little upset. You didn’t want him missing valuable work days for you. He had bills to pay just the same even if you’re sick.

“No, I don’t. I’m off for the day.” Darry gave you a smile without much thought put behind it. He always smiled with you.

You thought that it was because you were funny or because he thought you were cute. You had come to the realization that he only ever smiled like that with you. If it was because you were funny, he would laugh at Two-bit. If he thought that you were cute, he would’ve smiled like that with those girls who throw themselves at his feet but, he only ever looked at you that way. You found yourself trying to stay awake as Darry made you something to eat.

You let out a yawn and looked at the man who walked back through your door with food in his hand. “It’s not the best, but I think you’ll like this.” He smiled at you but this time, it was a nervous smile.

“I think I will, too. I like everything you make.” You answered back, slightly shyer about the situation than he was. Darry sat the food down in front of you before you finally looked up at him. You stared at him with slight worry as his face was flushed. “Are you okay? Your face is kinda red.” You pressed a warm hand against his forehead.

He was burning up. “Darry? Did you get sick?” You tilted your head. You sniffled slightly before you pulled him down beside you. You were grateful that Darry had set the food down onto the bedside table before you roughly grabbed him.

You forced him beside you. You threw your favorite colored blanket over Darry and tossed a leg over his waist. “You’re so sweet, Darry,” you pressed a kiss against his cheek, “but, you need to look after yourself. Now, you’re stuck with me until we both get better.” You pressed another kiss to his cheek before closing your eyes and cuddling closer to him.

Sodapop Curtis:

You were holding all your notebooks in your hands, hoping to make it home before the cold weather takes you out again. You were sick and had been for weeks leading up to your current predicament. Your throat was dry and was feeling slightly itchy while your chest was hurting with every other cough.

You weren’t going to see Soda’s family or him until you were better which seemed to upset him but, he understood where you were coming from. You moved your textbooks around before grasping all the different books and finding a good hold on them. You knew that you would still have to do your schoolwork even if you were feeling like you were on your deathbed.

Rain began falling from the sky and you tilted your head for a moment, beginning to realize that even Mother Nature had it out for you. You let out a sigh and decided to head to the DX. It would only be for a few moments. You wouldn’t bother the boys while they worked. You jogged to the store and opened the door, sniffling a bit as you walked up to the counter. “Hey, I’m going to be sitting in here for a bit to stay out of the rain but, as soon as it stops raining, I will be going home.” You sat your books all down onto the counter.

Soda smiled at you, “Okay, baby. Me and Steve are about to get off, though. Do you want to come with us? Steve can drop you off at home.” Soda leaned forward towards you.

“Don’t you even think about it. No touching me until I’m better.” Soda jokingly poked your arm. “Seriously! I don’t want you getting sick.” You shook your head as a way of showing your disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have but still.” Soda watched you as you began coughing. Steve came out of the back, grease covering his hands and face.

“Do you need one of my tissues? I have plenty to spare.” You held up some of the tissue you had in your bag after grabbing it out.

“No. There’s a rag somewhere around here.” Steve grumbled as he began looking for the rag he mentioned before.

“Okay, Steve. Well, I baked that chocolate cake. I made sure everything was chocolate this time.” You sniffled again and looked back towards your boyfriend with a bored look plaguing your face. “And, I got you something, too.” You looked at Soda with a grin plastered on your face.

You began coughing before either man could say anything in response to your earlier statements. You grabbed the money needed from your pocket and slammed it onto the counter in front of you. Soda jumped over the counter with very little hesitation and grabbed you a bottled water. Once it was opened and you took a few sips, you felt much better. You slowly moved to sit down on the chair that was always left out in the open in the DX. “Well, Soda baby, I’ll be staying for a while so I might as well get comfortable with you.” You leaned back.

Soda happily ran towards you and picked you up before placing you on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and planted a gentle kiss onto his cheek. “I’m going to get you sick.” You let out another cough into your elbow but Soda shrugged his shoulders.

“Who cares? I’ll blame it on the weather.” And with that, he kissed you.

Yes, he did end up getting sick two days later. He did blame the weather as well.

Ponyboy Curtis:

Your throat was the main thing bothering you in that one single moment. You were currently being babied by your boyfriend who was practically hand feeding you. He had spooned out enough honey for your throat to feel a little better and on top of that, he had cuddled with you. You both knew you were still contagious and could very well give him your virus but he refused to listen to you.

So, the two of you laid in bed with your arms wrapped around one another. It was sweet, at first. Then, he fell asleep. You found him adorable while asleep but that was before he started to lightly snore. You waved it off as him just being a man before his snores began to grow in sound. He went from soft snores to sounding like your dad within seconds. You tried to ignore it but, within seconds, you were growing irritated. You wouldn’t wake him up, no matter how bad his snores were so you simply rolled over and closed your eyes.

You began coughing and noticed how with every cough, both your chest and your stomach hurt. You assumed that you probably coughed too much and worked your muscles a little too much so you tried to hold back on the coughing. Ponyboy shifted beside you and you grabbed his hand a little, noticing how he slowed with his movements. You smiled and rolled over, only noticing that his eyes were open when you met them. “You snore like an old man.” You joked as you giggled a bit.

You felt your stuffy nose hurt a little and sighed as you stopped laughing. It hurt when you did that as well but you payed more attention to your nose rather than your stomach. “You’ve told me before.” He whispered before placing a small kiss on your forehead. Your fever had gone down tremendously since he started taking care of you.

You rarely took care of yourself. It was always about others for you. You enjoyed taking care of your friends, your siblings, your parents, anyone and everyone you could take care of you did. It was unfortunate as those were qualities that made Ponyboy fall in love with you but they also made him frustrated with you.

You knew he would be upset with you not taking care of yourself properly but you also couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like you would vomit if you did. It was a sad sight to see. With no other options, Pony decided he’d take care of you so long as you let him and you did. You allowed him to do whatever he wanted to comfort you and help you feel better. “You know, I really appreciate you doing this for me. I know my parents are a hassle and it was hard convincing them to leave me with you alone in a house but, thank you. I really really love you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and let your head fall onto his shoulder.

Pony stayed as still as he could, not wanting to accidentally cause you to become uncomfortable and move away. He let one of his arms slowly fall around your waist and looked at you for a moment before you okayed it. You pressed yourself closer to him a just stared at him. “I really really love you, too.” There your cheesy boy was.

You knew he’d say something that would make you flush. You could always blame it on the fever but, still. You rolled over as you began coughing. The pain spread throughout your body in one big motion.

You really hated being sick.

Johnny Cade:

You were laying on your porch with your face a light shade of red. Your nose was stuffy, your throat was stinging with dryness even after five glasses of water, and your joints were hurting badly. You felt the wind blow and felt grateful for the cold wind that hit your body. You were extremely hot and since it was beginning to get colder outside, you felt it would be okay to sit outside in the thinnest clothes that you could find within your closet.

“Hey, R/n!” Someone called out to you.

You blindly lifted your hand up and waved to let whoever it was know you were awake and alive. It wasn’t a common sight to see you of all people laying on a wooden porch in the middle of the night. You let your hand slowly come back down and reach for the glass of water beside you.

You opened your eyes once the person stepped onto the wooden steps of your porch. “Hey, baby.” You smiled as you reached for Johnny. He sat down beside you and grabbed your glass of water. He handed it to you and watched as you took a sip before taking the glass back and setting it down. “Oh, don’t sit too close to me! You’ll get sick.” You frowned as you tried to move away from Johnny.

Instead of him listening to you and actually thinking about himself, he simply moved closer to you and grabbed your head to place in his lap. You finally sigh as you let your head fall onto his thighs. You turned over and shoved your face into his stomach, feeling a bit more safe and secure than you did earlier.

Something about Johnny made you feel safe. You could never tell what though. You wrapped your arms around his waist and just laid still for a while. “You know, I’ve thought about this time and time again and I think we should adopt an animal.” You murmured out as you placed a gentle kiss on his stomach.

You suddenly began coughing violently as Johnny grabbed your glass of water for you. He let you take a few sips before setting it back down.

“I think we should, too. Havin’ a cute puppy or kitten that we could keep would be…” Johnny didn’t even finish his sentence as you batted your eyelashes up at him teasingly.

“It’s starting to sound like you want more than a puppy or a kitten.” You joked as you curled up around your lover, happily living in that moment with him. It was something you never thought you would be able to do.

“Y’know what I mean.” Johnny muttered out as he leaned down and pressed kisses to your forehead.

“You’re so precious,” you said as you sit up and sniffle. Johnny just smiled back as you sighed.

“I really hope you don’t get sick because of this.” You whispered out as you pressed a kiss to his neck as you stood up and stretched. You held a hand out to Johnny as you spoke, “I really want to go inside and sleep. Wanna come cuddle with me?” You smiled at your lover as he stood up.

Steve Randle:

You were tired of the man sitting beside you. You were trying to get him away from you as he had to work. You didn’t want him getting sick and either staying with his parent(s) or staying with you and contaminating you again. The cycle would be endless, honestly as the two of you weren’t the smartest.

“Steve!” You gasped as he suddenly pulled you into a kiss. He found it hilarious that you had a kind of fear towards being sick. You crossed your arms as you shook your head. “Never do that again. We’re swapping germs now!” You huffed out as you pulled yourself away from the smug looking man.

“Oh, shut up. Come here.” Steve murmured as he pulled you closer to his body. You fell into his lap and groaned as you tried pushing yourself away once again.

“I don’t wanna.” You whined out as you continued playing tug-of-war with your body. It was mostly fun and kept your mind off of the sore throat you had. That was your only symptom besides a stuffy nose but that would stay for a few more days, anyway.

You and Steve both went quiet as y’all stopped moving as much. You didn’t want to speak or move much as mostly because of how comfortable you had gotten on Steve. That meant he wasn’t allowed to move as well.

You wrapped an arm around his neck and let the other fall onto his chest as you both watched the tv that was playing some random movie on it. It was a comforting feeling that you had with him. You felt a sense of peace laying there and you didn’t feel like ruining that by moving.

You felt Steve’s breath even out as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You let him sleep even though the point of him coming over to your house was so he could take care of you. You knew Steve worked hard though and appreciated the effort he put in to be there for you.

Even if it was kind of lazy, he still managed to make up smile and feel slightly better about being sick and stuck in your house for a few days.

Dallas Winston:

Your cough was bad and Dally wasn’t coming nowhere near you. He was a considered a badass but wouldn’t cuddle with you while you were sick.

You puffed your cheeks out in frustration as he laid down on his bed. You were sitting on a chair in his room and by the opened window, where the party from downstairs was echoing. It was annoying to listen to but you were still grateful that you were spending time with Dallas.

“Dally, love me!” You whined out, teasingly. Dally was still laying on his bed and now he seemed to be ignoring you as well. “I swear, I’ll come over there and sit on you.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Dally sat up and opened his arms for you. He was completely silent but that was fine with you. You got up and went to lay down on the bed beside him. You didn’t want to lay on him and get him sick. You just wanted to feel the comfort of having him around you without actually having him physically touch you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you like that.” You whispered out as you grabbed the pillow that you were supposed to use and placed it in between the two of you.

Dallas let out a sigh as he rubbed his eyes for a second. “No worries, darlin’. Go to sleep.” He threw one of his arms over you and pulled you to his chest. You weren’t tired but you also didn’t want to listen to the party going on downstairs.

You let out a sigh as you begrudgingly agreed to go to sleep with your boyfriend. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. You couldn’t actually manage to fall asleep and you were stuck feeling a little… you couldn’t find the word to describe the feeling but it made you tear up. It felt terrible.

Maybe it was just your brain clogged with being sick and having a fever. That was probably the answer to your problem. You grabbed the pillow out from between the two of you before moving to lay on your side. You wrapped your arms around the pillow and buried your face into it.

You could’ve been sad because you couldn’t party. Dally had told you when you two made it to Buck’s that you weren’t allowed to drink alcohol and that you needed to drink water. You were fine with that but he wouldn’t even let you stand in the corner of the room. You tried that and he said you looked damn sad to be standing by yourself. It didn’t matter much now that you were stuck in his arms and had no where to go.

A sudden kiss was placed on your neck as Dallas ran a hand up and down your arm. You thought he looked adorable, trying to make you happy. You let one of your hands absentmindedly move to his and felt yourself warm up with excitement.

Those feelings had started disappearing and you were far too confused to debunk them but you assumed it was that you missed the physical contact. You two hadn’t touched in damn near a week because of your lives getting in the way and now that you were together, it seemed like you still wouldn’t be able to freely touch him.

You turned back around and let the forgotten pillow stay where it was as you curled up closer to Dallas. You had plenty of medicine at your house that would supply both you and your lover if need be.

Two-Bit Matthews:

Two-Bit handed you his beer as he looked back at the tv. You took a sip of his disgustingly cold beer and handed it back to him. “Thank you,” you croaked as you tried to hold your cough back.

You were laying on the couch on your side with your knees slightly bent, which put you in an awkward angle where Two-Bit’s head was resting on your knee. You so badly wanted to change positions so you could get more comfortable but you didn’t want to hurt the man who most definitely wasn’t sober.

“Why can’t you sit on the couch with me?” You suddenly asked as you propped yourself up on one of your elbows. Two-Bit just looked at you as if you had asked him something bizarre. “What?” You titled your head as your confusion became noticeable.

“I don’t know.” Was the only answer you received from your boyfriend. He had finished the beer and fortunately, had stood up. Maybe someone was finally looking down on you and was giving you mercy. You sat up quickly and pulled your legs under your body. You couldn’t imagine laying in the same position for longer than you already had.

You let out a sigh as your throat started itching again. You stood up and got a glass of water to help the pain for a little bit as Two-Bit yelled for you to grab him another beer. You let out a sigh as a small smile appeared on your face. You weren’t the luckiest in your love life but you felt like you really got lucky with Two-Bit.

He may have been… eccentric to you as you were middle class and were raised differently but you still enjoyed your time with him. He was completely different from the boys you were forced to be stuck with twenty-four seven. It wasn’t in the way that they didn’t act alike but it was how you felt about him. You’d never had feelings so strong for someone.

Two-Bit yelled your name again, this time sounding confused. You opened the fridge and pulled out one of his beers. “Coming!” You called back quickly as you hurried back to the living room.

When you got in there, he was sitting on the couch with a blanket on his lap. You felt excitement build as you ran over to the couch and handed him the beer. He hadn’t said it aloud but he had given you permission to cuddle with him while sick which is something he rarely ever did. You hopped onto the couch beside him and looked at him for a moment.

You wanted to give him another chance to back out before committing to cuddling. Two-Bit just held his arm out and you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. Two-Bit twisted the cap off of his beer and tossed it onto the table beside the couch as you got comfortable. You weren’t in a lot of physical pain other than your sore throat but the comfort of being held by your boyfriend made the sore throat feel like it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was.

“Oh, you’re so sweet to me!” You cooed gently as you nuzzled into him. Two-Bit patted your back gently before kissing the top of your head. You heard the tv playing in the background and just smiled as you felt a sense of calmness consume you.

You closed your eyes and hoped to fall asleep soon.

[thedevilspearl]

please be on your old man Lucifer agenda more often we love to see it 🙇

a/n: so lucifer with erectile dysfunction is what gets you going, huh? kidding but yesss let’s talk about old man luci some more bc i for one can’t get enough (i am tempted to start spreading my dilf!lucifer agenda >_<)

warning: none really, other than age gap maybe (but it’s nothing specified). minors do not interact!

oldman!lucifer is a man with impeccable and acquired taste. so it doesn’t matter if you’re a pretty, young thing or aged like fine wine just like him; if he chooses you, that’s a blessing in and of itself.

his bones may be beginning to wear away and his body may ache with the years he has lived through, but oldman!lucifer always has the energy to pursue the one who caught his eye.

speaking of eyes, oldman!lucifer has cute little crows feet on his. and the ruby in his eyes still glimmer, showing that despite his age, he has more than enough spirit left in him.

but oldman!lucifer has very poor eyesight so more often than not, he’ll be wearing his glasses. they’re a nuisance at times, but he will always wear them when you’re around because he wants to see your beauty in all it’s glory.

even when you’re on your knees between his legs, oldman!lucifer will push up his glasses that keep sliding down from the sweat just so he can admire your pretty face as you gag on his cock.

now onto the cock, having erectile dysfunction is not something oldman!lucifer would ever want to admit. but when your piece of ass first crossed his path, it was the first time he felt himself harden naturally in months. your pretty face and compatible personality only add to his attraction for you.

oldman!lucifer longs for you and his cock hardens thinking of you and how wonderful his cock would feel wrapped up in your body. he reminisces the way you touched his arm and the flirty smile you flashed his way earlier that day.

he grunts as he strokes his cock under the covers and oldman!lucifer feels ashamed to be sullying your image by masturbating to the thought of you just because he can finally get hard again.

but then oldman!lucifer reminds himself that you are the reason he’s jacking off at midnight like a teenage boy who can’t control his hormones.

so oldman!lucifer decides pursuing the real thing would be much more exciting than his juvenile activities. so when you next meet, he decides to approach you.

he flirts with you in a way which you can only describe as gentlemanly. oldman!lucifer pursues you with elegance and class, taking you to the finest of places. if you prefer more simple and humble settings, he will learn and cater all dates to your interest and comfort.

and you don’t need to think twice because oldman!lucifer pays for all of your dates. that’s how it was done back in his day, and it’s most certainly how he does it now.

his legs may be weaker than when he was younger, but oldman!lucifer doesn’t miss the way your feet rub up and down his calf under the table and it shoots shocks of electricity right up his legs and to his cock.

oldman!lucifer went from having no control over his cock getting hard to trying his hardest to hide his boner as he walks out of the restaurant with you on his arm.

like the gentleman he is, oldman!lucifer drives you home and pretends he doesn’t notice the way your gaze lingers on him while he drives. he pulls up and walks you to your door, and he told himself to not be desperate and get his dick wet too early. but he can’t stop himself when you asked him to come in with those seductively pouty lips and needy eyes.

he takes it easy on the first night, slowly drowning you in pleasure and oldman!lucifer can barely hold back himself. he hasn’t had a night like this since....well, he can’t remember how long it’s been.

and he doesn’t give up after one night. he meets up with you several times a week, then it turns into every day. and it’s not just for sex. for a man at his age, it’s difficult for oldman!lucifer to find valuable company that appreciates him as much as he appreciates others.

but that changes with you and the already lonely soul of oldman!lucifer is even lonelier when he’s not around you.

oldman!lucifer does move quickly and his pacing may scare you, but it’s just because he’s desperate for companionship.

he loves having his cock buried in your hole(s) and oldman!lucifer loves hearing you scream his name as he ploughs into you, or listening to you whimper with tears when he makes love to you.

he loves feeling alive again, not just because his cock is but because you redefine his meaning of living. oldman!lucifer thought he’d learned everything there was to learn, but you teach him things he would never thought to have known.

oldman!lucifer ’s love language is gift giving. he is always thinking of new things to buy you. but he’s an old man so sometimes his gifts are what you’d expect your grandparents to give you when you move into your first home.

he doesn’t know what an air fryer is, but he thinks you need one and now you have one in your kitchen. is that a new top of the range vacuum cleaner? well, now it’s added to his shopping basket ready to be delivered to your house as a surprise. oldman!lucifer takes care of your home as much as he takes care of you.

even if he has kids of his own, oldman!lucifer doesn’t think he’s particularly good with children. toddlers and young kids tend to be repelled by his resting grumpy face, but teenagers, however, take a liking to him.

oldman!lucifer has shiny silver tips in his hair, and he obsesses every morning when he looks in the mirror because he has two, no, three new grey hairs and he can’t handle it. nor can he handle the wrinkles. to cope, he forces himself to act cool and nonchalant about his ageing, like he didn’t even notice it happening.

but oldman!lucifer finds a way to love it all because you run your fingers through his greying hair with so much gentleness, and you kiss all of his skin with so much love regardless of his wrinkles, and you adore him exactly how he is that makes him never want to change.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

i swear i saw this prompt lying around somewhere but now i cant find it :0 either way, may i request a farmer that is teasing (either dating or married to) harvey and playfully tries out wearing his glasses, only to realise that their vision gets a LOT clearer with the glasses on?

Have some one-shot, dear anon! Enjoy 💕

_________________________________________

"Remind me again, why you don't want to wear contact lenses during your aerobics?"

Harvey, who was sitting at the kitchen table, put aside his coffee mug and turned his head to Farmer standing by the stove.

"As I mentioned earlier, darling, they're more trouble than good for me. You have to get used to them, and that's not quick, plus the unfamiliar sensations, the constant care of the lenses and the purchase of special cleaning products...."

"Same with your glasses, Harv." Farmer, wearing a pink apron and holding a frying pan with scrambled eggs, came up to the doctor and poured the contents of the pan into his plate. "Bon appetit!" They leaned a little closer so Harvey could reach his lips to their cheek and kiss.

"I got used to my glasses, I'm much more comfortable with them."

"Mm-hmm, and you're comfortable changing them almost every week after Caroline's gym class."

They set the dirty dishes aside in the washbasin and sat down next to Harvey.

"Dear, it was only a couple of times. I just wasn't careful then." Harvey replied before he began to chew his breakfast thoroughly again.

Farmer slowly pulled their hands towards Harvey's face, taking off the doctor's glasses and trying not to poke him in the eye with them.

"Heh..."

After swallowing his food, the doctor stared at Farmer questioningly, "Something wrong? You've been so interested in my glasses lately..... Do you have something against it?"

Farmer snorted. "Of course not, love. I was just curious as to why you never gave contact lenses a chance, at least during exercise."

"On the other hand, though... They do give you a bit of charm. But you're also sexy without your glasses too..." That last comment made Harvey's face blush a little.

"Don't you want to give my glasses back, darling?"

"Hmm..." Farmer pretended to hesitate.

"No~" With a sly smile, they put Harvey's glasses. "Well, how do I look, darling?~"

"You look like the most beautiful blur I've ever seen," Harvey smirked, hearing Farmer's ringing laughter at his joke.

"Hah! That's a good one. Huh..."

"Is everything okay?"

"I feel like the world has become... clearer. Is that normal?"

"Farmer, take those off for a second..." Farmer obediently gave Harvey his glasses. When his vision was clear again, the doctor got up from the kitchen table in the direction of the hotel. A minute later he returned with a spare pair of glasses and handed them to Farmer. "Put these on, please." It didn't take long for Farmer to take them.

"Wow... Everything's so clear! I never noticed before... Oh, I see a cobweb in the corner! I knew I missed a cobweb when I was cleaning."

"...My soul, when was the last time you had your eyesight checked?"

"Heck if I know. You're the doctor here." Well, Harvey can't argue with that.

"I'm gonna have a couple of tests. And if my concerns are confirmed, you should start wearing glasses, too."

"Or contact lenses." Farmer said.

"If you get used to them."