#he thinks he can handle everything on his own

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Purpose | Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

“You want me to do what?!”

The call from your awkward and friendly acquaintance in the idol-managing business leaves you in an unreadable ball of confusion. Typically when Bobby did call you it was to brag about his girls or about the latest resort he was gifted by the girls. But this time he needed your help and you weren’t sure if you were going to give it. 

“Please please (Y/n)! You taught me everything I know; if there’s anyone who can handle them it’s you.”

Bobby pleading on his knees doesn’t change your reluctance but the pleading gazes of the boy-band in question made you slow to voice it. It also was harder to refuse when you could see the shining blue shackles on each of their wrists. A marked hand slides onto your shoulder with a stealth you haven’t felt in a long time and instinctively you reach for the holster under your coat, locking eyes with the one you once deemed to be an enemy.

“It can only be you. Mx. (L/n).”

It’s the purple-haired idol who not only was rumored to have once endangered the Honmoon but mended it with strength that surpassed her ancestors. Here she was glowing with her shining demon marks in broad daylight. A part of you still found it wrong.

She took your blatant staring in stride; sending Bobby out of the room,”Mind giving us some space? I think it might land better y’know? Idol to idol?”

“Oh, sure thing Rumi! In fact, I’ll go get the celebratory ramyeun now!”

He dashed as if his life depended on it, leaving you and Rumi with the shackled demon idols. Looking warily at the hunter you slowly pulled your hand away from your holster. The fakely wide smile on her fades into something more concerning. Pressing her purple-painted lips together, it’s time to address the real elephant in the room. 

“Why are they still here?! I thought you killed them all when you made the Honmoon golden.”

She nervously smiles, “I–thought I did too. But it seems that they were sealed in the upper world instead. The only one who….didn’t make it was thanks to Gwi-Ma.” She steps away from you, putting her hand out as if to pet the “baby Saja boy.” Previously he looked as though he was dead; standing with a face that epitomized boredom. That all changed when Rumi came close. His eyes glowed that sinister yellow and his fangs were bared as he chomped at the air her hand used to be. The blue chains clink with golden chains that shine in a ripple like the Honmoon itself. 

“You must mean the leader. Jin.”

You were playing with fire. For all the shipping edits that the idol leaders were put through, anyone could’ve guessed that they were close. While you don’t have eyes and ears close to her domain, it still got back to you just how close she’d gotten with him. During Huntrix's report of the event, Jin’s returned soul was what gave the trio the power to completely exorcise Gwi-Ma. A feat that was impossible even for the first hunters to exist.

“Yes…Jin,” she spoke his name with a heavy resonance. A respect that hadn’t dulled at all because it still felt raw.

”He saved me by showing me how to accept this part of myself rather than hide.”

She held her hands in front of her playing with the light against her marks, “Still he’s showing me there’s more to this side of myself I never really understood before.”

You watched her close her hands into fists and turn to you with a fierceness in those brown eyes you’ve never seen in person,” Which is why I think we should try helping them before we kill them.”

Stopping your laughter you finally spoke, “We?”

“We. Huntrix can’t do this on our own. You’ve been handling the otherside of the hemisphere well and now that both sides are sealed all that’s left is to care for the demons that slipped through.”

“Then why not just kill them?” The one with abs tries to jab at her which she skillfully dodges,” They clearly aren’t fond of you.”

Pausing she looks at them and then at you. 

“I have to try…if Jin saw something worth using maybe…maybe there's more to them that I haven’t seen yet. That no one’s seen. I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I’m retired. I don’t think I can do much of anything now.”

Rumi gives you a look. That glare of determination that makes you feel exposed.

“I’ve heard you before. You can do this.”

You turn, prepared to refuse but she grabs your hands.

“Please (Y/n).To protect our reign of peace….please.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, Saja boys. Listen up you live and breathe to be the idol group I demand you be, you hear me?!” 

The collective groans of the demon boy band, the sound makes you smirk. In an instant, you begin to hum an old song you used to sing unsheathing your whip from its holster. Romance is the one who perks up, the only one who seems to catch on that you are about to obliterate them.

“AcK!”

“OW that burns!”

“Please don’t!”

“Okay okay, we’re all listening p-please contine.”

It’s over in seconds. Everything but their faces is covered in disgusting blue welts. 

“As I was saying. I expect my perfect idol boy band to be smiley, friendly, and to say 'yes (Y/n)' whenever I ask you questions. Is that clear?”

“Yes (Y/n)!”

“That’s good now have a good show just like we practiced!”

It’s been interesting taking on the Saja boys. Their image that had Jin be their cool and calm collected leader was very much the truth. Without you breathing down their necks you found they were quite awful to all around them.

“Abby did you or did you not hit that PA with a button of yours, on purpose?”

“I mean they were looking too hard anyway it’s not my fault.”

“It is your fault that they went to the hospital thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

“It’s whatever they got a souvenir they’ll never forget!”

CRACK!

“Not the whip please, I’ll make a public apology! Sorry!”

You’ve dealt with idols that had a kamidere complex or outright narcissism but you haven’t dealt with literal demons who barely grasped that humanity was anything more than a population of overgrown bugs. 

“Alright, Bae Bee what’s going to be the right response if someone asks how you feel about the subject of turtles?”

“Goo Goo Gaga?”

“No. Try using real words please.”

“It’s…whatever?”

“I did that whole slide show and you didn’t gather anything from that?!”

“....”

FWHIP!

“Their…mid?!”

CRACK!

“Wahhh!”

But you wouldn’t continue with this farce if you didn’t realize there was a learning curve to be had. The first time it dawned on you was when Romance came to you in the dead of night, clutching the book you’d gifted them your second day: How to be a Human for Dummies. You were lounging on the large couch watching your shows when he walked in. He stood awkwardly by the door like a child who’d come to woefully inform his parents he’d wet the bed. You pretended not to know he was there; gauging if he’d actually ask for help like you offered.

“Why should we try?”

You muted the TV. Giving the pink-haired demon your full attention, you turned as he stood at the opposite end of the couch.

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

His nails dug into the paper cover,” no I mean why do we have to…I’ve already tried doing that before. I don’t want to go through that again.”

His marks flashed and you couldn’t see his face clearly; his hair making a curtain you so desperately wanted to peek past. 

Sighing you stood, “Follow me.”

Doing as he was told he followed you over rooftops, skillfully swinging through the concrete jungle to end it bumping into your back. He opened his mouth to insult you, to whine about how you couldn’t just answer the question to following your gaze. Down below in a window that flashed with all matter of colors, was a girl surrounded by friends singing terribly into the microphone as they cheered her on.

“You see her” The girl with the red bow in her hair?”

“...yeah.”

“She used to wonder that too. She used to walk home every day from school to her room. Locking herself away because she once listened to the same voices you do. Frankly, if she had continued listening she would have ended up just like you.”

“Then why isn’t she…like me that is?”

“Because she kept trying. Worked hard to find those she could care about; though it was hard she found them. Only because she tried.”

“So what?! I try and everything will be fixed?”

“I didn’t say that but no matter what you’ve done. Trying to make amends. Trying to be better is what makes it, you, worth it in the end.”

“Even if it took 300 years?”

“Even if it took 300 years.”

They certainly had their moments and that was enough to not exorcise them when their third month existing in the idol world rolled around. Much to your displeasure, you had no choice but to inform Rumi you’d continue to manage the Saja boys. If only to help them reconcile with themselves. To instead use their talent and influence to strengthen the Honmoon and continue to keep the positive energy that the fans permeated alive and well. 

If you worked hard, you could save the remaining Saja boys.

____________________________________________________________

“I hate this.”

Mystery was the first to voice this opinion. Finally left alone and unsupervised the Saja Boys were able to speak without the threat of being whipped, stabbed, or otherwise ground into a pulp on the shining golden Honmoon. Backstage just before another performance.

“Yeah, this just such a bummer. It was more fun when we worked for Gwi Ma!” Abs spoke leaning against the walls of the hidden stage. 

“Was it actually fun or were we just happy not to be reminded of who we are?” 

Romance turned still maintaining the front position of the band just as they’d been instructed, looking into the golden eyes of his fellow demons. Looking for the same confusion he’d been saddled with since they started this.

“I don’t really care, I just don’t like feeling…like this.” 

“Like what, Myst?! What exactly do you feel?” 

Abandoning his position, he closed in. Holding the quiet demon by the neck and slamming him into the wall. The infrastructure of the stage shook and dented but Romance was careful. He wasn’t certain why he cared so much to know his answer. He’d been asking the same thing of himself for all this time.

Mystery pursed his quivering lips. Romance growled and threw the demon to the ground, rolling into Abs’ feet. The muscular demon deflated when Romance turned to him expecting an answer, his eyes darting around as if the moving walls would have it scrawled somewhere. 

The lack of response only made the pink-haired demon angrier. Fangs beared and marks on full display he charged narrowly scratching at Abs’ face. Mystery got up to intervene, fully prepared to bite the neck of the completely wild Romance. Until his voice broke the silence.

“Purposeless. That is what we are feeling.”

His real voice was much deeper than his human one which is why when the late Jin led the group he was specially instructed to keep it hidden. But they had no leader. They have no Gwi-Ma. All they have in this hidden stage is each other. 

Romance retracts his claws, the marks still glowing bright, and he pulls at his locks.

“He’s right. W-we have nothing anymore! All we have is ourselves and that’s worse than nothing. W-w-we can’t even go back!”

His shaky declaration makes everyone unsettled. Placing a name to their fear—to their reality made it far too true. Their marks all begin to glow with an anxious throbbing. Mystery retreats into himself huddling into the corner. Abs freezes, willing his body to move and failing miserably. Even Baby lets the cap he’s wearing cover his face as he slowly slides to the floor.

“What’s the use of trying to change if I don’t even know why I’m here?! You’ve seen these humans!? They don’t know so what am I supposed to do?!”

The Honmoon throbs at his cry. 

“How can I try when I don’t want to face who I am?!”

Demon marks flaring in tandem with the flickering gold.

“What good can come from someone as far gone as I?!”

The Honmoon dangerously touches the color pink. 

“What am I supposed to do with myself!? Without any voice what am I supposed to do!?”

Multiple tears of the barrier are forming and joining at the seams around each of the separate Saja boys. Each one is influenced by their pain and about to damage the sanctity of the Honmoon.

~kzzt~

Like a heaven-sent. The comms in their ears buzzed to life.

~kzz~He~kzztz~

The pink fades and the healing blue returns to the barrier.

~kz~Hey can you guys hear me in this thing? It’s me (Y/n).kzztz~

It’s your voice. Their guardian. Their manager.

“As expected these walkies are crap. Anyway, I expect you boys to give me your best because I know you can do it. Can you do that for me Saja?”

The voice in their ears answered the only remaining questions.

“Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now wow that crowd and no soul stealing.”

The silence of the stage was lighter. More defined. The long turned-off comms burned into their ears. All of them replaying the echo of their manager’s voice—soothing, uplifting, commanding.

“It is them. That will be our purpose.”

Baby’s voice spoken with clarity confirmed what they all decided. As the stage begins to rise and the cheers of their fans increase even more. The Saja Boys are in position, prepared to perform just as their manager demands it. 

______________________________________________________________

“So how’s it gone, managing them?”

All of Huntrix was over for the day, enjoying some bubble tea as they looked at the golden-covered city. The barrier glowed strong with a healthy pulse fully powered by their fans.

You were glad that you’d convinced the boys to attend their shoot solo. Otherwise, you would’ve risked having this conversation with them around. Which wouldn’t have been a good idea considering how close they’ve gotten.

“It’s going great. They haven’t had another incident since I last called.”

The girls shared a look. 

Mira sneered at the promotional material for the group scattered on the table, picking it up like it was dirty laundry. 

“By great do you mean, like the Honmoons not broken great or that there's an uptick in murders in the last month—all where you guys were going on tour–great?”

Zoey chuckled anxiously, “We don’t want to accuse but the numbers don’t look great.”

Shooting a look at Rumi, you settled in your chair. Looking out at the city below carefully putting pressure on the plastic cup in your hands.

“Look I wish I could definitively say it’s just a coincidence but I looked into those cases myself and most of them seem airtight. But I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t some demonic influence.” Zoey and Mira shared a look before turning back to you with a grimace.

“I’m saying there’s just no way to tell for sure if it was them and without evidence I can't exactly ‘convict’ anyone.”

“So you're saying there’s no way not one of those boys slipped through your grasp?”

“Yeah (Y/n)...we know you’re technically retired and there’s five demons and one of you…it can’t be easy.”

Rumi finally looked ready to speak and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it. 

“We were thinking maybe you should take a break!” She didn’t look entirely convinced, looking between Mira and Zoey. “We’re going on a break for a little while so maybe we can look after them for you.”

“I’d love that,” you studied their faces for some kind of joke,” but I don’t know if you can handle the boys any more than I could.”

The girls confidently laughed.

“Are you kidding?”

“We nearly killed them the last time we met!”

“Yes, Huntrix has got this in the bag!”

The girls cheered with pride as they whooped and hollered at one another. You admired their spunk, something you felt came far too less now that you’ve outgrown the group you used to hunt with. 

“Alright then girls, I’ll take you up on your offer–”

“Yes!” “The-Best-B-ab-y Sitters in the wooorldd!” “Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!”

“---a word of caution girls.”

Your words had them stopping in their tracks, their triumphant smiles only softening to acknowledge you. The only one it completely faded from was Rumi, who almost looked afraid to see you step on the elevator.

“The Saja Boys are a lot more determined than you’d think. Try not to be an obstacle for them.”

With that, the metal doors slid closed, and for once in a long time you were alone. Now came the hard part—telling them. 

______________________________________________________________

“You have got to be kidding me!?”

It was Bae Bee taking his usual spot at your back, his fanged sneer hissing into the side of your head he was previously nuzzling against. His nails had gotten longer penetrating the T-shirt you were wearing, a single flick to his wrist had him retract his claws but not loosen his grip.

Speaking of claws you could feel the demon on your lap allowing his to emerge and grip at your jeans all the tighter. The practiced action of oncoming tears soaking through the denim told you, Mystery was having a similar reaction. Across the room were Romance and Abby both dressed in their custom robes were drying with their respective blow dryers after using the dressing room’s shower. Both appliances were crushed and melted onto the floor within seconds of your announcement. The demons-responsible, flashing their marks and fangs at you. Romance immediately straightens up, adjusting his hair and robe before glaring down at you.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“YEAH A PROMISE! WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK THOSE.”

Abby was worse for wear marks and teeth on full display; you mentally noted to pay the venue for the damage he’d cause. Already a partition was torn through, a wall successfully punched into, and a microwave was effectively torn apart. If you didn’t ease his worries the staff would be next.

“I’m not leaving you guys. The deal was that if you all made an effort to change, I’d never leave.”

“Which is what you’re trying to do,” Mystery muffled protests had everyone nodding.

Romance stepped forward again, arms crossed and amber eyes glowing deviously down at you. 

“Then that would mean our deal is off!”

“No, it’s not! We never said anything about time off or leaving and coming back.”

“Didn’t have to,” Bae whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face, ” You are the one who agreed.”

It’s then you feel the need to reach for your whip, reaching for your beloved weapon underneath your coat. Searching for your saving grace next to your waist you only to find its empty holster. Looking over to Abby who’s suddenly stopped his violent tirade to pull at the much sought after weapon. 

“Then if you go that means we don’t have to abide by the rules anymore.” He looks at you like a puppy, one who’s done something awful and hopes you understand. The boisterous Abby was no longer there, a serious look on his face. 

You want to soothe him. To deny it. But the truth of the matter was just that, you had to leave and at this point,t it wouldn’t do you any good to demand they accept otherwise. Your whip across the room, your body held in place by a smirking demon, your legs held down by another, and your attention on the one you were sure had made the most progress. 

“We have changed if it helps. We’ve upheld our end of the deal. For you to go against us now…well we’ll just try to preserve our purpose.”

By now you were in no place to make demands.

“So go enjoy your…trip. We’ll be waiting and by then we’ll have changed some more just as you commanded.”

No trip to the Maldives would erase those words from your head.

______________________________________________________________

When you return from any kind of holiday there’s a moment of great depression. A crushing sense of reality from the joy you experienced comes in full force as you unpack and reenter your tiresome schedule. In your case it was no different, for two whole weeks you could ignore the haunting reactions of the demons you guarded to lounge with a poolside cocktail in hand. Of course, your return would be tumultuous. 

In the darkness of the condo you’d begun to call home, was Rumi. Sat crossed-legged in the mess of sliced furniture, just as worse for wear as the decor around her. You called to her, almost unsure it was she until she looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her marks an ugly black and the typically brown and golden eyes were red. 

“I…didn’t think anything would change,” she finally spoke carelessly musing as you tried to nurse her wounds, “that I would still be strong enough to beat them…I just wasn’t ready for them to…change like I did.”

You want to question her. To ask what she meant but the four pairs of golden eyes smiling back at you explained more than anything she could have said.

“A deal’s a deal.”

Out of the darkness limp bodies clattered to the floor. Battered and bruised it was Zoey and Mira. Unconscious and scarily still you watched Rumi struggle to carry them both, limping to the elevator. She spared you a single glance; eyes filled with too many apologies to ever speak.

“I…can’t be an obstacle to you anymore. Goodbye (Y/n).”

With the broken jingle of the elevator, you were left with your boys once again. Gripping the handle of your whip, you wait for them to reveal themselves to you…fully. Without a word, they emerge in their original forms circling around you with smiles on their marked and purple faces.

“So what are we doing now that I’ve returned?”

Their distorted chuckles don’t settle your unease.

“You said you changed do you plan to show me?”

“Of course, (Y/n).” Abby’s voice was the loudest and when you turned prepared to strike, your arm was held in place by the demon. 

“Whatever you demand of us.”

You dropped the whip catching it with your opposite hand, rearing to strike again only for your other hand to be caught and pried open. Your whip forcefully fell into the hands of Bae who smiles cruelly as he snaps your beautiful weapon in half with a ripple of magenta smoke. Of course, you struggle but the hands holding you in place are firm, warping your struggles so that you fall to your knees. Your chin is being held so gently by the new lead of the Saja Boys.

“We are always at your command, (Y/n). Because you are our purpose.”

You open your mouth to speak, to finally give a proper command since they demand it of you. Only for your lips to be covered in Dutch tape, which is played with as Romance comes even closer. The dark blue blush on his face shows just how much he relishes the glare you have for him.

“Since you broke your deal with us, we are free to change. To finally be free to serve our purpose however we see fit.”

It’s then you feel something monstrous intertwine itself with the barrier of the Honmoon pink and orange demon hands replacing the idol demons’ hands. Allowing them to look down on you as well all of them casually caressing your sealed lips.

“You right (Y/n), we have changed.”

There were hands in your hair.

“We’ve grown stronger and it’s all because you gave us a chance. Because you taught us to care.”

There were hands on your back.

“Encouraged us to try.”

Somehow they were in your brain.

“Even if it takes 300 years.”

You sleep in the arms of the Saja Boys—Your boys because you’re all they work for. All they try for. All they’d think to change for. 

You are their purpose and they’ll do anything you they demand.

Totally forgot some of these guys died on screen Whoopsie! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[kuidore]

More random ZoeYstery HCs ✧ KPOP demon hunters ✧ Zoey x Mystery

✧ They’re a little codependent but the sprinkles of toxicity are mutual so it cancels out

✧ Mystery never wants to go anywhere if Zoe isn’t going. He goes to social stuff because she goes and he wants to spend time with her.

✧ Zoey will still go to things on her own sometimes, leaving Mystery to hangout at home, but she spends a lot of time on her phone texting him and always leaves earlier than she would have if Mystery was with her

✧ This is entirely her choice, not once has he ever asked her to come home or complained about her going out. She just misses him extra hard sometimes and finds herself getting bored way faster when he isn’t around

✧ If it was up to either of them, they’d be together literally all of the time.

✧ They can’t actually do that, so he just follows her everywhere like a puppy on an invisible leash as much as he can

✧ He can see perfectly fine through his bangs (demon logic) but he still has a habit of running into things as if he couldn’t. Poles, signs, corners, fire hydrants. He’s surprisingly clumsy

✧ that’s because he doesn’t look where he’s going. he stares at Zoey instead

✧ totally worth it to him, especially the times when Zoey would start fawning over the possibility of him being hurt

✧ ‘a girlfriend wants a boyfriend who she can turn her brain off around’ except Mystery is the girlfriend

✧ He’s sorta an airhead, he’s ignorant to a lot of things that humans would think of as common knowledge

✧ Mystery thinks Zoey is the smartest person in the entire world and he says it a lot

✧ he eventually gets comfortable enough to ask her questions not just about herself, and she answers him with lots of details and excited hand gestures

✧ She’s happy he’s curious about humans in general and happier that he was asking her.

✧ In reality he’s still just curious about her and not all humans. No other ones, really. Maybe the rest of Huntrix, barely. he could handle her friends because they were extensions of Zoey.

✧ he was asking about topics he remembered her mention before in conversation.

✧ Zoey forgets what stories she’s told and what conversations she’s had with what people, so it doesn’t really click together that she just happens to know at least a little bit about pretty much about everything he asks

✧ he’s not doing it with manipulative intentions. Dude just genuinely could not care less about anything if he can’t play ‘seven degrees of Zoey Huntrix’ with it

✧ He compliments her multiple times a day, usually just blurting out something he was thinking as opposed to any sort of setup or cute delivery. In his eyes he’s just saying things that are true, but Zoey always giggles and thanks him anyways

✧ His deadpan tone and complete lack of awareness, in Zoey’s eyes, is a cute delivery

✧ Zoey is a crazy good baker. Mystery will hangout in the kitchen with her, sitting down and staying the hell out of her way as she zooms between cupboards

✧ Every so often she stops in front of him, a piece of chocolate or pastry or whatever else she was messing around with pinched between her fingers, and pops it in his mouth for a taste test

✧ He’s never any help when she’s trying to figure something out, but Zoey already knows that. She’s not expecting critique, she just gets all giddy seeing him smile and say it’s yummy when he tastes it

✧ where Jinu never lets Rumi see his demonic eyes, Mystery is exactly the opposite with Zoey

✧ When they’re at home, even after he’s started pinning up his bangs, he only ever has bright amber eyes with cat-like pupils

✧ Mystery has nothing but his demon form in his past, and as much as he didn’t care, sometimes he wondered what Zoey thought. If she ever remembered he was a demon when she was alone and recoiled at the thought of his ‘real’ form

✧ it’s the first question he’s afraid to ask her, so he doesn’t

✧ One day when she’s laying on top of him on their couch and his eyes are closed, she presses her lips to his eyelid, telling him not to open them as she did the same on the other side

✧ He opened them back up and just raises an eyebrow, and she shrugs back at him and tells him he has pretty eyes

✧ she gets a new thing for her ‘what makes Mystery blush?’ list

[starpeachjelly]

Kindred Spirits ₊˚⊹⋆

prologue part 2

prologue part 1

summary: Your worries about changing the story have started to fade. You've only interacted with her and Caleb so far. As long as you don't bump into anyone else you believe that everything will be alright.

warnings: accidental injury. stab wound. brief mention of blood.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and commented on part one! i'm so glad you're enjoying this story. the prologue will be split into three parts that focus on reader's childhood with some characters. the official chapters will take place when reader is an adult! but for now enjoy! constructive criticism is always appreciated too since im trying to work on my writing!!

When your family tells you that you're all headed to Josephine's for dinner you don't really think much of it. After all, your family has been invited over countless of times before due to your shared closeness with her. It should be just another regular shared super. But when you walk up to the house, your feet instinctively starting to drag on the pavement, an uneasy feeling washes over you. Nothing seems amiss as you're welcomed inside. The only noticeable difference is the couple who are sitting on the couch. There's a sense of familiarity in their features that you can't quite place your finger on. Josephine introduces them as friends of hers. And you can't help but wonder if they're from EVER. You barely have the time to get introduced to them before you're probed by your parents to go play with the others with an eagerness that reveals how impatient they are to start drinking.

Three pairs of eyes land on you the moment you step foot into her room. There, sitting on the floor is who you immediately recognize as a young Zayne. You suddenly understand why you felt so anxious when coming over, as well as where the familiarity of the couple (who you now know to be his parents) comes from. If you weren't so shocked you'd mentally slap yourself for not being more careful in keeping your distance. You knew Zayne would make her acquaintance at around this time in her life. You're a bit startled when she grabs your hand and sits you down between her and Zayne. His gaze is filled with such seriousness that you wonder if he knows that you don't belong in this moment. Instead, he greets you with a formality that catches you off guard. Even as a child he's stoic and pragmatic. It's impossible to stop an endeared smile from tugging at your lips. You tell him your own name. He only nods, not talking much after that as you all play whatever game she wishes.

Zayne remains silent throughout dinner. You're sitting next to him again, just as quiet as he is. Everyone else at the table is talking enough for the both of you. Your mom and Zayne's mom are chatting about what they do for work. Josephine is discussing with Zayne's dad about something you don't quite understand. And your own father is talking to Caleb and her about his adventures as a pilot, both of them listening intently with wide eyes.

In the corner of your vision you notice the carrots that remain on Zayne's plate. The orange sticks standing out on his otherwise empty dish.

"Can I have your carrots?" you ask, breaking the silence between you both, wanting to save him from being scolded for being a picky eater.

Hazel green eyes widen ever so slightly, a barely noticeable hint of surprise written on his face. He nods and turns his plate to give you easier access to the vegetables.

Silence quickly settles back between the two of you, but you catch him looking in your direction a few times throughout the rest of dinner.

Eventually the night comes to an end, and you pat yourself on the back for handling this unexpected surprise pretty well. For once you don't even feel anxious about impacting the story. A single chance encounter with twelve year old Zayne surely won't change anything.

Unfortunately for you, nothing is ever that simple. Zayne officially becomes part of your group a few days later. He doesn't talk much, and you don't either, wanting to let the three of them enjoy themselves together. However, whenever she notices you being quiet for too long she seems to go out of her way to make sure you're involved in conversation. She even goes as far as to brag about how smart you are to Zayne, telling him that you two should talk about "smart stuff" together. Which leaves you laughing awkwardly because you know that even with your past memories you're not nearly as smart as he is. But to your surprise he starts talking to you a little more often after that. You assume it's because he doesn't want to disappoint her. No one wants to be on the receiving end of her puppy eyes, they're lethal.

Time passes, the last couple months of school come to a finish. Summer break comes and goes. Your days are filled with you four hanging out nearly every day. Unfortunately your fun comes to a halt when the last week of summer rolls around. You know that things are going to change. Based on the events of the story, Zayne will soon lose control of his evol and hurt her. So you start to mentally prepare yourself for what's about to happen. In your mind you know they'll both be okay, but your heart aches knowing that they'll both end up hurt, and that you can't stop it. But that key moment doesn't happen. At least not in the way it's supposed to play out.

She's not even in the room when it happens, having gone to the kitchen to get more snacks. It's just you and Zayne, and a sudden chill that starts to creep across the room. You watch as his usual calm demeanour slowly shifts into one of panic as frost begins to spread across his hands and arms. Everything happens so quickly that you barely have time to process it. One moment you're watching with wide eyes as frost turns to crystals that are now inching up all the way to his neck, the next shards of ice burst and fly across the room. You try to shield yourself, but one manages to pierce into your abdomen. Maybe it's the shock, or the cold, but you don't really feel anything except for a numb tingle. Your eyes are glued to your wound, watching as red starts to dye the bluish ice. The sight should panic you, but for some strange reason you know you'll be okay. When you look back up, Zayne is staring at you in shock. His eyes filled with guilt and fear. You immediately reassure him.

"It's okay," you tell him with a calmness to your voice that surprises even you.

Josephine enters the room. She's quick to call the paramedics. A pair of footsteps can be heard coming back from the kitchen. You immediately ask Josephine to keep her away, not wanting her to witness what's happening.

Zayne is still looking at you with that same heart wrenching expression.

"It's okay," you assure him once again, "It was an accident."

You don't look away from each other. Even when the paramedics arrive. Even when they wheel you to the ambulance. Your eyes are on him until the very last moment.

Zayne is gone by the time you get out of the hospital. You've tried so hard not to impact the original story as best you can, only to end up taking her place in a key moment in their story. Unfortunately there's nothing you can do now since he left without so much as single word. You're left hoping that this hasn't changed too much of their future.

Luckily she remains unaware of what happened, having been told you were simply not feeling well. (Which technically isn't a lie since being stabbed doesn't feel good.) However, despite being oblivious to the incident, every time you two are together you notice that she looks at you with something akin to worry. Thankfully her concerned gazes stop after a few weeks, so do the mentions of Zayne.

Things go back to normal, as if the event never happened. All you're left with is a faint scar from where the icicle had stabbed you. You don't mind it. It's small, and always hidden under your shirt. But you can't help but trace over it whenever you get undressed. A chill runs down your spine every time you see it. A reminder that you're now written into a story that you shouldn't be a part of.

tag list: @moonchildjae00 @elegantdeerlady @hon3yydew @chocochip-gaia @solmanel1 @wooasecret @peachystea @seung185 @mcdepressed290 @whimsiecat @shadowypeachsweets @animegamerfox

a/n: thank you all sm for your comments they mean the world to me!! 🥺💕

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 12

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.6k

cw: angst, very vague allusions to self harm, semi-crash out from em i guess (?), hurt/comfort technically, yearning tbh, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns (i try to avoid that but sorry), im getting really casual with these content warnings, mostly bc i think no one reads what i actually write up here

Synopsis: While you talk with Rafayel, Sylus gets a visit from someone he thought had disappeared. (i’m bad at synopses)

author’s note: this took me a little longer to put out so im sorry >_< im really looking forward to writing zayne next though! then caleb and then its reader and em again and its gonna get crazy and then im gonna put up a poll so y’all can decide how i end it! i hope y’all are excited lol im getting closer to the end and its making me kinda sad cause i love this series but i have multiple ideas for different series so i might have multiple ongoing after this <3

taglist: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @iunse @asilaydead

Series Masterlist

Onychinus’s base was quiet. Its occupants were comfortably off fulfilling their own tasks, no last-minute crises disrupting them. An unexpected peace settled, though an air of anticipation filled the space.

Sylus had been eyeing the door since you left this morning. Just like he had when you left yesterday.

He knew he shouldn’t worry. He knew you could handle yourself.

He also knew he was going to worry anyway.

You came to him after your talk with Xavier last night, a serious, somber expression painted on. You were quiet at first, sorting through the conversation. He let you. You’d filled Sylus in then, just enough to keep him updated, to know everything was fine. He respected your privacy, the distance you kept with such a sensitive subject, though he wished you’d confide in him.

Allow him to give you shelter from the storm in your eyes.

You’d stopped him, before you left for bed. Told him not to worry. It was sweet of him, you’d said, but unnecessary. That he didn’t need to give Luke and Kieran a task as boring as watching you talk to Xavier, that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

Sylus didn’t tell you that he knew that, too. He didn’t tell you that he wanted Luke and Kieran to watch you with Xavier to see if you were interested in him, interested in a way Sylus couldn’t compete with.

Instead, Sylus told you he’d let you be. Not before making you promise to tell him if something goes wrong, though. He’s only a phone call away, after all.

Even a panicked look to Mephisto would do.

You nodded, assuring him that he would be the first person you’d call if things went haywire.

He wasn’t quite sure if he believed you, but he relented nonetheless.

So, when you left the base early this morning, just as Sylus’s business day was ending, he’d told Luke and Kieran to simply drop you off where you asked, no need to watch you.

Of course, now his eyes hadn’t wandered from the front door.

Even as the dark circles under his eyes sunk deeper and his shoulders drooped, Sylus stayed. Waiting patiently.

He wasn’t sure when you’d be back. He just wanted to see you as soon as you were. Make sure you were okay under the guise of a smug smile and a teasing remark.

It wasn’t worth risking the raw vulnerability embedded in his worry if you had another man in your heart, after all.

The soft click of the back door pulled Sylus’s head up, listening carefully to the barely audible footsteps padding through the hallway behind him. Two sets, he noted. Luke and Kieran.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed again as he turned to see the two boys unceremoniously drop onto the couch.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Boss?” Kieran asked.

“I’m alright,” Sylus answered shortly.

“You sure, Boss-man?” Luke pushed. “Looks like the bags under your eyes could carry the weight of the world.”

Sylus stared at the twins. “Don’t you two have something better to do than worry about my sleeping habits?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Luke starts, sitting up. “I almost forgot why we came here.”

Kieran sighed. “We’re here to give you a report on the tracking.”

Sylus nodded. “Continue.”

“Looks like Em and Caleb have been staying at his apartment in Skyhaven since Little Boss came here. Haven’t been outside much,” Kieran explained.

“Yeah, they’ve just been holed up in there together. From what we could tell, things looked pretty tense,” Luke said. “But it was pretty much the same thing for a week. Except today. Em left early, about 7:30. Caleb left at 8:00. Went to the Fleet, a new mission or something. We couldn’t track him very far, too high of surveillance on the Colonel.”

“We could track Em after she left, though,” Kieran continued. “She boarded the Coelum Express at 8:00, arriving back in Linkon at 10:00. She first went to her apartment, where she checked every room before leaving. Then she went to the Hunter’s Association.”

“She went to her desk immediately, and she was stopped by Tara and Simone. They talked for about five minutes before Jenna called Em over,” Luke listed off. “Em reported on her most recent mission and then said she had to go. Then she went to Research, talking to Nero very briefly where he gave her very vague answers. Em then sought out Xavier, who seemed more worried about how panicked she looked then answering the questions she asked him.”

Sylus nodded. “Seems like everything’s following the plan,” he muttered. “Where is Em now?”

Kieran shifted on his feet. “That’s the thing, Boss,” he confessed. “We lost her.”

Linkon was incredibly lively.

Bustling streets filled with locals and tourists alike. The chatter rose, echoing through the city so that even the quietest corners were filled with the hum of connection.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

You navigated the busy streets, wondering just how anyone could manage to live here permanently.

Wondering how the you from before you landed in Love and Deepspace did it.

You’d almost forgotten it, how this life wasn’t really your own. You were filling in the slot of a life already lived, already planned, that you had no recollection of.

Was that person from before really you? Or did you steal the life of another, taking what they deserved?

Feeling your chest tighten, you tried to focus on your breathing instead.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It wasn’t like the feeling was new. On the contrary, you often felt like your life wasn’t really your own. Like it wasn’t real, you weren’t real. That all that you’d experienced before was just a precursor to what life really was, what it was supposed to be. Almost convincing yourself that the life you had couldn’t be real, because wasn’t life supposed to be more than that?

Maybe you were still that kid reading Narnia, waiting for a world at the end of the Wardrobe to find her.

You were almost getting better, you thought as you sat down at a cafe. Your hands itched at your thighs, the lengths you’d gone to feel real again a constant reminder.

But then you got dropped into Love and Deepspace. A world that, as far as you were concerned, was just a game come to life.

This wasn’t real, you told yourself. Which is why the fulfillment this life brought hurt all the more.

You thought of what Xavier had said when you told him. How he wasn’t really surprised.

That had caught you off guard at first, but it all clicked when you thought about it later.

Xavier hadn’t been your favorite Love Interest, but there was always something there you connected to. Something quiet, lurking there but not making a show out of itself.

Xavier was never really present, it felt. He was quiet, reserved, always lost in his mind or his dreams.

Always thinking of something else, always something taking his focus, never truly being in the moment.

It made sense he would almost expect a twisted reality, after all he’s seen.

But then you thought of what he’d said after.

It’s real to me. That’s enough.

You hadn’t understood at the time, hadn’t gotten how he could so easily live with that doubt.

How could you live with the possibility that this life might not completely be your own?

But maybe that’s what you were missing. That doubt is just a part of life. No one’s ever really sure, you thought, and that’s okay.

Our reality is what we make it.

It seems this is your reality now. If this is what you have, it’s time to make the best of it.

Sylus was now settled in his office, eyelids still feeling heavy as he watched the security screens. He watched as you made your way to Mo Art Studio, Mephisto patiently watching you from a distance. He wouldn’t know what you were talking about, but he could see if anyone laid a hand on you, and that was enough for him.

Luke and Kieran had run off to who knows where, to sleep or to prank Sylus didn’t know. It was negligible to him, what they did. They had limits, he knew, and he could clean up any messes they made.

It had been a while since their last prank, though, so Sylus kept an eye on the door behind him. He wouldn’t put it past them to do something now, especially since he’s so tired and out of his element.

Sylus didn’t flinch when the door slammed open. Didn’t flinch when his chair was aggressively pulled back from the desk.

What gave him pause was, instead, the click of heels against the floor.

The feeds were immediately cut, any glimpse of what they had shown gone as soon as the door opened.

A security measure Sylus was now thankful he’d implemented.

“Where is she?” Em hissed.

Sylus rose from his chair leisurely, letting out a deep breath. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

“You know damn well who I mean!” she exclaimed. “I saw Mephisto outside that morning. I shooed him away, but when I came back she was gone.”

“What a shame.” Sylus smirked. “If you’d let him be, he might have seen who took her.”

“I know it was you, Sylus, just admit it! I saw your stupid bird outside, and that same day she was gone!”

“And obviously, that means I took her.” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, who else would have?” she asked.

“Enlighten me,” Sylus sighed. “What reason would I have to take your little friend?”

“I don’t know,” Em groaned. “All I know is she’s gone. I—” Her breath caught, eyes watering ever so slightly. “I lost her,” she whispered. “And now I can’t find her.”

Sylus inhaled sharply, staying quiet for a few beats. “You lost her,” he began softly. “Have you ever considering she doesn’t want to be found?”

Mo Art Studio was bright, elegant, a seaside paradise. The soft crash of waves could be heard throughout the grounds, a view of the changing tides almost always visible. You checked your phone again, seeing Rafayel’s latest confirmation that it was okay for you to stop by. The gates in front of the studio were intricate and, most noticeably, open.

You hesitantly made your way through the grounds, stopping just before the front door. With a deep breath, you pushed it open, immediately met with the smell of paint, canvas, and seafood. Rafayel was easily spotted in the open floor plan, situated in an awkward position in front of a canvas.

“Great timing, cutie,” he said as he cast his paintbrush aside. “If I stayed in that position any longer, I’d probably be stuck like that.”

You chuckled as he stretched, white shirt opening slightly. You remained silent as he walked towards you, leaving down slightly to match your height.

“Now, cutie, why did you need to see me so urgently?” he asked.

“I’ve got something important to tell you,” you said, wringing your hands.

Rafayel straightened up. “Do you want to go walk on the beach for this?” He pointed back towards the opened French doors behind him.

Nodding, you took his hand as he led you out onto the sand.

You both discarded your shoes once you got off the boardwalk through the dunes, allowing the sand to shift under your bare feet. The incoming waves nipped at your heels as you took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the first time we met, that painting we were looking at?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “I loved that piece. So did you. But, it didn’t sell.”

“And you remember what you said about when you painted it? How that afternoon was really weird, like the universe was trying to fit in something new?”

Rafayel nodded again, the crease between his brows growing deeper.

“That afternoon was weird for me, too.” You exhaled. “See, I’m not from here, not like you are. I’m from a— a different world. I think that was what was weird about that day. It was me coming into this world.”

Rafayel stared at you. A few beats of silence passed. “So… so what? You’re saying there’s other worlds? Other dimensions? How did you even get here?” he sputtered. A deep sigh. “I knew something weird happened, I just didn’t think…”

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is, I was there one moment, and the next, I was in Linkon,” you explained.

“Is it that Deepspace tunnel?” he muttered.

“There’s another thing,” you said sheepishly. “In my world, there’s this game, Love and Deepspace.” You tried to explain it slowly, carefully. You explained the events of the Main Story, everything that had happened that even he didn’t know all about. You left out the memories, the romantic moments stolen away that hadn’t happened yet.

You told him about the past lives, though, all that you knew. You watched as a myriad of emotions passed through his eyes, the ghosts of past loves haunting him.

“You know what’s going to happen, then? How it’s going to end?” he asked quietly.

“Not really,” you admitted. “I just know a lot about what has happened, even the things other people haven’t noticed.”

With barely a nod, Rafayel turned to the incoming ocean. Treading the water, his pants were soaked, up through the calf with salt staining the silken black.

“She had my heart,” he whispered, keeping his back to you. “I guess I never had hers, though.”

You took a step forward, the waves lapping at your legs. Pearls dropped, one by one, to the ocean, their tiny splashes becoming lost in the moving tides.

“Rafayel…” you began.

He turned to you, eyes bright and swirling like the eye of a hurricane. “She was never really going to be mine, was she? Not wholly, not completely.” He let out a dull, empty laugh. “Not in this life, not in the last, not in the next. I guess I was never really meant to have a love like that. All I get is something not meant to last, but something that can’t seem to let me breathe without aching.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“Do you know… what happens to me? The bond, it’s still—”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”

“Then… did she ever really love me?” His hands trembled at his sides, the hurricane in his eyes nearly spilling out.

You rushed forward, taking your hand in his. “Of course she did,” you murmured. “She’s always loved you. I think she always will.” You laughed lightly. “I don’t know if it’s ‘meant to be’ like you say, but I think anyone would be foolish not to love you.”

Rafayel chuckled, looking back to the sun’s rays across the ocean before his gaze met yours again, leaning down once more so he was eye-level with you.

“Well, well, cutie. Does this mean you love me, too?” He grinned.

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks warm up. He moved next to you, pulling you against him with an arm around your shoulder.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispered, “Thank you, cutie. That’s more than I need. She was never meant to willingly give me her heart. Maybe its time I find a new muse.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

[bewitched-hours]

ok so wait i have like evil fluff fantasies so you can ignore this one but like, idea: killers are so out of it that in the middle of a match they give up and seek out reader for comfort and affection and act completely out of character (maybe theyre like supa sick and delirious or smth? idk man up to you)

(dont whip me pls 🙏)

Dw, I love evil fluff too, it's delicious- (I say as I get dragged off the stage) Idk if you wanted headcanons or a oneshot so I hope headcanons will be enough (And if you want a oneshot for any of them or multiple, I'll be happy to fulfil that request as well~)

Let's give the reader They/Them for this!

1x1x1x1

It was... Weird to say the least.

What you thought would be a chase to the death turned into a cuddle session in a small building besides an already done generator...

You knew better than to question it and hesitantly tried to ask what was wrong. Turns out 1x has been sick... Somehow...

Now you were stuck serving as some sort of hugging pillow while she quietly complains about his current state... Just keep running your hands through her hair and hopefully he'll forget about the round?

You ended up being threatened not to tell anyone about this and of course, you're too terrified to go against her wishes...

But by the end you were so confused while the other survivors questioned where you were and how 1x was somehow gone.

Somehow, you managed to lie your way out of it and they actually believed you managed to keep the killer occupied. You were a sentinel with a self-healing ability so it wasn't too unrealistic...

C00lkidd

At first you thought he was gonna chase you but you took note of his unusually sluggish behaviour...

Despite your better judgement, you decided to get close and ask if he's okay.

He collapses into you almost immediately, crying about his head hurting and wanting his dad... Who wasn't chosen for this round but you figured there was a chance 007 could see what was happening, even if that might not be such a good thing...

You immediately go into some sort of parental mode, gently patting his head and assuring him everything would be fine. You even promised him that it'll go away. Probably just a fever anyways...

You somehow manage to stop him from crying and let him fall asleep in your arms... How adorable!

Although... Now you can't move because he was holding onto you so tightly... at least you could reposition yourself to sit down and have him sleep in your lap while you continued to pat his head.

And just like you thought, 007 saw it all and thanked you at the end of the round for caring about his kid. Maybe you'll be getting closer to him soon!

Bluudud

Just like with C00lkidd, you were convinced you were gonna die but noticed he sounded more sickly...

You calmly and quietly led him to one of the abandoned buildings and had him lay down on top of you to see what was up.

Surprisingly, he listened to you and grumbled about everything being too loud and hurting his head. Probably another fever like C00lkidd...

Regardless, you listen patiently and pat his head for comfort. He only groans in response and tells you he's not a baby but he doesn't pull away or attack either...

He actually ends up falling asleep on his own, mumbling something about not needing to be babied but the way he clung to you made you think otherwise.

When the round was done, you openly told the other survivors what happened but made sure they knew not to expect Bluudud to just be friendly for everyone.

At least you knew he saw you as a person of comfort now...

Pr3typriincess

You were pretty much cornered and thought you were gonna die but... You got her hugging you for comfort instead.

Like Bluudud, she complained... A lot...

But either way, you somehow convinced her to find a quiet spot to let her handle whatever pains her with you gently reassuring her that everything will be fine.

She falls asleep the fastest, although mumbling about you being much better at this than the other killers which... Yeah, you could see why...

You end up muttering praises to her to help her sleep easier and you could've sworn you heard her call you "Mama" at one point.

You could've just about exploded... But you luckily didn't.

When the round was over, you made sure the other survivors knew to go easy on her. Because after that whole fiasco... You might've felt a sense of protectiveness wash over you and now needed to speak with 007 and Guest to see if this was really some parental feeling or if you were just acting like this because you remembered she's a kid... Of course it's option 1.

Azure

He caught you while you were working on a generator and while pleading with him, you noticed he couldn't seem to get anything comprehensible out.

Surprisingly, he didn't kill you, just dragged you off to a quiet spot where he could just use you as a living pillow.

You were confused but the tentacles holding you in his grip and his unusually high temperature told you all you needed to know before you started massaging his scalp and quietly telling him to take it easy.

What wasn't surprising was how dramatic he acted about it...

He was full-on telling you he's dying and shit while you're just over here trying to comfort him with his hat long discarded to avoid its annoying screeching.

The way he asks you not to tell anyone was simply too adorable to refuse, making you question how this is the same killer that made you fear death just a minute ago.

Once the round ends, you refuse to talk about what you were doing at all and accepting the suspicions of the other survivors... Why tho-

John Doe

You knew immediately something was wrong when he wasn't using his spikes like normal.

You decided to call Jane over, being close enough to her to know they've been married.

She has you look for a quiet spot before leading John over there. Not like that was particularly hard.

Surprisingly, you both end up in a firm but not really painful hold, like he needed two pillows instead of just one.

He can't really get a thought out but Jane just guessed it was a simple fever and began instructing you to help her comfort him...

Was it weird that you enjoyed this? Nah, you'd probably be the only one thinking that...

But Jane was just happy for a moment like this and you didn't want to take that from her... She more than deserved it...

She's slightly disappointed when the round ends but thanks you for the help and you two proceed to talk about her past again by the docks.

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[angelsuecult]

the best day | s. crosby

warnings: some language

summary: Sid comes home after a long road trip and is immediately sucked into the chaos of his three children.

request: Can we get a dad Sid fic, like coming home from a road trip and seeing his family (I personally think he gives boy dad but girl dad Sid is cool too) and just embracing all the chaos of it?? I love ur work!!!

word count: 4.3k

a/n: I had a lot of fun with this one omg. original asker I hope I did your request justice! If not please don’t hesitate to reach out!!! enjoy it guys I have more to come <3

—

The house had been a whirlwind of little feet, snack wrappers, and endless laundry piles for the past ten days. With Sidney gone on his longest road stint of the season so far, you’d had the full reins of the Crosby circus—and while you were used to solo-parenting during stretches of the season, this one had dragged a bit longer than usual. Ten days. Eleven if you counted the departure that had cut breakfast short. But who’s counting?

You had. You’d counted every bath time meltdown, every spilled cup of juice, every "Mom, watch this!" shouted from the top of the couch when you were mid-diaper change. But there was also the good stuff. Mornings where all three of them woke up in a snuggle pile, Luca’s strong five-year-old legs tangled in yours, Alex drooling a little into your shirt, and Mallory cooing with her sleepy curls stuck to her forehead. There were driveway hockey games until it got dark, stick-handling drills taught by Luca to Alex, and Mallory giggling every time someone smacked the puck too hard and hit the garage door.

You’d managed. You always did.

This morning, though, felt different. Lighter. Hopeful. The boys had slept in a bit, worn out from backyard chaos the night before, and Mallory had woken up in one of her chirpy moods—babbling to her bunny plush and banging her chubby fists on the crib mattress like a tiny dictator summoning her kingdom. You’d scooped her up and breathed in her neck, that sweet, warm scent that only a baby can have. You mumbled a quiet, “Dada’s coming home today,” and she’d squealed like she understood.

Now, the house was clean, or as clean as it could be with two boys and a baby, the laundry was done (you had at least three clean loads folded and stacked, even if none of it was put away), and you were walking the boys through the grocery store while Mallory was strapped to your chest in the carrier, tugging on the drawstring of your hoodie with chunky fingers.

“I want to get Daddy the big cookies,” Luca said, skipping ahead a little as you navigated the cart toward the bakery section.

“You always want the big cookies,” you teased, adjusting the strap across your shoulder. “You mean the oatmeal chocolate chip ones?”

He nodded furiously. “The ones with the gooey middles. Daddy said those are his ‘favorite of all time.’” He stretched the words out dramatically, mimicking Sid’s voice.

“Of all time,” Alex repeated, practically bouncing on his toes. “But what if they don’t have them?”

“We improvise,” you said, steering the cart with one hand while gently rubbing Mallory’s back with the other. “You think Daddy’s gonna mind if he comes home to just chocolate chip instead?”

Luca and Alex exchanged a solemn look. “He won’t mind,” Luca said, dragging out the word like it pained him to say it. “But he might be a little bit… disappointed.”

You laughed softly. “Tragic.”

Alex grinned up at you, missing one of his front teeth. “Can I pick out the juice for dinner?”

“As long as it’s not bright blue,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

“Green?”

You shrugged. “Borderline.”

He nodded, satisfied with the challenge.

Mallory shifted against your chest, her face nuzzling into your hoodie before she popped her head back up and looked around, eyes wide like she owned the store. She’d been more and more alert lately— more curious—grabbing at everything, drooling on the straps of her carrier, and trying to mimic every single noise her brothers made. She’d started sort of babbling some version of “dada” the day after Sid left. He’d almost cried on FaceTime when you showed him.

The bakery section smelled like sugar and nostalgia. The boys hovered around the cookie counter, faces pressed close to the glass like little food critics, debating between their usual pick and a seasonal cinnamon one that had sparkles on top.

You leaned over the cart, picking out a pack of the oatmeal chocolate chip. “Let’s stick with what we know,” you said. “Dada doesn’t do glitter cookies.”

Alex pouted. “But I do.”

“You, baby boy, are a glitter cookie,” you said, tapping the tip of his nose.

The woman behind the counter smiled at the boys. “Helping Mom today?”

“We cleaned the house!” Luca said proudly. “I vacuumed all the crumbs. Even under the couch.”

“I put the pillows back,” Alex chimed in. “And I sorted socks. Mommy says it’s ‘em-portant.’”

You laughed again, cheeks warm. “They’ve been my little dream team today.”

“Bet Dad’s excited to come home to that,” the woman said, sliding your pack of cookies across the counter.

“He better be,” you muttered with a grin, checking the time on your phone. Sid’s flight is set to land in half an hour. “Alright, guys, produce section and then we can head out.”

“What’s for dinner?” Luca asked, falling into step beside you, fingers brushing the side of the cart.

You adjusted Mallory again and shrugged. “I was thinking grilled chicken, some potatoes, maybe broccoli. Something easy.”

“But fancy?” Alex asked.

“Fancy enough that Daddy thinks I tried.”

He giggled and grabbed your hand. “You always try, Mommy.”

You blinked, heart skipping in that way it sometimes did when they said things like that out of nowhere. You leaned down to kiss the top of his head, breathing in the faint scent of his apple shampoo and sweat and whatever mess he’d gotten into earlier.

At checkout, Mallory started getting squirmy, so you slipped her out of the carrier and held her on your hip while bagging up the groceries. The cashier commented on her cheeks—as everyone always did—and Mallory responded by blowing a loud raspberry and waving one dimpled hand like a queen. You could already feel the ache in your back from carrying her, but you didn’t mind. Her weight was comfort now. Familiar.

“Can we listen to the playlist Daddy made us?” Luca asked once you were in the car, groceries loaded, all three kids strapped in.

You turned the key in the ignition and smiled. “Of course we can.”

It was a mix Sid had made a few weeks ago. Songs for the boys, mostly. A few for Mallory. Some of them were ones he’d grown up listening to with his own parents and others were just silly tracks the boys liked to dance to. But tucked in the middle were a few quieter ones. The kind that made your throat tight when you listened too closely. The kind that made it clear that Sidney, for all his gruff silence and media polish, was a man head over heels for his family.

As the first song came on, the boys started singing from the back seat, half in tune, half shouting. You glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of them—Luca tapping the rhythm on his thighs, Alex doing some kind of air-drum routine. Mallory leaned against the side of her car seat, thumb in her mouth, eyelids starting to droop.

“Almost home,” you whispered, reaching back and smoothing baby girls' curls. “And Daddy’ll be there soon.”

The idea sent a warm flicker through your chest. The house was ready. The kids were clean. Dinner was planned. The long stretch without him was nearly over.

And that meant, finally, you’d get to slide into his arms again—the one place that still felt like quiet in the middle of all this chaos.

You made a right at the light, headed toward home, already picturing him standing in the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder, that soft tired smile on his face when he saw all four of you waiting.

But that had to wait, because it all fell apart about ten minutes before Sidney was due to walk through the front door.

Dinner was being prepped and simmering on the stove, the smell of garlic and cream and roasted chicken winding through the house like a soft, savory promise. The table was already set, candles unlit but placed—because the boys had insisted on a “fancy welcome home”—with their little plastic forks beside the real ones, and Mallory’s tiny bowl and spoon laid out on her tray. The dishwasher hummed softly in the background. For a few brief minutes, it had almost felt serene.

And then chaos took hold. As usual.

The kitchen clock ticked down from 4:48 and you were elbow-deep in a half-stirred sauce when Alex let out a “HEY!” so loud you flinched and nearly dropped the whisk. You turned just in time to see him pointing an accusatory finger at Luca, who stood guiltily beside the rug, a foam boxing glove slipping off his hand and the long black shaft of Sidney’s stick held awkwardly at his side.

“I said no high shots!”

“It wasn’t high!” Luca shouted back, face flushed and sweaty, curls sticking to his forehead. “It was a wrister!”

“You hit me in the boob!”

You pressed your lips together to avoid laughing, wiping your hands on the dish towel tucked into your waistband. “Okay, that’s enough boxing hockey for one day. Go take the gloves off and pick something else before someone loses a tooth or… gets hit in the chest again.”

They groaned but listened, though not without muttering to each other in that ridiculous hushed whisper they thought you couldn’t hear.

“I didn’t even cry when he hit me.”

“Because you didn’t know I hit you!”

“I did too!”

You just shook your head, returning to the stove. The house smelled good—real food good. Chicken roasting in the oven, potatoes crisping up with garlic and rosemary, broccoli steamed and tossed in butter.

Honestly? You were proud of yourself. You’d handled it all—three kids, one house, two hockey-stick-swinging maniacs, and one teething baby. And the finish line? It was so close.

By the time 4:56 rolled around, the boxing gloves had been abandoned on the kitchen floor (one still attached to a stick, for reasons you would never understand), and the boys had taken up position at the kitchen island in their seats.

“Don’t start without me!” Alex barked, his little hands slamming the counter as you set the box of Jenga in front of them.

“I won’t!” Luca snapped back, already reaching for a piece.

“Guys,” you said, “you always start before each other and it always ends in chaos.”

They both looked at you with wide-eyed innocence. “We’ll be gentle this time.”

You snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Mallory was plopped into her high chair with a soft little oof of protest, which she immediately forgot about as soon as you handed her a stick of celery and one of her favorite teething “toys”. She latched onto both like a woman on a mission, her chubby hands gripping and gnawing while she stared at her brothers like they were the best live-action show on TV.

And of course, the Jenga game devolved into exactly what you expected: chunky little fingers knocking into the tower, Luca pulling from the bottom when Alex said top only, pieces clattering to the floor every three minutes, and you resetting it almost as fast.

“I want the pink one,” Luca said, reaching for a block that didn’t exist.

“There is no pink,” you said.

Alex leaned forward, tongue poked between his lips in concentration. “Okay. Watch this. I’m gonna take this one—”

CLATTER.

They both shrieked.

“Luca moved!”

“No I didn’t! You breathed too hard!”

“Oh my God,” you muttered to yourself as you started stacking again.

You didn’t hear the front door open.

You didn’t hear the shuffle of Sidney’s bag hitting the floor, or his keys hitting the little ceramic dish by the entryway, or the sound of his footsteps padding down the hall.

You did hear his voice though.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. Just that familiar, calm tone that made something in your chest go loose and warm all at once.

You turned around before the boys even registered it, cheeks already warm and tired eyes blinking at the sight of him.

He looked like home.

Coat on, Polo soft and wrinkled from the plane, scruff thick on his jaw. And that smile—that smile—crooked and quiet and just for you.

You didn’t even say anything. You crossed the kitchen in a couple steps and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the side of his neck as he dropped everything to hug you back.

His arms came around you with that familiar pressure—solid and safe and strong enough to hold it all.

“Hi,” you mumbled, eyes stinging for no reason except the fact that he was here. Finally.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered into your hair.

You pulled back only enough to kiss him—slow and soft and lingering. He leaned into it, hands warm on your waist, and it was the kind of kiss that made the whole world fade for a second. Made it feel like just the two of you again.

Which, naturally, did not go unnoticed.

“Yuck,” came Alex’s voice from behind you. “They’re doing kissing again.”

“Ewwwwwwww,” Luca echoed with genuine horror.

You pulled away laughing, forehead still pressed to Sid’s cheek as you mumbled, “You’ve been gone a week and they’ve turned into full-blown critics.”

“Did they say ‘again’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked past you.

“Multiple times,” you said. “Apparently I’m not allowed to kiss my own husband.”

“Terrible rule,” he said, turning just in time to see the boys finally launching out of their seats like rockets.

“YAY!”

“YOU’RE HOME!”

It was chaos.

Luca tripped over the boxing glove still attached to the stick and barely caught himself. Alex rounded the corner like a linebacker and nearly took out the island stool. Mallory shrieked so loudly from her chair it sounded like a fire alarm.

And Sidney?

He laughed. That warm, crinkly-eyed, can’t-help-it laugh you missed so much.

“What happened to my quiet, peaceful house?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You had a quiet, peaceful house. Until you gave me three miniature versions of yourself.”

He crouched just in time to catch them both—Alex hitting him first, arms around his neck, followed by Luca flinging his entire body into his side like a WWE move.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy!” Sid said, laughing, nearly toppling backward. “You guys get stronger while I’m gone?”

“Did you bring candy?”

“Did you see my drawing?”

“Did you win?”

“Did you eat gross hotel food?”

Sid looked up at you from the floor, both boys wrapped around him like clingfilm, and grinned. “Have they been like this all week?”

“This is them mild,” you said.

Mallory had both fists banging against her tray now, little body shaking with excitement.

“Da-da-da-da-da!”

Sidney’s head snapped toward her instantly. “Is she saying—?”

“Nonstop,” you confirmed.

He stood up slowly, still holding Luca on one hip while Alex dangled from his arm like a koala. “Hey, bug,” he cooed. “Did you miss Daddy?”

She squealed and flapped and you quickly unclipped her from the chair, setting her on the floor where she immediately made a beeline for him with her unsteady crawl.

“Go get him, baby girl,” you said softly, watching the entire scene unfold with your heart basically trying to melt through your ribs.

Sid crouched again, arm out, and Mallory threw herself into him with her little head tucked under his chin and her fingers tangled in his shirt.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, holding all three of them like he’d never let go. “How did I survive ten days without this?”

“I have no idea,” you said, arms crossed, watching your family pile on top of each other like a bunch of overexcited puppies. “Because I barely did.”

He smiled up at you. “Come here.”

“I’ve got the potatoes—”

“I don’t care.”

You laughed and leaned down to kiss his cheek, brushing Mallory’s wild hair out of her eyes, as the boys started shouting over one another again about Jenga and boxing hockey and who got to sit next to him at dinner.

Chaos.

Absolute, beautiful chaos.

After a few minutes Sidney took Mallory and changed her into fresh pajamas with tiny skating penguins on them, her curls fluffier. Now they were curled up on the sofa. Dinner was twenty minutes out, which meant you should’ve been pouring drinks, pulling the rolls from the bag and—

“Can we play hallway hockey with Daddy?” Alex asked breathlessly, like it was the most urgent ask in the world.

Luca popped around the island a half second later. “Please can we, Mama? Please? Just a quick one.”

You glanced toward the living room where Sid was stretched out on the couch, baby Mallory splayed across his chest like a starfish, her little legs twitching in her nap.

“She just fell asleep,” you whispered.

“Not asleep,” Sid called from the couch, eyes still closed. “She’s fake-sleeping. I know the difference.”

You raised an eyebrow, walked over, and gently poked her squishy thigh. Sure enough, her eyes popped open like she’d just been waiting for the cue.

“Traitor,” you said to her as she kicked happily.

Sid sat up slowly, shifting her upright against his chest. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The boys cheered and bolted down the hallway toward the front closet, already shouting over each other about who was going to be goalie first.

Sid came into the kitchen, tightening the baby carrier straps around his chest as you handed Mallory over, now fully alert and giggling like she already knew what she was in for.

“You’re playing with her strapped on?”

“Obviously,” he said. “Moral support.”

“She’s gonna whack you in the face with her stick.”

“She’s team captain,” he grinned, reaching into the utensil drawer. “Where’s her stick?”

You handed over the mini pink foam stick from the play bin by the pantry. She immediately grabbed it like she knew exactly what she was doing. Which, of course, she didn’t.

He raised his brows as he looked down at her. “You ready, coach?”

Mallory gave a mighty eeeeeh! and wiggled in his grip like she was being prepped for battle.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, smiling like an idiot as you watched all of them march back into the hallway.

Alex had already rolled out their makeshift foam puck. They had the mini goals set up—one by the base of the stairs and the other near the mudroom. The hallway was long and had scuffed baseboards that bore the full history of rainy days, inside soccer, and countless rounds of “puck tag.”

“I brought you my lucky stick,” Alex announced proudly, handing over a slightly worn, knee-high blue hockey stick with his name and a Lightning McQueen sticker on it.

Sidney took it, crouching down just a little so he was at eye level with him. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You’ll need it.”

Sid looked at you over Alex’s head and mouthed, I’m gonna pay for this tomorrow.

You stifled a laugh. “Stretch first,” you called. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I never warm up,” he said, already crouching low. “We go in raw.”

“That’s what got us three kids, genius,” you muttered to yourself.

The first few minutes were pure chaos. Shrieking. So much shrieking.

Luca and Alex took off at full speed like the rules of physics didn’t apply. Sid, kneeling to try and keep pace with them (and not decapitate someone with a stick meant for a child), held Mallory against his chest while she swung her foam blade enthusiastically into the air, catching him in the jaw twice and barely missing an eye on the third swing.

“I think she’s trying to fight me,” he grunted.

“She’s training to be a goon,” you called from the doorway.

“She gets that from you,” he said, ducking as Luca ran past him with the puck.

You watched like it was the Stanley Cup Final. The game didn’t have real rules. It never had. It was basically a free-for-all of slapping the foam puck back and forth, calling out nonsensical play-by-plays, and celebrating every single goal like it was a game-winner.

At one point, Alex tripped over his own feet, face-planted into the carpet, popped up, and yelled, “I’m okay!” before charging again.

Luca scored the first goal. Sidney was clearly going easy, dramatically whiffing a few shots and groaning like the boys were too fast for him.

“Mallory!” Alex shouted. “Your team’s losing!”

“She’s conserving her energy,” Sid said. “Like a real MVP.”

“She’s just chewing her stick!” Luca argued.

“She’s multitasking.”

But around the five-minute mark, the tides turned.

You could see it in the way Sid’s shoulders shifted—he was still kneeling, still careful, but now his posture had just a little more purpose.

He blocked a shot with his thigh. Poked the puck away from Luca with a grin.

“Oh no,” Alex shouted. “He’s trying now!”

“Yup,” Sid grunted.

“I knew this would happen!” Luca wailed dramatically.

“What happened to being nice?” Alex asked, running across the hallway to guard the net.

Sid raised an eyebrow. “You guys said this was real hockey.”

Luca dove toward the puck, missing by inches. Alex swung his stick a little too wide trying to block it. Mallory shrieked joyfully from her perch as Sidney tapped the puck right past both boys and into their goal.

“GOOOOOAL!” he yelled, lifting Mallory’s tiny hand into the air like she was raising the Cup.

“I saw that!” Alex cried. “You can’t do that! Mallory didn’t even do anything!”

“She’s literally on the ice, buddy,” Sid said through a grin. “It counts.”

“Rematch!” Luca shouted.

They regrouped and came back stronger—charging, giggling, half tackling him at one point. Mallory squealed when Luca slid on his socks into her dad’s shins.

You leaned in, recording on your phone, heart so stupidly full you thought it might melt into your socks.

“Water break!” Alex shouted seven minutes in, flopping dramatically onto the hallway floor.

Sid stood above them, sweaty curls stuck to his forehead, Mallory gnawing her stick and making wet sounds of approval.

“You guys are brutal,” he said.

“You cheated,” Luca replied, chest heaving.

“I’m just good,” Sid teased, tapping his stick on the ground.

Sid grabbed his water glass from earlier and passed it around. Mallory reached for it, so he tilted the glass toward her carefully, letting her wet her lips while she smacked at the cup.

Then—without warning—Luca darted up again, grinning like a bandit.

“NO BREAKS,” he yelled. “SURPRISE ATTACK!”

He hurled himself forward with the puck, and Alex met him with an equal lunge, the two of them smacking sticks, laughing and tangled, the puck ricocheting toward the side wall.

Sid went to intercept, adjusting Mallory’s carrier as he moved. “Here we go—Daddy with the breakaway!”

The boys collapsed into a pile in front of the net, groaning dramatically, sticks tangled beneath them. Mallory, clearly sensing the victory, squealed and bounced in her carrier harness, clapping her tiny hands.

“I think you broke them,” you said, checking the timer. “One minute.”

And that’s when it happened.

The final face-off. The boys were panting, flushed, eyes wild with determination. Sid crouched low, dropped the puck, and before you could blink, both boys lunged at it.

Luca’s stick got there first.

Unfortunately, so did his elbow.

There was a little stumble, a clumsy collision of limbs, and then Alex was on his butt, blinking fast.

“Uh oh,” you murmured, setting your phone down and stepping in—but then—

“My tooth!”

Alex lit up.

“Wait! My tooth!”

Sid immediately dropped his stick, crouching down. “Let me see.”

Alex opened his mouth, and sure enough—blood on his bottom lip, and a tiny gap where his front tooth used to be.

Luca gasped. “I did it! I knocked it out!”

“It was already wiggly!” Alex said quickly. “You helped!”

Sid blinked. “You okay, bud? That didn’t hurt too bad?”

Alex shook his head proudly. “Nope. I’m a hockey player now!”

You handed Sid a tissue, and he gently cleaned Alex’s mouth while Mallory made grabby hands toward her brother’s face.

“I’m gonna put it under my pillow,” Alex said, voice muffled. “And then the Tooth Fairy will come and bring me a million dollars.”

“She usually does like, a couple bucks,” you said cautiously.

“I’m getting a million,” Alex declared.

“I want a tooth to fall out too!” Luca added, sticking his finger in his mouth.

You leaned back, checking the time on the oven.

“Okay, future millionaires—go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready in like thirty seconds.”

The boys scrambled down the hallway—Alex carefully cradling his tooth in a tissue, Luca babbling about which tooth he should “wiggle the hardest.”

Sid stood, adjusting Mallory’s carrier again. “I think your son just made his NHL debut.”

“I saw,” you laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “Might want to ice your knees later.”

“Worth it,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That was the best game I’ve played in months.”

You smiled, heart fluttering, and reached for Mallory’s tiny foot to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Good game, Captain.”

She squeaked, still clutching her chewed-up foam stick like a trophy.

And just like that, the oven beeped.

Dinner was ready.

The house smelled like home.

And your whole team was back together.

The boys had already started arguing about who would sit next to Daddy for dinner. Ten minutes ago, you had a clean, quiet house.

Now?

Your sons were sticky, sweaty, and missing teeth.

Sid was limping just slightly.

Mallory’s hair looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel.

And dinner smelled like heaven.

Everything—everything—was exactly how it should be.

—

[snoopyclarkey]

overstimulation

chris dixon x fem reader <3

summary: after a stressful week for chris all you want to do is something for him, but he has other ideas.

a/n: 18+ mdni

wc: 2.1k

content: pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lads).

chris dixon was not the type of man to do anything half assed. he coveted and worshiped his partners, planning special birthday dinners and he was always in charge of planning holidays. he didn’t want you to stress, to have to think about anything, he always had everything covered. since being with chris all you’ve ever had to do was show up because he always took care of the rest.

sometimes you felt guilty, never really feeling like you were pulling your weight in the relationship, but he always reassured you. his love language was quality time - all he wanted was to spend time with you. but when saturday rolled around after a particularly stressful and hectic week for chris, the guilt hit you again. while still under your cozy sheets lounging together under the morning sun that was streaming in through your window you bring up his long week, “is there anything i can do for you?”

you should have figured that everything he wanted to do with his saturday still revolved around you. he treats you to brunch, each of you stealing bites off of the other’s plates. afterwards, you two lazily walk the streets with full bellies, chris pulling you into any shop he notices catches your eye. when you notice a pub that appears relatively quiet for a saturday afternoon you pull him inside. you interrupt his protests of it only being 2 o’clock by saying, “chris, you deserve a pint, live a little bit.”

one pint turned into two, which turned into three and after one too many cocktails for yourself chris decided it was time for you two to head back to your flat. you giggle to each other through the streets, walking hand in hand in your own little world. “when we get back, we should watch movies in our pajamas and get takeaway,” you suggested, “you can even pick the movie.”

“well, let’s get back before you change your mind about that,” he teased. 

you two finally make it to your flat and clumsily slip out of your shoes in the entryway. you keep locking eyes and giggling, giddy at being day drunk on a random saturday, “aren’t i full of great ideas?” you ask, cheeks flushed.

chris looks at you as thoughtfully as he can in his tipsy state and brings his hand up to cradle your jaw, “you are, sometimes,” he makes himself chuckle, “but so am i, now go change into something comfy.” his voice is commanding as he swats at your butt as you go to turn down the hall to your shared bedroom.

you feel light and floaty as you hum to yourself while pulling a pair of sweatpants out of your open dresser drawer. you get lost in your own world for a moment as you shuck your trousers off and step into your sweats, pulling them up over your love handles. you startle when you feel chris’ warm body press along your back, hands wandering around your waist to rest against the softness of your stomach. “just me,” he chuckles warmly against your skin, voice low as he presses a kiss against your temple. he moves his lips lower, pressing a kiss right below your ear before whispering, “remember when you asked me if there was anything you could do for me today? well, i finally thought of something.”

you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder with big curious eyes, “what is it?”, you’re eager to at last have something to do for him, to be useful. 

his hands trail back to your hips, gripping you in his solid hands, fingers sinking into your soft flesh. pressing another kiss to your flesh, his breath hot against your ear, “bend over.”

your brows furrow, you mind moving syrupy slow, more focused on the way his lips and hands feel on your body instead of his words. you have a hard time forming words, still feeling the buzz underneath your skin. chris can sense you struggling and takes pity on you, bringing one hand up to the center of your back and gently presses your chest into the safety and warmth of your bed, leaving you bent at the waist. you giggle at your position, mind finally catching up to his perversions, “chris!”

but your laugh turns into a gasp when your sweats are pulled down your legs along with your panties, “stay just like that for me, sweetheart,” he urged as you heard him drop to his knees behind you. his hands smoot over the globes of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and exposing your wet folds to his hungry gaze, “stay just like this for me,” he murmured lowly before leaning forward to lick up your sensitive folds. 

your responding moan is shocked and high pitched as you melt against the mattress, he smacks a wet kiss against your cunt before you feeling him shuffling behind you. he gets up from his knees to sit back against the mattress, head resting against the edge, your fluttering hole hovering right over his waiting mouth. 

and he wasn’t wasting any time, either, sweeping his tongue through your wetness before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking hard. your legs shake as a guttural moan is ripped out of you. all you can do is grind against his tongue and grip the sheets as he works you closer and closer to orgasm. he settles his hands firmly against your ass again, gripping your soft flesh in his strong hands. you were putty in them, mind cloudy as he took over the rhythm you had set, instead forcing your hips to grind your clit against his tongue at his pace. and what finally sent you over the edge was how badly you knew he wanted you to come. you come on his tongue, letting out a gasp and a string of broken moans as he laps at your slick, groaning against your sloppy, twitching cunt.

he doesn’t give you much of a reprieve before he’s back on his feet, grip firm around your hips so he can slide you further up the bed. his hands are all over you as he moves you onto your back and when your eyes begin to focus again you can see that he looks just as fucked out as you feel. his lips and chin are slick with your release, his cheeks are flushed a deep pink, eyes half lidded, and his hairs a mess. 

his smirk is cocky as he meets your gaze, “there’s my girl.” 

you grin to yourself and you stomach flutters as his big hands push your shirt up your belly. his lips brush against the swell of your exposed breasts, the barely there contact sending shivers through your whole body, his lips continue to trail down your body, pressing kisses along the stretch marks of your stomach.

your brain is still trying to get back online, your body still shuttering weakly from the aftershocks, you’re eventually able to tangle your fingers in his soft, unruly curls, pulling his attention back to your face. you whine his name, not even knowing what you’re asking for. his gaze cuts back up to you as he rests his chin against the softness of your stomach. his eyes shine from the sunlight and his smirk isn’t mean or unkind, he just knows you’ll do exactly what he asks of you.

his hands drift down your hips to your inner thighs, thumbs grazing your wet core. just the whisper of a touch has you whimpering, “think you can give me another one, sweetheart?”, he inquired, but one of his thick fingers was already pushing past the fluttering resistance of your hole and making a home for itself in your wet, heat. “knew you’d open right up for me.”

the intrusion makes your eyes roll back, your head tipping back to rest against the softness of the bed and your thighs shake at the sudden pleasure. your cunt is still sensitive and pulsing from your first orgasm as you reach down to wrap both your hands around his wrist. if you don’t ground yourself to him you feel like you’ll burst into a million little pieces. 

“chris,” you whine again, breathy and pathetic, his name the only words in your mind. the mess you made from your first orgasm makes the glide of his finger so smooth along your walls. he pulls almost all the way out before placing another digit at your entrance, slowly plunging both into your fluttering hole. you moan at the stretch and scramble to get your hands around the backs of your thighs to spread yourself open to him as he kneels over you. 

his knuckles drag firm and tight against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes you cream against his digits. he brings up his thumb to press firm circles against the sensitive bud of your clit. you choke on a moan as you grip your thighs tight, nails digging into the soft flesh instead of letting them close around his hand as your walls pulse and clench, coating his fingers in your cum.

you writhe against his fingers, chasing your orgasm as he continues to stroke your trembling clit through it all. the cooes at you when you begin to whine at the overstimulation, his fingers still stretching your quivering entrance. “good girl, good girl,” he murmurs, finally pulling his fingers out of you. 

your hands shake as you come down from your high for the second time. you twist your fingers back into his curls, bringing his body back down to blanket over yours. your lips meet in a messy kiss and you groan at the taste of yourself on his lips. you just need to be close to him, to feel him all around you, making you feel safe and secure in his arms. he pulls back and gazes into your eyes for a long moment, his features soft as he strokes a finger down your cheeks. his soft smile turns mischievous as he wonders, “think you can give me just one more?”

instead of answering you let him turn you over back onto your front, his hands soft and gentle on your heated skin. he makes space for himself between your legs, pushing one of your legs up to expose your puffy, sensitive lips to him. he teases you, rubbing his thick tip through your messy folds, purposefully bumping against your clit just to hear you whimper and watch you squirm. he finally takes his heavy cock in hand and rests it against your entrance, meeting almost no resistance when he finally pushes forward.

“there she is, my perfect fucking girl,” he whispered in awe at the way your body made space for him. you let his words wash over you, unable to do anything else, too fucked out by all that he’d done to you already. but, you remembered that this day was supposed to be about him and so far it hadn’t been. you weakly try to meet his steady thrusts but chris adjusts his position when he senses your movement. 

he leans down, his elbows on either side of your head, warm body draped over yours as he continued his steady thrusts. “no, no, just lay there and take it. you don’t have to do anything, just be good and take it.” he babbled, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own orgasm.

and you did what you were told, just laid there in the messy sheets, whimpering as his cock dragged over all your sensitive spots. you groaned as he gave a few harsh thrusts before you felt his cock twitch and spill inside of you, leaving you feeling warm all over. 

he stayed draped over you as he tried to catch his breath. his hands were all over the place, stroking over your heated flesh as he peppered kisses up your neck and across your cheeks. “seeing you cum like that, twice, was the sexiest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” 

your face heats up at the praise, knowing he means every word of it. but then he starts to shift, moving as if he’s going to sit up. “here, just that last one, sweetheart.” he went to put his hands under your hip and you interrupt him before he can get his fingers back on your spent cunt, “no, chris, please, i just want to lay with you,” your voice is wrecked but you hope he knows that you cannot cum again. 

his gaze turns soft as he leans down to press a kiss to your sweaty temple, “anything you want.”

[bullet-prooflove]

The Farm Boi Series: Virtue - Dennis Whitaker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sargeant-sad-eyes @caffeinatedwoman @hooks-martin

Summary: Dennis's mom makes her distaste for you known.

Companion piece to:

Peppermint - The taste of peppermint will always have a special place in Dennis’s heart.

The Morgue Thing - A miscommunication between you and Dennis almost ends things before they begin.

Written In The Stars - Your first date with Dennis takes place underneath the stars.

In The Park - Dennis reveals a secret after the two of you spend the night together in the park.

Virgin - There’s a rumour going around about Dennis.

Debauched (NSFW) - Karaoke night ends a lot differently than it did the first time around.

Symphony (NSFW) - Dennis has never eaten pussy before…

Pretty Boy (NSFW) - You and Dennis take the next step in your relationship.

Firsts (NSFW) - Dennis experiances alot of firsts during your first night together.

Permanent Marker - You find out about the betting pool.

Denny’s To Do List - Dennis realises he’s in the midst of a sexual awakening.

The Porn Boom (NSFW) - Dennis isn’t like the other man you’ve been with.

Bite (NSFW) - Dennis doesn’t mean to edge you.

Wild Flowers - A crown of wildflowers leads you and Dennis to discuss the issues he has with his family.

A Friend of Denny’s - Your relationship with Dennis takes a turn when his parents come to town.

A Cold Day In Hell - Dennis tries to make amends for his actions.

Gardens of Babylon - Dennis has made his choice, now it's time for you to make yours.

My Future Wife - Dennis makes a promise to you at Jana's celebration of life event.

Dennis’s mom hates you.

It’s abundantly clear from the way her face falls when you step into the arrivals lounge alongside Dennis. The ‘Doctor Denny’ sign lowers and her eyes narrow as her gaze falls down to your entwined fingers.

The thing is you know that Dennis has told her that you were accompanying him on this trip, the evidence is standing right next to her in the form of Nana Whitty who is holding her own sign with your name written on it, decorated with hearts and sparkles.

You’ve been here a grand total of 30 seconds and already you want her to adopt you.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you Lola.” She says gathering you up into a hug that makes your bones creak. She’s a strong little thing at 5’2, clasping you to her like you’re a long lost family member. “The screen on my phone doesn’t do you justice.”

There is no such greeting from Mrs Whitaker. She embraces Dennis and ignores you completely before taking off towards the parking lot, expecting the three of you to follow. Nana Whitty rolls her eyes before linking her arm through yours and telling you about the new baby bison that’s just been born called Phyllis.

You’ve been driving through town for ten minutes when Mrs Whitaker pulls the truck over outside the Charles Wesley Motor Lodge. You can see Dennis’s confusion as he looks up at the building from the backseat. The place has an old highway motel feel and outside décor that’s not been updated since the sixties. You shudder to think about what the rooms must be like inside.

“Lola will have to stay here.” Mrs Whitaker informs the both of you. “There isn’t enough room at the house with the wedding and everything.”

“She can stay in my room-” Dennis protests but his mom is already raising her hand, cutting him off.

“I know the two of you are living in sin back in Pittsburgh but that’s not the way we conduct ourselves out here Dennis, you know that.” She rebukes him with a harshness that’s unwarranted.

“Alright.” Dennis says unfastening his seat belt. “Then I guess I’m staying here too.”

“Dennis! You are being a child. We need you at the house for the wedding prep-”

“No mom, I’m being an adult.” He responds his hand coming to rest on the door handle, gripping it so hard his knuckles turn white. “I’m making my own choices and my choice is her, you really need to come to terms with that.”

Mrs Whitaker tuts as she twists around in the front seat to face him.

“You have turned into a very rude young man Dennis.” She snaps at him. “You used to be such a good boy. Before you left Nebraska you wouldn’t have dreamed of giving up your virtue to the first pretty young thing that came along.”

It occurs to you then that Mrs Whitaker thinks you stole Dennis’s virginity. That her farm boy came to the big city and was seduced by some harlot with a nipple piercing, that likes to sing Joan Jett on karaoke nights. It must dawn on Nana Whitty too because she throws back her head and cackles like a witch as you try to hide a smile.

“I hate to break it to you Shirley but there is not a single one of your boys that remain pure. I caught Lowell in the basement at church when he was eighteen teaching Sally McNamara how to hit the high notes during choir practice. At least these two are in a committed relationship.” Nana Whitty jerks her thumb at the both of you in the back seat. “I thought you’d be a shrew about this so I’ve set up the guest room at my farmhouse. They are welcome to stay there so long as Dennis promises to fix up the shit that Charlie’s been too henpecked to do since all this wedding nonsense started.”

“I would be happy to do that Nana.” Dennis says, removing his palm from the door handle. “And thank you for being so supportive to both me and the love of my life.”

You see Mrs Whitaker rile at that, her eyebrows shoot up into her bangs before she turns off the engine of the truck, undoes her seatbelt and shoves open the driver’s side door.  

“Don’t bother coming back to the farm.” She snarls as she hops out the front seat, leaving the keys dangling in the ignition. “As long as you’re with her you aren’t welcome there.”

“Don’t worry they won’t.” Nana Whitty calls after her through the open window as she slips into the driver's seat. “I’ll host all the boys at mine instead, they’re just dying to meet their brother’s girlfriend.”

She turns the key in the ignition and the engine revs to life as you watch Mrs Whitaker storm off towards the centre of town.

“Oh man, she’s gonna put a pillow over my face while I sleep isn’t she?” You mutter as Nana Whitty skids away from the curb, directing the vehicle towards the outskirts of town.

“Yeah.” Dennis sighs, turning around in his seat to watch his mother’s retreating form. “But at least I’ll be sleeping next to you, ready to fend her off.”

Love Dennis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Locked Out of Heaven 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You cling onto the strap of your bag, wringing it as your nerves build with each step. You're really doing this. You're going out with a boy. No, a man. 

You stop short, a few feet from Nick's car. You gulp. What would your dad say? What would he do if he found out? How much would he really care? He only cares about your grades. 

You stare as you weigh the decision. He's not going to find out. Austin won't even know you're gone. So why are you suddenly so afraid?  

Nick's headlights flash and he rolls toward you. You turn to face him as he pulls up. You smile to hide the tremor in your chest. 

"Hi," you squeak as he lowers his window.  

"Hey, princess? You forget something? What's the matter?" He asks. 

"Oh, uh, I don't know," you look back at the house. "I... no. I..." 

"Get in, baby." He reaches over to pat the passenger's seat. "Boat's waiting." 

You stutter step then stagger around the car. You fumble with the handle and swing the door out. You fall in, ready to dissolve into mist, and shut the door with a jarring snap. 

You're so anxious, you could explode. Before you can even reach for the seat belt, Nick's on you. He cradles your cheek and slips his hand down to your chin. He holds you firmly and leans in, brushing his nose against yours. 

You shiver at his closeness. His warmth swathes around you and his scent stains your breath. 

"You miss me?" He purrs. "I missed you, princess. All I've been thinking about is you. About us." 

"Um, yes," you babble and nod into his hand.  

His lips curve and he presses them to yours. You brace his forearm in surprise, his veins bulging against your palm. His tongue dips into your mouth and he growls. He leans further over the space between the seats, smothering you. 

When he parts, you're dizzy, lips puffy, and cheeks burning. You stare at him dopily. You push your thighs together and tilt your pelvis. That tingly coil winds through you. 

He wears short-sleeve white button up with a blue line at the edge of the collar. And pale blue shorts that cut off high up his thighs. He wears those loafer-type shoes with the little nautical knot. Boat shoes? His gold chain sparkles above his chest and his pinkie ring encircles his finger. 

"I got everything you need, baby. Don't worry. It's all on the boat," he pets your cheek with his knuckles. "You're just going to sit back and relax. Let me take care of you." 

"Al... alright," you wisp. 

It's going to happen. You felt it. In his urgency. You know what he wants. He hasn't been subtle. You think you want it too. That must be what makes you so squirmy. 

"It's gonna be a great day. Just us. At last." He looks over the steering wheel and buckles his seat belt. You do the same. "Sun, drink, each other..." 

He grips the wheel with one hand and slaps his other onto your thigh. 

"We got all day and I'm going to take my time, baby. I'm gonna make you feel like the princess you are." He slowly pushes down on the gas. "You don't gotta worry about nothing." 

💜

The water gently stirs as you walk down the dock. Nick has your hand in his as he guides you along the shore side. There are other boats tied off there. Luxurious boats with upholstered seats and cabins, large steering wheels and monikers written across the sides. 

Austin has pictures of a boat like this on his socials. He went off with his friends last summer and came back hungover for a week. Your dad let him sleep it off while you did his dingy laundry. 

A ripple flows through you. Something like anger. Irritation. Your brother gets to go off and have fun without question. Even your dad goes out for drinks or goes golfing or whatever else he likes. Why is it so bad that you do anything at all? If your dad even knew about the trip to the gelato shop, he’d be barking at you for wasting time. 

You sigh. Nick squeezes your hand as something jingles in his other. He tugs you back before you walk off the side of the dock. 

“Woah, baby,” he draws you to face him. “Don’t want you falling in.” He kisses your forehead and the heat of his lips pulls you back to the present. “Whatcha sighing for?” 

“N-nothing. I...” you look around, searching for anything to say. “I’ve never been on a boat.” 

“Gonna be a lot of firsts today,” he winks and brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “You stay here. Keep clear of the edge for me, princess.” 

He lets you go and shakes the keys in his other hand. You fold twine your fingers together and press your palms to your stomach. You turn to watch him as he nears the edge of the wooden planks. He hops across onto the open rear of the boat, easily launching himself over the gap. 

He steadies himself and ducks under the roof. You listen to his steps as the boat shifts subtly. You rock anxiously as a cool breeze brushes across you. 

He appears again and bends to slide out a board hidden beneath the floor. He extends it over the space between the dock and the boat. He straightens up and reaches to you, one foot on the ramp. 

You untangle your fingers and take his hand. He guides you firmly across onto the polished flooring. You glance around at the open space at the back of the boat, just behind the cover sitting area of the cabin. White leather and azure cushions. A table mounted between the benches, a narrow doorway to the front of the boat with the driver’s seat. 

“Wow, this is yours?” 

“Sure is,” he drags his hand up your arm slowly. “Ours.” 

You look at him, your heart pumping. You smile. You peer back at the dock. 

“Oh... I...” You watch a woman on another boat, in a sarong and sun hat. 

“I told you. I got everything figured out,” he rubs your shoulder. “Just a minute.” 

He turns and goes to slide the board back under the floor. Then he stands and unmoors from the post. The boat rocks with his steps. 

He strides back to you and points to the bench. “That’s yours there.” 

There’s a white and blue beach bag on the seat. You hadn’t paid it much attention at first glance. You tilt your head curiously. 

“You get into your bathing suit and I’ll get us asea,” he coaxes. 

“Oh, uh, okay?” 

“One thing at a time, right?” He purrs and leans in to kiss you. You close your eyes as a thrill rolls over you. Too far. No going back. 

“Yes, Nick.” You murmur as he parts, cradling your face as he brushes his nose up yours and once more presses his lips to your forehead. He hums. 

“Good girl.” 

His reluctance has his hand lingering on your neck before he pulls back. He turns and struts through the cabin to the front of the boat. He drops into the driver’s chair and you watch him swipe up the keys from the little tray beside the wheel. He turns the engine and the rumble startles you. 

You approach the beach bag. You peek inside as you touch the side. You reach in to pull out the bikini top. Oh. You only ever wore a one-piece with shorts. Your dad made you keep a tee shirt on even. This is less than you could even imagine. 

You run your finger over the patterning on the triangle of fabric. White with lilac vines printed onto it. It’s pretty and the straps are like thick ribbons. 

You glance at Nick and the boat lurches. You land on the seat with a gasp. He looks back. 

“You okay? Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“I’m good,” you sit and dip your chin, examining the top. Your hands tremble. You peek at him again. He’s focus on steering. 

You nod, goading yourself into it. You unhook your purse from across you and put your phone inside. You push it against the back of the sofa bench and drop your shoulders. This is what you want. It has to be. 

You peel off your shirt and look down at your bra. Plain, white, boring. You reach back to unhook it, another wary look at the driver. He’s unconcerned as the boat bobs over the waves. 

You take off the bra, your nipples hard from the air breezing through, or maybe the anticipation. You tie on the bikini top and it does little to hide them. Your chest feels like it will spill out at any moment. 

You stand and search for the bottoms. Not much more than the top. You quickly change into them. You try to stretch the fabric across your bum but it only covers half your cheeks. You chew your lip. 

You take the flip flops sticking out of the bag and put them on. You fish around again and pull out a sheer purple cover up. It opens in the front and has little tassels dangling from the short sleeves. 

“Alright,” Nick proclaims and makes you flinch. 

You bend to gather up your clothes and stuff them away in the bag. He stands and turns, ducking into the cabin then stands straight. He looks you up and down as you cross your arms. 

“Princess,” he breaths as he grabs your wrist. “Let me see.” 

He takes both your arms and pulls them apart. His eyes rove up and down your body. You shiver as the cover up falls open. 

“Oh...” he utters. 

You stare at his shirt collar, face ablaze. Is he disappointed. You brace yourself for it. 

“Wow,” he slips his hands from your arms and frames your hips. “Baby, you look amazing.” 

“Um, really?” You jitter in disbelief. “Er, thanks.” 

“Baby, baby, baby,” his thumbs dig into your soft flesh. “We got all day... so you gotta make me go slow.” 

“Oh,” you gulp. 

“I could...” he begins and chuckles. He shakes his head and pokes his tongue into cheek. “Come on, let’s get settled.” 

He lets you go and pops open the top button of his shirt. He goes down the row and pulls apart the fabric, revealing his muscled torso. He strips away the linen shirt and tosses it carelessly onto the bench. You gape at his chest. 

“Like what you see?” He taunts and you look him in the face, shrinking in embarrassment. 

“I--I--” 

He snickers. “It’s all yours, princess. You don’t gotta be shy.” 

“I... okay. I'll try.” 

“Baby, I got you, alright?” He drawls. “Come on.” 

He takes your hand and guides you onto the back of the boat. As it rocks with the water, you’re put even more off-kilter. He squeezes before he releases you again.  

He peers around and grabs a striped fabric chest. He flips the top and pulls out a large beach blanket. He spreads it over the flooring. He goes back to the cabin and grabs some cushions and tosses them down too. He plunks the chest at the edge of the blanket. 

“Got drinks, got snacks,” he reaches inside, “but most important, sunscreen.” 

You nod. He takes out the bottle of cream and wiggles it at you as he comes closer. He touches the edge of the cover-up. “Take this off. I’ll get you.” 

“Huh, oh?” You look down and shrug. You let the sheer fabric fall down your arms and pile at your feet. You’re too stunned to catch it. 

“Come on,” he gets down on his knees. “Relax, princess.” 

He tugs until you get down to. He taps the bottle on the blanket. “Lay down.” 

“Uh, okay...” you lay on your back, chest rising and falling quickly as your chest hammers. 

He shifts onto his butt and flicks the cap open. He squirts the cream into his palms and rubs them together. The coolness of the lotion is as jarring as the feel of his hands. He starts at your neck, smearing across your collar bone and to your chest. 

He drags his hands down, spreading it diligently before squeezing more from the bottle. You twitch as he gets to your chest, poking his thumbs under the edge of the bikini to get cream there too. He rubs it into your skin as your nipples poke against the fabric. 

He continues on to your stomach, massaging as he goes, then does your arms, kneading your hands delicately as he gets between your fingers. You’re paralysed as he plies the UV to your skin. 

He pokes your thighs, “come on, baby.” 

You hesitate before you spread your legs. You squeak as he gets between them on his knees. For a moment you think... 

He claps his hand on your thigh and smears the cream into your skin. He squeezes and his fingertips sends sparks through you. You spasm and squeal as he hits every nerve. You wriggle at the unbearable tingle. 

You giggle as the sensation turns ticklish. He chuckles too and purrs, paying close attention to your thighs. Pushing his thumbs in until your clasp onto his wrists. 

“Nick!” 

He smirks at you. “These are nice,” he clamps tighter on your thighs. “You know that?” 

You whimper his name again. He pulls out of your grasp and drags down your legs to your feet. When he finishes your soles, he clucks. 

“Turn over.” 

You blink but do as he says. You flip onto your stomach, feeling the jiggle of your bum as the bathing suit rides up. He hums. 

“Oh, princess,” he drones. 

“I... sorry,” you reach to fix the bottoms. 

He tuts and swats your hand away. 

“It’s all mine, baby. Don’t you worry. I want every part of you,” he shoves your hand down so it bounces on the floor. Your knuckles ring with the impact. “I told you, relax.” 

He gets up on his knees and blends lotions into your shoulders and down the back of your arms. Then he coats your back and hips, following the curve of your back to your bum. He massages the rise of flesh and bends to kiss the swell. You squeal in surprise and he nips you. 

“Mmm, delicious,” he snarls and runs his thumbs along the crease below your butt. You wince and ball your hands. 

He continues along the back of your thighs, even more sensitive than the front, and you squirm. You can hear him breath, almost growling. Your own breaths puff out in a storm of excitement and fear. 

As he gets the back of your calves, your head swims. He raises himself up and moves beside you. He caresses your arm. 

“Now let me see that pretty face.” He grits. 

“Sure, uh,” your turn over again and sit up. 

He rubs his hands together then cradles your face. He uses his thumbs to cover your cheeks with cream and traces your features. He runs his palms over your face gently and caps off the application with a longing kiss on your lips. 

He hovers just before you. “My turn.” 

He lets you go and lowers himself down. He hands you the bottle and you take it, dazed as your skin thrums. You watch him as he pushes his chest up just slightly and your eyes scale down his torso. Where do you start? 

You dollop the lotion into your hand and mash them together. You start at his neck, feeling his throat bob. He purrs as you get to his shoulders. The firm muscle makes you quiver inside. Then his chest... oh. It feels so nice. So strong. 

You retreat and focus on his arms. There’s muscle there too and the thick veins on his forearms have you squeezing your thighs together. His hands are bigger as you focus on them and rubs the cream into his rough palms. 

As you ply the sunscreen to his stomach, you feel it clench. You recoil as something catches the corner of your eye. You gasp and stare at the front of his shorts. You can see him inside, nearly bursting out as he bulges beneath the waistband. 

He lifts his head and groans. 

“It’s okay, baby, I won’t bite... yet,” he snickers. “Keep going.” 

You nod and bite your tongue. You put your hands back on his stomach and trail along his sides, sure to get every bit of skin. Your eyes flit back to his shorts. Your insides tighten. You shake at the flicker in your mind, the thought of grabbing it... 

Instead, you shift and move to his thighs. As tempting as it is, you’re still terrified. You’ll work up to that. Eventually. 

[littlepinkbirdie]

Little Heartbeat

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader (Married) Genre: Fluff | Humor | Family Feels | Pregnancy Reveal Timeline: A few weeks after their 1-year wedding anniversary

You stood in the kitchen barefoot, hands nervously smoothing down the side of your sundress for the hundredth time. The soft hum of chatter and backyard laughter drifted in from the open screen door as Lewis appeared behind you — curls slightly tousled, shirt half tucked in, holding two lemonades like they were shields.

“You okay?” he asked, offering you one.

You took it and nodded. “Yeah. Just… kinda feels like we’re about to drop a bomb.”

“A tiny, adorable bomb with fingers the size of tic-tacs,” he said, then lowered his voice and added, “Still can’t believe there’s a whole human growing in you.”

You smiled down at your belly, barely showing but already the biggest secret you’d ever kept.

“I feel like I’m lying to everyone,” you whispered. “They think we’re just hosting a barbecue because we missed Easter.”

“Well, technically, we are feeding them,” Lewis said, motioning to the table full of ribs, coleslaw, and your mom’s famous potato salad. “We're just also about to break their brains.”

He kissed your temple, gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You glanced toward the cake on the patio table. White frosting, lemon filling, and a single sentence piped in gold script: “See you in January, Baby Pullman 💛”

It was subtle. Simple. Elegant. And totally out of place next to the basket of hot dog buns.

You laughed nervously. “They’re either going to cry… or someone’s going to choke on a deviled egg.”

About twenty minutes later, you stood beside Lewis as everyone gathered around the cake.

“Okay!” you called, trying to sound casual as Lewis wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We figured it was time to cut dessert!”

Your best friend rolled her eyes. “You two are so dramatic with your cakes. Remember your engagement one?”

“Hey,” Lewis said, grinning, “we like a good surprise.”

He stepped aside to hand you the knife. You sliced through the soft frosting, and your mom leaned in with a phone to take pictures—until she paused, squinting at the inscription.

Her eyes widened. “Wait… wait a minute.”

Silence fell over the group like a dropped curtain.

Your dad leaned in next. Your sister gasped. Your best friend dropped her solo cup.

“Oh my God,” someone whispered.

“You’re pregnant?” your mom said, voice trembling. “Is this—are you serious?”

You and Lewis shared a glance before nodding.

“I’m twelve weeks,” you said softly, eyes already stinging. “We wanted to wait until it felt real… and now it really, really does.”

The backyard erupted. Cheers, tears, a dropped beer bottle, and someone — you suspected your sister — screamed, “I KNEW IT! She wasn’t drinking mimosas at brunch!”

Your mom covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, hugging you tight and whispering, “My baby’s having a baby.”

Lewis was immediately pulled into a hug by your dad, who clapped him on the back so hard he nearly dropped his lemonade.

“I’m gonna be a grandpa?” your dad said, half-choked up. “Does this mean I can finally buy that ridiculous rocking chair?”

Lewis laughed through his own tears. “Buy two. I’m gonna need one too.”

Later, when the sun was setting and the cake was mostly crumbs, you and Lewis sat on the porch swing wrapped in a blanket of contentment and half-melted twilight.

“Everyone handled it better than I thought,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

“No one fainted. Only one person cried into a hamburger. I’d call that a win.”

You laughed, but then he turned to you — his expression soft and full of something that looked an awful lot like awe.

“You’re going to be such a good mom,” he said quietly, like it was just for you.

And when you looked at him, glowing under the warm golden light, hand resting over your belly, you knew two things for certain: You were no longer just the two of you. And this, this was the start of everything.

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

You were curled up in the passenger seat of Lewis’s truck, hand resting over your still-small bump, as the driveway came into view — his parents’ cottage framed by pine trees and early summer sun.

He reached over and laced your fingers together, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked.

You smiled at him. “Only been thinking about this since the minute we found out.”

“You’re gonna make my mom cry, you know,” he said, pulling into the gravel. “Like... not sniffly cry. Full-on waterfall.”

“I packed tissues,” you grinned. “For both of you.”

An hour later, the four of you were seated around the back porch table, lemonade in hand, feet bare in the cool grass. Lewis’s mom had made her famous blueberry crumble. His dad was flipping grilled veggies. It felt like the kind of afternoon that hung in the air like a secret — quiet, golden, sacred.

You exchanged a glance with Lewis. He gave the tiniest nod.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “We have something we wanted to tell you. Something kind of big.”

His mom leaned forward, eyes already suspiciously wide. “Okay…?”

Lewis looked at you. You smiled and placed his hand gently over your belly.

“We’re having a baby,” you said softly.

For a second, the porch fell completely still.

And then—

“Oh my God,” his mom whispered, covering her mouth with shaking hands. “Are you serious?”

Lewis was already getting pulled into a hug before he could answer.

His dad stepped back from the grill, stunned. “Wait. You’re—? You’re gonna be a dad?”

Lewis laughed, nodding, voice choked. “Yeah. We are.”

His mom’s hands were on your cheeks, her eyes shining. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling you into the kind of hug that felt like home. “You’re giving me a grandbaby.”

“I didn’t want to say anything,” she sniffled, “but I had a feeling. You were glowing when you walked in.”

“I think that was sweat,” you joked through your own tears.

His dad eventually wrapped both of you in a big, warm bear hug, voice thick with emotion. “We’re so happy for you, honey. You two are gonna be such good parents.”

“You’ll come visit, right?” his mom asked, wiping her eyes. “Whenever you want. For help. For rest. For—anything.”

“You’ll probably get sick of us,” Lewis said.

“Never,” she promised. “You’ll just have to pry the baby out of my arms.”

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch beside Lewis, your head on his chest, the fire crackling in front of you. From the kitchen, you could still hear his mom humming — baking banana bread for the baby, because she said she needed to “practice grandma recipes.”

Lewis kissed the top of your head. “You did perfect today.”

You smiled into his chest. “So did you.”

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered. “We’re building a whole little person.”

You turned your head to look up at him, eyes soft. “And they’re already so loved.”

AUTHOR NOTE: okay so im obsessed im making this a series.

[emeraldserenade]

i've been thinking about jealous!joaquin but like jealous - nick jonas

Jealous and Obsessed ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín can't handle seeing a stranger flirting with you

tw: fem!reader, jealous!Joaquín, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! How I've never written jealous!Joaquín in a Jealous b Nick Jonas way is beyond me, but I'm glad you've been thinking about it!!

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín Torres considered himself lucky, you were everything he never dared to dream about. Never dared to let himself believe that he could have, yet you keep choosing him. You've proven that you would keep choosing him every time, but he couldn't shake the feeling of jealousy. You were just being polite, he told himself. That you're only talking to the man in front of you because you're nice.

He knows what people think when they look at you too long, hell he thinks it too. You're attractive and funny, but you're also so kind and caring and people don't know that. They don't know that looking at you and they don't know that you're his just by looking at you. They don't know that you're going to turn them down the second you could, that you'll get jealous when some girl approaches Joaquín. But Joaquín does, he knows everything there is to know about you.

Joaquín downs the rest of his drink, placing the empty cup down on a passing waiter's tray. He crosses the room, his chin held high and his chest puffed up. He knows you're doing fine on your own, but he couldn't stand it anymore. The longer he watched you talk with the stranger the more the edges of his vision blurred red. "Hey, querida," Joaquín said, planting a kiss to your temple. querida = darling

"Hey, baby," you smiled at him, your red painted lips drawing his attention.

"I'll leave you two alone," the man excused himself and you gave him a smile with a small wave to be polite.

"You're obsessed, you know that?" You turned to fully face Joaquín and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands landed on your waist like they belonged there, mainly because they did.

"Can you blame me?" He smirked down at you.

"I guess not," you sighed, fake annoyed. "Want to get out of here? We can go home and watch that movie you were talking about," you offered, watching him think it over. Joaquín's lips curled into a softer smile before kissing you, it was soft and sweet and over way too soon. You giggled lightly when you saw the red smeared on his lips but he didn't move to wipe it off.

"Yeah, let's go home," Joaquín said, giving you one last kiss.

"If you're nice, I'll even let you remove my dress for me," you whispered against his lips before pulling away. You didn't make it far before Joaquín pulled you back to him and kissing you, just a little deeper and more desperate this time.

"I'll be so nice," he promised before leading you out of the party, not bothering to say a proper bye to Sam on the way out.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 207 (Sulani Baby)

After a long day of travel and months of planning, the Gordons finally arrived in Sulani - with both adventurous dogs in tow! Night would soon fall over the lush islands, but travel fatigue couldn't stop them from checking in with Rafa, Melissa, and the new baby.

They were also ready to unload the baby gear they'd collected through Heather's registry, with much of it coming from her trusted friend, the mermaid Elucea Glynnan (and her Watcher @hashimasims!)

But Heather and Conrad were dismayed to find the forced trio struggling, and promised to help them set everything up once they'd settled into the rental. Happy to catch up, the kids hadn't seen Rafa and Melissa since Lilix's wedding, but everyone was surprised to learn the baby still had no name.

"We don't know what to call her," said Melissa with a frown. "Naming her ourselves doesn't feel like...We can't think of anything we like enough."

Heather frowned. This was a clear sign she wasn't bonding with the newborn they called 'the baby,' and her heart felt heavy for all three of them.

"What about Iris?" suggested Lavender with an innocent smile. "Mommy, you said you liked that name if Roan had been a baby sister but then you said you weren't having any more babies. Maybe this baby can have it!"

Rafa and Melissa nodded and shrugged. "Iris is nice," said Rafa, before Melissa excused herself to the bathroom. She maneuvered around gifted baby gear that filled their tiny beachfront shack, clearly worried about something and Heather noticed - but at least they were out of the shipwreck.

When Melissa emerged again, she looked at Rafa with a nauseated stare. "What is it?" he wondered. "Mel, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath, showing him the positive pregnancy test through a fog of tears. "Rafa, I'm late. I'm pregnant."

The young officer's smile crumbled at the news. Raising his infant niece was hard enough. Even though they'd finally moved into a real home, they were barely coping with Ximena's daughter, and the thought of stuffing another helpless infant inside their clapboard walls made him feel sick to his stomach. "We were careful."

"We tried to be, but it's been so busy! I didn't mean for-."

"It's okay," said Rafa, but even he didn't seem to believe it. "We'll figure it out and make it work."

"Rafa, we shouldn't have to!" Melissa cried. "She - Iris? - she's not our baby."

"She's family."

Melissa sighed heavily, and Conrad looked between them with sympathy. "Kids are resilient, you guys. You can handle anything, and Heather and I will always be a phone call away."

They spent the evening with Rafa, Melissa, and the baby, enjoying the warm summer night and the sound of crickets through the open windows of their small four-room shack. But Melissa went to bed early in the spare room, and Rafa's head was clearly spinning.

Heather, on the other hand, had no trouble bonding with Iris, cuddling her and falling for her adorable coos until she fell asleep. Before heading back to the rental for the night, she and Conrad took a minute together in the bedroom.

"I really hoped they'd be doing better than they are," Heather said heavily. "And now they're having their own baby while barely coping..."

"You know I've always had faith in Rafa," Conrad said carefully. "But it's too much to ask him to raise Ximena's baby, too. They're too young."

Heather nodded slowly, with a glance to baby Iris sleeping peacefully in her bassinet. "Conrad, I think you might've been right when you said we should raise this baby. Now she's even got the girl's name I wanted thanks to Lavender...But could we really raise her and Ash in the same home? What if Ximena's ghost...?"

"We'd just need to take it one day at a time, but we're better equipped than Rafa and Melissa. We don't have to decide anything tonight, and we'll talk to Ash before anything's final."

They'd come to Sulani to deal with a curse and help a family friend, but now Heather felt sure they might return to the Bay with a new baby. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary | Gen 2.2 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Shout out to @itmeansiris who gave me permission to name a very important baby after her, without letting me spoil/warn that it was Ximena's baby. Bold! Though your name is too perfect for the In Bloom Challenge themes not to use at some point, I love collaborating with you and following your sim families through all their drama. Even though it's Ximena's baby, I hope you can find love for baby Iris!

Iris is a nature and colour name, which is why Heather had it in her back pocket. Colour, you say? Why yes, it's Greek for rainbow, the most colourful naturally-occurring phenomenon on Earth. And I have to give flowers (irises!) to @purplesimmer455 who took the clue of infant Roan's rainbow shirt foreshadowing future plot and guessed it had to do with a crossover with Iris. She was right about that, but didn't quite guess it would also be a VIP baby name. It was a layered clue!

And this is the room that @hashimasims sent me! I kept everything, including the custom Elucea artwork!!! My sims are so privileged, seriously. Thank you so much!

[inkspiredwriting]

Hangover aftermath

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five has the worst hangover of his life

Warnings: none

The night before had been wild. Five and his wife, Y/n, had finally carved out some alone time and decided to indulge in all the things they hadn’t been able to since their kids, Maddie and Milo, were born. One thing led to another: a bottle of expensive red wine, a few tequila shots, laughter, and finally, they ended up in bed, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. It had been the perfect night—a mix of passion, playfulness, and way too much alcohol.

Now, it was the next morning, and Five regretted everything.

Sitting at his desk at the CIA, Five's head throbbed like someone was jackhammering directly into his skull. The overhead lights seemed brighter than usual, and even the hum of the office computers felt like an assault on his senses. Every sip of water he took made his stomach churn, and the coffee he had choked down earlier wasn’t helping either.

He groaned inwardly, rubbing his temples, cursing himself for going overboard. He was Five Hargreeves, for God’s sake. He’d survived an apocalypse, fought bad guys, and manipulated time itself. But here he was, felled by a hangover like some college freshman who had never seen a shot glass.

The worst part? Y/n had looked fine when he left the house. More than fine, actually. She had been positively glowing, laughing as she kissed him goodbye, showing absolutely no signs of the alcohol-fueled night they’d shared. It had irked him to no end.

"How is she okay?" Five muttered to himself, squinting at the stack of files in front of him. The letters on the pages seemed to swirl together, mocking him. His usual sharp mind felt like it was swimming through molasses.

His coworker, a junior agent named Derek, sauntered by and noticed Five's pained expression.

"Uh, sir? You okay? You look a little... green," Derek said, eyeing Five nervously.

Five glared at him, not in the mood. "I'm fine," he snapped, though the beads of sweat forming on his brow told a different story.

"Right," Derek said, backing away slightly. "If you need anything, just—"

Before he could finish, the door to the office swung open, and there stood Y/n, looking annoyingly perfect. She was holding a bag of something, probably food, and smiling like she had just spent a day at the spa rather than a night downing wine and tequila shots with her husband.

"Hey, babe!" Y/n chirped, stepping inside with the kind of energy that felt entirely inappropriate for the way Five was feeling. "I brought you lunch!"

Five blinked at her, his eyes narrowing as she practically skipped over to his desk. "How... how are you this cheerful?" he groaned, massaging his temples.

Y/n smirked, setting the bag down in front of him. "Oh, come on. It wasn’t that much alcohol. You’re not telling me the great Five Hargreeves can’t handle a few drinks, are you?" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Five scowled, wishing he could teleport back in time to punch his last-night self for going shot-for-shot with Y/n. "I can handle it," he grumbled. "I’m just... thinking."

"Thinking?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his misery. "You look like you’re about to puke."

“I am not going to puke,” Five said, though the thought of food right now was making him queasy.

Y/n reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. "Well, just in case you need something to soak up last night’s festivities, I got you your favorite—peanut butter and marshmallow."

Five’s stomach turned at the mere mention of food. "If you think I’m putting that anywhere near my mouth, you’re crazier than I thought."

Y/n laughed, sitting on the edge of his desk, completely unbothered. "You’re so dramatic. It wasn’t even that much alcohol."

Five shot her a look that could have cut steel. "You might not think so, but my head is splitting. And for the record, I’m pretty sure you were pouring me double shots."

Y/n shrugged, biting into her own sandwich with gusto. "Maybe you’re just getting old, love."

Five groaned, slumping further into his chair. “Don’t start with that.”

“Oh, come on! It’s okay to admit you’re not the unstoppable time traveler you used to be,” Y/n teased, winking at him. "You look cute with a little vulnerability."

Five leaned back, arms crossed, his headache throbbing more intensely now that he had to listen to her. “I’m not vulnerable. I’m hungover.”

Y/n laughed. “Same difference.”

She was clearly having way too much fun with this. She took another bite of her sandwich and glanced around the office, completely at ease while Five sat there, feeling like death. Derek passed by again, giving Y/n an awkward wave, which she returned with a cheerful grin.

"You should drink some water," Y/n said, pushing a bottle toward him. "You know, before you pass out."

Five glared at the bottle, then at her. "I don’t need your—" He paused, feeling a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He closed his eyes for a second, willing it away. "Fine," he muttered, grabbing the water bottle and taking a sip, though it felt like swallowing nails.

Y/n smiled victoriously. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Five gave her a side-eye. “I don’t like how much you’re enjoying this.”

She grinned. “What, watching my badass husband be taken down by a little wine and tequila shots? It’s very entertaining.”

Five shook his head, though even that made his brain hurt. "I’m going to get you back for this, you know."

Y/n’s smile softened, and she reached over, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. "You love me," she said sweetly.

"Yeah, yeah," Five muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. He loved her, even when she was driving him up the wall like this.

Y/n stood up, patting him on the shoulder. "Alright, I’ll let you suffer in peace. Try not to die before I get home, okay?"

Five waved her off, grateful she was finally leaving, but also, despite himself, a little sad to see her go. As much as she annoyed him sometimes, her presence was always comforting. Even when he was hungover and miserable.

As she walked out the door, Y/n turned back with a smirk. “Oh, and Five?”

“What?” he grumbled, not even looking up.

“You still owe me for the tequila shots.”

Five groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. "God, help me."

But as the door closed behind her, he couldn’t help but smile—just a little bit.

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

LOVE INSURANCE

He picks you up at exactly the time you told him. As his car pulls up and the rear window rolls down, your colleagues whisper about the handsome hunk inside, but someone mutters something about how tacky the car looks. You ignore them completely and rush straight toward him.

He steps out of the car and immediately picks you up in his arms. You protest, wriggling to break free, telling him not to do this in public.

But he puts you down gently and spins you around.

He’s been gone for a couple of weeks, off doing God knows what. You hate to admit it, but it’s been a rough few weeks, and given the state your city is in, it's no surprise. Still, you're not too worried.

As you break free from his hold and continue the ride home, you ask him how things went, how business was. His usual vague “as usual” means a lot, but his tone is lighter than when he left.

“I’m hungry. Let’s grab something,” you say.

“I already brought your meal,” he replies, eyes fixed on the road, muttering something about where he kept it.

But before you can reach for the wrapped food...

“Not now. Wait until we get home,” he says firmly.

“I’ll die of hunger by then. You’re such an asshole. A gentleman but still an asshole,” you drawl. “A gentle asshole, should I add?”

He swerves slightly as a car cuts in front. The turn isn’t sharp, but it’s clearly his way of expressing displeasure, followed by a click of his tongue.

“Don’t ‘dude’ me. And what the fuck is a gentle asshole?” he retorts.

“Dudeeeee,” you whine, dragging the word out—only for your stomach to growl in agreement.

He sighs heavily. You try to explain that even your stomach is calling him “dude” now, which earns another tongue click and an abrupt halt of the car.

“Let’s get out. You’ll eat now,” he mutters, unlocking the doors.

You smile, unfasten your seatbelt, and before you can even reach for the handle, he’s already opening the door for you.

You find a quiet spot in the park. The late evening air is still warm, slowly slipping into night. Settling on a bench, you waste no time digging into your meal.

The speed with which you eat makes him feel slightly guilty. He hadn’t realized how hungry you were, and maybe he was torturing you just a bit. But he pushes the thought aside; at least he found this nice park for you to enjoy your meal.

“So, how did things go? Anything I should worry about?” you ask as you slide your hand around his arm, resting your head on his shoulder.

His body relaxes the moment you touch him. He didn’t realize how heavy the stress had been, until you melted it away.

“So far, so good,” he says softly, brushing your hair from your forehead. “And you?” he adds, flicking your forehead.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, okay.”, he adds.

“Of course I’m not worried about your stupid gang stuff,” you mumble.

His brow furrows at that, but the next words bring quiet relief.

“But I do worry about you. These internal frictions have taken a toll on you. Don’t think you can hide that from me.” You pout, gently.

The soft breeze and the warm summer air swirl around you. With his heart suddenly full, he shifts to fully face you, drawing his arm away from your grasp.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but he shushes you as he pulls you into his arms again.

“It’s fine, stupid. I’m used to it,” he mumbles, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you, so tight it almost feels like he’s trying to squeeze the pain out of his own body through you.

But as your ear rests against his chest, you notice his heartbeat, it’s faster than usual.

You know it’s not fine at all.

Even if Jaegyeon Na is used to the chaos and uncertainty, you know he desperately wants peace. That’s why he’s willing to go to such lengths for the city, even making pacts that demand everything from him: heart and soul.

“Even if it’s not fine... you know I’m here,” you whisper.

“Did you hit your head or something? Getting sentimental out of nowhere?” he teases, pulling back slightly and giving your shoulder a nudge.

“Buddy, your emotionally constipated ass can’t handle basic human decency,” you shoot back, clapping back hard.

He laughs at that, really laughs, and flicks your forehead again. “Keep calling me ‘dude’ or 'buddy', and you’re banned from getting in the car.”

You challenge him if that’s even possible, and soon, you’re both lost in playful bickering, your banter bouncing back and forth, lightening the mood.

Then, without a word, you pull him into a hug again.

“Someone’s clingy today,” he teases, but he wraps his arms around you again, easily.

“Be glad someone missed you,” you say.

That shuts him up. Completely.

And he’s glad. For everything. For you.

Glad you stuck around when there were so many chances to leave.

Grateful you never let go even when things got rough.

And he knows,deeply, fiercely, that one day, when peace finally comes, he’ll take all your worries away and give you the quiet, stable life you deserve.

Jaegyeon Na was anything but peaceful inside.

But right now, he was glad.

And grateful.

And that, for now, was enough.

[queendynamight2001]

Trust

ProHero!Katsuki Bakugo x ProHero!Reader where his small overprotectiveness turns into a full-blown control issue. Pre-relationship stage.  Word count: 2.5k+  Tags- emotional whump, angst, happy ending, conflicted love, near-death situations, survivors' guilt, possessive Bakugo, explosive arguments, forced vulnerability, slow-burning tension, eventual confession, and Bakugo's terrible way of saying “I care”  ✨Inspired by my overprotective dad's care, which feels like control sometimes.   This is my first ever fanfic lol✨  Cross posted in AO3 as well under the username Queen_Dynamight2001   ----------------------------------------------------------

It started small 

Both Katsuki and you were called in for backup during joint raid in the city. But when you opened the door, ready to go in, his palm slammed the car door shut.  

“Stay here, I’ll handle it.’ 

You blinked at him through the window, mouth half open.  

“Wh- 

Before you could speak, a loud “BOOM” and he was gone in a flash of smoke and light.  

When you brought it up later, he scoffed and said, “You looked like shit in the morning. Didn't trust you to stay sharp.” 

And you let it go. Because maybe he was right that time.  

The next time in mid-mission, where the smoke chocked the air. Sirens screamed at a distance. The building was groaning, minutes from crumbling. The rubble rained like hair and dust coated everything.  

Then you saw them. Two kids. Trapped beneath a beam near the east wing. Few feet from the Fireline. Scared and crying.  

You ran. Didn't think. Couldn’t. Your body moved on its own before your brain did. Your legs burning as you leapt through the barricade and sprinted towards them, heart pounding. 

Then, a hand slammed against your ribs, brutal and unyielding. Your body jerked back like it hit a wall. Air whooshed out of your lungs, sharp and pain bloomed along your side.  

Before you could even gasp, arms wrapped around your torso, iron strong, locking you in place with their entire bodyweight. 

“NO”, Katsuki's voice barked.   “LET ME GO!”, you struggled against his grip.  “YOU WILL DIE”  “I CAN REACH THEM”, you screamed, hands sprawled out, crawling, struggling against his hold.   And then, the steel cracked. The dust and debris swallowed the light. The concrete thundered down slow, sickening. So did the ceilings. So did the walls. So did the floor and so did the children.  

You screamed. A raw, ragged, painful, deafening scream from deep in your lungs so loud it swallowed the entire world around you. 

You felt it. That moment when hope was right there and next second it was gone, taken away from you. You fell down on your knees, tears streaming out uncontrollably. 

“YOU-”, your voice was hoarse, breaking, raging. “WHATS YOUR PROBLEM?” 

Katsuki stood above you, heaving, palms still smoking, soot smeared all over him, drenched in sweat and dirt. 

You looked at him like you didn't recognize him. “ARE YOU CRAZY?” 

“You would have been buried.”, he growled, small voice, panting.   “There were kids, Katsuki!” your voice cracked, breaking with each word, trembling as you held back more tears, “I could have sav- 

“YOU COULD HAVE DIED”, he raised his voice.  “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE USED YOUR BODY.BLASTED THE ROOF. SHIELDED ME. DONE SOMETHING.”, you matched his.  "I'm not your goddamn guard dog-”  “THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE”, you screamed in his face, eyes brimming with sorrow, anger, grief, everything too much. 

“You made that call for me”, you whispered, chest hitching. “You held me back and made me watch them die. And now I have to live with that for the rest of my life. DO YOU EVEN GET THAT?” 

Katsuki’s fist clinched. This mouth opened, like he was about to say something. But he didn't. He couldn't.  

Silence 

Heavy 

As you walked away with trembling body and still sobbing from the event that unfolded.  

All you could feel were his hands that wrapped around your torso still burned more than the wreckage behind reminding you of the what if’s-   

You avoided him as much as you could after that incident but being in the same friend circle made complete distancing impossible. You were also in love with him, and that made it worse. When he overstepped, when he made your blood boil, even when you swore you would talk about boundaries, you didn't want to fight. You wanted to believe he did it all because he cared for you. The pattern didn't stop tho. 

In every patrol, every mission, every decision you would find his shadow over your shoulder questioning, correcting, just hovering around.   

Then the final straw came 

It was the weekend you were looking forward to. The group had made plans for a night out. Nothing flashy, just a well-known local bar where you could sit with a drink and pretend the world outside didn't exist. Free from the reality, stress of being a pro hero, the headlines, rankings.  

The bar was warm, alive with laughter, low music hummed, drinks clink. You walked in the bar with Mina and Jiro, laughter light and fizzing from your chest. You wore a skirt which was recently bought. New and shiny. Hugging all your curves and muscles. For a moment there, it felt like everything might be okay. And that this was the whole point of life. Being happy, laughing with friends, feeling content. 

Then you saw him.  

Katsuki stood near the bar table with Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero leaning against the booth like he hadn't even bothered sitting down. The second his eyes landed on you, his entire posture changed. Shoulder locked, jaw tightened, arms crossed and gaze sharp, hot, expression unreadable. One that followed you across the room like a predator. 

You pretended not to notice. It was just a look after all.  

But you felt it. His sharp gaze. The fact that he hadn't looked away once.  

It made you go red in the face. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing.  

You took your seat with the others, had fun conversation with others, enjoying yourself.  

He didn't say anything at first. Not until the drink came around and you leaned back with your drink, laughter still on your lips from something Mina said.  

Thats when he approached you.  

“Nice dress,” he muttered, voice low and a beat too slow, like it pained him to admit it. Like he was forced to say those words out. His face then twisted, jaw tightened.  

You looked at him weird.  

"The hell you wearin’ that for?” 

You blinked at him, confused. “What are you talking about? Was there a dress code for existing now?” 

He didn't answer. Just clenched his jaw. The table went quiet, not sure if it was one of the witty remarks you threw at each other or the beginning of a serious arguments you two had started getting in lately. 

Mina requested to switch places with you so that you two were at a distance from each other to ease up the mood.  

You stood up for the arrangement. And then it happened. A man you didnt know approached you. Casual and polite. 

“Hey, I don't mean to interrupt,” he said nodding to the group but looking at you.   “Just wanted to say you look amazing. Can I buy you a drink?” 

You didnt even get a chance to answer because Katsuki was already stepping forward, voice cutting sharp through the noise.  

“She’s not interested.” 

The guy blinked. “Dude, I wasn't talki-”  

“SHE’S. NOT. INTERESTED.” he said it again, louder this time. 

The guy raised his hands in defeat and backed off, muttering something under his breath. You felt the heat crawl up your neck. All from the attention. And the way Katsuki was looking at you like you’d done something wrong. You felt anger bubbling up.  

“What the hell is your problem?” You shoved his chest. He didn't even budge.  

His eyes narrowed. “My problem?  You think it's a good idea to wear that shit and flirt with random stranger in the middle of a bar?”  

“Oh, I'm sorry I forgot to check with you before putting on a damn skirt.”   “You are putting yourself at ris-”   “No Katsuki, I’m just EXISTING!” you screamed, choking on your own breath, shaking from anger and hurt. “You don't get to decide how I exist in this world. What I eat or whom I talk to. You're not my father. You’re not even being a friend right now.” your voice louder at the end. 

Silence. 

Everyone stared.  

You didn't care. 

You grabbed your purse, didn't say a word and walked straight out. 

Mina called your name, Kirishima started to rise, hands out blocking Bakugo.  

You didn't look back. 

You got into a random cab parked outside, turned off your phone and told the driver to just drive Away from the city to the outskirts. Distance. Somewhere he wouldn't reach you. 

Three hours later you checked into a quite roadside hotel. It was cheap, clean and anonymous. You showered, changed and went downstairs to the bar. It was dim and empty. You ordered a drink. Then another. And another. You wanted to get drunk. You tried, yet the buzz never settled. You wanted to feel numb from the weight, the stress, the pain, everything. Just wanted peace for tonight. Numb and quiet. Finally, not being watched.  

Until the door opened 

The air changed. 

You didn't hear him first. You felt him. The smell. The way your pulse rose. The way your stomach flipped. The way cold shiver ran down your spine. The bar door cracked open. You didn't turn, but you knew the sound of those footsteps. The heat of his gaze crawling in the back of your neck like it always did. 

“Knew you’d pull up some shit like this,” Katsuki muttered from behind. 

You didn't face him, just raised your glass and took a sip of your drink.  

“You could have told someone.” Bakugo spoke. 

You scoffed, “and give you the satisfaction of trying to stop me again?” 

He took a step forward. You heard the shift of his coat. “You are drinking alone, in a hotel bar 3 hours from the city, phone switched off.”  

You swiveled on the stool, slow and steady. Looked him straight in the eye and spoke with a cold, stern voice. 

“Don't talk to me like I owe you an explanation.” 

His jaw clenched, “You serious?”  

“I'm tired of being managed like your goddamn sidekick.” Your voice cracked, came out weak and hurt.  

“You fuckin’ vanished. Drunk. No one knew if you were safe. You think that's okay?”  

“I think it's none of your business.”  

His eyes flared. “You left without saying shit. You expect me to not fucking care?" 

“No,” you spoke out loud and clear, shaking your head. “I expect you to stop pretending you care when all you ever do is control me. My body, my choices, my mission, my outfits, my fucking smile.” 

“I was trying to protect y-” 

“From what Katsuki? From being looked at? From wearing a skirt? From being someone, you don't get to own?”  

His mouth opened and closed. Expression slightly softened. “I didn't mean it like that.” 

“But that's what you always do.” your voice cracked. Soft and sharp. “You don't say how you feel. You command, just stare, watch, guard, push and glare. You think that's care?”  

Silence. Heavy. Think. Almost unbearable.  

“You think I like being like this?” 

“I think you don't know how not to be.”, you barked back, venom in each word. You looked away before seeing any kind of expression in his face.  

“I want a life, Katsuki. Not a leash. I don't want you to treat me like I'm fragile. Something that would break if you breathed wrong.”, your voice shook, tears feel freely. 

Quiet. No reply from him. You didn't even look at his direction, afraid of his expression. But you spoke, because he needed to hear how you felt.  

“I smiled tonight. I laughed. For the first time in a while, I felt like I wasn't drowning in mission reports. And the second I did, you looked at me like I betrayed you.” 

“I didn't-”, he stated, barely above whisper.  

“You did. Thats how I felt. Your eyes, expression looked like I cheated on you by breathing without permission.”, you sobbed. “Do i need permission to breathe? To talk? Katsuki?”, You asked. Voice breaking, sobbing. Chest and throat tight. It took everything in you to not throw away that glass in your hand. 

You waited for him to continue, but he didn't . Not a single word after you’d pour out your soul like that.  

The silence, it was thick and suffocating. So you laughed. Soft and bitter. Shook your head like the weight of it would never come off.    “Thats what I thought.” You try to walk away. Done. Empty. Hurt.  

But as you pass him, his hands shoots out, grabbing your wrist.  

“Don’t.” He speaks 

You freeze. He’s not yelling. His voice barely above whisper. “Don't walk away. Not  yet.”  

You didnt look at him. You couldnt. But your arms didnt pull away either.  

He continues, “I didn't know I was hurting ya.” 

Then another pause.  

“I thought I was keeping you safe. I didn't know it made you feel caged. You smiled bright, and I thought... I thought if someone else sees you like that.... you will forget me, and they will take you away and give you what I can’t.” 

“I realized. Just now. How I’m the one taking that smile. And I’m the one making you feel like you’re not allowed to live. I don't wanna be that guy. No.”  His gaze never lifting from the ground, he kept speaking.  

“I never learned how to... How to show things I only knew how to fight and win. How to perfect and protect. I yell loud enough, burn bright enough thinking maybe you’d get the message.” 

He looked up at you now.   “But all I've done is scare you into silence. I’m sorry.” 

His voice cracked at end and you saw it. THE KATSUKI BAKUGO, with his pride swallowed, guilt bared and his apology written all over his face.  

You stepped forward, reached out to his face with trembling fingers cupped his face.  

He flinched. Just barely but leaned in.   “I don't want perfection.” You whispered. “I want to be seen. I want to be heard. Not handled. Not managed.” 

  He nodded. “I can do that. I’ll try.” 

He brought his hands to yours and grabbed them tight. “I wanna do better.”, he said, firm and determined. “You deserve better than my bullshit walls and orders and... and someone who hears you. I wanna be that person. I wanna learn how to talk, how to ask and how to sit down and listen without turning everything into a command.”   

You smiled, tears pricking, looking at him with all the warmth and softness in your eyes. 

“You don't have to fix it all tonight, Katsuki.” 

“Yeah, well... I ain’t waiting.” 

He brought your hands near his lips and gave them a soft kiss. 

[calmcoldevening]

Micheal (again, shocking) x S/O who thinks he's just autistic lol

Michael Myers x reader, who thinks he's just autistic

• After a certain amount of interaction with Michael, you started to think that he might actually just be autistic, and not some kind of "devil-possessed man." It's just that no one was trying to listen to him or understand him.

• You felt like he was wearing the mask just to avoid being looked at by other people. Excessive glances, loud noises, all of it was scaring him or making him uncomfortable. So at the first opportunity, you bought him noise-canceling headphones and earplugs, as well as dark glasses. You've made your bedroom more comfortable for him. No overhead lights, just a soft glow or a dim nightlight; a weighted blanket (sorry, I don't know the proper term) and blackout curtains.

• Michael takes everything literally, so you've had to learn to express your thoughts and desires more clearly. One day, you were complaining about a pesky coworker and jokingly said, "I'd kill him for that." The next day, he was declared dead. Oops.

• He still likes physical contact when he's not overwhelmed. He usually comes up to you and just waits for you to notice him and give him a hug.

• Halloween is a special interest of his, so you pay extra attention to him during the fall. You buy movie tapes, his favorite candy, and Halloween-themed items. Michael even has a horror movie coloring book and a Halloween-themed scarf, and your cute cat's name is Scream.

• Michael is bad at expressing emotions simply because his psyche can't handle it. He feels the atmosphere around him, the emotions of others, and he just becomes overwhelmed. However, his way of showing affection towards you is through touch. He grabs your clothes, your hand, and snuggles up to you during sleep.

• He is quite sensitive to his clothes, so you choose them with great care. We all know that an unpleasant fabric can ruin an entire day.

• He wasn't taught how to communicate properly. His parents didn't know about his special needs, and the hospital wasn't aware of them either. So you have to teach him how to interact with others. "Michael, if you like someone, you don't have to follow them around, okay?"

• Of course he kills people, have you seen the way they scream and make a lot of noise??

• Halloween is his own kind of ritual. A safe ritual. He knows how it goes, he knows what to expect, and it makes him feel good and comfortable.

• You help him feel good and safe, which helps him feel normal, so he's very attached to you.

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

Dr. Loomis: He's not autistic, he's pure evil!

You: ...

You: I'm beginning to doubt your professional competence, sir.