#i definitely needed to talk about them after the work day i just had

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part three.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

there is angst in this part !!!

summary: you and spencer have an absolute blast doing the livestream, but then you open your mouth. oh no.

word count: 3286

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

You had two days until the livestream, which means you and Ang would be conspiring nonstop for the next 48-or-so hours. That FaceTime call lasted much longer than necessary, and when you both came into the office today you were both clearly exhausted. But that’s okay, because you were not only going to get your friend back, but hopefully gain a partner in the process.

“Jeez, Peach, you’re looking rough today.” Spencer greeted you in the kitchen, and you immediately glanced up and around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear that. Just last night you were wishing he would call you Peach at work, but now it felt… strange. To actually have it happen. That must have been Angela’s doing.

“Yeah, I was up pretty late. I think I finally went to sleep around four just to turn around and wake up at eight. Plus, I was tossing and turning all night, so the sleep I did get wasn’t even restful.” You put a small amount of concealer on because your eyebags were so dark today, and it was still shoot week. Next week it wouldn’t matter all that much because you’d be in your pod locking in on other things, but since you still have three days of shooting to be done, you had to at least try and cover it up. You usually didn’t venture into the comments for your own mental, but you knew if you didn’t put something over them, someone would inevitably comment ‘wow y/n looks like shit today’. And of course, that would be the one comment out of all of them that you would end up seeing.

Spencer rubbed your upper arm lightly, offering more comfort than you expected from him as of late. It was nice. You let a smile spill across your face, but broke eye contact to stare at your shoes. 

“You want one of my Kickstarts? I know they make your stomach upset but maybe the energy might help?” He held an unopened can out to you, and you took it. He was right, you usually had a stomach ache after drinking a Kickstart, but you felt so dead it just might be worth it.

You popped the tab and took a sip, thanking him for his generosity. Angela had definitely talked to him more in depth than she let on, meaning she definitely knew more than she let on. So now you had to worry if she was conspiring with him as well. Not that she would do anything to sabotage you behind your back, but what if she coaxed both of you into a silly plan that will end up falling through?

//

The two shoot days before the livestream were both pretty much the same as always. You and Angela stayed up well into the night hatching a plan, Spencer let you drink his Kickstart and brought you coffee and Red Bull Thursday morning, the day of the stream. You picked up your energy for the shoots, and did your best to keep up with conversations and plans off-camera as well. Spencer was back to his usual physically affectionate self, and he had no trouble saying ‘I love you’ back when you said it first, if you said it first. Whatever Angela was doing behind the scenes on his side was working, because it almost felt like you didn’t need to do some big thing on the stream now. You had what you wanted: your best friend back. Sure, you want more than that, and as far as you knew, so did Spencer. But why introduce the potential of a severe falling out when this was working just fine? You’d been best friends with Spencer for nearly eight years now, that was all you had ever known. Friendship. Was it worth the possibility of losing all of this? Just to—what, gain a different label?

You said as much to Angela while you two were eating. The kitchen and eating area were fairly empty while everyone was setting up for the stream. Spencer, luckily, was needed on set so you knew he wasn’t around to hear you wax poetic about him. Again. As you seemed entirely incapable of doing anything else, lately.

“I don’t know, I’m just starting to wonder if it’s all worth it. Like, sure, I gain the new label of ‘partner,’ but what else is going to change? We already act like a couple anyway, according to you and Erin.”

Angela put her hand on your shoulder and looked into your eyes, piercing through to your very soul. “Y/N, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, but you don’t just gain the label. You gain all the benefits and happiness of a relationship and you also don’t have to keep hurting yourself. You want to be with Spencer, and he wants to be with you. Instead of not allowing yourself that happiness, and pushing it down constantly to try and come off as ‘normal’, you can just be normal. Also, as far as I know, you and Spence haven’t kissed or gone on any dates and I do believe that’s a perk that comes with dating someone. Especially someone who already knows everything about you. Instead of you two having to tread the murky beginnings of a relationship, you can hop right into it because you both already know so much about each other. Sure it might not feel entirely different at first, but imagine how relieved you’ll be when you don’t have to stop yourself from complimenting him, or staring at him, or blushing whenever he so much as breathes in your direction.” Angela pushed her food around on her plate, pondering if she should keep talking. She was working hard to make this happen, because she loved you both and knew you both deserved to be happy with each other. But Y/N was stubborn, and Spencer was just… hard-headed sometimes.

You held your breath for a moment, letting her words sink in again. Angela wasn’t always so verbose but when she was, it was serious, and you had to really listen. And, of course, she was right. You keep hurting yourself by pushing these feelings away, and you know that they’re reciprocated, so why keep pushing? “You’re right, as always.” You beamed at your best friend, feeling hopeful that this would work.

You knew the stream was set to be starting in about thirty minutes, so you stood up to throw your trash away and get ready. But before you could walk away, Angela grabbed your wrist. “Just so you know, and you didn’t hear this from me, but everyone here wants you two to start dating. Erin sent those memes in thinking it would kick your asses into gear but it didn’t work as well as she thought it would, I guess. Also, a lot of Smosh fans ship you. There’s a few compilations on YouTube if you’re curious. Just some food for thought.” She smiled brightly before leaving you to ponder on that.

You decided to pop your headphones in and do a quick check on that “compilation” comment. You weren’t due to set for twenty more minutes, so you clicked on a five minute compilation titled “Y/N and Spencer being soulmates for 5 minutes and 28 seconds”. Soulmates. It was accurate, to you, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach. You only got a few clips into the compilation before you started to get a little too warm. You freshened up your face and deodorant in the bathroom, and set off for the stream.

//

Everything was off to a good start. You fiddled around with a few songs, and Spencer, of course, was holding perfect conversation with you while also getting a 96% on Expert mode. It was time to start executing your plan, and you knew Angela was right off to the side watching.

“Okay, so, I didn’t tell you this,” you started, glancing at Spencer, “but I did some extra training without you.” You smiled nervously, hoping he wouldn’t be mad at you.

“No way! Cheater.” Your best friend was gleaming at you, and despite his words, he seemed a bit proud. “You just wanted to impress me, didn’t you, Peach?” 

He definitely expected you to falter at the mention of your nickname while on stream, but you held strong. If you blushed, then you blushed. You didn't really have a say in that.

“Well, of course I did. Anyway, I made sure we added one of my favorite songs to the game while you were busy running around setting up, but it’s only mapped on Expert mode. You think I can do it?”

“I believe in you wholeheartedly.” You could tell from the smile on his face that he wasn’t joking. Well, here goes nothing.

“Okay, close your eyes because I have to scroll and find it and I don’t want you to see which song it is.”

“You said it was one of your favorites, right? Can I guess?” Spencer had both hands over his eyes, under his glasses, which made him look quite silly. And while he did know a lot of your favorite songs, you were pretty sure you hadn’t mentioned this one to him.

“Go ahead,” you urged, scrolling through the menus for a few seconds before asking Alex the best way to get to the song.

“Okay, let’s see here. Is it Andria by La Dispute?”

“Nope.”

“Avocado, Baby by Los Campesinos!?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ this time.

“Change by Djo?”

“Ah, there it is!” You had finally found the song, after a few too many minutes of scrolling around. The chat didn’t seem to be bothered by the current lack of commentary because they all still seemed to be reeling about Spencer calling you Peach. Which was fair, because mentally you were also freaking out a little bit. But you had more important things to worry about than the blush that was definitely painting your neck and face.

“I was right?” Spencer moved his hands, “Oh, no I wasn’t. I didn’t know you liked The Corrs?” He looked back at you now, and you thought you heard him comment on your blush. But you could rewatch later. For now, you needed to slay this song.

“Spencer, of course I like The Corrs.” You locked in on the song, hitting every single note with ease. You found yourself singing the song too, and Spencer joined in not long after you started.

“Can’t hide it! Can’t fight it! So, go on, go on! Come on, leave me breathless. Tempt me, tease me! Till I can’t deny this loving feelin’! Make me long for your kiss!” You were both singing your hearts out, and you were simultaneously shredding on the fancy guitar controller Spence had secured for Smosh. The chat was going wild, but neither of you thought to even ask about it. The song ended and you managed to get a 92% on Expert mode, while singing and conversing. That was the best you’d ever done on a song, and you had no doubt it was because your best friend was next to you singing with you. 

//

The stream ended after about an hour and a half, your voice hoarse from singing and cheering and yelling. You had picked Breathless by The Corrs because you knew you had never mentioned liking them to Spencer, but the lyrics of the song were just too accurate for how you felt. And you and Angela both knew you wouldn’t be able to actually get a confession out, so you were hoping the song was enough to give Spencer the push to say something himself. And him singing the song with you certainly did something to your insides, but these days everything that man did made your stomach flip. And you were okay with that. You could get used to that. Maybe you even wanted that. You wanted Spencer, unabashedly.

Angela pulled you down the hall away from your other coworkers to ask how you felt. “I don’t know how I feel, to be honest. It was nerve-wracking and stressful at some points, but I don’t know, singing one of my favorite love songs with the man I’m currently in love with was an incredible feeling.” You were so happy and so bubbly you didn’t even realize your wording.

Until you noticed Angela was staring at you.

“What? Oh, fuck. Okay, yeah, I didn’t mean to say that. Um, Just... I’m really high on energy right now, is all.” You let out a soft chuckle, trying to walk back your statement. But she had heard it, and Angela wasn’t exactly one to let things go. “Angela, please do not mention this until we have both clocked out and left the building. Then you can go crazy, but just wait until then. Please,” you quietly begged. It was going to come up again – no doubt about that. But you couldn’t do it while you were still here. You didn’t have anything left to shoot today but you did have some paperwork to do and some marketing stuff to work on, and Tommy asked you to be in a TikTok earlier in the week so that still needed to be done too.

“Okay, okay. I’ll wait. But you will be hearing from me as soon as I park my ass on my couch at home,” Angela whispered back, attempting to meet your volume level but mostly failing.

“What’re y’all whispering about over here?” Spencer had come down the hallway, a Kickstart in one hand and your favorite flavor of Red Bull in the other.

“We’re conspiring on how to break YouTube's streaming rules on a livestream and get away with it, why?” You supplied, knowing he would appreciate a little joke after a somewhat-tense livestream. Maybe the livestream was only tense for you, though. You graciously accepted the Red Bull as he handed it to you.

He did laugh, luckily, and turned towards Angela, “I think Arasha would be a better co-conspirator for that. Y/N is too nice to break internet law.” He smiled at you now, and put his hand on your shoulder, his warmth spreading through your body.

He was always so warm, and you religiously ran cold. It was one of many ways you two fit together so well. You both balanced each other out in all the best ways, Spencer giving more where you had to give less, and vice versa. He always knew just what you needed, and just when you needed it. In so many ways, your friends were right. You were already a couple, basically, without the main perks of being together. You weren’t able to cash in on the parts of the relationship that you really craved – you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms, you wanted to spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with him and let him teach you all the video games you didn’t understand. You wanted Spencer in a way you couldn’t put into words. It was a visceral need deep inside your bones; an almost bothersome, unending ache. Your want for him outweighed any other emotion you could possibly feel.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it.

“Hey, Ang, can I talk to Spence alone for a second?” You smiled innocently, knowing she’d see through it.

“Oh, of course. I’ll talk to you later! Love you both!” She yelled, speed-walking away like her life depended on it. She was halfway down the hallway before she even finished her sentence.

Spencer and you turned to face each other, and suddenly your throat was quite dry. You remembered, gratefully, that he had brought you a Red Bull. You held a finger up to communicate that you needed a second, and then downed half the can in one go. You burped quite loudly afterwards, apologizing for the loud noise.

“You good, brother?” Your best friend inquired, his hand finding his favorite place on your wrist. He always touched your wrist when he was worried about you, a small gesture that always made you light up inside. Despite his overall relaxed demeanor, you could tell he was a bit anxious. His other hand started fidgeting not long after you asked Angela to leave.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, so I’m going to word vomit right now. I know you’re going to want to tell me to shut the fuck up, but please let me just puke it out and then I promise you can have the floor afterwards. Okay?” He nodded, and you started again. “I love you, Spence. You know that, right?” 

Spencer’s fidgeting picked up speed and you grabbed both of his hands in yours, hoping to quell any anxious thoughts forming. You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hands, realizing once again how warm he was. “You know that, right?” You reiterated, needing the confirmation before you moved forward.

“Yes, Y/N. I love you, too. You also know that, right?” You could hear his voice shake a little, tempting you to try and hurry this up so as not to stress him out. You still wanted it to come out coherent and somewhat romantic, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him being so anxious. 

You smiled, intertwining your fingers with his before continuing on. “Yes, I do. But I’m also lying to you every time I tell you that.” Spencer’s face very quickly dropped at this, prompting you to remind him to let you word vomit and that everything was okay. After you two shared some deep breaths, you continued on.  “I say I love you, and I mean it, because I do, but… honestly for years and years now, I’ve meant it differently than you might mean it. I do love you, but not as a friend. Spencer, I’m so head over ass in love with you. I’m tired of fighting it, I’m tired of hiding it, I’m tired of everyone making jokes at our expense. If you don’t reciprocate, trust me, I understand. I won’t be upset. I just hope you can forgive me for potentially ruining this friendship. But, I need to be honest with myself and most of all, with you. I love you, Spence, and not as a friend. And I’m hoping you can be okay with that.”

You took a deep breath, letting your words wash over him while you tried to quickly recuperate from the intense reeling in your brain. If everyone else at the Smoffice was right, he did reciprocate. But now you weren’t so sure. He had been silent far longer than you expected. You pulled yourself out of your head to look at Spencer, finally, having been looking at his hands in yours to try and center yourself.

But, he was crying. “Oh, god, Spencer. I’m sorry, that was not cool of me, we’re at work. I’m sorry, I’m... I’ll go.” You disconnected your hands and ran for the office doors, not bothering to grab your bag or keys or phone. You just really needed to be away from everything right now. If he called after you, or if anyone did for that matter, you didn’t hear it. You needed to get out. And you needed to get out now.

You made your best friend cry.

After telling him you loved him and wanted him in a way he couldn’t give to you.

How badly did you just fuck everything up?

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

I'M SORRY aaaaaaaa

taglist: @lokidokieokie <3

[daengtokki]

Heyy there :) I literally can't stop thinking about SKZ f!additional member AU and softie Seungmin who seems nonchalant like the unbothered king he is but caring just deeply about reader, for example looking out for her when practice gets tough, getting snacks during recording sessions and so oooon. Yeah, I'm weak for that. Maybe you are, too. Have fun during this fluffy week either way^-^<3

This trope is interesting, but I've never actually read a single fic based on it! I'm not sure if I would do it justice. I do have an idea, though, and it's in the same vein as this, and I can add in the things that you're weak for (because same). The problem is…I can’t do it in a single ~1k word oneshot 🥲

So thank you for the inspiration for a new possible longer story! Unless everyone absolutely hates it.

If you like it, I’ll be happy.

idol!Kim Seungmin/guest artist!reader/idol!Chan x reader △

wc: ~1.1k (part 1?)

rating: angst to fluff

Day 5 of Seungmin's birthday oneshot countdown!

It's a few more weeks at the most, maybe longer, and after that...he'll probably never see you, or talk to you again. The planning stages of this was fun, he admits, and all eight of you sitting around the table talking to you on speakerphone; the excitement in everyone's eyes and voices was contagious. And of course Seungmin is excited...it's you. He's been a fan of yours for as long as he can remember, so having the opportunity to work alongside you, and maybe even sing with you? It’s a dream come true.

That's the problem.

He hasn't slept properly in a few days, and he's feeling very puffy and tired. There's only so much he can do now to prepare himself. He took a cold shower this morning, drank as much water as he could handle, but after that he couldn't stomach more than half of his iced coffee. It's still in his hand, numb from the almost melted ice, and dripping steadily on the floor. You're somewhere in this building right now, and you could walk in with the others at any moment.

Time to turn off. Turn off or make a complete ass of himself.

/ / /

You feel a little awkward as you walk toward the meeting room...recording studio? You actually have no clue where you're going, but you're flanked by two much taller men you don't know, and in front of you is Chan, who was a little red in the face when he was talking to you and asking you to call him Chris. So you do.

"Chris?"

He turns and smiles at you, and it's so...something you can't and refuse to deal with right now, you think. No. It's cute, and it's shy. The photos you've seen of him before today really did nothing for him, even the good ones. But you're a professional, and you are very good at acting professional when needed. Even when sweet, attractive men are involved.

"Yeah, all good?"

"Good, yeah! Where are we headed? Should I be mentally preparing to meet everyone?"

"Yes, definitely start preparing right now"

One more right turn and something about the door up ahead feels like the one. Meeting suite 1411. That's the one. Chris opens the door and moves aside to let you in first, and the room is empty, or appears to be. Security fell back and took up guard at the end of the hallway (unnecessary and embarrassing, you told Chris when they appeared).

"Oh, nobody is here...okay." He checks his phone and scrunches his nose, and you kind of feel like kissing it. "I'm sorry, I guess everyone ignored the group chat this morning."

"That's alright, are they somewhere else?"

"It's possible, but..." he points to the table filled with snacks and drinks. "I don't wanna drag you around looking for them." The phone is to his ear, and you hear it ringing, and ringing...

"I can wait here if you have to go find them. I already see a coffee carafe with my name on it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I haven't had enough coffee or stare at my phone time this morning, anyway. And my friends are down the hall."

He smiles so big, you have to return is just as enthusiastically. Maybe he'll turn up his flirting, and you won't have to feel as responsible for your own.

"I'll be right back"

Chris turns on his heel and is gone, and the room is so quiet. Maybe you should put some music on. Before anything, you look over the catering and wonder if anyone will actually have time to enjoy this. The coffee and lemon water, sure, but this is actually a full-course meal in front of you. Just as you fill your cup with coffee, you hear music...but you don't think you pushed play yet.

No, definitely not, because it's your voice that you're hearing. You turn toward it, and jump when you see him standing there, almost mid-step, one hand reaching to pull at his earlobe. His eyes are wide, but other than that...he seems less surprised to see you than you are to see him. But he does at least pause the music.

"Hello," you say, hoping to get him to come a little closer. Whoever he is, and you feel like you should remember all of their names by now, he looks a little annoyed that he now has to share this space and this coffee with someone else. "My eyesight isn't great even with the contacts... I don't bite."

"Hi," he takes a few steps toward you, and you watch his long legs move in his shorts and socks and clean black converse. "I'm–"

"No, I can remember...give me a second"

He does, but he doesn't seem happy about it. This one doesn't have the carefree smile that Chris did, or the shy demeanor. It's a bit distracting, the way his lips purse into a heart, and the way his big brown eyes look down at you. His hair falls perfectly in front of his eyes, but you're pretty sure he woke up looking this good.

"Oh..." it comes to you, sort of. "You're the puppy, aren't you?" You think you see the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it's gone so quickly. "Seungmin."

"Yes, I'm the puppy. And also Seungmin."

The puppy persona fits him, at least physically. His face is soft and round, his big brown eyes turn every so slightly downward, and his ears—something about the way his ears sit on his head, is so... "it's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise"

Seungmin holds out his hand for you. You do the same, and he takes it so gently. His touch and his mien don't seem to match, and you wonder if the first impression isn't the one to remember for this one.

/ / /

Seungmin finally takes a deep breath when you turn and head toward the coffee again, and he watches as you very carefully add the smallest amount of milk and sugar to it. He finally finished his, so maybe he should make himself another cup. It gives him a reason to rejoin you instead of standing here looking like an idiot.

"Have you met everyone else, or just me?" What a stupid question, he thinks. "I mean, I'm sure you met someone...you're here."

"I met Chris. He left to go find all of you, but you must be the only one who read the message and listened."

"Yes, I saw the message. I like to be on top of things."

The way his voice lowers as he speaks sends a little shiver up your arms. Seungmin likes to be on top of things, and you love catching an innuendo wherever you can. You smirk, but wipe it from your face when you think he might be looking at you.

Seungmin sees the smile pull at your lips and then disappear immediately. "What?"

"Nothing,” you laugh. “I don’t think you talked much on the calls, did you?”

“I did not speak much, I don’t have too much creative say. I have some, it just depends on what we’re doing.”

“Well, it’s tough getting in there with eight of you, I’m sure. Everyone can’t be everywhere…too many cooks in the kitchen.”

Seungmin allows himself to laugh at that, but he stifles it a little and turns away. You’re as cute and relaxed in person as you seem in interviews, and on stage, and it’s a little overwhelming. He can’t let himself do this—he can’t get himself into something he won’t be able to escape. But he seems to remember reading something about a possible relationship you’ve gotten yourself into. Thinking about that breaks his heart a little, but it’ll at least help keep him away.

None of that matters, though. Why would you have any interest in him in the first place?

“Do you want coffee? How do you take it?”

Dammit, okay… “black is good.”

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 18 . Heterogeneity (3)

a/n: my fav chapter is the one after this hehe, but y'all have to wait until wednesday (unless you're reading this after I already uploaded it lol)

tags: overprotective people around reader, sick reader, fluff overall

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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_____ thought their headaches and worry would end when Cale woke up after 15 days. The healer is used to the rigorous schedule the commander has whenever he wakes up after fainting. Understand that there’s a lot to catch up on, especially this time since Cale was gone for so long.

Everything had been smooth sailing. There are still a lot of things to do at Mogoru but Jack and the others can handle it. 

Finding the Mercenary King was also easy. In fact, he was the one who showed himself in their inn. Making a deal with him was even easier. As well as getting to the Wind Island. 

“Uhm so you’re telling me the owner of my ancient power is not supposed to talk to me and tell me the race of every single being I encounter?”

“...At least yours don’t have full-blown conversations about bread with you.”

Well, there’s a discovery that Cale and _____ are odd. Apparently, you’re not supposed to hear voices when you have an ancient power…

But aside from that everything else is smooth sailing.

Things started going south when Cale entered Wind Island alone.

Day 1:

Everyone is relaxed albeit a little worried for the young master. However, everyone trusts that he will be fine as he always has been.

Day 2:

Same as yesterday. Everyone is doing their own thing while waiting for the young master. However, _____ thinks that the group is doting on them more than they used to. They aren’t sure though.

Day 3:

Cale is supposed to go back, but there’s not a single sign of him yet. This made everyone in the group tense. Nonetheless, all they can do is wait.

Day 5:

The ambience in the boat has become scary. Not surprising as Cale is 2 days late now. Everyone is still sweet in front of _____. In fact, they have definitely become more doting and protective towards the healer. 

Like they can’t even take a single step forward without someone trying to assist them or asking what they need. At first, it confused _____, but they figured they were probably acting that way because of Cale’s absence.

However, that’s just towards _____.

They are so snappy with Bud. The poor man can’t even take a single breath without being told off. The only time he isn’t getting scolded is when _____ is talking to him.

So _____ took this chance to get acquainted with the Mercenary King. The healer explained to the man how everyone was just on edge because they were worried about the young master.

Day 7:

It’s been 4 days since Cale was supposed to come back. Everyone had decided that if he still didn’t come back in a few hours then they would go to the island.

“Not _____-nim. Please stay here in the boat where it is safe. I promise to come back and bring back Cale-nim”

At this point _____ is used to the group coddling them. They figured it’d either end or dwindle once Cale came back. So they just let everyone be.

Meanwhile, the healer and Bud got acquainted pretty well. It helps that their abilities are similar to each other. Talking to each other is also mutually beneficial to the two. Bud gets to talk to the only person who’s not inherently vicious in the boat. While _____ gets a distraction from the abundance of worry they are feeling.

“I have to ask Medicus-nim, what’s you’re relationship with Cale?”

Bud once tried calling the healer by their first name… never again. The looks he got from everyone were not worth it.

Names aside, the mercenary king is curious about the relationship of the two. In his opinion, _____ is the most protected after Cale. There’s gotta be a reason why that is.

“Me and the young master are friends. However, I am technically working under his orders right now.”

It doesn’t look like that to Bud but sure.

In addition to that, the blue-haired man doesn’t miss the way everyone else softens while _____ is speaking about their relationship. Something is going on that these two young masters don’t know.

However, Bud doesn’t pry. Instead, he lets the conversation die there and opts to wait for Cale silently.

Sure enough, the redhead prevails as he always does.

He came out just before the group was about to attack the island. As soon as he got out he purified the island before desperately eating apple pies like his life depended on it.

“...Cale, you do know that you’re still going to faint right?”

_____ is currently beside Cale thanks to Raon’s floating spell. 

The man in question just ignored the healer and continued gobbling the pie.

“If you don’t stop eating you’re gonna faint with a soggy apple pie in your mouth.”

Munch

Munch

Cale continued ignoring _____.

“Everyone, the young master is going to faint with an apple pie in

3…

2…

1”

True enough Cale fainted like a machinery out of mana after _____’s countdown.

Meanwhile, the healer who’s borderline making fun of Cale could be seen giggling.

Bud doesn’t know why and his afraid Ron and Eruhaben are going to kill him if he asks.

Their way back to Bud’s hometown was quiet. Everyone seemed accustomed to this and already knew what to do with Ron leading everyone.

All of them got to work as soon as Cale was resting on a bed. 

Well almost everyone.

When _____ tried to go out to help Beacrox, Eruhaben just used his mana to steer the healer back into the room. Once the healer was back in, Ron wrapped a blanket around them before guiding them to a comfy couch that had been moved beside Cale’s bed[1].

“Wait I want to help too–”

Ron ignored the healer as if they didn’t even say anything.

“A bed big enough to fit the two of you would be better but this couch would also suffice.”

“Why am I lying down too? I didn’t even use my powers–”

At that moment the children spoke up.

“Lemonade gramps, I think kind _____ forgot that their body is weak!”

“That’s true nya! It also looks like they forgot they’re still healing!”

“Go lie down nya.”

It took _____ a moment to realise what the three were talking about.

“Are you guys talking about what happened in the Caro Kingdom? That’s like a month ago. That wound is all healed up.”

“Yes it has been a month since then but your healing journey has been stunted since you used your powers while we were at the Empire. In addition to that the sea breeze is cold. It’s not good for your weak body.”

“But Eruhaben-nim I’m really okay–”

All it took was one exasperated stare from Eruhaben to make the healer clam up and lie down on the spacious couch. After they did the golden dragon sighed as if he had just dealt with a toddler throwing a tantrum.

True enough _____ developed a fever just a few hours after that. Their body couldn’t handle both the weather and the stress so it decided to break down the moment the healer got to relax. Good thing the group was already expecting this and has prepared everything a sick person would have needed.

At some point _____ tried to argue that maybe they’ll get the kids sick. So they should just let the healer recover in another room and maybe check on them from time to time. However, the children averaging 9 years old retaliated by putting on masks and casting a shield. (A bit overboard in _____’s opinion but when has not Raon been overboard.)

Just like that the two young masters slept for three days.

If on one of those days Cale’s hand twitched and placed itself on top of _____’s hand, then no one said a word.

And if they see Cale continue to hold _____’s hand after he woke up first? No, they didn’t.

[1] if you can't visualize it, just imagine a big couch that's the same height as the bed and then it's side-by-side so the couch kind of looks like an extension of the bed. basically the two + the children are all sleeping beside one another lol

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Part 17

Ominis x MC

Summary - After learning new information about the next Trail, preparations need to be made and confessions must be told.

I just wanted to say now as I did in my last bit of spice that it isn't my thing normally so sorry if its hastily written and bad. Also, they're virgins, i wanted it to be a little awkward so sorry if you're not into that

Warnings - Spice (Oral, Mutual Masturbation(ish), unprotected P in V, mild pain from being virgins, mildly clincal talk about sex from research) Biting, Praise Kink, all characters aged up 18+

Word Count - 9389

~

“Ominis…you’re making it rather difficult to walk” she complained softly wriggling against the awkward way his elbow joined with hers.

They had decided the safest and best course of action would be to hole up in the Undercroft till the end of the day.

Both to avoid Sebastian and any of the Tri-Wizard organisers waiting to pounce.

The Room of Requirement may have worked, but Professor Weasley knew of its location. And if faculty knew…those who organised the trials would most definitely know.

So the Undercroft it was.

It worked out well. That was where Ominis had hidden that Tri-Wizard history book, and there were a few passages that he’d like Sebastian to read through…

…before Ominis’ inevitable apology for his outburst in the Library.

“Sorry…” Ominis smiled shyly as he released her from his grip momentarily, instead opting to snake his hand around her torso, settling at the small of her back “…but I’m not letting you out of my sight until this second trial is over.”

As they rounded the corner by the Undercroft a gaggle of younger students loitered about, awaiting the lesson about to begin above them. Evelyn took the opportunity to pull Ominis aside as they waited patiently for the corridors to clear, and they could safely descend to the depths of their hidden space.

She tugged softly on his arms till she was backed against the wall a gentle smile on her lips as she covered his eyes.

“I’m afraid that’s quite difficult for you” she teased delicately, earning a slight chuckle as he pulled her hands to his mouth.

“It is an expression…” he whispered against her finger tips before placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles “…one that I find quite apt. Because I can see you-”

His eyes shot towards her, locked with hers somewhat unknowingly. He could hear her breathing, talking. Just above that, hear the subtle sighs leaving her nose. So above that…must be her eyes. He focused in with an almost eerie accuracy, her features mapped in his mind, always.

He tapped her nose, then the triangle of moles across her cheek, drawing a line between each before bringing his hand to her jaw. His thumb settled over the apex of her chin, tilting it up as though staring into her very soul.

“-and I am not letting you out of my sight” he continued pointedly.

Evelyn gulped.

The vaguely intimate way in which he touched her had garnered a few looks from the students now filtering up the stairs. It didn’t help, of course, that she’d pulled him to the wall, her own fingers toying with the edges of his robes.

She could hear them whispering, and based on the slight narrowing of Ominis’ eyes; so could he.

“People are looking…” she whispered, the sound barely carrying on her breath as it washed over him.

“I am quite aware…” His voice came through the filter of his teeth, As was the norm when he was annoyed...or feeling protective. She wondered what they were saying, what Ominis had heard. But based on the flexing of his jaw she assumed perhaps it best not to ask.

They remained locked against the wall, his arm encasing her possessively until the students eventually filed into class. The Defence Against the Dark Arts tower was once again left empty and silent, save for the distant sound of the enchanted instruments playing tirelessly down the hall. This peaceful rift in time, between classes, had become the perfect time to skulk off together. Students busy learning. Professors busy teaching. Their only concern was Peeves and Black. Peeves they had managed to avoid his ire, luckily, and Black didn’t care enough to leave his office most days. Although that didn’t stop the taboo feeling that she was doing something wrong, welling in her stomach each time they opened that clockwork cabinet.

But she was with Ominis.

Safe.

~

Once again, Evelyn was struck by the obvious influences of the trio.

As normal, Evelyn’s corner remained untouched and perfectly polished. Every little detail placed perfectly for both ease, comfort and Ominis to avoid bumping into.

Sebastian left a small trail of destruction in his wake, the latest of which was a toppled over stack of barrels that had been left strewn across the room. He had been practising new spells, new curses, new everything, and this time the victim was the barrels…and a pile of quidditch equipment.

Had Sebastian brought Imelda down here?

And then there was Ominis.

He had adopted the space underneath the Triptych. The sad looking pile of blankets thrown underneath it was standard but since her last visit to the Undercroft, he had added much more. Made it more…homely.

With great insistence from Evelyn he had gained a mattress. A rather dilapidated looking one but it was a mattress nonetheless. It took a full afternoon of whinging but eventually they transfigured a couple of crates into the now comfortable bed. And though he would never admit it, Evelyn could tell he was grateful for her…nagging.

He’d stopped moaning about his aching back at least…

The mattress itself almost looked inviting with the multiple plush throws and blankets that adorned it. A scatter of pillows and cushions were tossed around with abandon but it was cosy. Lived in. Perhaps too lived in, considering he hadn’t slept in an actual bed in well over a month now.

He had also sheltered himself away, enclosing his space with bookcases, chalkboards, barrels. Anything he could get his wand on, he’d pulled towards him, building walls and dividers. She didn’t quite understand why until she stepped between them and into the makeshift room within a room.

It was immediately…warmer. Less drafty.

She smiled softly at these additions, though this home away from home just reminded her of why he was down here in the first place…

The Tournament.

And with the revelation of the second trial came yet another reason he couldn’t return to the boys dorms.

“Looks like you’ll be down here for a while longer…if the boys dorm is now not only covered in spider webs but damp too…” Evelyn remarked with a heavy tone of dismay.

As happy as she was that he was warmer, his nightmares were still…present. He hadn’t had one in a while but he could. And the idea of him being alone when they could occur was too much. It reminded her of her own twisted thoughts. Of him sleeping alone at Gaunt Manor.

No one to help him.

No one to be there for him.

No one to…love him.

“It’s not all bad…” he said, rather pleased with himself “…I haven’t heard Sebastian’s snoring in weeks”

Ominis’ cheeky grin almost made her forget herself. He happily manoeuvred his way into his den, wand blinking away as he cleaned up after himself. Shifted a blanket back onto a chair, a book onto a shelf, a teacup from the settee.

“Yes but…I don’t know. Something about you being down here alone-”

“Stay with me then” he said casually, continuing with his homely chores. His wand trailed over cover after cover till he found the Tri-Wizard History, throwing it atop the desk with a huff.

Sebastian would get an earful about this, no doubt about it.

“You mean sleep down here with you?” She asked incredulously.

Ominis didn’t miss a beat. He heard that sharp intake of breath, the tone in which she spoke. And if it was anyone else he’d be worried he’d said something wrong…

Well that’s a lie.

If it was anyone else he wouldn’t care to ask in the first place.

But this was Evelyn.

And they had already slept together multiple times. Shared a bed once.

So this development he simply found…amusing.

“Why not?” He chirped turning towards her and leaning back against the little chest of drawers his uniform stuck out of haphazardly. His prim and proper accent simply accentuated the teasing behind his words. It wasn’t really a question.

More of a dare…

And that alone set Evelyns skin ablaze.

Why not, Evelyn? It’s just sleeping…

Her own mind reasoned with her in a hushed whisper, almost like she thought Ominis could hear.

You’ve slept with him before. It’s fine nothing will happen.

…unless you want something to happen. Then you need only ask.

Remember he said it’s all he could think about?

Stop it.

You’re all he can think about.

“I…well…it’s…” she stammered and Ominis didn’t need sight to know she was blushing.

“You’re adorable when it comes to matters of the heart. Do you know that?” He smirked and crossed his arms.

“I am not…” she responded with a pout, crossing her arms in a similar fashion to him, only much more…sulkier.

“And so expressive. Thank Merlin! Sometimes I don’t even need my wand to know your mood” He threw his arms out, gesturing his aforementioned wand wildly in her direction. His smirk grew wider, lips parting to reveal the pearly white fangs at either side of his mouth.

It had been just over a week since she was last down here.

Since they had…been alone together.

But the air still felt thick and intimate. And as she noticed his lips parting she realised…it wasn’t the room making her feel this way. It wasn’t the rooms fault her breathing had become laboured and the air difficult to take in.

It was him.

His lithe frame that leaned taught. His forearms that flexed gently as he recrossed his arms. And that smirk. That arrogant and self important smirk. Why did that make her stomach knot?

Her sudden and, unbeknownst to him, lustful silence must have been just a second too long for his liking, his concern for upsetting her resurfacing. Ominis’ features softened and his frame relaxed, taking a confident step towards her to cup her face.

“Stay with me down here…” his soft tone presented the statement as a question this time “…I can make it warm, comfortable. I just need to know you’re safe”

And once again, her mind wondered to more sordid activities whilst he remained as sweet and as caring as he always had. A familiar guilt ate at her insides, shifting her eyes away from him and down towards the floor.

He was offering her a haven. And she thought only of how they could use it.

“I’d need clothes…pyjamas at the very least” she mumbled, blinking her thoughts quickly away as her eyes kept pulling towards the bed. Thoughts of what the sheets would feel like against her bare skin…what he would feel like.

“Not tonight, I don’t think” he whispered back as his boyish smile twisted quickly into a smirk. “Tonight…you can wear mine and first thing in the morning we can gather some necessities”

And once again he held himself in the most gentlemanly of ways, making her guilt even stronger. He pulled her closer, planting a chaste kiss against her forehead and beamed down at her, a genuine smile pulled across his hollow cheeks.

“You say this like it’s a permanent change”

“Mmm…” he hummed as his lips brushed down her temple and across her cheekbones “…I could keep you…”

They weren’t so much kisses as they were…caresses. His lips mirrored that which his finger drew out on the opposite side of her face and she shuddered.

He’s just touching me and I can’t help myself.

Then he laughed softly, the air expelled from him brushing the small hairs at her ear away.

“I don’t know how you put up with my…possessiveness” he chuckled breathily again, his fingers finally finishing their journey at her jaw, cupping her cheek within his palm.

“I’ve had practise…” she whispered sweetly “…what with how close we were last year. All that’s changed really is the occasional kiss”

Ominis huffed a small breath of laughter as he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I don’t really know where it came from…” he started quietly, like he was truly speaking his mind…freely…

“When Sebastian started down…that path…it triggered something within me I have not been able to satiate. I wanted to control everything. Every little aspect of his life -

“It’s why we clashed so often. Still do. I love him…like he was my own brother and I can’t stand idle as he suffers. Whether it’s to his own stupidity or any external force -

“Same with Anne. When she was cursed it felt a little like a part of me was cursed along with her. Because I love her. She treated me the same as Sebastian from the moment she met me -

“And you -

“I have never known anyone like you. You are a…beautiful contradiction, my love. Both the most deadly and caring person I have ever met. Kind and loving yet harsh and volatile. Sweet…and at times a little bit sour.

“And I love you…” he whispered softly, barely loud enough to hear. But down here…it seemed to echo around the room. Bounce around her mind.

“I’m in love with you. I’m not entirely sure when it happened. I just wanted you around in the beginning. All the time. But…at some point last year that want became a need. And I couldn’t imagine my life without you”

Words failed her as she looked up into the far away gaze of his glassy irises. He had a way with words. Always had. Each one like the note of delicate symphony. And it was music to her ears.

She had to blink away the tears that threatened to spill from her lashes, lest he think he had upset her. And she couldn’t bare to break his heart…even if it was just for a moment.

“I-“

“You don’t need to say it back. I just…wanted you t-“

“I love you too!” she beamed, the words falling fast as though she’d been holding them back. And in many ways, she had…

“I don’t know when either. Sometimes it feels like I always have. But at the very least… from the moment you offered me help in that window…I have been yours. And I love-“

She didn’t get to say it a second time…

His lips captured hers immediately. If she had been paying attention instead of concentrating on the stream of words that tumbled from her, she would’ve noticed the way his fingers untangled themselves from the hairs at the nape of her neck, and glided closer to her lips. As she spoke, his fingers honed in, so he could encapsulate her lips with pinpoint accuracy.

Strange how one little phrase can change everything.

Change the way someone can hold you or kiss you.

He had embraced her many times in many different ways. As a friend. A protector. With affection and with anguish. Yet there was something about this embrace that reminded her of the first time they kissed. Desperate, pleading and unyielding. Like a dam had burst.

But she could feel his love. Feel it pouring into her like warm waves lapping against a shore.

It was passion in every meaning of the word.

Needy, wanting but warm and reciprocated.

Ominis’ lips moved slowly at first, compensating for the speed in which his mouth collided with hers.

And though it was slow and gentle, he didn’t break. The only time permitted for air was as he tilted her head back and his position shifted slightly, towering over her.

He shrugged his arms past hers, manoeuvring his hands to her lower back. As he held her tightly, he pressed her into him more, forcing the air to come gasping from her lungs.

With her hands now relegated from their original position, she was forced to be bold.

Not that she was against being bold. Not with him.

She wound her fingers around his neck, holding him loosely against her. A gentle reminder, should he pull away, that he would not be going far.

But he took that as more of an invitation.

As he stepped forward, shuffling along the floor with desperation to get closer, he brought her almost completely off her feet, her gasps filling his mouth. His fingers tightened around her waist as he supported her, trailing down the fabric of her shirt till he felt the divot of her hipbone beneath the material. The trembling of his fingers betrayed him, a clear sign accompanied with his busy lips, that he had an insatiable hunger for her.

Without knowing, they had stumbled across the room and against the mattress on the floor, tumbling to the bed over a stray blanket. He held her tight to his body as his knee hit the mattress, cradling her against him and protecting her from the fall. A breathy laugh left them both, neither wasting another second as their lips crashed eagerly against each other again.

At first he gently tested the waters. His tongue lapping at her pillowy bottom lip like a snakes might, a thought that made Evelyn giggle, though the noise was lost amidst his greedy lips and gentle tongue.

Not even that was enough.

Roaming hands covered the landscape of her torso, kneading and poking, gripping and digging into her flesh. His hand ran up her side, fingers dancing over her ribs like the keys of a piano, slowly but surely untucking her shirt from her waistband. The cold of the Undercrofts stagnant air nipped at her skin and as his hands quickly replaced the fabric he had discarded, the backs of his fingers were greeted with the familiar braille of her goosebump pocked skin.

The corner of his lip curled, trying with all his might not to smirk as she murmured softly beneath him. But it was too late.

He didn’t want to seem cocky, but he couldn’t stop the twitch peeling at his lips. He merely observed the effect he had on her and found irrefutable evidence of her longing, he can’t be faulted in finding pleasure in her…well…pleasure. Can he?

She could feel his satisfaction, his lips becoming thin and his kisses becoming sharper as he grinned. All teeth and sharp canines.

There was no way he was getting all his own way this time.

Obviously she enjoyed their last…dalliance. It had haunted her mind many times over the last few days, that same knot he had undone skillfully, tying itself back up each time she thought about it. And with each time the knot grew tighter. And larger. And more complex. Till not even her own fingers could help her anymore.

She wanted him.

So when he felt the dimples of her skin, a smug smile threatening to spill from his lips, her own hands palmed against his chest, feeling the ever quickening beat of his heart under his shirt. She revelled in the fact his smirk faltered, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth as her finger hooked around the knot of his tie, slipping easily between the silken material and pulling it apart. Pulling him down further along with it, the material quickly ripped from his neck.

Merlin…

There was something about his neck that got to her.

The clenching of his jaw when he absentmindedly ground his teeth.

The flexing of the tendons as he turned his head.

The bob of his throat when he swallowed.

Even the constellation of moles that waterfalled down his neck. Everything pointed, guided, coerced her further down. Led her eyes down to the chest her hand currently pressed against.

And when she pulled the tie from his lapels and the crisp white folds of his shirt fell open, he gulped, pulling away just a fraction.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised she was so forward. She was honest. Unabashedly so. At times it bordered on blunt. After all, it was her who first took his arm in Hogsmeade. Her who asked him sleep next to her in the Common Room. Her who first kissed his cheek just a few weeks ago.

Now her fingers undid button after button, exposing his skin to the cool air of the Undercroft.

Though he was surprised at her forward action, undressing him slowly, it wasn’t completely unwelcome. But it didn’t stop a note of panic from rising in his throat like bile.

He hadn’t seen himself naked, and yet all signs seemed to be leading to her seeing him first.

She had seen him once in the dark of her home. Deep under the cover of night and the guise of friendship stopping any lewd thoughts from completely taking over.

He remembered how she gently explored the scarred landscape of his torso. How she gasped in horror at the initial sight, yet embraced him moments later with no care to how he looked.

He could feel her tiny fingers trembling, her breath catching and the tiny sounds of her teeth nibbling at her lip.

She was having this reaction to him.

Sebastian often told him scars feel worse than they look and that he had nothing to fear.

And it was only now he truly believed it.

Emboldened by her want for him and the tiny hesitation her fumbling fingers demonstrated, Ominis reached down and looped his arm under her back, pulling her up and throwing her against the pillows with a barely suppressed growl from deep within his throat.

The combined gasp squeal that left her only encouraged his behaviour.

His fingers dug into her side, keeping his arm around her, her back arched, pressing flush to his almost completely exposed chest.

He didn’t want her to move. Didn’t want her going anywhere. When he said he wouldn’t let her out of his sight, he meant it. If that meant keeping her down here like this, so be it. Especially if she kept pressing into him the way she was, lips urgent and desperate as though if they stopped they could never be this way again. Every movement and murmur to be relished and remembered.

He leant in further, his knee nudging her legs apart and sliding up her thigh. It settled between her legs, her body lowering subconsciously, seemingly searching for any friction she could find.

Ominis felt the way her hips bucked against his thigh, tiny murmurs filling his mouth as his teeth bit softly into her lip.

He tried to remain a gentlemen, he honestly and truly did. But her noises, and soft skin, and hot, warm breath, and-

It was all too much.

He could feel his jaw working as he got progressively more and more wound up, taking all of his willpower to resist the urge to rip at her clothes.

He knew what lay just beneath the surface, could only imagine what her breast felt like as he listened to her breath, heavy and panting. All he had to do was reach out-

Suddenly, He pulled back with a sharp intake of air, his eyes holding a dangerous concoction of love, true love, and an untamed want.

Whether it was the new position they found themselves in or something else…but he could feel himself about to snap.

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t push so hard. You’ve already given me so much”

The soft indents of flesh along her side quickly rushed with blood as his fingers relinquished the hold on her waist.

“No please…take. Take what you want…take me” Evelyn practically pleaded, immediately chiding herself for allowing someone to have this effect on her.

“Be…” he inhaled again, through his nose to clear his head, controlled and calculated “…Be very careful how you word things to me”

“I know what I’m saying. And I mean it. Take me”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her.

And yet didn’t to Ominis.

He recognised the breathy, airy sound of her arousal. The way each inhale took just a second too long as it caught in her throat. The way her breath was hot against his lips. And there was a husk to it he knew only he had heard.

He’d heard it when she woke in a morning, mind caught between slumber and reality. Vulnerable and soft.

He’d heard it when he kissed her, the first word afterwards always carrying the barest hint of a croak.

And he’d heard it when his fingers roamed between her legs. Every murmur, every moan that very same ache to her voice.

It was a privilege to know her this intimately. To be the only one to ever know her this intimately.

And that he was so close to more. More of her.

All of her.

An act he should be terrified of…but wasn’t.

If Ominis was being honest, and rather pessimistic with himself, he never expected to get this far. With anyone.

From his early teenage years he assumed he’d never kiss anyone. Never feel the touch of someone’s skin and it mean anything more than an accidental stumble or at best a gesture of friendship.

And then he met her.

Evelyn and her perfectly smooth voice and fingers that sought him out. No accident needed.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he pulled away from her, propping himself up with one arm, the other holding her waist as though holding something precious and delicate. The heat had melted from his voice, leaving only concern and worry behind. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted her, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted her to be certain.

“I’m…sure…”

Suddenly it felt real…

Panic. Clear panic bubbled in her throat…there was still doubt.

Not with him. He would be perfect, as always…

But since Ominis and Evelyn had gotten closer, she had made the mistake of researching. And her discoveries were…less than appealing.

Every muggle novel or article described her experience as a violation. An abomination of her virtue and destruction of her self worth. The words ‘whore’ and ‘harlot’ jumped from the pages. Combined with what she had heard people say of her own mother as a child…a single mother out of wedlock…it simply didn’t seem worth it.

And the Wizarding World wasn’t too much better.

Yes, Sex was much less frowned upon amongst her fellow witches and wizards. But the almost clinical way that it was described left her feeling no better.

‘A sharp shooting pain can be felt during a woman’s first time as the hyman tears making it an uncomfortable and sometimes painful experience’

That sentence alone bounced around her head.

Pain. Whore. Tear. Violation.

No where, except the fantasies of romance writers, described the ordeal as anything positive. Joyous. Fun.

They were supposed to make love…yet no where even uttered the word.

“…I’m just...” she started, voice shaking just as much as the fingers she clung to him with “…I’m scared…”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t…” Ominis chuckled softly, cupping her cheek and running his thumb across the soft expanse. “I am too in truth…We can take things slowly. And we can stop at any moment. You need only say…”

“I’m not worried about that. It’s going to hurt…” she stated, matter of factly

“I…” he swallowed thickly, but continuing on with a tenderness to his voice “…have heard that can be the case…I’ll be as gentle as you need me to be…but you may be right. It could hurt…”

Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, taking a calming breath in and blowing back through her lips. The cool air fanned over Ominis, a concerned albeit soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I want it to be you…” she whispered, hastily looking at the gap between them and tugging her skirt up. He quickly snapped up her hand, stilling her movements.

“It doesn’t have to be now or-”

“No let’s just…get it over with” she muttered wriggling in his firm but gentle grasp

“Evelyn…” he held her wrist loosely, making sure not to hurt her, eyes hard and face stoic “…I mean it. It doesn’t have to be now. Or ever if you don’t want to. I love you…not your body.”

She blinked.

No where had she read about this.

“Do you mean that?”

“Stupid question really…” Ominis scoffed, his hand releasing her wrist and trailing up her arm. His hand journeyed slowly up to the side of her neck, slowly tracing across her moles on her cheek pointedly before placing his palm against her neck. “…considering I hadn’t touched you properly for the first two years of us knowing each other and yet still fell in love with you”

His fingers travelled softly across her neck, feeling her heart hammering against the soft flesh below her jaw.

“Well…yes but-“

“But nothing, Evelyn” he interrupted “What you say goes. You want to continue? I will oblige. You want me to be forever at your side and never touch you again? I will oblige”

He laughed through his nose, hanging his head a little lower as though telling her a secret “I can’t say I wouldn’t miss your lips…” he murmured as his thumb diverted to run along her lip “…but I would do anything to make you happy”

Evelyn once again found herself at a loss for words though she knew the course she wanted to take.

With her words failing her, she did the only thing she could think of, leaning up to place a soft gentle kiss against his lips.

“Just…take it slow” she whispered against him, falling back against the pillow as a gentle rumble left his throat.

“With pleasure” Ominis murmured before pulling himself away from her.

She almost whined, protesting against his sudden absence, when his eyes darkened.

The way he knelt above her, as though he could see the fast rise and fall of her chest sent shivers down her spine. Shivers she was convinced he could feel, because his hands chased them.

They traced, slowly and methodically, down from her cheek to her waist. They stopped at every juncture that caused her breath to hitch.

The sensitive spot below her jaw that he brushed against, pulling the emerald green ribbon from her lapels.

Her stomach as he skillfully and methodically unbuttoned her shirt.

Her collarbone that his nails grazed, peeling her blouse back.

He almost entirely ignored her breasts, though they heaved and settled as he removed her clothing. It almost made her…needy, wanting to demand he touch her and pull those soft whines from her like he did before.

She soon realised why he avoided that area…

He had other plans.

Like a distraction, his fingers played over the scar along her side, tracing the swirling gnarled skin and finding beauty in it. Beauty in the marks that littered his own body. Beauty in her soft skin and enduring nature.

Then he suddenly yearned to taste that soft skin, head dipping quickly to encapsulate her soft peak in his mouth.

She gasped, harsh and loud, back arching and eyes going wide as her body grew warmer, the familiar buzz tingling its way between her legs..

Ominis simply chuckled, grinning whilst his mouth was full, his warmth breath fanning across her chest. As he grinned, his teeth scrapped across her small mounds, another harsh gasp making her push into his mouth further. Obviously, he did not complain, nipping at the tiny bud at the peak of her breast, tugging it between his teeth.

His fingers didn’t cease in their journey either. After exploring their shared scar, his nimble digits fell like rainfall to her hips and thighs.

Unknowingly, or more likely knowing exactly what he was doing, his sightless eyes looked up at her, his grin wide, her flesh tucked between his teeth. He tugged again gently, earning himself another sinful gasp before chuckling darkly, releasing her breast from his torment and continuing down…

Down…

Down his kisses trailed. Along the ever quickening rise and fall of her stomach, over the boney divots of her hip bones.

He rose on his knees just enough to tug her skirt down and off her legs, feeling the tremble of her thighs as he did.

Thats when he listened. Heard her soft shaking breath. Felt the quake in her body. Heard the way her hands slid over her skin, covering anywhere exposed.

He discarded her skirt with a flourished wrist and turned his attention back to her fully. He felt out her wrist and pulled it away from her chest, holding it loosely away from her.

“Darling…” he whispered, his tone full of accidental amusement “…I’m blind”

“Well yes but…” Evelyn choked out a nervous laugh, squirming beneath his non existent gaze “…instinct I suppose”

Ominis sighed, the jovial tone now lost.

Using her wrist and hooking underneath her knee, he lifted her with ease, pushing her just a little bit more up the bed. Her back now propped against his pillows, leaving her no choice but to look down at her almost completely nude form.

“You have nothing to worry about” he said softly, sitting up between her legs, his fingers idly tracing over her thighs, carefully and slowly dipping below the band of her underwear.

“You are beautiful” he stated with no room for arguments.

He deliberately took his time removing her underclothes. If at any point she wished to stop him, his movements would cease and her virtue remain intact.

But she didn’t.

She simply clung to the sheets below her, staring up at the man above her treating her like fine China.

Once again as her underwear came away, he felt the shake of her leg. Her nerves were understandable but they simply would not do.

Before he allowed her leg to drop down, raised high as he removed that last shred of clothing, he gripped her calf with barely contained want and brought it up to his lips. He pressed along her smooth skin, peppering along her leg till he reached her knee.

“You’re so soft. So warm” he murmured against her skin lowering himself to reach her thighs. He positioned her leg over his shoulder, almost burying his face in the pillowy flesh of her thigh.

“You have no reason to hide…from anyone” he whispered inching closer and closer to the apex of her thighs.

It was only when he placed a kiss against a particularly sensitive patch of her skin that she shook herself from her haze.

Her hand flew forward, grabbing him by the hair and pushing him away.

“What are you doing?” She panted, her voice filled with fear.

She didn’t anticipate that doing that would elicit such a reaction from him.

With her hand still knotted in his hair, his neck craned backwards and his milky eyes seemingly foggier than normal, he looked…sinful. Lips parted and wet from his constant kisses. Jaw flexing in anger from being ripped from his conquest. A dark smile revealing sharp teeth as he chuckled.

“I was enjoying you” he groaned, fingers digging into her hips as he held back “I can stop…but this will be so much easier if you’re ready”

“I am ready” she argued, gulping back the idea of his face buried…there.

Ominis rolled his eyes and couldn’t stop the sarcastic chuckle that left him.

“Please…” he scoffed indignantly, fingers relinquished their grip on her hip to slide under and trace her folds.

Sometimes his memory annoyed him. How he could recall, in detail, every minor inflection someone had in their voice in an argument. How he could still remember the texture of Bubotuber Puss against his skin after yet another catastrophic potions class.

But right now…his memory served him well.

Every divot and fold of her core ran through his mind. He recalled how her fingers pleasured herself and exactly how he could replicate it. The way he had memorised her, gave him a pinpoint accuracy for her desire and the slickness that awaited him.

“You need to-“ his breath caught and his eyes widened when his fingers dipped between.

As before, her need was evident.

He couldn’t help but gulp, his own arousal straining against the confounds of his trousers at this…revelation.

Oh she was indeed ready.

But this little discovery only made him more eager to have her…to taste her.

“Just trust me” he tried to whisper but instead his voice came out as a rough growl. He hoped it didn’t scare her, cursing himself for his thinly veiled want.

“It’s just…” her fingers tightened in his hair and he let out a sharp hiss, his hips flexing against the mattress and sending a shiver up his spine “…it seems so…wrong”

“Is it so wrong to want you to come apart?” He asked as softly as he could manage. With his gentle tone her fingers relaxed, still tangled in his pale locks but no longer holding him back like a rabid dog.

“No but-“

“And is it so wrong for it to be me who does that?” He whispered, slowly lowering himself giving her all the time in the world to stop him.

“No…” her voice broke

“Then do not deny me, love”

He allowed a silent beat to pass between them before he lowered further.

…Then his tongue replaced wherever his fingers had been.

Evelyn couldn’t deny that the feeling was…beyond her comprehension. She gasped loudly and rolled her head back against the pillow, his tongue working to relax every muscle in her body, as though each and every one of her nerves were being stimulated. She felt a heat course through her body.

Strange how an act can be so arousing, so utterly tempting that it winds the spring in your core tighter…and yet also work to immediately satiate that need.

As she gasped and groaned, Ominis did the same, her noises fuelling every flick of his tongue. And he found that each time he hummed or murmured his approval, she shivered and pressed herself down further onto his waiting tongue.

Unknowingly, His nose bumped against that bumble of nerves each time she bucked and moaned beneath him.

And soon it became more of a battle than a slow dance.

His hand strained against her hips, trying and failing to suppress her eager mewling. Until eventually he had enough, looping his arm over her leg, forcing it down as his hand crept up her torso. He gently coaxed her back down, flat against the mattress, feeling each moan vibrate from her chest.

He almost growled, though he contained his grimace against the sensitive area he now resided.

He lapped greedily, like a man starved. And though he was obviously blind, Evelyn noticed as she looked down his eyes were squeezed shut, delighting in every moan he pulled from her.

His tongue, flat and wide, travelled up her form. From her core to the sensitive nub atop, he replaced any wetness with his own.

“You are…” he interrupted himself, another feverish lap up her folds, his nose buried deep against that little spot again “…you taste…”

He flexed every muscle against her, a desperate attempt to stop himself crashing into her like a tidal wave. To trap her beneath him and dine upon her for hours.

Because he was not lying.

His condition made him sensitive to everything else around him. And her warm scent and sweet taste were a perfect addition to her already beautiful symphony of moans and sensations.

“…perfect…” he groaned, his tongue voraciously seeking any point that made her tremble.

He was almost angry for a moment that he could have been potentially deprived of this. Just another layer of her person that he knew and no one else did.

Another facet being just how…needy she was.

He knew this from her guiding him against her before but now…

As he spoke, she pushed softly on his head coaxing him back down even from his brief reprieve…

“Don’t…stop…” she panted, her back desperately trying to arch off the bed yet being held firm by his long arm snaking up to her chest.

And he obliged, diving eagerly back to lap, suckle and nip at her with an increased passion and intensity.

His focus became unwavering against her clit. His attention undivided as he felt her hand grip at his hair as though keeping him in his place. His tongue flicking over and over again groaning from the cacophony of sensations he could feel from her. And the delicious vibration of his tongue made her almost weep.

The ache in her stomach fell lower and lower, her mind reeling that she had almost stopped this.

And now he emphatically dined upon her, keeping her teetering on the edge. Torture in its most blissful form.

“Ah-“ Evelyn whispered before a sharp whimper cut through the otherwise silent room.

Because in her reverie, she hadn’t noticed his other hand move from her hip…and press against her entrance. His fingers curled inside her, filling his ears with such pretty little noises.

A breath caught moan seized in her throat, the only oxygen permitted being sharp little inhales as his finger left and married with another.

Her vision muddied as she bit into her lip, trying and failing to ease her need for him. Everything longed for him. Her stomach ached for more. Not more fingers, not more of the same. Him.

But she was so close.

And not a few seconds later, his fingers beckoning her and his lips locked over her, tongue fluttering…she sank. Sank into the sheets, fingers sinking into his hair, knees buried in his side.

With a loud whimper, nullified through her teeth, she found her release. The tension and fear surrounding the whole ordeal seemed meaningless now as she lay swimming in a hazy soft buzz.

Ominis simply smiled, a purr of satisfaction leaving him as he removed himself from between her legs. He could feel the heat radiating from her. Feel her slick against his nose, lips and fingers. Feel the tremble of her thighs as he situated himself between them again, pulling and spreading her apart.

“We can stop at that…” he murmured, his voice a much lower register than normal, leaning down to kiss along her neck.

It wasn’t completely a lie.

He would happily leave their evening at this, leave her to recover and snuggle into his side. Listen to her soft breathing as they fell asleep.

But even Evelyn, as naive about these affairs as she was, knew he wanted more.

If it weren’t for the brief glimpse of his darkened eyes, it was the hard and throbbing length pressed against her lower stomach as he leant down.

She tried to silence the gasp of shock as it pressed against her but failed. The noise itself sending him into overdrive and taking every shred of his willpower to resist the urge to rut against her.

“No…” she panted “…I want all of you”

Suddenly, she felt as though there were a time limit. As though every second not touching him was wasted time. Her hands sought him out, pushing the folds of his shirt off his shoulders whilst her other hand fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. And once again he encapsulated her wrists in his long fingers.

“Let me take care of you. I just need you to…” he bit his tongue, not really knowing how to phrase such a thing “…are you sure?”

Evelyn nodded feverishly, the haze of her climax still clouding her mind

“Certain…”

With her confirmation, he once again sat up on his knees, tugging at his trousers and underwear and releasing his throbbing member.

It was though the act of seeing him fully for the first time wiped clear the warm fuzzy feeling of her release.

And she gulped.

Because though she hadn’t seen a man naked before, she’d seen diagrams and pictures in books…that looked...large

Its leaking tip glistened in the low light of the Undercroft and the pale pink of it seemed so much darker against his alabaster skin. Almost angry.

“Is…something wrong?” He muttered, gripping the waistband of his trousers, brows furrowing.

“Fine!” She blurted out hoping her lack of breathing hadn’t given him a complex.

She had forgotten for a while…this was his first too.

“It’s just…” she murmured, not being able to take her eyes of it as it swung low. Without thinking, she reached forward, curious to see its comparison to her own fingers.

The moment her finger brushed against the wet tip, it twitched violently and Ominis hissed sharply through his teeth.

“I’m sorry. Did that hurt? Did I…I just wanted to see…” she stammered, pulling her hands back against her chest, retreating away from it as though looking at it could harm him.

“No just…a little warning next time” Ominis said softly, that same nervous cadence to his voice from earlier. The same nervous energy she had displayed not minutes ago…

“Can I-” Evelyn murmured, her hands reaching forward again.

“Yes…” he breathed, sucking in a breath sharply and keeping it in his throat.

This time when she touched him, he didn’t flinch. She marvelled at how soft it was. She didn’t know what to expect when it had been described as ‘hard’ in so many books. She almost expected it to be like stone. Or like tree bark. But it was smooth like silk.

Until she squeezed and realised just why it was described that way. Not only was it much bigger than her fingers but it somehow seemed harder than bone.

A thrill shot up her spine as she watched him.

His eyes fluttered closed as her hand closed around his girth.

His cheeks tinged pink, flushed and flustered unlike she’d ever seen him before.

Lips pursed and wet from her, his teeth biting into himself as she had.

Head rolling back and throat bobbing as she jumped softly away at him, almost out of instinct.

Was he feeling how she felt?

There was no way he wanted her like she wanted him? Yet it seemed that way. She gazed upon a perfect mirror image of herself in the throes of passion.

And she was…elated.

A sick tingle worked its way up her spine as she wondered, truly, how similar their attraction was.

What noises could she pull from him?

She quickly found out as her pace increased around his length and a deep groan left his chest.

Evelyn paused.

She did that…

An almost predatory grin split her face whilst her hand continued before being halted by the bucking of his hips and a desperate, shameful whimper tumbled from his lips.

“E-Evelyn…please” Ominis begged, his stomach clenching almost doubling over as he pulled himself from her grasp.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked, almost embarrassed. She thought she was doing well…for a complete novice.

“No you’re…” he shuddered and bought himself back down to her level, nuzzling into her neck “…you’re perfect. Perhaps too perfect” he laughed against her neck, teething at the skin along her collarbone.

Though the intimacy had taken several steps back, it somehow felt more heated.

Not a moment before she held him gently between her hands, the evidence of her own arousal glistening on his flushed face…

…now he just gently nibbled on her neck.

But something about that alone made her arch and moan into him, earning those same noises from Ominis.

His hips flexed and she felt the twitching and, somehow, harder length rub against her lower stomach. Her soft yet lustful moans were sending his body into overdrive. It was becalming an increasingly difficult task to stop himself losing it and rutting against her as hard as he could. Out of pure primal instinct, she lifted her legs and knotted them around his waist, his member falling to brush softly against her folds.

They both gasped, Ominis pulling back to gaze sightlessly down at her.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, his brows furrowing, forehead crinkling with concern.

Evelyn struggled to hear him over her own heartbeat, hammering in her ears.

“Yes…” she breathed, tilting her hips down towards the twitching arousal at her core.

Ominis sighed, his warm breath fanning over her face. He rocked to the side slightly, leaning his weight on one arm, his other disappearing below. Evelyn watched until his hand was between them, following the cascading moles on his body, the flexing of his muscles and tendons underneath ivory skin. She followed the movements of him looming over her until she reached his eyes, staring off to her right somewhere…

…and they still carried that same concern. That same worry.

As though he could sense her curious eyes trying to read him like a book, he laughed nervously and bit his lip.

“You may need to…guide me” he murmured, voice heavy with something she couldn’t quite identify. Shame? Anxiety? Embarrassment?

He’s feeling the same as I am

As though that wasn’t clear from the shaking of his hands.

Evelyn bit the inside of her lip, suppressing the relieved smile that threatened to expose her. Her hands snaked up to cup his face, his eyes immediately fluttering closed at the comforting gesture.

“Of course…” she whispered before she felt the dull poke of his arousal at her core. Her breath caught on the lump in her throat, his tip swiping up between her wet folds.

Even that, and that alone, made a gruff grumble vibrated through Ominis. And again a sick thrill shot up her spine.

I haven’t even done anything and-

“There!” Evelyn squeaked, immediately humbled as he pulled himself back down to her core.

“Ready?” Ominis asked a final time, as her shallow breathes became faster. She nodded and he simply laughed, despite himself… “You need to talk, love. I don’t know what that rustling of hair means”

“Sorry…yes…I’m ready…” she breathed so quietly even his ears had to strain to hear.

“Okay” he pressed his lips to her forehead before pushing his hips forward.

…

It was like…the worst cramp she had ever experienced.

And it somehow travelled up her spine and down each limb.

She arched her back silently, almost to retreat away from the ache, only to push him further inside with a high pitched yelp.

And Ominis felt guilty immediately.

Because she was so warm. And so wet. And so welcoming. Even with her nails digging into the sides of his head.

It took all of his willpower to halt, cease his movements and feel more of her silken walls.

“Are you okay?” He croaked, all of his energy going into stopping himself from driving into her deeper. Torture in its finest form.

She didn’t respond.

But he could hear, actually hear each individual heartbeat that hammered against her ribs. And it was fast. Scarily…fast…

“Evelyn?” He said almost sternly, all traces of the previous restraint gone, replaced with immeasurable worry. His hand darted to the side of her face, trying to feel for any indication of her wellbeing.

“I’m fine…” she muttered cautiously, her back relaxing against the mattress.

The steadying breaths she inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth allowed her time for her body to adjust. And though the initial snap was sharp and painful, she could now feel herself moulding and conforming to him.

And he felt…almost good.

She opened her eyes, a few tears trickling down the side of her face and looked up at him.

And giggled.

And her walls clamped around him impossibly tighter.

So whilst she was giggling and relishing in the moment, Ominis struggled. Which only made her giggle more, his face contorting with pleasure as she did.

“T-that’s not fair” he panted, his sharp cheekbones turning a pretty pink.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered through barely suppressed laughter.

“You’re okay though, yes?” He asked with increased panic as the tears that leaked from her reached his hand.

“Right now…here in this moment, with you…I’m perfect” she reassured, her thumbs running across his cheeks.

Ominis froze, his features melting to a soft and gentle smile. A smile reserved only for her.

“You’re always perfect…” he murmured, lowering his body down to hers and nuzzling into her neck. His lips danced over her skin softly, earning himself a pleased little hum from her throat. Just the noise itself made his cock twitch inside her and that ‘pleased little hum’ morphed into a sinful whimper.

Which he revelled in…drank it all in, committed it all to memory.

Memorising every noise she made, every whimper and moan and delicious breath that he caused her to choke on.

Noting every touch of her skin and every point of contact. Her soft breasts heaving against his own hard chest. The bones of her pelvis that dug into his every time he pushed into her.

Her soft delicate hands that dropped from his face to his shoulders and dropped further as his pace quickened.

The scorching lines her nails left on his back with each slow, sensual thrust into her.

And he could feel his resolve breaking.

Feel himself drowning in her.

And quickly at that.

Which he expected. Sebastian had told him, he wouldn’t last long.

But now that he was in it, he yearned for more.

So his pace quickened further. His length plunged deeper. Hips slamming harder.

He wanted to feel more. Feel all of her. Couldn’t get enough of her. And with time working against him…he’d have to make the most of it.

Evelyn, was simply happy the pain hadn’t lasted long. And now she could fully experience him with none of the negatives.

And there were no negatives.

He seemed to fill her completely, in a way she didn’t know was possible. An image of his swollen member flashed across her eyelids and she was impressed she was managing to take it.

With every grind of his hips, she felt her core throb. It was a pleasant ache, like the soreness of your jaw after eating too many sweets. And she could feel herself coming undone.

“E-Eve…” Ominis panted, dampening the skin of her neck.

No…just a little longer

She could hear his groans turning softer and his hips stuttering.

And with presumably very little time to discuss it, she forced her hand in between them and quickly ran her fingers over her sensitive and throbbing nub.

The knot in her stomach loosened incredibly quickly, the combination of his girth and her quick little fingers filling her with an untold level of pleasure.

And unlike normally when she reached her climax she couldn’t feel herself clench and tighten.

But he did.

He felt her pulse and tremble around him. Felt her tighten and her back arch and her loud moan that seemed to vibrate through him. She seemed to pull him deeper, an uncontrollably and irregular contraction that consumed him.

And with a guttural rasp, he found his own release, his arm looping around her raised waist and squeezing her tighter.

Whereas, Evelyn did the opposite. Her arms fell limply back to mattress as she felt him empty inside her, the pleasant buzz of her climax once again filling her body.

Ominis clung to the feeling, to her, afraid that it may have all been a dream. It felt like a dream.

The woman he loved, beneath him, wanting him.

His mind spiralled, a clarity running through him and filling him with doubt.

And as usual, as though she were expert it Legilimancy, she felt his swing toward the negative and brought her hands around him. Her fingernails traced delicately down the heaving expanse of his back soothing his buzzing mind.

And he hummed, his body finally relaxing and almost drowning her under his weight.

Evelyn simply laughed, a refreshing and light noise that filled Ominis’ chest with warmth.

He could feel her body calming similar to his, though her heart still raced and her skin was still radiant.

“You’re so beautiful like this, all flushed skin and breathless” he mumbled into her neck, his lips brushing against her collarbone as he spoke, his voice a much lower register than normal.

He rolled up onto his elbow, his fingers unwrapping from her waist and travelling to her face.

He was greeted with the soft smile he associated with her. The face he kept stored for her at all times, only she had a glow about her he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

And she took the opportunity to finish the sentence that started all of this.

“I love you” she whispered, leaning into his palm.

“I love you too”

Masterlist

[missmonsters2]

Heya, i was wondering if i could ask a question about Under the light/you found me?

I'm assuming after under the light yn started her physio again and got better since it seemed she didn't have a limp. But I was wondering if it left any permanent scars? As I was wondering after their first time having sex after the break, wanda might have asked about it while they were in bed? Or when yn was undressed at some point had her back to wanda, she noticed the scars and delicately touched them?

I'd like to think she def had yns body memorised so seeing all the new marks made her want to etch them into her mind. But she also felt guilty, not being there in her time of need (even tho yn didn't want her to see anyway).

So yeah I was just curious whether wanda talked or focused her touch of them after she made love to yn?

Under the Light || You Found Me

Hiii!! This is a mix between explaning and partially written behind the scenes!!

Yes, Reader finished her weekly physio in california and keeps up with her regular stretches and exercises to prevent her legs from getting bad. She still goes to physio monthly.

As for scars, there are definitely some on her legs. Particularly, there's one that starts mid-calf and goes up her thigh to her hip. It's completely healed over but the the scar healed as whatever lighter skin-tonned raised bump.

Reader typically never feels self-conscious about it, but the way Wanda gazes upon her skin, her fingers tracing over the scar can make Reader feel slightly uncomfortable in an insecure way.

"I love you. You're beautiful. You're mine and I'm yours." Is all Wanda ever says when she notices you're uncomfortable.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

They've talked about it a few times late at night when the world is sleeping but they're just basking in each other's presence in bed. The sheets rest just below their shoulders.

"I don't know," you say quietly. "I don't hate the scars, per se. I don't love them either. They're a reminder that I survived." The implied words that your best friend didn't hung in the silence.

Wanda nods because she feels the same way. "I understand. I feel the same way. Not because I think they're gruesome or anything. I love them because they are a reminder you survived and I'm so, so thankful. But they're also a reminder that I was a bad girlfriend—that I was a coward and neglected to notice."

You brush a stray strand of hair behind Wanda's ear.

"I think the way you look and touch them every day has more than made up for it."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There are times when you are in a mood, one that can't quite be explained.

It's your own fault really. Sometimes you neglect your daily streches and miss your monthly physio appointments.

Your legs hurt and you're cranky, and you just don't want Wanda to know.

"Why do you insist on hiding it from me?" Wanda scowls at you.

"Why are you always in my business?" you scowl at her back.

Wanda doesn't engage further, knowing that it'll only lead down to a horrid fight with you that ends up with the two of you feeling guilty.

"Lay down on the couch," Wanda jerks her head towards the couch and walks off to grab some icy-hot lotion.

"It's fin—"

"JUST LAY DOWN!" Wanda yells from the kitchen and you purse your lips before doing as she says.

"Just lay down," you mockingly whisper to yourself as you lay on your stomach.

Wanda comes with the lotion and hovers of you. She debates taking off your shorts but decides to leave it be since they're short enough.

Once Wanda's hands start working in slow motions, massaging your calf and slowly making her way up, and the lotion slowly warming up your muslces, you relax.

It's only about 10 minutes into the massage that you turn your head and watch Wanda's focused face but her eyes filled with concern and love that guilt wracks you.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Thank you."

Wanda eyes merely moves to look at you while she continues working. She looks back at your legs, her eyes trailing the long rasied scar. "I love you. You're beautiful. You're mine and I'm yours."

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

`

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[wsdanon]

hello everyone I made a little poll about this wip on my alt blog, so here it is \o/!! fic for some of the shotgunners (Matt, Felps, Guaxi) except I don’t feel like I’ve watched enough to write about this confrontation + resolution correctly, so just take this little lead up thing I wrote because I really wanted to write something for them…

reblogs appreciated, hope you enjoy \o/!!

Well, Felps is now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Although using rock to describe the demon pathetically clinging to his arm—who made himself smaller just so he could stare up at Felps with wide eyes—doesn’t seem entirely accurate. But it is working. Even if it makes it a little hard to see what he’s signing. 

“Matt…” Felps sighs. How to put this? “I want to stay on good terms with Guaxinim.” 

“It’ll be fine!” Matt insists. “You two have already fought, right? Just say it’s a misunderstanding similar to that if it goes wrong.” 

“He might be too paranoid for that, you know?”

“But we’ve already all investigated together and he was fine then! It doesn’t need to be anything big—just, you know, that you trust me.” Matt pauses, seeming to consider something. “And… maybe that you don’t think people will think badly of him for talking with a demon?”

“Ah, Matt… you’re pushing it a little, yeah?” Felps sighs. “But, fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you!” 

Matt uncurls himself and throws his arms around Felps in a tight hug. Honestly—he is taller than Felps. That crouched position to make himself look smaller couldn’t have been very comfortable for long. Or maybe it’s fine for demons—he doesn’t know. 

Out of Felps and Guaxinim it’s almost funny that it’s shaken out like this. But he’s never been a very good Saint. Does Matt appreciate the irony, too? 

“Okay, okay.” He hugs Matt a little tighter before trying to pull away. For a moment—he doesn’t think Matt is going to let him. “I’ll go talk to him now. But don’t expect it to work, okay?”

“Of course.” Matt smiles—and how can Guaxinim say with so much confidence that the man in front of him is ugly? It’s certainly not true. Not in Felps’ opinion, at least. “Thank you for trying, though.” 

“Of course, of course, it’s no problem.”

He does… sort of trust Matt. Compared to everyone else on the island that isn’t in their group, he could even say he trusts Matt the most. If someone suggested he be added to their chat, Felps wouldn’t argue. They are already kind of investigating with him, anyway. 

He has no idea what’s going on with Matt and Bagi, but maybe if this thing with Xinim and Matt smoothes over he will get an invite. If Meiaum has any reservations about it Felps is sure he’ll easily be able to convince those away. 

With another thank you, and a goodbye, Matt runs off. Leaving Felps with the mammoth task of somehow convincing Guaxinim to be less harsh with Matt. 

“Where are you?” He messages Guaxi. “I want to talk.”

Guaxinim sends his location. With a belated, “Everything okay?” 

“Just have some information.” Felps replies. 

Then he plugs the coordinates into his map and stops focusing on messaging in favour of getting there as quick as possible. It’s starting to turn night, and Felps doesn’t want to deal with the myriad of monsters that will shortly appear. At least he seems close. 

He has no idea how he’s going to do this. Guaxinim worries too much. Or maybe not too much—just… too explosively. After all, Felps is fairly certain he does like Matt, he just… doesn’t want to be seen with him?

With every passing day back on this earth he understands the people on it less and less. 

At least the chaos they create is entertaining, but it does beg the question—should Felps reveal what he is? Will that calm Guaxinim’s mind? He really didn’t want anyone to know, but maybe…?

Matt knows. Matt definitely knows. The first time they met Matt had looked at him like he could see more—like he could see the haze Felps himself sees when he looks in mirrors—red eyes wide and glittering with wonder as he called him Saint Felps after Felps had introduced himself. 

And that’s already one person more than he would like to know. 

But if Guaxinim is worried about Matt’s demon status reflecting badly on him, he shouldn’t have to. As much as Felps isn’t good at being a Saint, Matt isn’t good at being a demon, either. Anyone on this island will easily see that. 

And somehow he has to convey that without revealing what he is. Because, no, thinking about it—two people knowing is quite enough, thank you. And Guaxinim has sold him out before… maybe. Felps is still unclear on the truth of that situation, but he’s willing to put it mostly behind him. 

Mostly. 

He doesn’t want this information getting out, and Guaxinim can’t be trusted with that right now. He’ll save it for if things really start going wrong. 

Guaxinim jumps out in front of him with a hello on his hands, and Felps barely notices the latter—too busy yelping and recovering from the fright. 

“Hey, Felps.” He repeats, smiling a little too much like he finds this funny. “You okay?”

“What a scare.” Felps lets his hands shake as he signs it, then he weakly pushes at Guaxinim. “For the love of god, Xinim, don’t do that!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault, right?” Guaxinim complains. “You were too deep in thought—how else was I supposed to get your attention?”

And… Well, he’s right, but Felps isn’t going to admit that. 

“Listen…” Then he sighs, and looks around, and beckons Guaxinim a few steps to the left. “Come here, come here—it’s too exposed there.”

“Okay, okay.” Guaxinim signs as he follows after Felps with a laugh. 

Good. He doesn’t want this to come off like a serious conversation. 

…Even though they have been having serious conversations like this, too. But it at least adds some levity to the situation. 

———

this is about as far as I dare write with how little I currently know… hope you enjoyed though \o/!!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.170 One more thing

I probably should have waited to have the next conversation, but I figured since we were getting everything in the open, we may as well discuss finding a new house. Besides, she said she missed talking, right? Autumn in San Sequoia is beautiful. It's refreshingly cool in the mornings, and evenings, and warm during the day. I suggested we take Desi and hang out in our side yard for a bit. A little while ago, I packed up the yoga mats I had out there and set up a nice outdoor chill spot. It's clear I'm not gonna achieve my yoga dreams, if you can even call them that. We weren't using the space, so I turned it into something we will definitely use. Since Desiree will be walking soon, I'll have to get her some toys and things out here. But for now, she can take a nap under the sun in the fresh air while Sophia and I talk business.

It was a little cool, so Sophia lit a fire to keep the baby warm. I let us enjoy the weather and silence for a few moments before bringing up Alessia's conversation.

"So, ummm, after the memorial, Less told me she wants to move."

"Oh! That's great. So she's gonna live in your dad's house then?"

"No."

"Oh. So you're gonna help her find a place?"

"Yes, but not exactly what you're thinking."

She gave me that "Watcher, here we go," face, and I knew I had to sweeten this deal even before I presented it.

"Dub and Maia live in a duplex. They live on one side and rent out the other. I think a situation like that will be ideal for us. Less will be right next door if something happens. We'll share a backyard so the kids can grow up and play together. It's perfect for us. And if Less ever wants to move out, we can rent it to another family and have another stream of income. It's a win win for all of us."

"Wait," she said. "You want us to move? We just got here!"

"True, but things change. It's no big deal. We'll still be in San Sequoia. Just another neighborhood."

"But I love it here," she said. "We spent so much time and money making it our own. Luca, you proposed to me here! I gave birth here! This is my home!"

Sometimes I forget Sophia lived in one place for a long time. Plus, she's a lot more sentimental than I am. This house is the sixth home I've lived in. Moving is no big thing to me, even though this particular home is special to me too. I dreamed about living here; I longed for it. But life hasn't turned out how we thought it would, so my priorities are different now. While I could accomplish my goals perfectly from here, I'd be more at ease somewhere else.

"I understand. We've had lots of great memories here. And I know you're concerned about me being too involved in Less' life, but I think the best way to minimize my time away from home is to have her as close as possible. I promised Mama I'd look after her, Sophia."

She let out a looooong sigh and sat in silence for a bit. I wanted to know what went on in her head, but I knew I needed to let her work it out within herself first, so I waited until she was ready to continue.

"What about this house? What will happen to it?"

I honestly wasn't too keen on selling it. I worked really hard to get it, and I didn't want anyone else to enjoy the fruit of my labor.

"We'll keep it," I said, hoping we'll be able to afford to buy a new house without selling this one. "Less won't need us so close forever. This duplex situation is just temporary, so we can come back here when it's over. Maybe we'll rent it out while we're gone."

Sophia winced at that idea.

"Or it can just sit here until we come back," I said.

She nodded and sighed.

"I don't want to move," she said. "I don't think it's necessary. But everything you said makes sense. I do want Desi to be close to her cousins. The thought of her having easy access to them sounds nice. And I know how much you love your sister."

"Thank you. I'm sorry we have to leave here, but I really do think this will be good for all of us."

[cherrygarden]

,

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[hedgehog-moss]

Last time I went to the village to buy bread I saw a woman in the street who was dressed like a 19th-century peasant, complete with a thick old-timey accent with dialect words no one uses anymore—she was telling a little group of people to follow her so of course I had to drop everything and follow her too.

And it turned out she was a theatre actress who has read a lot of local archives in libraries and town halls, and offered her services to organise guided tours of various villages to tell people about local history in a fun way, by playing characters who lived here in the Middle Ages, the 19th century, or WWII. It's such a cool idea! I talked to her for a bit after the visit and she said she wasn't sure it'd work / attract enough people, but she had groups of tourists + local families show up for the visit every week, in every village where she did this, so she think she'll be hired again next summer.

When I joined their group she was talking about WWII, and how my & other nearby villages were known by the Nazis and Vichy as a hotbed of terrorists, with some Gestapo officers killed in bomb attacks. (In retaliation the Nazis eventually rounded up 100+ locals and deported them to camps, as well as shooting a few.) I was mostly familiar with WWII anecdotes from the North-East, where my grandparents lived during the war, and I found it funny how different they sounded—my grandfather made Resistance activities sound well-planned and careful (espionage, sabotage, underground presses, infiltrating railway services etc) while oral histories around here make them sound a lot more spontaneous and—handcrafted? like "Emile brought what we needed for the bomb in his wheelbarrow hidden under a layer of straw and we exploded 2 Nazis."

We then went to visit the former girls' school, and I learnt a lot about my country's history of education for girls! Also it was really sweet because there was an old lady in our group who had attended this school as a child and had lots of school memories to share. Most of them were very wholesome, until eventually our tour guide went "Surely you also have some School Mischief to tell us about" and the old woman at first was like no no no no, I was a good girl. And then she conceded that when she had to sort lentils for the nuns' dinner and she resented one of them for berating her in class, she'd do a shit job on purpose and leave some little stones in the lentils.

Then our last step was the fairground where the town fair was (and is still) held, and our tour guide told us little 19th-century anecdotes (in-character, more like acting them out) that she'd found in old postcards and letters in the archives—how the town fair was where you'd go for your dentist appointment (i.e. to have your bad teeth pulled with pliers with no pain medicine) and to get any object repaired, like damaged pans or clogs; how there were dancing bears and performing monkeys; how one year the merchant who sold linen for women's trousseaus had her linen display trampled "by 300 cows" (might have been an exaggeration) and she hit the cow herder and it started a massive brawl.

My favourite anecdote was how back in the 1800s the local innkeeper was frustrated by the fact that the nearest village is just 10km away, and people who came to the fair often decided to go spend the night there so their journey back the next day would be less long, and so he started to tell them about the beast that lives under the bridge between the two villages. Travellers say horses go mad when they see it and just jump into the water. Some say the beast has dug up corpses from the cemetery because it likes human flesh, though of course it prefers it fresh. I'm now convinced half of local legends were single-handedly created by business savvy innkeepers determined to get more customers than the rival inn 10km away.

I'm sad I only learnt about these visits at the end of summer when they're coming to an end, but I'll definitely follow this woman around again if she returns with more stories next year!

[aliceramblez]

Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

[starkwlkr]

Can I request some hung with old man Logan? Something domestic or soemthing like reader baking for him. I love reading fics of Logan and reader being an old married couple

just the two of us | old man logan

an: anon ily for this request old man Logan needs more love <3 credit to pinterest for the gif btw this doesn’t follow the logan storyline so i added laura hope that’s ok!! sorry if there’s an spelling mistakes!

reader and logan live in a nice little cozy home because i said so 😍

“Taste.” You held the wooden spoon up to your husband’s mouth. Logan sighed, he knew you weren’t going to let him walk away without tasting the brownie batter so he licked the spoon.

For a while you had been craving brownies. While Logan was out working, you and Laura drove to the city to pick up the ingredients to make brownies. It was a fun small girls trip until it was time to come back home. Laura had helped you mix everything together until she got tired, she then decided to go up to her room to watch cartoons. You continued working on the brownies by yourself, that’s when Logan had arrived from work and now here you were giving him a taste test.

“So?” You waited for an answer.

“Bub, you are the best baker in this whole town, city, state, planet.” Logan was going to dip his finger in the batter until you slapped it away.

“No! You’re going to wait like the rest of us, but I did tell Laura she could have the first brownie so just wait.” You told him.

Logan groaned and walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. “How was your day?”

Logan always asked about you day. It didn’t matter if you stayed home and read a book or did some gardening, he wanted to know.

“Good. Laura and I read a new book, we went to buy ingredients to make brownies and now my old man is home so I’d say it’s been a pretty good day.” You started to pour the brownie batter into a pan.

He didn’t mind you calling him old man, in fact, he loved it. Yeah, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but you still loved him. You did admit to him many times that the grey hair was a turn on for you, which made him laugh.

Before you could react, Logan quickly dipped his finger in the batter and licked it clean.

“James! Don’t you dare do it again!” You scolded him. “These are for Laura too.”

“Come on, Laura’s not going to know that I ate some batter,” Logan leaned on the counter next to you. “I’ve been thinking. .”

“Oh no, that’s concerning.” You teased, finishing up with the brownies and putting them in the oven. You turned to face him then wrap your arms around him, bring him closer to you.

Logan chuckled at your response. “I’ve been thinking about taking you and Laura to some place nice. We can do that family shit you always talk about.”

You laugh at his choice of words. “Family shit, yeah that’s what I said.”

“Tomorrow then, I’ll drive us to the nicest place you’ve ever seen, get some ice cream, watch a movie, whatever you want.” Logan leaned in closer, you doing the same.

Before your lips could touch, Laura interrupted you asking about the brownies.

“Not yet, my love, I just put them in. I’ll call you when they’re done,” You pulled away making Logan groan. Laura nodded then ran up to her room. You noticed the frown on his face so you quickly gave him his after work kiss. “Don’t be so sad, old man, the neighbor’s kid wants to have a sleepover with Laura this weekend so it’ll just be the two of us.” Logan definitely liked the sound of that.

Half an hour later, the brownies were ready. Laura took several with her to her room while you and Logan took a plate outside to the patio where your porch swing was. It was a beautiful evening, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and now you were ending the night beside your husband eating some homemade brownies.

“I think Laura is going to ask you for a dog.” You mention, scooting closer to Logan and laying your head on his chest. You held a brownie up to him so he could take a bite.

“No, we are not getting a dog.” He said.

“It would be nice, you know . . .” You bit the brownie after Logan.

“Is this why you made brownies? You want me to get you and Laura a dog?” He looked down at you.

“No, but can you?”

He sighed defeatedly. “I’ll think about it.”

[babybluebex]

needs and wants | eric aqpdo x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in the direct aftermath of the apocalypse, you meet a man who's worse for wear in just about every regard. even though you can't do too much to heal his injuries, it's possible that you can heal his heart. wc 10.6k (she's a doozy) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eric (a quiet place: day one, 2024) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: SPOILERS FOR AQPDO, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT THE FILM SPOILED!, mentions of death/general apocalypse things, panic attacks, mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions (if you know eric's backstory that ended up cut from the film, he talks ab it), far too much intimacy for what this is, smut (minors dni): p in v, tit sucking, condom use 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: umm... i have no excuse for this... other than i need eric on a carnal level lol. hope you enjoy!!

It was funny how your whole world could change in a single day. And it was supposed to be a good day too; you had racked up enough PTO to allow yourself a full day off of work, and you had plans. You were going to brunch with your girlies that you hadn’t seen since nursing school, you were going to rent a movie at home, watch rom-coms in your underwear— you looked forward to sleeping in, taking a bubble bath, going to sleep early. You only achieved one part of that: you hadn’t even received the mimosa pitcher you had ordered when you heard the noise outside, as loud as a rocket taking off on the street just outside the hip brunch place, and you had hardly turned to look out the window when your world fell apart. 

Silence became your norm. Fear overtook you at every turn, giving your hands a perpetual shake that you weren’t certain would ever wear off. You didn’t know too much psychological or neurological stuff— you were a trauma nurse, emergency room and ICU type stuff, you were more concerned with stopping the blood flow and stabilizing vitals than ever caring about the after-effects of shit— but you wondered if the shaking of your hands was forever part of you now. You were good under pressure, never scared, but whatever the fuck those creatures were out there had changed the makeup of your being in a single second. 

When the helicopters buzzed overhead, drawing the monsters toward them and away from the city, and they announced that boats were departing from a nearby dock, you knew you had to go. More than saving yourself, you knew some very hurt and very sick people would gather there. You were sure that FEMA people would be swarming the boats to take care of the sick and injured, but you didn’t know what else to do. Your brain went on a sort-of autopilot, and you did the only thing you could think to do: you followed the crowd out to the docks. 

You had never gone that long without talking. Your throat was so dry from debris and dust anyway that you weren’t even sure that you could talk. Your clothes were torn, various small injuries that weren’t anything some disinfectant and a Band-Aid couldn’t fix, along with a gash on your calf that you had determined would be fine for now but could definitely use some tending-to once on the boat, plus your shaky hands, but otherwise you were fine. When the windows shattered and the monsters invaded, your table had overturned from the force of the sonic blast, and your animal instincts kicked in, throwing yourself behind the table and barricading there. You were one of the lucky ones— you lived. Sure, glass cut up your knees and palms, and you couldn’t even breathe without worrying that your breaths would alert the monsters, but you had lived. That was more than some could say. 

You felt packed out like sardines on the boat. Standing room only, except for the few exceptions of the people who were hurt or passed out. You had meager belongings in your pockets, although you weren’t sure how helpful your dead cell phone or essentially-useless credit cards would be in a time like this, but at least you had your work badge in your purse when you went to brunch. You found someone who looked like they were in charge, dressed in all-grey, not a military uniform but not civilian clothes either, and you silently showed them your badge, declaring yourself as a trauma nurse at a hospital in Brooklyn, and you gestured around, trying to ask if there was anything you could do to help. The woman shook her head, but folded her hands in a sort of ‘thank-you’ gesture.

You managed to stand towards the back of the ship, against the railing, next to the ladder, and you flinched at the loud chug of the boat casting off from the dock. Surely the monsters heard that. Everybody around you seemed to hold a deep breath, anticipatory, awaiting the worst to come at your final moments of salvation, but thankfully the monsters weren’t concerned with you all— maybe you were too far out in the water and, if the announcements from the helicopters were to be believed, the monsters couldn’t swim, so they didn’t care too much about the boat. Or maybe, the sudden sound of glass shattering from the shore, followed by shrill car alarms, captured their attention better. 

You watched, horrified, as you spotted a woman racing down the street, hardly noticeable from the distance, but the sun glinted off of a silver metal pipe in her hand as she raised it in the air, and she smashed the window of the car next to her as she raced away. 

“Hell’s she doing…?” The man next to you mumbled, and you instinctively put your hand on his shoulder to silence him, even though there was no need. The world had changed in a day, habits had formed in 24 hours, and you wondered how long it would take to shake the new habits. You watched the woman flit between cars, trying to outpace the monsters as she smashed windows, but then something else caught your attention. On the dock, there was a man. Wearing a yellow sweater, carrying something that you couldn’t identify, running like his life depended on it towards the edge of the dock. And maybe it did; a few straggling monsters had started after him instead of the woman, and he had to have known as well as you did that the water was safe. 

Your heart rammed up into your throat as he ran, faster and faster, white sneakers hitting the metal dock, and he looked over his shoulder for a moment at the monster that was meters, feet, away from him, before he righted himself forward and hurtled himself off the edge of the dock. Everyone on the boat was watching now as he flew for a brief moment, suspended in the air as time stood still, and then plummeted into the water below. The monsters skidded to a halt at the edge of the dock, one curled claw extended out, a scrap of yellow cardigan stuck on its talon. 

By now, everyone had come to the same conclusion, and started to gather at the ladder onboarding right next to you— the man would need help coming aboard. You all watched anxiously as he surfaced from the water, frantically looking around and gulping air as he tried to keep his head above water and orient himself. Finally, he looked towards the boat, and you could have sworn that he looked at you instead of anybody else. He gained his senses quickly, starting to swim out towards the boat, and you caught sight of the little white whatever-it-was he was holding: a cat. The cat seemed safe and unharmed, definitely soggy but no worse for wear, and you crouched down, extending your arm down the ladder to meet him. 

You didn’t have the strength to help pull him aboard, but the man who had spoken next to you gently moved you, and he grasped the wet man’s arm and pulled him up the last few rungs of the ladder. He heaved breaths, his eyes all big and round as he took in his surroundings. Then, if you were unsure whether he was looking at you before or not, he extinguished any doubts you had this time around, because his eyeline landed on you. He was startled, hurt, traumatized— those wet eyes had seen some things, worse than you had seen. 

You helped him move away from the ladder and back towards a more secluded part of the boat, and the FEMA woman you had “talked” to before came to your side, a first aid kit in one hand and a heavy wool blanket in the other. 

“Sir?” you croaked. Jesus Christ, speaking really was a challenge. You cleared your throat, hoping that would improve things, and you said, “Sir, are you hurt?” 

He shook his head quickly, clutching the cat in his arms, and you spotted the gash on his shin. The leg of his pants was torn and shredded, and you could bet that the wound was pretty fresh. “You can speak,” you told him gently. “We’re safe here.” 

He looked at you, tears streaming down his face, and in a hushed voice, said, “How can you be so sure?” 

They said the boat ride would last through the day and you would arrive by nightfall, but FEMA assured you that the destination would be worth it. A little island, they said, off the northern coast of the state, that used to house a summer camp but was abandoned however long ago. The buildings there, houses, old camp cabins, would take some sprucing up, they told you, but it was safe, and it could turn into home. As night fell, factions were made, and people divided as best as possible— the vulnerable ones, the hurt ones, the kids, went to the inside part of the boat, and the healthy stayed outside, huddled under the wool blankets and trying to forget the cold November ocean air berating their faces. 

The yellow-cardiganed man was moved inside, and you moved through the small crowd in there, doing what you could to help. Passing out crackers and water bottles, winding gauze around bloody injuries, squeezing hands and offering small words of encouragement. It wasn’t a lot, but it felt good to help. 

Eventually, you couldn’t ignore your fatigue anymore, and you sat down on the floor against the back wall with a sigh. It was a low din inside there, so you felt relatively safe making a little bit of noise, and you sniffled and zipped open the inside pocket of your coat. The stuff you had stashed from your purse was in there, and you frowned down at your brick of a cell phone, the screen shattered. You cast it aside, then pulled out your wallet, rifling through it to see what went missing. Thankfully, your license was still there, so if anybody needed identification at any point, you had that covered; an old fast food gift card that you were sure still had money on it but was useless now; and an old paper movie ticket that you had saved with the intention of putting it in a scrapbook. Your heart panged with hurt, and you checked every other section of your wallet, but it was empty. 

Your house keys were certainly back on the floor of the restaurant, and you thought about the key to your mother’s house that lived on the ring. You hadn’t been able to contact her since the monsters came— the last thing you said to her was a text the morning of brunch, telling her to have a good day, and she had sent the classic mom :-) emoticon to you. Was she still alive? Had she managed to escape the monsters? Even though she didn’t live in the city, you wondered how far the monsters had traveled. Her neighbors were a family, with a high-school age son who played basketball and mowed your mother’s lawn; for your sanity, you chose to believe that they had taken her in (along with her prized African violets). 

A little noise came from in front of you, someone clearing their throat, and you looked up through your welling tears to see him. Damp yellow cardigan, wool blanket loose around his shoulders, curls wet and flat to his forehead. He stood still, watching you for a moment, before he spoke, a little louder than the first time but still a whisper. “Never caught your name,” he said. An accent. Not a native New Yorker. 

You told him with a shrug. Your eyes canvassed his frame, watching him shiver a little in what was probably an adrenaline rush, and your eyes landed on that nasty cut on his shin. It wasn’t actively bleeding, but still very red. It looked maybe a little inflamed, a tiny bit swollen, and you started to reach out for it, but stopped yourself. Your hands were filthy and, if infection was already setting in the way you suspected it was, whatever germs you had probably weren’t good for the wound. You withdrew your hand and settled in your lap, and you cleared your throat. “One of the FEMA people can help with that,” you told him, nodding towards his leg. “Bandages and anti-inflammatories and shit.” 

“Aren’t you a nurse?” the man asked, now his turn to nod at you. You had clipped your badge to the collar of your coat and, even though the plastic flower that had once surrounded the metal clip was shattered and long gone, the clip still served its purpose. 

“I am,” you said. “But I don’t have bandages.” You cracked a loose smile, and you winced at the bottle of water and pile of crackers next to you on the floor. “I’ve got crackers and water.” 

“I’m starving,” he told you, returning the small smile. “May I?” 

You nodded, and he worked himself down to the floor (he seemed to be favoring his left ankle a little, the same leg with the gash). He settled back against the wall, sighing heavily, and he took a pack of crackers into his hands and read the label for a moment. “‘Peanut butter’,” he read. “D’ya like these?” 

“They’re alright,” you said. “I used to buy the same ones, shove ‘em in my work bag to eat between patients. Kinda bland and gross, but they get the job done.” 

He nodded, and he tore the corner of the plastic sleeve and extracted a peanut butter cracker. “I used to like the ones with, erm, cream cheese and chives,” he said. “A quick snack at work. S’never what I wanted to eat, but sometimes I’d be at the office ‘til late, and at that point, take what you can get, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “What did you do?” 

“Lawyer,” he said, popping one of the crackers into his mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” you chuckled. “Yeah, you had some long nights… My sister’s husband is a paralegal, he used to tell me all about it.” 

“Cool,” he told you. “And you, Miss Nurse?”

“And me what?” you asked.

“What’s your husband do?” he asked. 

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “I’d have to have one of those for him to have a job,” you said. “No, being a nurse is very, like… If you’re not married by the time you leave nursing school, all hope is lost. You won’t ever have any free time to go on dates or even think about that sorta stuff.” 

“Same with law school,” he told you. “All my mates were engaged or married when we graduated, and everyone always told me, ‘Oh, Eric, you’ll find the right girl! She’s out there somewhere’, and it’s like… If she’s not in my office building or on the subway home at 2AM, I’m not meeting her.” 

“You went to school around here?” you asked, and he (you assumed his name was Eric, based on his anecdote) nodded, then shrugged. 

“Cornell,” he said. “Then got hired at a firm in the city, and just… Never left.” 

“Well, that’s cool,” you said lightly. “I’m assuming you’re not from around here?”

He shook his head. “Kent,” he said. “About an hour out from London.”

“Wow,” you said softly. “That change must’ve been… A lot.”

Eric shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “It was alright, I suppose. At that time, I was sorta fighting with my dad all the time, really wanting to leave and go somewhere but he didn’t want that…” He trailed off, letting the conclusion form by itself. “Haven’t seen ‘em in-person since then. I always said I was busy, or it was too expensive, or… I was supposed to go back home at Christmas… My sister had a baby and I was supposed to meet him then…” He trailed off, obviously at a loss for what else to say, and you sighed.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” you told him, even though you yourself doubted it. “I mean, maybe the monsters are only here. They don’t like water; if they came from here, they can’t get over there.”

Eric nodded slowly. His eyes scanned the room, looking and listening, and he reached his hand out in front of him, making a small noise with his tongue against his teeth. You followed his gaze and found his cat, all furry with white and black spots, being adored and pet by a little boy sitting on a cot close by, and Eric tutted at the cat again. The cat turned their big dark eyes to their owner, and dutifully trotted over, snuggling in-between Eric’s criss-cross-applesauce legs.

“Who’s this?” you asked.

“Frodo,” Eric said, stroking the cat between his ears. Frodo began to purr, his eyes closing blissfully, and Eric said, “He was my friend’s, but she… She told me to take care of him.”

Your mind brought back the image of the woman running, distracting the monsters away from Eric. “Was that the one who…?” you started, and Eric nodded.

“He was her service animal,” he said. “She had cancer, he sort-of alerted her whenever her pain medication was going out… Also kept her company in hospice. He’s quiet, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Well, none of us have to worry about that,” you said, and Eric took in a breath. “Not anymore. Not with the island.”

“Right,” Eric sighed. “Almost forgot.”

“I’m worried I’ll never go back to normal,” you admitted. “Even just two days of thinking like this… Trauma’s so fucking weird.”

Eric nodded in agreement. You caught him staring at your hands, shaking and shivering as they laid in your lap, and he started to unwind the blanket from around himself to settle over you, but you shook your head. “M’not cold,” you told him. “Just… Nervous. Y’know?”

Eric watched you for a moment, making sure that you weren’t bullshitting him (you were a little; your coat was wet through, and you definitely could do with a dry coat, but you would live), and he said, “I think you need to pet my cat.”

“Do I?” you asked with a chuckle.

“You sure do,” Eric nodded. “He doesn’t bite or scratch— he might nibble your fingers a little, but only ‘cause he’s curious.”

You reached out for Frodo, letting him sniff your hand a little before he shoved his solid little head under your fingers, squinting his eyes as you started to scratch behind his ears. You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, and you said, “He’s very sweet.”

“He’s smart too,” Eric said. “He can do maths. Look’it: Frodo, what’s one minus one?”

Frodo, of course, responded in silence, and Eric smiled, cocking his head. “I think that’s impressive,” he said, and you huffed out a laugh.

“Silly,” you mumbled under your breath, moving to scratch Frodo on his chin. “When’s the last time he’s eaten? I can try to find something for him.”

“Last night,” Eric said, his smile faltering. “Sam might’ve given him something earlier this morning, but I didn’t wake up until later.”

That’s how you greeted the island, petting Frodo and sharing light stories about your past lives. Nothing too heavy or sad or emotional, even though it felt like any story about your past life held an air of sadness and mourning. You could try to go back to normal, but normal was long gone. As everyone departed the boat under the dusky stars, there was a large team of FEMA workers to greet you with big, heavy bags and send you to an empty cabin for the night. You and Eric (and Frodo) stuck together, and you received your bags and moved down to a cabin. To your surprise, the lights worked, as did a small space heater in the corner, but you can tell it had been running for some time, because the inside was already warm. Several beds were set up and made with thin, government-issued bedsheets, but it was far better than nothing.

You went about unpacking the bag as Eric moved to the small bathroom and shut the door. There was a change of clothes, sweatshirt and pants and underwear and socks, basic toiletries like a toothbrush and shampoo and a small bar of soap, two bottles of water, a plastic packaged MRE (you had Menu 3, “chicken, egg noodles, and vegetables in sauce”), and some things like Band-Aids and small packages of Advil like what you kept stocked in the ER, along with a sanitary napkin, and, the piece de resistance (courtesy of the American government, you’re very welcome), a condom. You frowned at the last thing and slid it into your toiletries bag underneath the bar of soap to hide it; to be frank, sex was the last thing you wanted or needed. Your brain was still in survival mode, and you didn’t even feel like you could settle down enough to sleep, let alone to fuck. Could anybody here?

You heard the shower squeak on in the bathroom, and the pipes creaked as water rushed through. You stripped off your clothes, exchanging them for the warmer and drier and less dirty option, and you sniffled as your fingers began to warm up, becoming less stiff but considerably more sweaty. The bed creaked under you as you sat down, the springs screaming at you, and you rubbed the paper-thin blanket between your fingers. It reminded you of the quality of the hospital, where you might as well be using copy paper instead of fabric. If you had known that your last night in your bed, with your memory foam pillow and weighted blanket, would truly be your last, you would have savored the experience far more. Would you even be warm enough under those blankets?

You couldn’t ponder it any longer, because Frodo suddenly caught a bee in his bonnet, and he skittered from atop the second bed, where Eric had settled his things before he went to the shower. He careened to the closed bathroom door, and he got up on his hind legs, pawing at the door handle. Wordlessly, he craned his tiny head to look at you, and he made the first cat noise you heard him make, a sort of “mrrow” chirping groan. As you got up and went to grab him (“Eric’s just taking a shower, Fro, he’ll be right back”), Frodo turned back to the door and began to bat at the handle, like he was attempting to turn it.

And then you remembered. Frodo was a service cat. He had been trained to alert for certain things, and Eric had mentioned rising pain levels, but what else could Frodo alert for? Suddenly, your heart jumped into your throat, and you knocked on the door. “Eric? You okay?” you asked, but you received no answer. “Eric? Hey, man, Frodo’s freaking out, are you alright in there?”

It was hard to hear too much over the sound of the running shower, but you heard the unmistakable shaking breath of a gasping sob, and, maybe against your better judgement, you turned the door handle. The door wasn’t locked, and the hinges squeaked as you opened the door. Eric had shed his blanket and cardigan and loosened his tie, but he was backed into the far corner of the bathroom, staring at the porcelain bathtub with eyes as big as dinner plates. The faucet was running, the tub filling up, but Eric was frozen. Quickly, you turned the tap and shut off the water, and you gave him his space as you asked “What’s wrong? Can you tell me what happened?”

Eric shook his head, his mouth contorting into an ugly sob, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked out, and he just kept shaking his head over and over. “No, no,” he mumbled. “No!”

“Hey, easy,” you told him gently. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

“Th-The water,” Eric gasped. “I—I—” His knees gave out, and he slumped against the wall with a sob. He began to claw at his shirt, at the topmost button; even though it was undone, he still seemed to want it looser.

You rushed to his aid, pushing his hands aside and starting at his shirt buttons. His eyes were still shut tight, but you needed to see his pupils— if he was in shock, or if something else was happening, the dilation of his pupils could help tell you. “Eric,” you said softly. “Open your eyes, please. Please? I need to see your eyes.”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and you saw his pupils so big and dark, they almost overtook the brown of his iris. His face was pale, his chest heaving as you undid his buttons, and you pressed your fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse. Fast, hard, heavy. You had been by his side all night, he hadn’t taken any medication that he could be having a reaction to, and he had been eating the same crackers and water that you had. There weren’t many other conclusions to come to— a panic attack. But at what?

Eric sank down to the floor, sobbing and shaking, and you followed him, putting a gentle but controlling grip on his wrists. You didn’t think he would, but you needed to control him if he started to get violent. “Eric, take a breath,” you told him. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you, okay? Everything is alright.”

Eric sucked in a breath and doubled over on himself, and you kept your hands on his wrists as you shifted away— if he got sick, you didn’t want it on your clothes. Although, you were sure you could get different ones somehow. But he didn’t get sick, he just kept crying. You felt awful and tasted bitter in your mouth. Typically, at this point, you would be paging the mental health wing to come by and evaluate him, and you’d move on to the next person waiting in the ER. You didn’t know how to talk someone down from a panic attack. You didn’t even know how to do that for yourself, let alone for Eric.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, it’s okay. What happened? Did something happen?”

Eric’s eyes glazed over you and settled behind your shoulder, and you looked back to see the bathtub. It was hardly half-full, but everything clicked into place. “The water,” you said. “You’re afraid of the water. Is that it?”

Eric sniffled and nodded weakly, and you blinked away tears. “That’s okay,” you whispered. “That’s totally okay. I mean, you had to jump into the water to get away from the monsters, I don’t blame you for being afraid—”

“I was down in the subway,” Eric blurted out. “When the monsters came. I was there, and I couldn’t stop thinking, I just kept thinking, and I… I didn’t have the guts to do it. I wanted to do it, I wanted to! But I was too scared that it would hurt. Was scared I’d looked too fucked up and they wouldn’t be able to tell who I was, and my-my mum, thinking about my mum being told, it would kill her, and I was just thinking… And the water came rushing in. Filled everything up, there was no air… I had to swim, and I can’t swim, I never learned really, but I was swimming and I just thought ‘I don’t actually want to die’. But I started feeling spotty, all lightheaded and fairy, and I think I was starting to drown, but I saw the light and came up…”

You were at a loss for words. If you were understanding him, he had been trying to kill himself before the monsters. It sounded like he was moments away from stepping in front of a train. His saving grace was the flood in the tunnels. You had trouble swallowing as your throat went thick, and you lowered your eyes for a minute before you loosened your grip on his wrists. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be alright. Do you want to take a shower instead?”

Eric shook his head. “Doesn’t work,” he mumbled. “Only the tub does.”

You sighed heavily. “Do you want me to stay?” you asked. “Or I can wait outside the door?”

Eric seemed edging into a catatonic state, just shivering and blinking, and you frowned. You finished your abandoned job of undoing his shirt buttons, and you loosened his tie until it came off completely, and you gently pushed off his stained and ragged buttoned shirt. His undershirt wasn’t in much better shape, the underarms and neck stained with sweat, and you started to take it off, but paused. “Is this okay?” you asked. He didn’t react to your question, just staring at your neck, and you carefully angled his head up to look you in the face. “Eric. Is it okay if I undress you and put you in the bath? I’ll be right here the whole time, I won’t leave you alone.”

Eric weakly nodded, shifting his arms a little to better help you pull his undershirt over his head, and his hands went down to his pants to finish the job. You quickly considered what the next steps were as Eric fished his belt from his pants loops, and you pushed the sleeves of your sweatshirt up to your elbows to free up your hands. Eric, now only in his boxers, gave you a pathetic look, and you took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. You figured that he had forgone removing his boxers for a reason, so you didn’t push it, and you held him stable as he lifted a shaking foot over the edge of the bathtub. He was silent, but you watched tears run down his cheeks as he settled both feet in the water, his grip on your hand so tight that it almost hurt.

Slowly, he sat down in the tub, and the water splashed your hand. It was warm but not hot enough to hurt, and you sat by the edge of the bathtub, watching Eric as he sniffled. He certainly was dirty after two days in an apocalyptic city, and you were sure that you weren’t any better off, and you started to get up to retrieve the toiletry bag that he had brought in with him, settled by the sink, but his tight grip only became more vice-like as you tried to depart. “Don’t—” he choked out, and you shushed him gently.

“I’m not leaving,” you told him. “Just getting the shampoo and stuff, just by the sink.”

“Can you get in?” Eric asked softly, almost at a whisper. “When you come back?”

“I-In?” you repeated. “Like, in the bath?”

Eric nodded. He was watching you with his big, intense eyes, and a shiver ran down your back.

“Okay,” you told him. “Umm… I don’t know if I can. I don’t have any other clothes, and I can’t get these wet.”

“Please?” Eric whimpered. “Need… Just need help.”

Maybe it was because you felt bad for him, or maybe you were feeling something that you didn’t want to consider yet, but regardless of the reason, you nodded. You got up from the floor and retrieved the bag from the sink counter, and you came back to the tub. The sides of the tub were curved, not allowing for you to settle the stuff on the edge, and you quickly handed the shampoo and soap to him. He held them gingerly, and he averted his eyes down to the water as you put the bag down and started to pull off the sweatshirt. “Eric,” you said softly. “You can look. You’re gonna see everything in the next few minutes anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Slowly, Eric raised his eyes up, but he still didn’t look staright at you. At least now it wasn’t obvious that he was avoiding looking at you like before, where it felt like he would be burned alive if he looked. You carefully pulled the sweatshirt over your head and set it by your feet, then you pulled down the sweatpants and stepped out of them. Your heart was beating quickly as you lowered yourself into the bathtub, sitting with your back to Eric, and he nudged his legs a little wider to allow you to sit comfortably. The water felt good on your aching muscles, especially your back, and you sighed lightly. You sat for a moment, trying to drum up enough courage to turn to him and start to help, but he beat you to it.

Eric’s hands were warm, his palm a little rough, as he touched your shoulder, sliding his hand down a little to reach your back. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and he lowered his hand back to the water. He cupped his palm and let water flow in, then he brought it up to you and wet your hair. Was this his definition of help? To help himself, he had to help others? It made sense, but it still took you a little by surprise. You don’t think anybody had ever washed your hair for you, not since you were a kid. But this was different, in just about every way possible. It was intimate in a way that made your breath catch in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as Eric lifted a hand and tilted your head back to lightly pour water over the front of your hair. He was careful in his work, making sure not to get it on your face or in your ears, and you listened to his breathing even out as he diligently did his task.

The shampoo was some cheap, basic crap, didn’t smell like anything and was only good for getting the oil out of your hair, but the way that Eric worked it into your hair made it seem like it was made by the gods. You felt relaxed, the first time in a long time, and your eyes slipped close as his fingertips worked into your scalp. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that good, especially by someone else’s hands— maybe years, it was hard to say. You knew that, no matter how good it felt, you couldn’t sink too hard into the feeling of it. Eric just needed to help you, and this was his help; nothing more, nothing less.

He gently poured water from his palms over your hair, rinsing it out as best as possible, and you felt that hot streak shoot up your nose. You wanted to cry. You hadn’t cried in… You had no idea. It certainly had been a long time, and you frowned and gulped as you held down the tears. Unluckily for you (or maybe luckily; it was nice to know Eric was so attentive), he noticed your catched breathing, and his hands gently settled on your shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Are you?” you answered, almost a knee-jerk reaction. Don’t worry about yourself, worry about your patient, your friend, anybody else. You came last in your mind, everybody else was more important than you.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Eric said firmly. “Are you okay?”

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that nothing was wrong. He didn’t need to worry about you, you were tough, you could handle yourself. You watched as water filtered through your own fingers, pooling in your palm but escaping out of every little break and crevice possible, and you pursed your lips as you slowly rubbed your face, trying to wash away to grime and dirt. You shook your head lightly, trying to come up with any words to express yourself, and you wiped off your cheeks as you sniffled. “I don’t know.” You couldn’t come up with any better explanation; you just didn’t know if you were okay or not. Your hands slid down your face and flattened up against your neck, and you sighed. “Are you okay?” you tried again.

“I’ll be okay,” Eric told you. His hands smoothed down your shoulders to your arms, and he squeezed your upper arm for a moment before he went for the soap, starting up a lather between his palms.

“Well, sure, we’ll all be okay eventually,” you replied. “But are you okay right now?”

Eric waited until he was washing your back to answer. His sudsy hands slipped over your skin easily, but he dug his fingertips into your muscles, offering relief. “I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I don’t know what I am right now, to be honest. Head’s just full of… I don’t know. A whole lot of noise, but not any one thing. It’s all quiet out here, but in there, it’s just…” He sighed, and his hands halted at your sides. He obviously had been on track to move to your front, doing his job on autopilot, and he only thought about what he was doing as he was about to do it.

Silently, you shifted your weight back just a hint, closer to him, trying to tell him that it was alright without saying the words. He quickly caught on to what you were telling him, and his hands slid around your body to your front. To your relief, he avoided where you had expected his hands to go, instead wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hugging himself to you, setting his chin on your shoulder. “You make it quiet up there,” Eric whispered, barely above a breath, like he was afraid of saying it out loud. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why… But you start talking, and it’s like everything else fades away.”

That was your breaking point. Tears started to fall from your eyes, and you sniffled as your hands reached up to your neck and clutched his wrists, looking for anything tangible to hold on to while you cried. And cried you did, your face contorted as you sobbed, your shoulders shaking and chest heaving, and you squeezed Eric’s wrists. He was quick to move impossibly closer, molding his front to your back, and his arms slipped down to your middle, squeezing you tightly as he buried his face in your neck and began to cry as well. He was much quieter than you, not having nearly as much that he held back and needed to get rid of, but it felt good to have someone commiserate with you.

You weren’t sure who moved first— maybe there wasn’t a first to move, maybe you both moved at the same time— but somehow your foreheads came to touch, and your crying pettered down to a sniffle and watery eyes. Your hand came up to touch his cheek, scruffy with a few days’ old beard trying to grow in, and your thumb stroked his cheekbone. He keened into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. His big brown eyes, so full of every emotion, hidden just so but easy to see if you knew where to look, locked on yours, and your lips fell open in anticipation of his mouth on yours.

Instantly, though, you shifted away and lightly cleared your throat. This wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t know if there would ever be a time for that again. Quietly, you splashed water on your face, and stood up, carefully getting out of the bathtub and going after the towel that sat on the countertop. You scooped your clothes up off the floor as well, and you escaped from the bathroom without a word. You were sure he was confused, maybe even wounded, but you didn’t care. On some level, you did want that— you wanted to feel wanted, to feel adored, cared about, and Eric was a great guy for that, but you didn’t want just that. You wanted a life, you wanted a partner, you wanted love— not just some trauma-borne fuck that you forgot about as soon as it happened.

You dried your body and slipped into your full outfit, pants and sweatshirt and underwear and socks, and you sat on your bed as you dried your hair. You listened as, inside the bathroom, the water sloshed against the side of the tub while Eric moved around, and you watched as Frodo calmly stalked the perimeter of the room, seeming to check every nook and cranny. You put your damp towel to the side and tutted out at the cat, and Frodo looked up at you for a moment before he scampered over to you, hopping up onto the bed and settling himself in your lap. “You’re a good boy, Fro,” you whispered, stroking his back. “Such a good boy.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Eric’s voice floated to you, and you turned to him. He was now all clean as well, his hair soggy and his face free of grime, wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt. His hair was pushed away from his face, and you could see, even in the dim light, freckles dotting his forehead.

You sighed. “No,” you replied. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Did you not want me to…?” Eric began.

“No, no, it’s not that,” you told him quickly. “Not that at all, I did want you to, I just… I don’t know if I can do all that.”

“All what?” Eric asked. “What did you think was going to happen if I kissed you?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I don’t know, I assumed more would come of it. And I just don’t know if I’m ready for more. Even before the world came crashing down, I wasn’t ready for more. That’s why I didn’t have anyone; not because I didn’t have time, although that was true. I’m just… Scared.”

Eric quietly moved towards you, bypassing his bed and settling at the extreme edge of yours, as far away as possible while still occupying the same space. Frodo looked at him with thin eyes and he slowly blinked at Eric, and his tail flopped in an indignant half-wag. “Scared of what?” Eric asked.

You sighed. “That I won’t be right for anyone,” you said. “Even back when I was on the market, people always… I don’t know. Wanted more, and for whatever reason, I could never give more to them. I was always so afraid of what would happen when I finally gave all of myself to someone that I never did, and by the time I figured out that someone did want all of me, it was too late and I’d already lost them. I can never win— I’m always never enough or I’m too much. I’m never just right.”

Eric thought on your words for a few moments, and he moved closer to you, just an inch. “Yeah,” he said. “But that was back then. Everything has changed. Everything is different now. You don’t need to be afraid of being what’s right, because what used to be right is just… All sorts of fucked up now. Nobody knows anything anymore. I certainly don’t. But I know what I want, more than I ever have before.”

“And let me guess,” you said. “You want me?”

You hoped that calling him out on his cheesy cliché would have him back down. You liked that he wanted you, and you wanted him too, you wanted him so badly that it hurt, but you didn’t want him to mistake wanting you for wanting a connection with someone.

“I want to be okay again,” Eric told you. “But I need you.”

That was the most magical word of all. Need. It punched a hole in your heart and took your breath away, and you watched him as he watched you, just seeing who would dare to break first. Frodo seemed to know something you didn’t, because he jumped up out of your lap and skittered across the room with an uncharacteristic yowl, and you frowned as he sped away, but your frown was quickly wiped off your face as Eric bridged the gap and kissed you.

You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He held your face as his lips moulded to yours, a perfect fit as you kissed back, and you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt good to kiss someone, to hold someone and be held by someone. You forgot how much you missed the feeling of another person, and you melted into his body as he claimed your hips in his strong hands. His knuckles were scuffed up, but he held you so gently, and you easily fell back onto the bed. He followed you, settling over you like he had done it a thousand times before, but the way his hands slowly slid up the sides of your shirt to touch your bare skin showed you how much it meant to him. Slow and gentle and sweet, he was everything you had wanted from a partner and a lover for as long as you could remember.

But you could tell, even though he was being sweet, how badly he wanted to have you. His kiss was greedy, shifting away from your mouth to kiss your chin and jaw and neck, almost feral with his need for you, but you welcomed it. Strong emotions like that were flattering, especially here and now, and you didn’t waste much time before sliding your hand past the elastic waistband of the sweatpants nestled around his hips. Your palm found his cock instantly, and you held in your gasp of surprise at his size— he definitely had something to be proud of. His skin was warm through the layer of his underwear, and you paused and widened your eyes at him, a quiet question of how far he wanted you to go.

“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” Eric whispered. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You shivered underneath him at the sweet name he had bestowed on you, and you quietly asked, “Do you want me to…?”

“God, yes,” he moaned. “Haven’t done this in so long…”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile as you slipped under his briefs, and your fingers wrapped around his thick length. His skin was hot to the touch, his cock rock-hard, and he moaned softly into your neck at the contact. Whether he meant to or not, his hips rolled forward, pushing himself further into your grip, and he quickly whispered, “M’sorry, fuck—”

“Don’t apologize,” you told him. Your free hand went to cradle his cheek, and you shifted his face so that you could kiss his plush lips again. “It’s hot.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eric asked. “It’s hot how…” He paused to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip with his front teeth, and he continued. “How desperate I am?”

“I am too,” you told him. “I just hide it better.”

Almost as if he was checking if you were lying, his hand skated down from your side and into your pants, letting his fingers mold to your cunt, and he chuckled lightly. “God, you’re wet,” he smiled. “That makes me feel better.”

“Were you worried I wasn’t?” you asked.

“Just a little,” Eric whispered, wrinkling his nose. “But I figured you’d tell me if something wasn’t working for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you told him. You chased him into another kiss, and his tongue invaded your mouth. It had been so long since you had someone make you feel like that, and you whined softly into his mouth. “Eric, please.”

“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“Anything,” you whimpered. Your legs shifted, coming up to anchor around his waist, and you slowly started to stroke his cock, teasing his soft head, just to see his reaction.

Thankfully, his cheeks went red, and that pretty pink mouth of his opened in a moan, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he mumbled, “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m already too close for you to be doing that.”

“Already?” you asked. You sounded a little more surprised than you meant to, and you quickly added, “That’s really attractive, Eric, I hope you know that.”

“What is?” he chuckled. “That I’ve got a short fuse?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged sheepishly. “I think it is, anyway. How can I help you?”

“Umm,” Eric said, then swallowed thickly. “Can I… Tits?”

You smiled at him, and you laid a gentle kiss on his lips before he shifted away, letting you pull up your sweatshirt. Your little survival packs hadn’t provided you with a bra of any kind, and you watched Eric’s already-wide eyes flare out at the sight of your chest. He didn’t say a word before he moved down your body and started to kiss everywhere he could reach, taking time and care on your tits. Your hand fell out of his pants at the angle shift, and you settled your fingers to twist in his damp curls as his own hand replaced yours, jerking himself off as he gently licked at your hardening nipple.

“S’that okay?” he whispered, casting his doe eyes up at you, and you nodded quickly. “’Cause if it’s not, I can stop—”

“I promise it’s okay,” you whispered. “I swear.”

Eric smiled. “She swears,” he whispered under his breath, and you giggled. “She swears she likes when I suck her tits. Aren’t I a lucky guy?”

You could hardly ignore the hot pressure between your legs, and you snaked your hand in-between your bodies and started to push down your sweatpants, but Eric noticed what you were up to, and he tugged his hand out of his own pants to capture the waistband of your sweatpants in his grasp. “Please,” he said. “Allow me.” You could tell that he intended to be funny, but his flushed face and fucked-out pupils made it seem a lot more pathetic than you’re sure he meant to be, but that just made a rush of heat strike your core, and your head fell back in bliss as you felt your hot skin slowly exposed to the air.

When you lifted your head back up to look at him, you watched as he shed his own clothes, finally matching you, and you bit your lip as his heavy cock rose to lay against his tummy. He had the thinnest trail of hair coming from down his belly button, smatterings of hair on his chest, a nicely-groomed bush of hair at the base of his cock; he clearly cared about the way he looked, and you loved that. You wondered if the Eric you knew was anything like the Eric before the monsters came, and you watched as he leaned back and began to gently place kisses down the length of your body. He was soft and gentle with you, although you were nearly certain he wanted to take you then and there, and you wiggled a little under his lips. “Can we…” you started. “Do that later?”

“Do what?” Eric asked.

“The whole ‘sweet and kissy’ thing,” you said. “Not to sound, like, sex-starved or anything, but I am, and I think my heart’s gonna explode if you’re not inside me soon.”

Eric chuckled, obviously not expecting that level of honesty out of you, and he pushed his damp curls off of his forehead. “Whatever you’d like, sweetheart,” he told you. “As long as you promise to let me eat your cunt eventually. I can only go so long seeing you like this and be expected to not put my mouth on you.”

“Sure,” you replied, secretly excited that he was expecting a second time.

Eric swiped a quick kiss on your mouth, and then he furrowed his eyebrows. “Umm…” he began. “I— Do you… Are you on any birth control or anything?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you sighed. “I was, but all that’s back in my apartment in Brooklyn. Haven’t taken my pill since, like, three nights ago, so I’m basically fucked for the whole month.”

“Fuck,” Eric whispered, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I guess, are you alright with this, then? We can figure something else out—”

“There’s, umm,” you winced. “A condom, in the bag with the shampoo and everything. There’s one in mine, and I bet there’s a second one in yours too.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Eric laughed. “That’s… That’s pretty funny.”

“Apparently, FEMA knows what people do in times of crisis,” you smiled.

“So, what I’m hearing,” Eric started, moving himself off the bed and going to your toiletries bag on the floor. His back turned to you, and you felt your eyes widen in shock at the state of his ass. Jesus Christ, this guy had a great ass, smooth and plump and perfectly rounded; you almost wanted to reach out and bite it. “Is that we can fuck twice, and then we’ll need to figure something else out.”

“Is that so?” you asked, and Eric came back to the bed, deftly tearing open the condom wrapper. You leaned up on your elbows to watch as he got back up on his knees, caging you between his thick thighs, and he made quick work of rolling the condom down his thick length, making a quiet grunt as he got it situated the way he wanted. “What makes you think there’ll be a third time? Or a second, for that matter?”

“Won’t there?” Eric asked. “You seem pretty into it right now. Or least your cunt is; look at how wet she is for me.”

“Well, yeah, now,” you teased him, biting the tip of your tongue, trying to will your thundering heart to go back to normal. “But what if, when everything is said and done, you’re actually a terrible fuck and I don’t want anything else to do with you?”

He laughed deep in his chest, and he took your thighs in his strong hands and opened your legs, smoothly settling himself so he could rub his hard cock against your weeping cunt. You felt blood thrumming under your skin, making every inch of you pulse and surge, and you whined high in your throat when the head of his cock caught at your hole, threatening to slip in with ease. “I doubt that, sweetheart,” he told you. “I’ve been told I’m a fantastic fuck.”

“Are you sure they weren’t trying to keep your ego intact?” you asked, and Eric tilted his head curiously at you.

“Well, they weren’t telling me much of anything,” he said. “Usually, by the end, they’re so fucked-out and brainless that they can hardly string a sentence together.”

Then, without a word of warning, he gripped your hips and slid himself inside of you, and you gasped. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten what sex felt like, but this was something entirely new and different. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock, even through the condom, and he gave a delicious throb as you tightened your thighs around his hips. “Fuck!” you yelped, and a shade of worry passed over his face for just a moment. “I-I’m okay,” you told him quickly. “Just… Fuck, Eric, you’re so big.”

“You flatter me,” he chuckled. Slowly, he began to rock his hips into you, moving shallowly at first, just letting you get used to his size, and his dull fingernails buried into the flesh of your hip. You couldn’t help all the little noises he caused you to make— you could feel every inch of him, burying deep within you, stretching you and filling you like he was made for you, and he leaned down and ghosted against your lips with his. “Feel good?” he whispered, and you nodded quickly.

“Do I?” you asked softly. Your arms went around him, holding him close to you, and you pressed your fingers into his shoulders. He felt like a lifeline, his warm skin keeping you grounded, and you didn’t even care if you sounded pathetic or insecure. He made you feel good and safe, and that’s all that you cared about.

“Fuck, so good,” he grunted out. He was picking up speed, gaining a good rhythm that made you wonder how prolific he had been before his career got in the way, and you listened to the bed squeak under you as he mumbled, “So warm… So wet… You feel like a dream… Remember that short fuse I talked about?”

“Really?” you smiled. “Already?”

“Listen, woman,” Eric started, and you dragged him into a messy kiss. You loved him talking like that, and it made you realize just how close you were as well. He tugged away from the kiss to take a deep breath, and he went in to kiss you again, hungry and wanting you. He was going fast now, pumping in and out of you, leaving pleasure and sparks in his wake, and your legs twitched and tightened as the knot in your belly twisted closer and closer to its end. “I haven’t had sex in years,” Eric continued, finally tearing himself away from your lips. “And my right hand can only do so much after a while. So excuse me for being a little quick to the draw tonight.”

“How many years?” you asked.

Eric sighed. “I dunno,” he said. “At least since I graduated law school, so… Five years, maybe?”

“God,” you chuckled. “That’s… A while.”

“No, wait,” Eric said. “Three years. My birthday a few years ago, my mates took me out to a bar, and I met a girl, I spent the night at her place… And she never answered my texts after that.”

“Ouch,” you hissed. “That must’ve hurt that ego of yours.”

“Not gonna lie, it did,” Eric laughed. “But it’s for the best. I didn’t have time for a girlfriend anyway, I would’ve been an awful boyfriend to her. Or to anyone, not just her… What about you?”

“Umm…” you started. “Sex… Yes, I know what that is. Definitely a thing I’ve had before now.”

“Don’t play with me like that,” Eric started, jokingly wide-eyed and startled, and you laughed.

“About the same, I guess,” you said. “Three-ish years… It was back a few years ago, I was feeling bad about getting older and having a career but no partner, so I… I went on a dating app, found a guy, and we talked for a little bit and hooked up, but I got a bad vibe from him, so I broke it off.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Did you like him?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “And he wasn’t even that great in bed.”

“So, I’ve got him beat in every category, right?” Eric asked.

You kissed him again, cupping your hand across the back of his neck, and he smoothed his hands up your body lovingly. “You’ve got everyone beat, baby,” you told him.

“I think you’re an angel, actually,” Eric told you, and you shyly shook your head. “No, no, I think so. I don’t care if you don’t agree, that’s what I think.”

“Whatever you say,” you told him. “Can you, umm… Maybe a little faster?”

Eric obliged, pistoning his hips quicker to fuck you to your liking, and his hand floated to your pussy, his thumb gently rubbing at your throbbing little clit. You whined and scratched at his back, tightening your legs and digging your heel into that ass he had, and the electric shocks that ran up your toes and into the rest of your body started to become too good, too much. “Eric!” you gasped. “Eric, fuck!”

“I’ve got you, angel,” Eric whispered in your ear. “I’ve got you. Let me see that pretty face when you cum, yeah? Wanna feel your cunt squeeze me, fuck, I need it.”

You looked down at yourself, watching as his hard cock plunged in and out of your hole, leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock, and your whining and whimpering almost had the wet squelch of your bodies together beat. Then, almost against your will, your whole body relaxed, every muscle feeling like it went slack, and you sobbed out your final moan, your head falling back as your nails went hard into his freckled shoulders. You felt your wet cover your inner thighs, and you panted as Eric chased his own end. You didn’t have to wait too long before you heard him choke back a moan, and he spilled himself inside the condom. You felt the warmth of his spend inside you, and he slowly pulled out of you with a hiss at the sensation on his sensitive, softening cock.

He was quick to take care of the condom, and he came back to the bed and settled in the small, empty space beside you. His red chest was heaving, his cheeks flooded with pink color, and he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you close to him. You melted into his warmth, mashing your cheek against his hard chest, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t eaten real food all day or what, but I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” you giggled. “I think you were just that good.”

“Once again, angel,” Eric whispered, settling a soft kiss on your head. “You flatter me.”

You fell into a comfortable silence then, listening to each other’s breathing even out, and Eric cleared his throat after a while. “Typically, at this point,” he started. “I’d be smoking a cigarette.”

“Oh my God, Eric, no,” you groaned. “Don’t you know how unhealthy that is?”

“Oh, right,” Eric chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Miss Nurse. So concerned for my health.”

“Right,” you told him. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to have breathing complications or worse early in life from smoking.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Eric told you. “I think I need another shower after that, though.”

“You do sorta stink,” you giggled, and Eric rolled his eyes. “If you shower, I can be making food.”

“Food?” Eric asked. “There’s food?”

“Yeah, an MRE,” you told him, and you grunted as you got out of bed, going in search of the plastic-packaged meal. “Chicken and noodles. I didn’t see what yours was.”

“Fuck,” he laughed. “I’ve got a sexy woman making dinner for me? I might keep you around after all.”

“You have to keep me around,” you told him. “Who else is supposed to help you raise your cat?”

Frodo seemed to know his cue, because he revealed himself from behind a bookshelf, batting a bit of cobweb on his nose, and Eric smiled. “I suppose you’re right,” Eric said. “Just don’t feed him too much; he’ll get fat. He’ll also try to attack your hand if you pet his belly, so don’t do that either.”

“Noted,” you told him. “Go shower, handsome, this should be done by then.”

Eric took a moment to wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to your temple, and he softly said, “I wish we could have met any other way. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you told him, turning in his arms to give him a real, genuine kiss. “I’m so glad you found me.”

[xitsensunmoon]

My first ever comic con! And first cosplay too. Of course it's gonna be my boy :] Ramblings about the process are under the cut(Let me know if?? You would want me to elaborate with process images for any of the steps?)

The costume took me forever to make, as I've never done any machine sewing, sculpting, fabric dying or spray painting before but learning all of these was so fucking fun!! I never realised just how many different skills go into making a cosplay but it was so worth it!!!

Almost all of the clothes(except the hat) were purchased first as bases, but all of the detailing was added by me. All of the fabric used was originally just scraps that I was given for free so I needed to learn how to dye and dye all of the stars, they were originally white.

The sewing machine was its own beast that brought me tons of frustration from the lack of skill and knowledge (it was devastating to find out that 95% of fuck ups were my fault and not the machine's lmao). But as a result, a hat sewn from scratch, all of the fur trims, embroidery on the corset, stars and the collar(which is very hard to see on the pictures unfortunately) was all added manually. The stars and the stripes(on the back of the cape) were attached using heat-and-bond adhesive (I WISH I knew about such thing just when I started working on this. It would save me so much time and nerves.)

Then I found out about polymorph(mouldable plastic) and it has become the next thing I wanted to learn, to sculpt the claws and the fangs(yes, they're handmade jfksjs). The claws I then primed and painted in trillion coats because I wasn't satisfied with the colour of the spray paint. The fangs I moulded to my own teeth and then stained with tea to match the colour of my teeth :)c

As for makeup, I used Mehron Paradise water activated paints. At first I wanted to try to save money and bought myself Snazaroo instead, which unfortunately turned out to be a waste. Snazaroo didn't hold on my face for longer than 2 hours, cracking and peeling awfully. Mehron on the other hand survived 11 hours of me smiling, talking, emoting and such and didn't even crease at the smile lines(I'm actually shocked about that). It obviously works like any other makeup which means your skin texture and wrinkles won't go anywhere but Mehron's elasticity pleasantly surprised me. It did obviously smear from sweat and saliva(if you're eating and licking your lips) but if you don't touch the skin it just dries again, self setting. But if it's dry it's fully smear-proof. Highly recommend!

And last but not least, I've decided against painting my hands as it was very risky that I will stain everything I touch at the smallest hint of sweat. So instead I got myself gloves-tights(? Not sure how they're called but it's made from the same fabric as tights) and painted them with normal acrylic paint(did you know you could dye fabric with acrylic paint? I personally didn't), then heat set with an iron and voilà, they're reusable, my hands are not stained after an exhausting day and I don't stain everything I touch. It worked wonderfully which honestly was a surprise as I was really sceptical that acrylic paint will somehow stay in place.

I think this whole thing took me minimum of 6 months with big-big breaks for my school and life in general. But I'm really proud! This project taught me so many new skills and I couldn't have been happier about learning new knowledge, even if it sucked to fail in the meantime.

Everyone at the con was really nice and gave me a large confidence boost even tho it was my first time and I had no idea what I was doing. Taking photos with other people was really awkward/new for me as I hate cameras so I really had no idea how to pose/behave in front of one. But that's okay I think. This whole experience definitely made me want to do this again, so I think that will come with experience. Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed this little summary :)

[jsprnt]

you and your boyfriend fight about how much less time he’s been spending with you

jude bellingham x reader

A/N: first jude one-shot after writing a 16 part series of him, let’s go!! based on this request!!

W/C: 1.936

"where are you going? you told me you were off today..”

you say, brows furrowed as you look up from your laptop. you're greeted by an obviously frustrated-looking Jude, dressed up and ready to go out.

"I am off today. I'm about to head out with the guys.." he says, opening the fridge, sticking his hand out, and grabbing a cold bottle of kombucha.

"oh.." you trail off, eyes gliding back to your laptop screen, words dancing on your word document.

you'd been fully focused on writing your essay for your university class. school had kept you incredibly busy lately, and you had only a matter of a couple months left before you could finally graduate.

jude had also been very busy with his career. long hours of training, his matches out of the country, keeping him from spending time with you.

you had found it difficult to even sit and talk together for more than an hour, because either you had to work on something for university, or jude needed to go out for his work.

you had not told him yet, but it drove you absolutely insane. before you both had moved to madrid for his career, you had a fair amount of time to spend with each other , but now that he'd transferred to real madrid- even a moment together felt impossible...

unbeknownst to you, you clench the pen in your hand tightly, trying hold yourself back from spitting out absolute nonsense.

your eyes flicker back to the kitchen when you hear jude rummage through the kitchen cabinet.

"what're you doing?" you ask, sucking in a breath, and getting off the chair you’re sitting on. walking over to him, and leaving your laptop behind on the dinner table.

"looking for a bottle opener.." he mumbles, opening a few drawers halfway, before closing them haphazardly.

"it's in the third one.." you mumble, mood noticeably down, as you open the drawer and hand him the silver bottle opener. 

"here.." you say, snarky tone slipping, even though you try your best to suppress it.

"what's up with you?" jude asks, opening his drink with a 'pop', before pouring the contents of the bottle into a glass. 

"nothing.." you mumble, not daring to look him in the eye, knowing you'll explode in frustration if you do.

"you're definitely hiding something.." he says, chugging his drink down, before slipping his phone into his back pocket, indicating he's about to leave.

the action triggers you instantly, and you look up, your eyes burning holes into his face.

"can you just go already? you're so eager to leave, just like every off day you've had for the past month.." you spit, fingers gripping the kitchen counter, as a scowl is plastered across your face.

jude pauses for a second, eyes widening for a moment, before he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"what are you on about? can I not enjoy my day off with my mates or something?" he asks, voice clearly upset. his brum accent is thick, annoyance showing as wrinkles etch into his forehead.

“no, it’s not like you’ve spent every single fucking day off with them or anything…” you raise your voice slightly, frustration rising up and making your face hot.

you knew that you’d messed up by raising your voice, but the amount of both sadness and aggravation that had been building up in your heart for the past month needed an outlet.

channeling your emotions into a proper conversation was definitely better, but jude wasn’t a clueless teenage boy anymore.

there’s absolutely no excuse for him to not realize how much time he’d been spending out of the house. neglecting his relationship- partially to both work obligations, and his own decisions to go out on his off days.

“really? you’re actually going to tell me how I should spend my days off? like I haven’t busting my arse to train, to be in top shape for the euros?”

the frown on jude’s face deepens, and his hands fall to his side. annoyance written all over his handsome face.

“oh, please. go ahead and think of why I’m saying this. use your brain for a second and think for me, yeah?” your voice is full of venom, and you turn around, slippers hitting the floor as you make your way up the stairs. leaving your boyfriend in the kitchen.

a scoff falls from his lips, absolutely astonished by the harsh words you’d spat. in the three years of your relationship- you’d never exchanged any harsh words like this before..

yes, you fought and had disagreements with each other, like many healthy couples. but, it had never gotten to the point of any of you using condescending tones and sharp words.

from the beginning of your relationship, communication and understanding were always important values for you both. though with how busy the both of you had been lately, you barely had any proper conversations, let alone upkeep the values, that kept you so connected to each other.

“y/n!” jude calls out, placing his half-full glass next to the sink, before dashing up the stairs, behind you.

“where do you think you’re going? hey, finish the conversation!” he says, grabbing onto your hand, before you can enter your shared bedroom, and can slam the door in his face.

“you don’t even care about what I say- so what’s the point? we’ve practically been ignoring each other for the past few- whatever weeks! and now you decide, ‘let me spend the day off with mates, and not my girlfriend- who I’ve been neglecting for so long’.”

you take a deep breath, trying to control your breathing as you spill all your thoughts and emotions.

jude’s body goes rigid, the grip on your hand slipping away. making your hand fall back against your side. his thoughts and rationality swirl through his brain, and he can only let out a sigh.

“you know, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just trying to have some fun, am I not allowed to have fun?” the words spill from his mouth before he can register them fully, and he almost clasps a hand to his mouth.

the words raise your blood pressure, and you feel the urge to scream at him becoming bigger.

“of course, being with your girlfriend of three years is so boring.. you need a new bitch to entertain you, so can have your ‘fun’. you don’t need a girlfriend who’s moved her entire life for her boyfriend. moved universities, left family behind- okay, jude.”

your breath hitches, tears of both anger and sadness threatening to fall. wet eyes staring up at your boyfriend’s chocolate brown ones.

“y/n-”

he begins, but you don’t spare him a single extra look, before stepping into your shared bedroom, and slamming the door in his face.

“leave..” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

you jump into your bed, bringing the covers up to your chest and place your head on your pillow. jude’s side empty, just like it had been often lately.

you rub your eyes, allowing the tsunami of tears to overtake your emotions. crying for minutes on end.

you feel both relieved and horrible. glad you could finally let the emotions eating up at you, for the past few weeks out. horrified, because you had just both yelled at your boyfriend and accused him of doing the most trust-breaking thing ever..

you sob until your eyes are red, and swollen. eventually falling asleep from exhaustion and energy loss.

you only wake up a couple hours later, feeling something cold and wet on your skin, mainly your forehead. opening your eyes, you’re immediately greeted by jude, sat next to you on the bed.

his eyes are mirroring yours, swollen and dark circles more pronounced than ever.

it’s obvious he’d been crying, and his attire had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

he hadn’t gone out..

you shift your head away from his touch, only to realize he’s holding a wet cloth to your forehead.

“baby..” he breathes out, concern etched into his face, he leans down. other hand placed on your cheek. you don’t respond, waiting for your boyfriend to speak first.

“you’re burning up..” he finally says, lifting up the cloth before dipping it into a bowl on your nightstand. he squeezes the water out, wiping down the rest of your face, before placing the white cloth back onto your forehead.

“and- I’m sorry, I just need you to know that, while I try to keep your fever down. I’m sorry, darling. we’ll talk about it in a minute, I promise. you just let me take care of you..” he trails off, thumb caressing the soft of your cheek, before wiping down your face again.

“I’m- I have a fever?” you finally say, shifting and trying to sit up.

“yeah, must be from all the stress or something..”

the words are said quietly, laced with guilt and an apologetic tone.

it doesn’t take much longer, and you’re almost feeling suffocated due to the tense and awkward atmosphere. having enough, you bring your hand up to grab onto jude’s hand, stopping him mid-wipe.

“jude..” you begin, sitting up quickly, before he makes you lay back down. you grab the cloth out of his hand, throwing it into the bowl next to you.

“I’m sorry as well..” you can already feel the tears prickle in your eyes, and you clench your jaw, making your temples hurt.

“I yelled at you instead of talking normally, and- accused you of-”

you choke on your sobs, not being able to finish your sentence, before you feel jude’s strong arms wrap around your back.

he brings you closer, slightly cold hands touching your burning skin.

“no, I’m sorry, baby- don’t you apologize, hm..” he presses multiple kisses on your temple, fingers running up and down your back.

he allows you sob into his broad chest, touch and words comforting.

“I know you and I were super busy. but- I should’ve put in more effort to make plans, or even just make sure I gave you the attention and love you deserve, I’m sorry darling,.” his brum accent whispers into your ears, and you slowly calm down, hearing his words- made your feelings, feel valid.

“I unconsciously thought you’d be busy, so I made plans immediately without thinking of anything else..” he explains, hands running up and down your arms, finally rubbing circles on your elbows.

“I will never, ever in my life- for any other breath I take, hurt or ignore you like this..”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you baby, I’ve loved you since the moment you caught my eye..”

he leans back, wiping the remaining tears on your face, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips. not caring about the fact that you are sick..

“you got that, darling?” his voice sounds like honey, and you can feel your tears drying up slowly.

you nod, looking up and grabbing onto his hands.

“good, let’s lay back down, okay? you’re still burning up..” he helps you, chuckling when you grasp at his shirt, and bury your face into his chest again.

“you comfortable?” jude asks, running his hands down your side, and kissing your forehead.

you nod again, humming in response.

“okay, why don’t we lay down a little, and then we’ll have dinner, ‘kay?”

“deal..” you agree, soft touches lulling you back into a slumber, sweet words being whispered into your ear, helping you relax..