#i want to say more on the ending but I have no idea what other than to scream

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.

[userchai]

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 - 18+

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵…. 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

word-count 2.2K

thank you so much for reading feedback is appreciated I love you all dearly! sorry if there are any mistakes! 🖤

“If you love me right then who knows?”

You knew this was a terrible idea, letting him back in, but when he had shown up at your door, shivering and crying you just couldn’t say no. The soft morning glow of the sun illuminates his face beautifully as you stand at your bedroom door.

His eyelashes flutter as he turns a little in his sleep, the long black curls you’ve always loved are wild and messy. “What are you doing to me Eddie?” You whisper, shaking your head and fighting back tears.

He came to you because he didn’t know where else to go, having moved away from Hawkins years ago. It was hours away and you were only fifteen minutes down the road, so Eddie did what he knew best, he came back to you.

This isn’t the first time he’s shown back up since the two of you split years ago, but for some reason in this moment the air feels different. He looks so peaceful in your bed, he looks like he fits, like this is his home too.

You glance at the calendar above your bed, it’s Sunday. You have nowhere to be but right here with the man that you’re still so in love with, it’s painful.

You slowly make your way over to your bed, gently setting yourself down on it, not wanting to wake him yet. The fight the two of you had gotten into last night when he just showed up was still fresh in your mind.

“You can’t just come right back Eddie! You always do this!” You had screamed, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back against your front door.

The night ended differently than you would’ve expected, Eddie had kissed you, and he didn’t stop kissing. You both knew this would only lead to more hurt down the road but neither of you cared.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Eddie wake up until his hand gently brushes your arm. “Hey.. you okay baby?” He whispers. ‘Baby’ you wanted to tell him that’s not who you were to him anymore, but you couldn’t.

“I’m alright. Did you sleep okay?” You ask, brushing a piece of his hair away from his face. He nods slowly, sitting up. You both stare at each other for a minute, Eddie’s eyes are puffy with sleep and it only makes him look even more attractive.

You smile timidly, damn him for making you feel every single feeling you’ve been working so hard on pushing down for years. “Good, I was gonna make something to eat if you’re hungry?” You ask, going to stand up before Eddie’s grabbing your hand, pulling you back down.

His dark eyes may as well be looking right through you as he keeps you in place. He’s very obvious, you’ve seen that look a million times before, the only thing Eddie is hungry for at the moment is you.

“Ed, I don’t think that’s such a good idea-” you start off, chewing your lip nervously as he pulls you closer to where he’s leaning back against your headboard. “If anything, let me have you for just one more night, I understand if you want me to leave forever after that. I just need to feel you one more time.”

Your heart is pounding beneath your chest, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time, you knew you wanted him. You needed him. Your body reacts before your mind can make up words to say back to him, you straddle yourself over his lap and gently reach down to hold his face. “I’ve never stopped loving you Eddie Munson.” You whisper.

The prettiest smile breaks out over those pouty lips that you could kiss for hours, “Show me then.” He says back, it’s a challenge. You bite back a laugh at how desperately Eddie’s clinging to you right now. His big hands are gripping onto your hips, you hope they bruise you want to remember this forever.

Eddie can be soft sometimes, even if he doesn’t look like it, and this is definitely one of those times. You could break him, and he would let you. You wanted to wreck him and rebuild him after. He groans lowly beneath you as you slowly circle your hips, grinding down against his lap for just a few seconds before stopping.

“Please don’t stop, I need to feel you.” He almost whimpers out, so pathetic, how much he needs you. You lean down slowly and kiss up the side of his neck, biting down against his jaw hard enough that it draws out a little blood. You wanted pain, you wanted him to feel everything that you’ve felt, you wanted him to know that if he fucks up this time he will never see you again.

“Fuck. You little vixen.” He bites out as you run your hands down his shoulders, you keep them going as you shuffle back off of his lap. “Gonna ruin you, is that what you came here for?” You ask as he bites his lip. He nods quickly, watching you pull your sheets back away from his body. “Oh, how cute baby, look how hard you’ve gotten and all I did was sit in your lap for a minute, admit it, you need me.”

You pull the covers all the way off of him, shuffling down to lay on your stomach in front of him as you run your hand teasingly against his length that’s straining behind his tight boxers. “I-fuck, I need you, I love you, I’m sorry for being such an idiot and leaving before please, even if you don’t want me anymore just use me today, that’s all I want.”

You smile up at him, that’s exactly the answer you wanted. If he thinks he can just come back and instantly win you over he is sorely mistaken, he’s going to work for it. You dig your nails into his skin a little as a hiss breaks its way out of his mouth, before you’re pulling his boxers down. You must be going far too slow for his liking because you swear you hear him start begging as his cock finally slaps back against his stomach.

You’ve missed him so bad, and you’ve missed feeling him inside of you almost more than the relationship you once had shared. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick length, the head is leaking pre-cum against his stomach as you tap your fingers lazily against his thighs. “Why should I suck you off baby? I don’t know if you deserve my mouth anymore.” He moans loudly, pushing his hands against his eyes before he’s grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh quietly, he’s so hard it must be hurting by now. “Fuck…. Please I know I don’t deserve it okay? I don’t, but just, please I’ll be so good I’ll do anything to have you again baby.” You lick your lips slowly, before you’re spitting down onto the head. “Fine, but it’s at my pace, don’t you fucking move.” You can hear the air leave his lungs as you slowly wrap one of your hands tightly against him, stroking him slowly and spreading your saliva all over him.

You know just how he likes it, sloppy and loud, you are determined to make sure he remembers this, if today really is the last time. Focusing back on him you lean down and kiss up the side of his cock before you’re at the very top, you flutter your eyelashes up at him as his stomach tenses. He’s so beautiful, you sink your mouth down around him and the most beautiful sound comes out of his throat. Sure, Eddie is a good singer, but the sounds he makes for you have always been better than music.

It only takes a few more minutes of absolutely setting out to ruin Eddie, before his hips are threatening to lift off the bed. You know he wants to fuck your mouth, but you specifically told him not to move, so you pull off of him and slap his thigh. “I thought I said no moving, don’t you wanna be my good boy?” He looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he frantically apologizes, reaching to grip onto you. You can feel him shaking as you sit back up onto your knees.

“Don’t deserve my mouth anymore, you can’t even listen to instructions baby, but I’ll let you have my pussy. The only thing is, you’re not cumming.” Your stomach is already wound tight at the thought of having him inside you again, you waste no time in pulling your panties off and throwing them down onto the floor. Eddie looks like an absolute wreck already, his hair stuck to his face, eyes blown full of lust and love as he looks up at you. “Please just fuck me.” He whispers.

Reaching behind yourself to grab his cock again you rub the tip against yourself over and over, you can feel it pulsing against your hand. You knew how bad he needed to cum but for now things were going to be about you. You tense up as you slowly slide yourself down onto him, he’s so thick it almost hurts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He gasps out, his hands gripping the sheets below you as you finally bottom out around him.

You wait a few minutes to adjust before you are lifting yourself back up, the drag of his cock inside of you is addicting and you don’t know if you’ll even last very long. You drop back down again, moaning loudly as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, I’ve missed you baby, please, want you to fill me up when I say you can, need to feel you leaking back out of me for days Eddie.” His hands are all over your body, pulling, gripping, never wanting to let go. The both of you are breathing into each other’s mouths, crying out in pleasure and love.

It’s like nothing had ever happened, you wanted this for life, and you know at this moment he wants it too. He’s barely holding himself together as you bounce on his lap like some sort of angelic nymph. He can’t decide whether he wants to sing filthy praises or spill his heart out about how much he loves you as his cock rubs against that spot in you that sends both of you into a frenzy. “That’s it, fuck Eddie please, oh my god, cum now baby, fill me up, give me all of your love and let me feel it.”

‘Bad idea!’ Your mind was screaming, but your heart and body didn’t care, all the nasty thoughts of how much you hated what he did to you were slowly being stripped away from you. Eddie doesn’t know a lot, but right now he knows he is never letting go of you again. He stops holding back as you tense down around him again, leaning your forehead against his as he runs his hands down your back, gripping onto your ass. The neighbors must be getting a good show with how loud you both are.

You can feel him break beneath you, his body trembling as ‘I love you’ spills out of his lips over and over, your own orgasm washes over you quickly when Eddie bites down on your collar bone, sucking a bruise right into your soft skin. The both of you cling to each other as your highs slowly come down, you feel like you could nap forever with how spent your body is.

Another quiet moan slips past your lips as Eddie lifts you off of him slowly, you can feel his cum leaking out of you and down onto your thighs. “What a beautiful mess you are.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss you on your forehead as tears well up in your eyes. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, your throat hurts from how loud you’d been only moments ago. He doesn’t reply right away, instead he reaches for his Metallica shirt that’s on the floor, slowly pulling it down over your head and helping you put your arms through.

It smells like heaven, it smells like everything you’ve missed. “Yes baby?” He asks. “Please, don’t hurt me again. Don’t let me go.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek before it’s quickly being wiped away by his calloused fingers. “You’re never leaving my sight again, I was such an idiot when we were younger, but I want you, I want us forever.” He leans his forehead against yours as you both sit there in silence, maybe you could work again. Who knows?

The rest of the morning is softer, after you both had a moment to catch your breath Eddie had helped you into a bath, getting in behind you to rub your sore muscles as you laughed quietly while sharing things you’d missed out on since you’d last seen each other. This was easy, it was familiar, it was love. You couldn’t fight back smiling as you watched him standing at your oven, flipping a pancake over in a frying pan and almost dropping it onto the floor.

You knew opening the door for him was potentially opening your heart up to be broken again, but for Eddie you would risk everything, even your heart.

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[00kittenz]

── piece of cake ! ( lhs ) 🍰

๑ You and Heeseung attempt to bake together as a fun, cutesy bonding moment— but things don’t end up going quite exactly as planned…

pair: bf!heeseung ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: fluff, smut, my very weird and bad sense of humor lol, #epic fails, hee is sooo babygirl in this, praise, lots of kissing, mwah mwah, soft dom!heeseung, fingering, piv, breeding kink, grrrrreer lovey dovey relationship :3 | words: 2.0k

this was supposed to be short n sweet but it got a bit longer than intended oop- i think this might be the cutest thing i wrote yet ahhh

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“ten..nine..eight..seven.. six,” you slowly count the minutes passing by from pure boredom, eyes squinting at the pink clock that sat on the milky colored walls of your kitchen.

you tapped your acrylics on the marble of your countertop, double checking all the ingredients you had set out for tonight’s adventure. you and your boyfriend, heeseung, decided to have a baking date tonight. it marked your one year anniversary yesterday, but even so, heeseung still wanted to celebrate for the entirety of the week. so today is essentially part two of your anniversary !

“comingg !” you sang, hearing sudden knocks from the front door, knowing that it was none other than your boyfriend. he’s the only one who knocks on your door like he’s making a beat. soon as you open the door you’re met with the most handsome face and the brightest smile, and although you were delighted to see him you couldn’t help but state the obvious.

“why’d you show up so late ??”

“blame jake and jungwon for that, just as i was about to leave they kept yapping my ears off about any and everything !” he attempts to defend himself, wiping the iffy look on your face with a sweet kiss.

“hmm.. really, you’re blaming other people now ? sounds more like an excuse to me,” you playfully combat, giggling against his broad chest once he caged you in his arms.

“psshhh, what excuse— you know how they are !”

“i’m just teasing babe,” you left his hold with a lingering smile, “i’ll forgive you this one time, but only because i missed you.” with that you walked over to the counter of all your supplies, pulling him along with you.

“well damn, you weren’t playing around. you’re super prepared baby.” heeseung rubbed the sides of your hips as he came up behind you, eyes glazing over the ingredients you had laid out all prettily, it seems you doubled up on everything in case you made any mistakes.

“mhm, i might’ve overdid it just a little bit.. but you can never have more than one thing !” you try to justify your overconsumption, you tend to go overboard when it comes to certain things.

while you were out food shopping, there were far too many different varieties of decorations, you can never decide on anything so you just went and bought a whole basket full. but you’re slightly regretting that choice now considering all the money you just spent…

“c’monnn, let’s just hurry !” you stop rambling and get back to business, feeling his kisses lace the crown of your head once you turn to face him. “i wanna make ittt.”

“make what ? our kids ?” “i’m ready whe—” he pauses once his eyes found yours, blankly looking at him. he knew that look was everything but blank. “okok sorry, let’s start..” he awkwardly brushes the conversation to the side, picking up a box of cake mix.

“i’m assuming we’re gonna make the cake on this box ?”

“yup ! a strawberry, triple layer cake.” you say excitedly, peeking at the box he was holding.

“i can’t wait anymore, i’m hungry, let’s gooo !” you express like a hyperactive child, unable to contain your excitement for the delicious dessert.

it was a great idea to actually wear aprons for this event. you initially had the idea set and stone because you wanted to look like a professional baker like on the tv shows. you had to fully commit to the bit, go big or go home ! but, you definitely needed it for more than just the look of it. you two made a mess.

“look, there’s frosting in your hair !” you laughed hysterically at your lover. god knows how the icing even got in his hair in the first place.. “you aren’t even the one frosting the cake, how the hell did it get there ?!” you hinted at the fact that the needy boy was holding you almost the entire time as you started frosting the first layer of the cake.

“i dunno, it’s your fault then, you’re the one doing it !” he spoke against your neck. shivering goosebumps danced across your skin at the feel.

“maybe if you weren’t breathing on my neck 24/7 then you would be the one icing !” you sassily retorted at his laziness, handing him a crate of strawberries. “here, cut these into slices.”

you could hear him groaning at the task you just gave him. “but baby, i wanna hold you still.. can we wait a little ?”

“hee, no, you’ve been holding me since you got here !” your hands lazed on your hips. “get to work, chop, chop !”

“ugh, okay..” he pouts, looking over at you with those precious bambi eyes that was almost about to make you fold in a second. he retrieved a small fruit from it’s catering before taking a knife to it's redness. “babbeeeeee...” he whined.

“no, heeseung.”

“fine, then can you at least hold me this time ?” he pleaded with you, his smile coming into spotlight once he felt your arms wrap around his fit shape. “thank you.” he mumbled continuing on his mission with the strawberries.

๑ ๑ ๑

“sooo, what do i do now ?” he asks, caressing your arms looking back at your watching figure.

“you place them NEATLY on the frosting.” you answered him, placing a kiss on his clothed back, praising him of his quick hands. “you’re doing a good job so far baby.”

“okie dokie.” a small smile hid the big grin that heeseung tried to contain at your praising words.

“good ! now take the frosting—” you left his figure, reaching for the tube of frosting and placing it in his hand. “and gently spread it across the strawberries.”

“go on, do it.” your brows knit together in confusion. why was he just standing there not doing anything ??

“uhh, are you gonna hold me ?” he cocks his head to side, giving you yet another look that you just can’t refuse.

“okay ! damn, so needy.” you shook your head, going back to the warmth of your insatiable boyfriend.

it’s been a while since your little strawberry arranging, now you’re just finishing off the cake with some decorations. considering how long it took you both, the cake ended up looking absolutely phenomenal, you could just picture the strawberries layered with the frosting in your head. you couldn’t wait to get it inside your tummy.

“okay, now add the strawberry on top !” you proudly announce after applying your colorful sprinkles around the rim on the cake.

heeseung, just as happy as you are bounces in place before placing the fruit gently on the glob of icing that sat in the middle of the delicious treat.

“FINALLY,” he shouted, he was ready to just eat it whole. “it’s so pretty !” the two of you share a high five. taking long looks at the cake in awe. mouths drooling for a bite but eyes savoring the look of the treat before the two of you ruin it. you made sure to snap a couple pictures of it to post on your story later.

“hmm.. should we eat it now or wait a bit ?” you ask with hesitance, although you were very much looking forward to devouring it, you still couldn’t bring yourself to actually cut it just yet.

“it looks really tasty, but.. i think i wanna eat something else.” he shamelessly admits, hoping that you’d catch his drift. and, you most certainly did…

๑ ๑ ๑

“hmph,—” your grasp on his wrist tightened at the pressure he was building between your legs. the way his fingers pumped through your folds, how his thumb gave attention to your pulsing clit. your mouth went permanently agape, losing yourself in the blissful feeling of his touch. “hee— yes ! fuck..”

heeseung watched as your teeth captured your bottom lip, the blood rushing around the bruised flesh.

he then captured each of your thighs, on his shoulder, both masses prettily caked on eachother squeezing your cunt between them; his fingers still stretching you out.

“you’re so fucking perfect baby,” he pampered your plushy thighs, kissing them all giddy-like, a mischievous grin on his face. “but you already know that, right ?”

you rapidly nodded, you didn’t wanna speak nor protest, it was like you didn’t know how to breath anymore, you felt so high and small under him, he was like a drug. and it left you with nothing but chilling goosebumps.

“go on, come,” “come so i can give you what you really want.” his pace quickened leaving you entirely unstable, you were shaking, whimpering, your dewy cunt was throbbing around him. “you want it don’t you?”

“yes..—” your voice was hoarse and forced, you’ve become a groaning, dripping mess for him and he adored every bit of it.

heeseung softly bit around your skin, leaving small reddish and purple love bites around your legs.

“oh! baby, i’m—” your orgasm cut you off, heeseung loved whenever you climaxed because of him. how lazy and defeated you look after, the way you gasp and cling for air. “coming..”

“dont worry, i know.” he joked, grabbing your waist, pulling you back up onto your ass. “well kitchen sex is now off the bucket list..” he licked the sides of his fingers, eyeing you directly.

you were mesmerized by him, he had you right where he wanted you. “but i’m not done yet, fortunately enough for you. baby girl.”

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, you’re fucking swallowing me.” heeseung groaned, pulling at the waistband of your skirt in a tight manner. “pussy still hungry for me ?”

“please..” you whined at the friction of his manhood colliding with yours. like a match made in heaven. “i want it..”

he wasted no time in fastening himself further inside you, he wanted you no more than you wanted him. he needed you the most right now. not only has he been craving to be with you all day, but this whole week meant everything to him. heeseung feels more than lucky to have you, he wants to cherish this anniversary as if it’s a once in lifetime experience.

his large hand pressed on your lower back with every stroke he landed in you. you felt every curve and inch of his length, how it made you see stars the minute his tip kissed your G. “fuck..” he landed a sharp slap onto your ass.

you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him. there was a tense burning sensation sprawling throughout your entire body. it only made you urge for more, like nothing was enough, even though you were in utter utopia. you were a mewling, shrieking mess.

“heeseung ! ugh, please ruin me..hmm please..” your arm reached back grasping at his thighs.

“you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know ?” he airly chuckled, throwing he head back. the feel of your slick creating sticky vines across his skin whenever he’d pull out. the sound of it, the look of it. all of it turning him on even more.

your back arched at the thought of maxing out around his thick shaft. the praise you’ll get since you’ve done so well for him.

“i love you..” you mumbled bittersweet nothings one after another.

“shit, loosen the fuck up.” his hands entangled your sweaty hair, gripping it in a careful but semi aggressive manner. “oh fuck- i’m gonna come.” he began to thrust into your messy cunt relentlessly, pounding you into oblivion.

“hee— mm’nside please.. !” you slurred, drool heaping out the corner of your mouth.

“inside ? huh? you want my babies, princess?” “you do, don't you? want me to fill your fucking pussy with my seed.” heeseung chuckled at your pleading and begging for his cum. he was tired and worn out as hell, but soo turned on by you, by the thought of you bearing his children.

“ngh~ yes, yes hee!”

“happy anniversary, baby.” his length pumped into you filling you up, not an empty fucking crevice in your soppy cunt. like the frosting to a cake.

“mm, thank you .. baby.. ”

forget all that romeo and juliet cliché love shit, you two were better than that, at least you thought so. you two were...

y/n and heeseung ??

that had a ring to it.. most definitely.

ヾ(・ᆺ・✿)ﾉﾞ

guys why do i feel like my smut has been worse HELP- idk, could just be me overthinking again butttt i hope some of you liked it hehehe ;D <3

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[nehi-soda]

Bound in Bloom -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he’d find peace, not after all the years of running, fighting, and surviving. But here you were, standing in the kitchen of the farmhouse, the soft swell of your belly beneath his favorite sundress on his birthday.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, farmhouse!joel, dad!joel, established relationship, pregnancy, talk about your body changing, oral sex (female receiving), mention of unprotected P in V sex, creampie, smut, fluff, soft!joel, pet names (baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: I just know this would be Joel's DREAM, so I wanted to gift it to him for his birthday (and you cannot tell me this man does not have a breeding kink. Yes, Joel, you can keep me barefoot and pregnant, sweetie. (Spoiler coming up?) Also, in my mind, in this universe, Joel and reader moved out of Jackson and live in the farmhouse that Dina and Ellie live in at the end of pt 2.

for @justagalwhowrites' joel miller birthday celebration

The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen window, painting everything with a golden haze. The sweet smell of cake filled the room as you stood at the sink, hands submerged in warm, soapy water, humming to yourself as you scrubbed the last of the cake mix off the various utensils. The worn farmhouse floor creaked beneath your bare feet, familiar and comforting. The air outside was still and quiet, except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the tall grass surrounding the house.

It was peaceful out here. Away from the chaos, from Jackson, from all of it. Joel had finally given in to the idea of a quieter life. After years of running, fighting, and surviving, he got what he'd wanted— a simple life. And you, you were part of that dream, tethered to him in ways you’d never been able to escape since the moment you met him.

Your little floral sundress clung to you a little differently now, tighter around your hips and shorter than it used to be, the fabric barely grazing mid-thigh. The hem lifted just slightly as you shifted, the soft cotton pulling tighter across the swell of your belly. You absently brushed your hand over the curve and smiled softly.

You didn’t expect to outgrow your clothes so quickly, but the last few weeks had caught you off guard. It seemed like overnight; your belly had swelled, pushing at the seams of your favourite dresses and making your jeans a distant memory. Lately, you’d been relying more and more on Joel’s t-shirts and flannels, the worn fabric soft against your skin, offering that extra room you needed. You liked the way they smelled like him—like woodsmoke and fresh pine, wrapping you in his presence even when he wasn’t there.

And God, you could see it in his eyes every time he caught you wearing something of his —how much it did something to him. How the sight of you in his clothes, with your belly rounding beneath the fabric, lit something deep inside him.

But you didn’t try to get pregnant.

There wasn’t some grand plan, no careful conversations or conscious decisions about what you were doing. It had been the way he groaned when you begged for it, the way his breath hitched and his grip on your hips tightened like he was holding on for dear life. You loved the power it gave you, how those simple words could unravel him completely.

“Put a baby in me, Joel.”

You’d whisper it in his ear in those moments when he was deep inside you, moving slow and steady, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to keep control. Sometimes, you’d say it soft, barely a murmur against his lips. Other times, it came out all breathless, a plea mixed in with the sound of your moans. Sometimes it would be a loud scream.

And every time, it hit him like a goddamn freight train.

You felt it in the way his body would react—his hips driving harder, deeper, as if your words unlocked something in him, something primal. He couldn’t hold back when you said it. The way his voice would break, that low, guttural groan spilling from his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, his grip almost bruising, made you want him more.

“Please cum inside me, please, please, please…”

“You want that, huh?” he’d ask, his voice strained, thick with lust. “Want me to fill you up?”

And you did. You wanted it so badly in those moments; the idea of being swollen with his child, of him claiming you in the most permanent way, made your entire body burn with need.

His movements would become more purposeful as if he was consumed by the thought of it too.

But you weren’t trying to get pregnant. Not really. 

You just loved the way it made him lose himself, how he’d bury himself so deep inside you, hips flush against yours, as he came with a broken moan, spilling himself into you over and over again, filling you up as you’d asked.

You could hear him behind you, the sound of his heavy footsteps announcing his presence before his hands did. You smiled to yourself, letting the warmth of the sun match the warmth that spread through your chest. There was something so comforting about his presence—solid, dependable.

“Morning, darlin’,” his voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was something softer there, too, the edge he used to carry dulled by the peacefulness of this new life. His hands found your hips easily, warm and firm as they slid over the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing the swell of your belly like it was second nature to him now.

“Morning,” you murmured, smiling as he leaned in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“How’s my girls?” he asked, his hand resting protectively on your stomach, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you.

From the moment you’d found out, Joel had been convinced you were carrying a girl. His baby girl.

“They’re just fine,” you teased, leaning back into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into yours. “She’s still baking.”

Joel chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"You look real pretty today," he murmured, voice gravelly and thick with that Southern drawl. You felt his hands slide across you in a slow, deliberate grip, the curve of your waist sliding down to rest on your sore hips. His breath was warm against your neck, the thick scrape of his beard sending shivers down your spine as he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin there. His touch was slow, tender, not rushed—like he had all the time in the world; like you were something precious.

“Gonna need to get you some new dresses soon,” he murmured. “Can’t have you walkin’ around in this one when it’s barely coverin’ you.”

“You used to love this dress, couldn’t take your hands off me when I wore it, remember? You saying I’m getting too big for it?” You laughed softly.

“Nah,” he whispered, “Just sayin’ you’re growin’ right where I want you to.”

“Well, I wore it especially. Happy birthday, old man," you teased, raising your hand to dab bubbles on his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. You bit your lip and focused back on the dishes, the feel of the soap between your fingers suddenly became more acute. But it was hard to stay focused when his hands were moving like that. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasing, lifting it ever so slightly.

"Joel, I’m almost done—" you giggled, but the words caught in your throat the moment his lips pressed against that sweet spot just below your ear. His hand slid higher, bunching the fabric, exposing more of your thighs, the cool air brushing against them.

“Good,” he growled softly between kisses, his voice low and rumbling. His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as his mouth continued its slow, deliberate assault on your neck.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, your body already responding to him, the ache growing with every passing second. He knew it too—the way you shifted slightly, pressing back against him, craving more even as you tried to stay focused.

“So damn beautiful.” he whispered, his voice full of affection, his lips brushing your ear. A hand slid higher again, teasing along the edge of your underwear now, and you could feel your breath hitch, your whole body tensing.

You tried to protest again, half-hearted, knowing it was useless. His fingers slid beneath the thin fabric of your panties, brushing over your folds, finding you already wet with need making him groaned softly

“Always fuckin’ ready for it, huh?” he muttered, his fingers moving with a slow, torturous rhythm that had your knees trembling. “You were made for me, made for this, to carry my babies.…”.

All you could do was hum in agreement and let out a breathless moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pads of his rough fingers traced hypnotic circles against your swollen clit, the sensation overwhelming. His breath was hot against your ear, his free hand cradling your belly with a kind of possessive tenderness.

“God, you drive me crazy.”

He kissed your neck again, harder this time, nipping and sucking, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, the heat of his body pressed flush against yours.

“You want me to stop?” he whispered, his fingers still moving in slow, agonising strokes. He knew the answer before you even said it, his voice thick with a kind of smug satisfaction that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

“No…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, dizzy with need.

“Didn’t think so,” his voice deep, and then his fingers dipped lower, slipping two fingers inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, filling that ache you always seemed to have inside you that only Joel could satisfy.

"That’s it, mama, let me take care of you.”

You could hear the soft squelch of your pussy, accepting his fingers over and over as Joel gently swayed you in his arms.

Just when you were getting lost in his heavenly touch, he pulled them out making you whimper, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. A firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed you forward, your pulse thrumming with anticipation.

Your palms braced against the cool surface of the sink as your body instinctively arched for him.

You felt him sink to his knees behind you, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against the wood floor.

You could barely catch your breath, the feel of his hand sliding down the curve of your ass, his fingers gripping the fabric of your soaked panties, tugging them down your thighs. You gasped as the cool air hit you, your legs spreading automatically.

He pressed his lips to the back of your legs, kissing his way up slowly, reverently, as if he were worshipping you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

His mouth was on you before you could even register the heat of his breath, his tongue slipping between your folds, lapping up the wetness. You let out a moan, loud and breathless, your body jolting forward as the first wave of pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. His hands were firm but loving on your hips, pulling you back just enough so he could fit his mouth where you needed him most.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your entire being as his tongue slid over your sex, slow and demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t devouring you like a man starved. No, you were a luxury that had to be savoured.

His tongue dragged a long deliberate stroke from your clit to your entrance. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady as he began to devour you, his mouth relentless, his tongue dipping and circling with a precision that left you shaking.

“Joel.”

His name was all you could manage, and it came out in a desperate moan.

He fucking loved how his name sounded when you moaned it.

He pressed a kiss to your swollen clit, soft and tender, before sucking it gently between his lips.

Your head dropped forward, your body trembling as the pleasure built inside you, hotter and hotter, until it felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the edge of the sink till your knuckles turned white, the pressure inside you building faster than you could handle.

Each lick was thorough and purposeful, his tongue exploring every inch of you like he was committing it to memory.

“God… Joel… feels so fucking good.” You could barely speak, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his mouth worked you over.

You rocked your hips back, settling his tounge further into your cunt.

“Mhm, mhm,” Joel hummed against you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder onto his face, his words vibrating against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. “Atta girl, just like that, let go, baby.”

You could feel the orgasm building inside you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. You were right there, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

“Joel… I’m gonna—" you tried to warn him, but it was too late. The orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out and came hard on his tongue. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, drinking every drop of your release until you were spent, legs giving way, chest heaving.

When he finally pulled away, you were a quivering mess and could barely stand. You felt your juices dripping down the inside of your thighs and shivered.  

Joel wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he rose behind you with a groan. “Jesus, I'm gettin’ too old for this.” His hands slid up your thighs, your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

"Don’t be too worn out," you teased, your voice soft, still giddy with the afterglow. “Ellie and everyone are coming over, remember? And we’re having cake!”

“Baby, you know…I'm feelin’ a little full, actually.” He joked.

Your jaw dropped incredulously at his vulgarity before he planted kisses all over your flushed face.

Each year, when he blew out the candles on a small cake you’d make from whatever ingredients were available, he’d always wish for the same damn thing: To keep loving you.

 And if he were extra good, maybe he’d be given another shot at fatherhood. 

Joel knew that this year, even if he never let himself fully believe he deserved it, you had already given him his greatest wish.

divider credit to @mikeykuns

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

[bsdawgz]

desperate sex with dazai please! you both had a long day at work and just wanted to indulge in each other. Both moaning messes as you cling onto him as he holds you. You don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable!

JUST ONE MORE KISS ... armed detective agency: osamu dazai

a/n: anon, i LOVE THIS IDEA!!! you're also so sweet for being considerate of how i might feel. i hope u enjoy + that i did ok!!!

genre: nasty in a cutesy and domestic way

content: f!reader. MDNI! oral sex (f!receiving), pet names (angel, my sweet girl), the sex gets prety rough. he spits in your mouth once. some body worship (f!receiving). established relationship <3 cutesy at the end =)

Pulling away from what was supposed to be a chaste greeting kiss proves more difficult than Dazai would have ever imagined. He finds himself leaving your lips swollen, his own sweetened by the saccharine taste of your mouth melting on his tongue. It's not that you're complaining, though. His warmth is more than welcome, especially after a day as long as this one. You linger where he left you, if only just to bask in the heat of his body for a moment longer. A moment before you return to the mundane – take out the trash, prepare dinner, hang the laundry out to dry. Such menial tasks must be done whether you like it or not, no matter how exhausting work has been today. Truly, you ought to start on them now. Surely, Dazai also has had a tiring day and has chores to get to at home as well. And yet...

"Just one more kiss," he hums absently, as if reading your mind. He's always been good at knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. He's also always been an exceptional liar. When he leans in to kiss you, it's clear that just one won't be enough tonight. Not that he was trying to convince you otherwise, anyway. Then, in a heated whisper that's pressed to the base of your neck, "You know how greedy I am."

You shiver as his lips caress you; so soft, so loving, his mouth so inviting as it closes in on yours. His hand meets your waist, the other stroking the side of your neck, rearranging the tendrils of hair that frame your face. "Is it wrong of me to want more than just this?" he muses, tracing the plump of your lips with his thumb, watching in awe as you part your mouth instinctively to take in his fingers. "I missed my sweet girl at work today."

Leaning in for another kiss, you seal your lips against his, letting him guide you backward until you feel your body press against the brick wall of your cozy apartment. You can feel Dazai's teasing smile through his kiss as he hikes your skirt up, grabbing the plush of your upper thigh and trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. You writhe and squirm, seeking the warmth of his hand, the sweetness of his touch, and those delicate fingers that you want to feel inside you. "Dazai, please."

He relents – of course, anything for his sweet angel. You feel him push your panties to the side, tracing your folds with his fingers. "God, you're wet," he murmurs, and you can hear the sheer satisfaction in ragged tone of his voice and feel it in the way it makes him grip your waist tighter. Still, you blush profusely, flustered by the fact he's pointed it out so plainly. "My sweet, needy girl," he whispers, stroking the side of your cheek lovingly. "Let's take good care of each other tonight~"

The sight of Dazai getting on his knees for you is always a precious one; and for Dazai, seeing you from this angle is one of this favorites. Though, to be fair, he finds the reverse just as arousing. You make quick work of the buttons of your shirt as Dazai unzips your skirt, slowly peeling your panties down your hips. "That's my needy little angel," he teases, "Wanting me to please her already..."

You hold your breath, gazing down at him with your lips parted as he lovingly places kisses up your thigh. Then, you gasp aloud, feeling the tip of his tongue prod inside you. You reach for his hand immediately, seeking the comfort and warmth of his skin, squeezing his palm tight as you feel the cold wetness of his tongue encircle your clit. He moans hungrily against your heat, lapping at your arousal. His name sounds so perfect in your mouth, he thinks, and as the syllables spill out of you, he can't help but glance up to admire the shape your lips form when you say his name. You'd sound much sweeter with his fingers inside you, he muses as he eases his index into your aching hole, smirking at the way you pulse and the way you stammer out his name once more. "Say it just like that," he coos.

You need him more than ever, "Dazai, Dazai" relentless on your lips as you desperately grind against his hand. "Kiss me," you plead. Tonight, your boyfriend isn't so much of a sadist as to deny your requests; tonight, he'll treat you well – just as promised.

Of course, you'll treat him just as well.

"Take it out," you moan as into his shoulder, unbuttoning his vest and dress shirt with haste, leaving them a mess on the floor to deal with later. "Please. Let me touch you, too."

He nods fervently, undoing his belt with a clatter, then he lowers his slacks just enough for you to reach clumsily into his boxers, where you find him pulsing with need, the tip leaking with precum. Then, he sighs with pleasure, seething with desire as you wrap your fingers around the shaft, throbbing in your hand as you stroke him.

This time, it's him who says, "please," his voice raspy in your ear as he leans in once more, locking lips with you and capturing your moans in his mouth as he curls his fingers deep inside you. Thrusting his pelvis forward to meet each of your strokes, he guides your fingers up and down his shaft with his other hand as he tries to get off on the feeling of being fucked by your fist. “Please,” he pants, breath strained as his hips stutter, as his knees begin to give. “Let me fuck you…”

You nod, and he’s frantically shuffling through his messenger bag for a condom, then tossing you down on your mattress. It’s feels like not even a minute more until he’s shoving himself inside you, groaning as he buries himself between your slick folds. You take him in – all of him, all at once, crying out his name when he starts to snap his hips into you. He’s greedy, so greedy, each thrust faster and harder than the one before. And you want it; you want more, more;

“More.”

You hook your legs around his narrow waist, clawing at his back, scratching at his spine and urging him to fuck you deeper. Dazai's panting into your shoulder, brown bangs falling beautifully into his eyes as he ruts into you like an animal desperate for relief – because for you he is, lips parted as he gasps, as his hand slithers around your neck, fingers squeezing just tight enough to deprive you of enough oxygen that you feel yourself grow dizzy. You kiss him hotly, just as fervently, biting his lips and drinking his moans into your open mouth, clinging to him as his fingers leave your neck. As they slip between your thighs, gathering the wetness between your legs where you're aching for him, where you're so wet that you're dripping onto the sheets beneath your sweaty bodies. You shut your eyes.

Fuck work tomorrow –

This is all you need. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai.

The laundry chime goes off, but you can hardly hear it with the buzz in your ears – "Close."

"Me too."

– Take me to heaven and back.

It's you who comes first, convulsing in Dazai's arms; and you don't feel him slow at all, not even a little bit, just feel his spit fill your mouth, saliva trickling down your chin as he grabs you tighter, as he forces your legs over his shoulders and fucks you even harder until you can barely form thoughts, let alone words –

and you split open, body searing with pain, yet you can't help but grind your hips against his fingers as you teeter on the verge of a second orgasm. You sob out yes, yes, yes, thighs trembling as you gasp for him, as you plead for him to bring you there once more. You spasm, then you feel him spill into you with one final thrust, grabbing you and pulling you tight against his body lovingly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders because god, does he need you closer than ever right now.

Then, he rolls onto his side. Buries his face into your shoulder. Nuzzles his nose into your neck. His lips brush along the shell of your ear. "One more kiss. You know how greedy I am," he whispers, interlocking his fingers with yours. "Then we can order take-out."

© BSDAWGZ Please don't steal or reblog! That's plagiarism! If you enjoyed the fic, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi 🙂 could you write a fic about Agatha and Rio both taking an interest in reader and competing for their attention. Who they end up with up to you. Xxx

I got issues w/ wanda stans which ultimately make me hate the character (I don’t want to but you freaks force my hand) by osmosis and I’ll just block you out cuz it’s honestly pathetic to listen to you speak.

You were cute, they both had to admit it, adorable even if they were kind enough to admit aloud. So congrats on being the object of desire of two very powerful and beautiful women. I’m jealous.

Neither Rio nor Agatha were exactly delighted to know that the other was also thriving for your affection and attention. Not. One.bit. They didn’t want to take civil either when it came to you and would boast rather loudly and confidently about how your heart was already taken as their possession.

‘You don’t have a heart to give, so why would you ever delude yourself to the idea that y/n would ever give you theirs on their own terms?’ Agatha said as Rio smirked and shrugged.

‘I do have a heart, it’s black and it beats for them as theirs does for mine, I just have to make them see that even if it means removing you from the picture.’ Rio replied but it only proved to make Agatha cackle as though she was told something funny rather than threatened. She’s had that be the case for a long, long time on multiple different accounts.

‘That’s cute but they were mine from the moment I stepped into Westview during Wanda’s…attempt to play house and acting as their wife,’ Agatha sighs. ‘Let’s just say I was given tastes of them which were sweeter than nectar.’ She smirks when she seeks the smirk on Rio’s lip was wiped off, replaced by a scowl as a perfect visual of jealously and anger overcame the face green witch.

‘Well we’re not in THAT Westview anymore my dearest Agatha,’ Rio began, ‘those memories you may try to hold over my head are long forgotten by them, besides it’s time they moved on with someone with more…potential.’ It was Agatha’s time to look annoyed and angry at Rio as she waves her hand. ‘Bye bye Aggie, we’ll be sure to send the marriage invite.’ She adds sarcastically before leaving.

Agatha, alone in the house she was trapped in for the past three or more years, took a deep breath to compose herself. If Rio wanted you, she’s going have to go through her first, after all you were hers first even if it was under the hex. You were always going to be hers before you were anyone else’s.

Agatha would try to woo you by doing things you supposedly liked during the hex, but once she realises that wasn’t the case anymore and the you in the hex was a charachuer of who you were. She knew that she had some actual work to do in order to win your heart before the black hearted Rio did.

She’d even console in Senior Scratch from time to time, tucking the rabbit in her arms and under her chin as she schemes about how she’s going to swoon you over to her.

‘Flowers did the charm once but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘ don’t make me the other woman in this relationship’ or ‘you chose me once, do that again because it’s the only correct answer.’ Agatha raised the rabbit to her eyes. ‘what do you think? Yay or nah.’

Senior scratch twitched his nose and flicked his ear.

‘You’re right, after Wanda traumatised this town, I doubt it’ll be easy getting to y/n anymore as it is getting a needle out of a haystack, but I’m not going to give them over to her.’ Agatha spat as he mind went to Rio earlier this morning, whispering rather flirty and somewhat vulgar things when told to someone with a particularly filthy mind, into your ear and smiling when you looked at her with wide eyes and a flustered face.

‘You know where to find me sweetheart, so don’t be shy.’ Rio then said as she locked eyes with Agatha as she kissed your cheek, leaving a perfect dark imprint of her lips there for anyone to see.

Rio on the other hand wasn’t afraid to saunter up to you and openly flirt with you while keeping her composure. It came to her as easily as breathing, and besides your reactions always made her smile in accomplishment, so she keeps doing it while handing you a special black rose that she conjured up just for you.

‘What’s this?’you asked.

‘A rose of course.’ Rio replied.

‘I know that but,’ you look from the flower to Rio, ‘what’s the occasion?’

Rio smiled as she walked up close to you, placing her hand over your own as she made you both squeeze the stem of the thornless rose. ‘No occasion, can I not be allowed to gift you something that will never wilt, never die, never look less perfect than the day I plucked it for you.’ Rio answered as she looked deeply into your eyes.

You smiled. ‘Thanks Rio, I promise to treasure it along with the lavenders that Agatha got me.’

Rio’s jaw twitched at the mention of the other witches name but didn’t let her annoyance be shown to you as she smiled tightly. ‘You take gifts from other women now? I’m hurt.’ You chuckled as you rested your hand on her shoulder, cussing a flicker of warmth to flow through her briefly.

‘I didn’t take Rio Vidal to be the jealous type.’ You joked, ‘besides it’s not like I can reject Agatha’s gifts, she can be very convincing.’ You add as Rio internally seethed.

‘Yes, very convincing.’ She chocked out through gritted teeth. Agatha was more of a pain in her ass than she originally thought.

‘Anyways I’ve got to go, Agatha invited me to her house for tea and snacks this afternoon but I’ll see you tomorrow for that abandoned botanical garden you told me about, see you later Rio.’ You bided the green with goodbye as you clutched the black rose to your chest as it emanated a brief green glow.

‘You think you’re winning this fight Agatha, but the wars only just begun.’ Rio spat as she watched Agatha welcome you with open arms, holding you close as she looks at Rio with a look of accomplishment.

‘Come on in dear, I have your favourites ready on the table. Senior Scratch has been missing you as of late.’ Agatha cooed as she booped you on the nose, her hand now sliding to your waist as she guides you into her home that felt familiar and smelled like lavender to ease you into a sense of comfort and warmth.

Who you end up with is up to you. (I’d want both but I’m a sucker for Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza)

[katebishopsbaefy]

Shoot Me

billie eilish x reader

𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: you and billie both get your periods at the same time and are the definition of miserable

word count: 1219

You roll over with a groan, pressing your face back into your girlfriend’s side, clutching your stomach. You feel her arms wrap around you. She obviously wanted to feel you as much as you wanted to feel her.

You and Billie had been unfortunate enough to get your periods at the same time, so now here you lay, sprawled on your bed, clutching your stomachs, groaning occasionally. Somehow you’d managed to not only lose track of your heating pads, but you’d also completely run out of pain relief medication, and neither of you felt well enough to drive to the store to get some.

Billie gently kisses your forehead when you press into her. She grunts as she reaches one arm over to the nightstand to check her phone, muttering out a low “shit” upon seeing the many texts and missed calls from her brother, who she was supposed to meet up with today.

You rub your eye and look up at her. “What’s wrong?” you mumble.

She swings her arm back over to hug you tighter, deciding to deal with Finneas later. “Nothing,” she whispers, starting to rub your back. You hum at the touch. “How’re you feeling?”

You grumble out something about feeling like shit, but it comes out muffled due to your face pressing further into her. Your hand finds its way underneath her loose t-shirt in search of more comfort.

This time, she hums at your touch. The weight of you laying on top of her serves as a weighted blanket, and although it’s comfortable, it doesn’t do much for her cramps. “This sucks,” she states. You hum in agreement.

Your short conversation is interrupted by multiple aggressive dings from her phone. She groans again and reaches back over, checking the new texts from her brother.

“Who’s that?” you ask.

She lets out a huff. “Finneas,” she mumbles, “I forgot I was s’pposed to meet up with him today.”

You whine and grip her tighter in response. “Mmm, don’t leave me.”

“I don’t think I could go anywhere even if I wanted to,” she says, giggling quietly at you.

She hadn’t realized that she forgot to respond to him yet again, getting distracted by you, until the sudden alarm of her ringtone and buzzing of her phone forces her to finally respond. You both jump at the sound before she answers. You can hear a faint “hello???” from the other end.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you,” Billie says, exhaustion lacing her voice. “I’ve been asleep all day, me and y/n have the worst cramps ever.” She shifts a little and waits for Finneas to respond. “Actually yeah, that would be super helpful if you have time.” Another pause. “Can I send you a list?” Short pause. “Okay, great, see you later.”

The loss of her warmth makes you groan as she flips you off of her to sit up. “What’d he say?” you ask.

“He said he has some time, so he’s gonna pick some stuff up for us,” she responds. Taking your shared blanket with her, she gets out of bed. You groan for probably the 500th time, but she ignores you and grabs your arm, effectively dragging you out of bed too. “Come on, we’re gonna go sit on the couch.”

“Just shoot me instead,” you mumble. You clutch your pillow to your stomach and trudge your way down the hall with her to the living room. 

She laughs at your remark. “At least we get more time to hang out,” she says, gently bumping her hip with yours. You smile at her and bump her back.

It feels like an hour has passed by the time you make it to the couch. You flop down, immediately leaning into Billie’s side, and you feel her do the same. She sits up for a moment to wrap you in the blanket again before snuggling back into you. “Wanna watch something?” she asks, to which you shrug, and she flicks on a random channel.

You completely lose track of time sitting with her. You have no idea what show’s playing, being too distracted by her hands, which you had taken into your lap. Fingers laced together, palms pressed, her warm hands warming up your cold ones. You’re so spaced out playing with her fingers that you don’t realize you’re starting to fall asleep until she giggles at you.

“Sleepy?” she asks. You look up at her, noticing her eyes starting to droop as well.

“No,” you whisper, reaching a hand up point at her jokingly, “are you?” She shakes her head.

At some point, you had both begun to shift around, so uncomfortable from your cramps. When Finneas arrives at your place, he finds you passed out, sprawled on one side of the couch, gripping your pillow. Billie hogs the blanket on the other side, and your heads meet in the corner. He smiles and snaps a quick picture to send to you later. 

He quietly makes his way over to your kitchen, careful not to make too much noise with his bags. Ice cream, chocolate, and other comfort foods are unloaded into the fridge. Despite how quiet he tries to be, the soft rustling is enough to wake Billie, who quickly sits up and pads over to him, dragging her blanket behind her. “Hey, you don’t have to do that,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Go sit back down.”

“But I feel bad,” she mutters. She plops down onto a seat at the kitchen island, resting her head on her arms.

Finneas slides her a container of pain medication over the table, which she gratefully accepts, downing a couple of pills. “If you wanna do something…” he says, rifling through the bags, “go pop these in the microwave for a minute.” He pulls out two stuffed animals, unzipping them from the back to take out the pad to be heated up. Billie audibly sighs at the sight.

“Oh my God, you’re literally a life saver,” she breathes. After heating them up, she makes her way back over to the couch, where you’re still sound asleep.

“Y/n,” she whispers, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at her. “Hi, my love. I’ll trade you,” she says, referring to the pillow you’re still clutching. You gratefully switch with her, pulling the stuffed toy to your stomach and letting out a breath at the relief it provided. “Better?” she asks, kissing your forehead softly as your eyes close again.

You hum. “Thank you,” you say to her, and, louder this time, “thanks, Finneas.”

He and Billie talk for a little longer, deciding to make up the work they were supposed to do another day, and she thanks him excessively, to which he shrugs every time. Then he leaves, leaving the two of you alone again.

As she sits back down, she pulls your head into her lap. Her hand in your hair, yours on her back underneath her shirt. A few short minutes later, your fingers stop tracing patterns into her skin, and she knows you’d fallen back to sleep. She scoots around, getting more comfortable before falling asleep too.

No matter how shitty you felt, she always made you feel better.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄 . ( a collection of fantasy - based dialogue prompts . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

strangers don't last very long around here .

lay down your sword , and i'll lay down mine .

whatever you do , do not stray from the path .

try not to get yourself killed .

the magic here is old and wild .

quiet ... do not wake it .

i thought i'd find you here . get up .

the tavern in [ location ] is known for its ale and its rumors .

you are starting the path towards your destiny .

is there no end to this accursed forest ?

my sword is yours .

the path to redemption is paved with trials and tribulations .

this forest feels ... sick . as if a disease lies upon it .

you are nothing but damned bones , and a damned soul .

have you ever seen the world beyond [ location ] ?

in the face of overwhelming odds , we must stand united .

please don't let them know that i'm here .

i've heard tales of your exploits . impressive , if they're true .

there's a town three miles east from here .

we have such history , you and i .

go carefully ... there's a camp nearby .

you will not die here , i forbid it .

your reputation precedes you .

i would rather die on my feet than on my knees .

there is no destiny . no born heroes .

you've got a fire in your eyes . use it , but don't let it consume you .

the spirits of this forest are restless .

there's more that you aren't telling me .

you have something that belongs to me .

you shouldn't be here , it's not safe in these parts .

all we can trust are the blades in our hands .

do you believe in fate ? destiny , prophecies ...

i don't think i'll ever get used to having blood on my hands .

wait ! there's traps here . lots of them .

i would die before helping in such a task .

there's an inn just another mile north .

have your blade at the ready .

if you can't already tell , i don't require saving .

have you drank your fill already ?

this isn't just some lark to me .

i'm headed to [ location ] . i could use some company .

your bravery is admirable , but it will also be your undoing .

you're exhausted , [ name ] . we're stopping here .

i will hunt you until the day i die .

i wish you a safe journey home .

as long as i can be of no help , i'm going to hide .

raise your sword . this should be a fair fight .

you're brave to show your face here again .

in this world , you can trust two things ; your intuition and your sword .

i've seen the way you look at the horizon . you're searching for something .

[ administers a healing potion / spell ] is that any better ?

you have no idea of the catastrophe you've set in motion .

there's an ambush ahead , stay quiet .

i want to know your story ... beginning to end .

in the end , we're all just stories waiting to be told .

i've heard tales of a dragon living high up in the mountains . some say it's just a myth , others swear it's real .

the line between friend and foe is often blurred .

try to stay quiet . is the wound deep ?

do not provoke them .

monster ? who's the monster here ?

i forbid you from telling anyone what you've seen here .

are you scared of witches ?

that's a beautiful [ weapon ] . may i ?

you are a valuable ally and a fearsome adversary .

do not tell me you've grown soft over the years .

if our enemy has returned , we must know .

you're a tough one to read , but i can see the kindness in your eyes .

the key to survival is knowing when to fight and when to flee .

i never expected to run into you in [ location ] .

last we spoke , you owed me some coin .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

there is no magic or medicine that can cure this .

you keep questionable company .

every choice has a consequence .

the fate of the world lies in your hands .

so you're the great [ name ] .

remorse will get you nowhere .

you must stay on the path . do not leave it . if you do , you'll never find it again .

i once dreamed of this place . it's real ?

some secrets are best left buried .

the bridge is heavily guarded . we need a plan .

i thought you were returning home .

i would not do this unless i had to .

i need my horse .

it's real . all of the stories , the legends ... and it's real .

don't lose your wit . i believe you'll have need for it yet .

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.” 

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.” 

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.” 

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox. 

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff. 

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter. 

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time. 

“God, it’s late,” he says. 

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...” 

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.” 

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--” 

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.” 

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--” 

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?” 

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen. 

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.” 

“What is this about? The date?” He asks. 

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.” 

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view. 

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.” 

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch. 

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut. 

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.” 

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints. 

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.” 

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top. 

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder. 

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?” 

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.” 

“Right, lined up the block, huh?” 

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.” 

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out. 

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet. 

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward. 

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.  

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets. 

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard. 

“Water?” He asks. 

“Sure, fridge,” you point. 

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop. 

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!” 

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash. 

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you. 

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.” 

“I was trying to help,” you say. 

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches. 

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?” 

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears. 

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.” 

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?” 

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.” 

[see-arcane]

It's a special day in Dracula!

Jonathan experiences a flashback to the Horrors, Mina experiences bisexuality in the wild, and the poor nameless Pretty Girl in Piccadilly rides out of the story, parcel in hand and chic cartwheel hat on, oblivious to the Count stalking after her. In honor of the anonymous young lady who proves for a third time that Dracula and Mina have literally the exact same taste—Jonathan, Lucy, random beauties on the street—I wanted to take a crack at giving her an identity.

But I am also indecisive as hell, so she can be one of a number of pretty persons of note. For example…

Miss Piccadilly #1: Clarimonde

My original favorite choice, if only because I love the idea of Clarimonde still cruising around after the heartbreak she left behind in her own story, “La Morte Amoureuse” (The Dead Woman in Love), aka “Clarimonde.” She is now and always the undead Parisian party queen of my heart, but I could see her traveling around to dabble in hedonism in other corners of the world. Naturally she has to go and catch the attention of the local aristos. Human or otherwise.

But, of course, she is psychic and can read Dracula like a bloodstained book. Keep walking, bat bastard. Her vampiric voluptuousness is reserved for VIPs. (Maybe that fetching mourning couple she saw gawking in the park…)

Miss Piccadilly #2: Helen Vaughan

Oh, Helen Vaughan, elegant hostess and demigoddess horror supreme. I don’t care what Arthur Machen says, your story did not end with the conclusion of The Great God Pan. You were life and death and human and beast and all the hideous realities in-between and a mortal end could never keep you down. Especially not when you have so many paramours left to entertain! So many secrets profane and maddening to share! One of these days you’ll catch one who won’t dissolve into madness and self-destruction after a little innocent eldritch chit-chat.

Like this charming Count here! Count? Count, where are you going? Count, she just wants you to meet her dad—why are you running? Why are you running?

Miss Piccadilly #3: Luna Blue

What’s this? An OC?

Well, of course. No one’s actually naming their child Luna Blue in the late 1800s; that’s just her professional pseudonym. It’s amazing how well the spiritualist movement can work out for a girl with a knack for shuffling painted cards or chatting with the night sky and the occasional planchette. She can even boast something more than showmanship behind her skill. The sort of ‘something’ that worried Transylvanians might whisper about in fear on a certain haunted date while a likewise worried solicitor breaks out the polyglot dictionary.

She recognizes Dracula for what he is as surely as he recognizes her. No, she is not interested, voivode. Even if she was, she’d be out a benefactor within—a hard look at him here; cold and far—oh dear. Scarcely more than a month. At least by her guess. But oh, there is good news in his future too! He shall cross paths with an old friend soon! How lovely. She’s certain these things are not connected. Don’t even worry about it.

Miss Piccadilly #4: Cosette Marchand

The fourth and final young lady in the roster is one more original character and she deserves absolutely none of the horror coming her way. This is Miss Cosette Marchand, an artist by hobby and profession. The parcel received from the jeweler’s was a commissioned necklace and earrings she designed herself. A glittering birthday gift for her mother who will chide her for such an extravagance, Cosy, she has no place to wear such things! But they are lovely…

She’s so lost in her daydreaming that she doesn’t realize the hansom behind her has been following the victoria since leaving Piccadilly Square. All the way home. Home, where there are no bloodletting suitors, no wise professors, no divine or diabolic powers to forestall the natural progression of things between predator and prey. There is only a nightmare waiting for her, unobstructed.

…By anything other than my own bleeding heart. I’m too attached. She has to make it.

So.

How does Miss Marchand’s story go?

Turns out, her mother has some experience in these matters. Her mother being one Laura Marchand, who left a thirsty terror of her own behind twenty years ago. One she has mourned as much as feared in the time between the love of a husband eaten by war and the sharper kisses of a girl far more than a friend or living being. She recognizes the sour reflection of Carmilla’s eagerness in the Thing pretending to be a nobleman at the door. She still has General Spielsdorf’s axe. She has kept the steel sharp. Tonight she will whet it sharper still, from dusk until dawn.

You see all that yellow in her dress. It’s recently become one of her favorite colors, owing to a most diverting play she happened to read. Such lush storytelling! What decadent inspiration! She simply had to design something fine in honor of it. She does hope her mother will appreciate the artful way the gold was wrought, twisting in echo of the Sign. A mother who has gone so strangely still since she happened to glance at the second act of the play. Still and cold. Perhaps she will be cheered by her gift and their guests. There is a nobleman at the door, Mother! And there, see, leaking from the yellow damask wall is His Tattered Majesty—oh. Where has their visitor gone? He shall miss the masquerade! Ah, well. His loss.

Scheherazade…2! In which Miss Marchand pulls a Jonathan by stalling via playing to charm and utility. She wears many hats beside the cartwheel when it comes to the arts. Portraiture, fashion in fabric and ornaments. Surely the Count can savor the spider-and-fly game a little longer for that and some pretty panicked smiles. Look how much patience and frustration he burned on Lucy! Yes, yes, a little while longer to draw things out, play at flirtation between artist and patron, isn’t this nice? Ha ha. (Please don’t drink me please don’t drink me please don’t drink me.)

Well. She got drinked. And maybe succumbed to death before the Count could get slain. But the bat bastard does get put down eventually and she still gets to pop back up! Good news: She’s not under the Count’s thrall! She can think and act for herself! Nice! Bad news: Vampire. At least she can drink her problems* away. (*Problems with names like Atherton, Wotton, Gray…)

Her neighbors are the other three Piccadilly girls. Dracula makes his way downtown, walking fast, walking faster— 

Werewolf free space.

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (5/?)

(Part one, part two, part three, part four. Also on AO3)

Robin sighed as he sat in the passenger seat beside Batman. Another night of patrol had ended semi-peacefully with thankfully no injuries, but Batman still didn't look happy. He was still in the process of accepting Robin as his partner again, and it tired him out trying to mediate and smooth sharp edges. Everything was just exhausting.

The both of them began turning into the cave, where Nightwing was already standing next to the computers when both Batman and Robin entered. He seemed to have just finished his own patrol, but was still in his uniform.

Robin paused when he saw him.

He looked angry.

That was what usually happened between Nightwing and Batman. The two of them fought like dogs and cats over Robin’s presence and training. When one suggested one thing, the other would argue like their lives depended on it.

(In a way, it did. Robin’s life depended on it.

… or at least, Robin’s life had depended on it.)

Sometimes, he understood why Nightwing was so angry.

If he was disobedient, he could get injured. He didn’t know how many times Nightwing had pushed that idea into his head.

(And although Tim wished he was, he was not Jason. That Robin would never come back, no matter how much Batman tried to pretend he did.)

Both Batman and Robin exited the car and Robin went straight towards Nightwing.

“Hey,” Nightwing called out, his grimace switching out to a small smile, just like a performer would, “how was patrol?”

“It’s been an easy night tonight,” Robin said, peeling off his mask to give Nightwing a smile. “How was yours?”

Nightwing gave a singular nod and then a shrug.

So probably nothing worth noting either.

Batman was silent, taking off his gloves and cape on the other side of the cave.

Robin studied Nightwing’s face.

He was a pretty boy through and through, with long hair in a mullet style and a light smile on his face that made him shine like the sun. To Robin, Nightwing was his goal and his idol. He wanted more than anything to show him that his decision to allow and help him become Robin was not a mistake.

He looked right back at Robin, his eyes considering.

“Nightwing,” Robin began carefully, “did you want to tell me something?”

There was a beat of silence.

Nightwing paused. Then he nodded slowly, “Actually, yes. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet the cluster.”

Robin's eyes widened.

The Phantom Cluster was an important part of the Justice League’s history and the survival of the planet. Every time something apocalyptic was about to occur, the King of the cluster would warn the Justice League. On occasion, they would also communicate with their hosts through dreams and visions, and prevent even more disasters.

The hosts of the Phantom clusters were only Robins. No matter how much any other hero tried to appeal to them, the stars only favored the wards under Batman.

Though they also seemed to like the younger heroes a lot, having no problem helping them. Tim had heard that Dick’s star had given his personal approval for Starfire and had actually watched out for the Teen Titans before.

The cluster had always loved the Robins.

(Nightwing had called his bonded star, "mine," and his star had responded back in kind. Jason's nickname for his own star was supposedly "Princess." She had called him "dearest" and from what Nightwing would say, their bond was very strong.

It made something inside of Tim ache.)

Essentially, this was possibly an invitation for Tim to get his own star, if it was true that the cluster bonded to all Robins.

Batman, however, whipped his head around and snarled. “Absolutely not! You are forbidden from seeing the cluster!”

Nightwing’s attitude immediately changed as well. He rolled his eyes and snapped, “Who are you to decide that? You don’t have a damn leg to stand on!”

Robin eyed him. He suddenly felt his heart twinge at the thought that it was his fault that he made them start arguing again. The two of them continued arguing and it wasn’t until Alfred came down into the cave that he spoke up.

“Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion. All of the previous Robins met the cluster, so what's the big deal?" He said, trying to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Batman spat, “all of the previous Robins met the cluster, and one of them died.”

Robin winced.

“Don’t you dare blame them for Jason,” Nightwing snarled. “If I can’t blame you, you can’t blame them either. They lost a sibling too!”

Robin did not speak again as he thought about the situation.

He wanted to meet them. All of the files on the Batcomputer about the Phantom Cluster had him locked out. All he knew was that it was a cluster made of sentient stars and planets and two of them had chosen an individual Robin to keep as a “host”. When Jason had died, his star had died with him. Everything else were anecdotes from Dick, who clearly loved them and his star very much.

But in order to be Robin, he also needed to meet them. The cluster made deals with all of the previous Robins. Now that there was a new one, would things be easier if he also became a host with a star?

(And maybe, just maybe, Bruce will accept him if he had a star of his own too.)

Robin started to speak again, "I—"

“No. That cluster has been nothing but trouble. Robin, I forbid you to go!” Bruce roared.

Robin gulped and shivered. The pure rage in Batman’s tone suddenly made him worried for what he was going to do. Nightwing wrapped a protective arm around him and pulled him back.

“The Cluster has never hurt a Robin before.”

“He. Will. Not. Be going,” Batman growled.

Alfred coughed into a fist and everyone shut up and looked at him. Robin tried not to move but he couldn’t help but try to press closer to Nightwing.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said sternly, "may I speak with you?"

Bruce wilted and then trudged after the true patriarch of the Wayne family.

It was almost funny, but Robin was still tense as Nightwing glared at the retreating back of their mentor and guardian. Alfred turned slightly to wink at him, and he relaxed with a faint smile.

Robin stared at Nightwing.

"... Nightwing?" He asked carefully.

Nightwing softened further as he looked at him. "Yes, Tim?"

"... it's okay if I don't go, right?"

Nightwing's eyebrows immediately went up to his hairline. It was like he couldn't believe that he would not want to go see the cluster.

Robin grimaced. He corrected himself hurriedly, "I mean— I want to go, but—"

"Tim, it's okay. If you don't want to go, it's fine. But to be honest, I'd rather have you go at least once. The cluster... they've always been allies of us Robins. I'd like you to meet my star, at least."

Us Robins. That thought made Robin pause.

Nightwing always tried to be accommodating and gentle with him. The thought of disappointing him gave him determination.

Robin shook his head and said in a firm tone, "No, I want to go."

Nightwing grinned. "Let's go now, then."

Robin glanced back at where Alfred and Batman had left.

"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of it, okay? I'll say that I forced you or something. B is just a paranoid asshole."

Robin's lips twitched but he nodded quickly and followed Nightwing. The two of them entered the teleportation tube that was installed in the cave and then away they went.

When they landed in the space station, Nightwing immediately locked the doors so nobody would enter.

Robin eyed him. Nightwing gave an innocent smile back and said, "It's just in case he decides to come after us."

Robin didn't say a word as Nightwing lead them through the metal halls before they finally ended up in the main room, where windows covered all of the walls, revealing a beautiful starry world outside of the space shuttle.

Robin gasped as he stared out the window at the close stars and planets. They were so close that Robin could almost see the surface of each star move and shift. Thankfully, the tinted windows allowed them to look directly at them.

"Hello, my star," Nightwing breathed and the stars remained silent. Nightwing didn't seem angry, just sad as he pressed his forehead and left hand to the glass, sighing.

Beyond the glass, the stars inched around an empty space, where the Jason's star used to stay.

Robin bit his lip again.

Jason's death had not only hurt Batman and Gotham, but also the heavens.

He might not have known it, but he was so very loved.

Nightwing exhaled again and then stood up straight. He looked at Robin with a thin smile and beckoned him forward.

"Come on. They don't bite."

Robin came forward, eyes darting towards the stars with silent awe and reverence. The stars and planets glittered and shone with a brilliance that matched the Sun, and Robin couldn't help but stare at the sentient celestial objects that floated in the sky.

"They're beautiful, right?" Nightwing said, and it startled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. They are," he agreed, because if he said otherwise, it would've been a lie.

It was awe-inspiring (and a little bit terrifying) to see somethings so big and large that were benevolent enough to help them.

It made Robin feel smaller than ever.

Nightwing hummed.

The communicator crackled then, taking away the sound of ocean waves and faint TV static.

Nightwing whipped his head around and Robin followed, staring between the communicator and the window, where the stars lied in silence.

"Hello," a thousand voices called and a shiver ran down Robin's spine.

Like the chorus of angels, a symphony of voices, a choir of sirens, the voices were soft and gentle.

They sounded sad. Tired. Wane.

Robin felt like it was odd that he understood what they were feeling, but he said nothing as he looked at Nightwing's face, which was tinged with the same exhaustion in the stars' tones.

"Hello. This is..." Nightwing gestured to him, "Robin. I'd like to introduce you to him."

The sound of ocean waves again. Robin felt his stomach swoop and drop.

Had they rejected him?

He knew he wasn't Jason, but he had to do it. In order for Batman to be the best hero that he could be for Gotham's sake, he needed a Robin.

Nightwing placed a hand on his shoulder and Robin tried to breathe past the panic.

The voices came back and said, ".... we know."

A different voice differentiated itself from the rest. It was distinctly masculine and adult-sounding, unlike the androgynous and childish voices of the others.

"My Nightwing," the voice called softly and Nightwing beamed.

"My star," he returned the call with a nod and a smile.

Nightwing's star continued, "Our little sister wants to make a deal with Robin. If he wants."

Robin startled. "Who?"

Hope filled inside of him. He wasn’t rejected after all!

Nightwing chuckled. "The little sister of the cluster is the protostar. That one, right there."

He pointed outside, towards a small, bow-tie shaped cloud of dust and gas, all of it converging into one center. She spun and consumed nebula swiftly, but did not move otherwise.

"That's the little sister?" Robin tilted his head.

She was oddly... vulnerable. With the way the other stars and planets circled the point of their cluster, and the way they directed the nebula towards her, they were clearly very protective of her.

"Yep," Nightwing said, but he was quickly interrupted.

There was a crackle from the communicator and then an angry hum like that of a buzzing hornet. Robin flinched and looked at Nightwing, who suddenly burst out laughing.

"My star! Please, Robin isn't going to take her away!"

Another angry hum, though less loud and more indignant.

Robin blinked and then relaxed. His lips twitched and he asked, "Is your star jealous that I'm looking at her?"

"He's the most jealous star I know," Nightwing said, in a loud and teasing tone that was clearly meant to be heard by the stars. "Such a sis-con."

Robin snorted, suddenly feeling a little better. He looked at Nightwing, who now looked more relaxed and encouraging. "You can talk to them," he said. "I promise, they're nice."

Robin nodded firmly and stepped up the communicator. "Uhm. Hello," he said, then winced from the awkwardness.

Silence again, and then, a soft, "Hello, Robin."

The word “Robin” was said with so much unspoken affection that it made him flustered. He stuttered then, but as Nightwing looked at him encouragingly, he continued.

Robin took a deep breath and said slowly, "I'd like to make a deal with the protostar, if that's okay. I can't promise that I'll be a good host, but I promise that I'll be the best host I can be. I'll take care of her and Batman too."

Silence.

Robin glanced back at Nightwing, who was grinning widely and giving an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.

Robin turned back as the communicator crackled once more and then the stars said, "Okay."

One voice in particular, softer than the others and lighter, spoke up then. "Let's make a deal, Robin."

She sounded tired, like she was struggling to stay awake and Robin felt his tone softening as he spoke to her, "Okay. I'll make a deal with you. We'll protect each other, okay?"

The protostar said softly, "I'll protect you."

Robin knew that she purposefully did not mention how he would protect her. He knew it, and he felt like he should've said something to make it fair, but the reassurance that she would be there for him suddenly made him breathless. He felt like he was robbed of all oxygen as he stared at the sky and suddenly understood why Nightwing was so fiercely and deeply protective of the cluster, even against Bruce.

They were kind. So very kind despite being cursed children who had become stars.

"Okay," he said slowly, already feeling a deep affection for his star blooming in his chest, "okay."

He instinctively put his hand on the glass and a bright light, flashing and fast, shot out of the nebula cloud she was consuming and flew towards him. It struck the glass and hot warmth entered Robin's body and then into his side.

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm his heart from racing before he opened his tunic, already knowing where the fated mark was.

On his left side, around the area of his ribs, was a four pointed star, white and pastel yellows and blues slowly tattooing itself into his side.

He beamed. "Dick! Look!" He had accidentally called him by his civilian identity, but Nightwing didn't seem to care as he bound forward and then picked him up and twirled him around.

"You did it! You've got your own star!"

Robin beamed.

He was accepted as a Robin and got his very own star from the Phantom cluster!

He wished he could've heard them singing, like Nightwing used to talk about, or maybe made a deal with his star in happier circumstances, but this was nice too.

Nightwing was still cheering and celebrating, but Robin couldn't help but look out past the stars. His protostar spun in place a little, looking a little more cheerful and he smiled.

"Thank you, Robin," she whispered and Robin grinned.

"No, thank you.... partner." That seemed like a good nickname for her.

A beat of silence from her and then she said, in a slightly more upbeat tone, "You too, partner!"

"Pfftt— you're like a couple of cowboys," Nightwing muffled his laugh.

Robin rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly. "Shut up, Dick. You're the one with the creepy, "my star" thing."

Nightwing gasped and put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Y'know what? You're grounded! I won't take this slander anymore!"

Robin laughed and as the tension bled out from previous days of mourning and grief, he almost wanted to believe that things would be okay again.

He looked out the sky, as Nightwing put him in a headlock, and watched the stars begin to move slowly, as if suddenly gaining the energy to do so.

He watched that empty hole in space be avoided and he thought of Jason again.

No matter what would happen, he would make him and the stars proud.

————

Bruce seemed resigned when he came back bonded. He didn't say anything and just went to his room. Usually, Tim would've been worried, but he wasn't too concerned since he was so excited about having a star for himself.

Dick gave him the codes to unlock the files on the Phantom Cluster and Tim dove right in without hesitation.

He researched everything he could about the cluster, from what they told the Justice League, from Dick's own secret files that he sent over into his computer, from astronomy websites, and he even hacked into NASA's database on stars and astronomical bodies.

Tim finally found another purpose besides being Robin.

He was his star's host.

Being a host for a star belonging to the Phantom Cluster meant many things. For one, their condition reflected on their stars.

If Robin was whole and healthy, so would his star. If he was sick or tired, it would show on his star too.

For another, being a host meant being protected and watched over by the stars.

Nightwing had mentioned before that sometimes, the stars gave them powers. Robin had a hypothesis that with each host being bonded to a star, the powers that they were able to gain grew stronger or increased, since he discovered new abilities that were not recorded since he was bonded to his own star.

A lot of it were minuscule, barely able to make a difference unless it was a split second thing, when Robin miraculously needed just a little push to solve a mystery, fight crime, evade a dangerous situation, or defeat a bad guy.

Nightwing had mentioned before that he had never had a bad landing after being bonded, and that he had a small immunity to heat and fire. He had also said that sometimes, bullets would mysteriously be unable to hit him, but this was a hit-or-miss thing (quite literally) and didn't always happen, so Robin still had to be able to dodge well.

In the reports, the previous Robin mentioned how he would occasionally get brief, sporadic dreams of the future. Every once in a while, he would sleepwalk, and as if possessed, wake up with a new plan, an unknown secret, or an important clue in the morning. After the previous Robin had gotten his star, Nightwing had supposedly gained the same ability on the occasion, and even Robin discovered that ability, which proved his hypothesis.

Robin himself, had odd bouts of good luck, often causing him to end fights or solve cases even faster than Batman could. At other times, the good luck manifested in things like finding an unusual number of heads-facing pennies that were printed in 1943, or finding lost items whenever he lost them. When Robin fell asleep, nightmares were scarce and he would sometimes feel a weight against his side, as if he was resting next to someone with their head on his shoulder.

(When he woke up, he would feel refreshed, but with a slightly melancholy and loneliness. He wondered if it was from his star.)

Robin wanted to be depended on. He wanted to be important and loved and cared for, and his star was everything he wanted.

For her, he wanted to improve.

He trained under several masters, he made enemies and friends, he joined other hero teams, and he even created his own team, the Young Justice. Bruce’s team grew too, with Cass and Stephanie and others joining them in order to help Gotham City.

Every day, he grew older and his star grew alongside him, an eternal beacon.

She spun and whirled like a hurricane, absorbing and eating nebula and growing stronger, almost converging into a sphere as if she was about to begin her transformation into a star.

And then everything changed when Jason's star came back.

————

Both he and Dick had been in the space shuttle when she had reappeared.

The black mass that used to be the quasar still remained, still and quiet, but the other stars seemed to have gain energy from her silent presence. They spun around her happily, as she loomed over them with her inky presence, bending light around her like a lightless black hole.

With her arrival, it meant that Jason had come back.

And with Jason’s return, so did the Batman’s interest in the stars.

“How do they know?” He growled, as they poured over information and audio logs of the interviews of the stars. “How do they know what happens? Did they know that Jason would die and come back?”

Nightwing glared at him, but said tersely, “I don’t know. From what we know, their ability to read the future comes from Clockwork. He visits them and tells them information.”

Robin lifted his eyes up from the paper, which had a picture of his star on it.

“We’ve never seen Clockwork before, have we? We don’t know much about him either.”

“He seems to be an authority figure or warden for the cluster. They speak highly of him, but are purposefully vague,” Nightwing mused, rubbing his chin in thought. “I think I remember my star mentioning once that Clockwork helped him with his past.”

“So… he’s probably also a parental figure,” Robin said, and Nightwing nodded thoughtfully.

Batman looked exhausted, his cowl pulled down off of his head as he bent over the table with an almost inaudible creak of his back and stared intensely at the papers.

Jason’s star had come back, but there were no traces of Jason except an empty grave. They had all been too late when arriving at his grave, only to be met with a coffin that had been broken in from the inside. Whatever had happened, Jason had dug himself out on his own.

Robin knew that it killed Nightwing and Batman inside to imagine the boy they considered as family carving himself out of his own coffin.

The two of them were almost inconsolable at first, but they quickly gathered themselves up again and started investigating.

The cluster was surprisingly unhelpful, not even answering Nightwing when he asked questions about Jason. The only thing his star had said was, “Be patient.”

It was such a hauntingly simple and frustrating answer, exactly like what one would expect coming from an all-powerful and all-knowing being that lived for an unknown amount of years stuck with a child’s mind. Nightwing and Robin did not begrudge them, knowing that they were also protecting the quasar's secrets and bond with the other Robin, but Batman could not say the same.

Of course, they didn’t let that hold them down.

For the first time, Robin had been able to hear the song of the stars.

It was gorgeous. It was still soft, like waking up from a deep sleep, and sometimes it cut off like a bad connection, but Nightwing had looked relieved at the sound of it.

“There’s still another voice missing,” Nightwing had said sadly, “Jason’s quasar— her voice isn’t in the song.”

It already sounded so nice, with the melodic voices of the stars and planets and Dick’s star singing along, so if the loss of one voice was making it incomplete, just how beautiful was the sound when they were all together?

For many reasons, Robin wanted to find Jason.

He was reluctant to continue being Robin for awhile, but Nightwing convinced him to stay.

Once Jason was back, he would give back the suit.

“There’s something we’re missing,” Batman said slowly. “We need to review the facts.”

Nightwing nodded and looked at Robin encouragingly.

Robin began, “Okay. So on XX, XX of this year, we discovered that Jason Todd was revived or in some capacity, alive due to his star returning. He… dug his way out of the coffin himself, but has disappeared for now. The cluster seems to be aware of his movements and location, but is not planning to tell us where or why. The question is, how did Jason come back to life? Where is he, and if he's not in Gotham, did someone take him?”

Nightwing sighed. “We don’t have a lot of information. It’s just a whole bunch of what-ifs and wheres.”

Batman was silent, brooding.

Robin thought some more and then asked, slowly, “Have we reviewed the footage of the cluster before? What if… what if Jason’s star didn’t come back at the time that we thought?”

Nightwing blinked. “What do you mean?”

Batman, however, nodded suddenly. “I think I see what you’re saying. We should review the footage. Nightwing, maybe the time you noticed the star coming back isn’t accurate.”

“What! But I had been coming there every day!” Nightwing said, but then paused. His eyes went wide, and then rushed to the computer.

Batman patted Robin on the shoulder, making warmth ooze in his chest. Batman said with a cold, but vaguely grateful expression, “Good job on the new lead, Robin.”

Robin beamed.

They rewound the camera footage of the cluster which were all kept in the files, since Dick liked rewatching them.

And just as Robin suspected, it was true.

The empty space where the quasar had sat before her demise had not been as empty as Nightwing had thought. For at least a few days before her return as a black star, she had been very small and only noticeable in how light slightly bent around her tiny shape.

She had been shadowed and covered by her siblings until her final reveal and Jason’s ultimate return.

Nightwing covered his face. He seemed to be struggling to find the words on what to say.

Eventually, he said, strangled, “I should’ve looked closer. If I had known, we would’ve found Jason sooner!”

Batman sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up.” Both Robin and Nightwing looked at him with surprise. He sighed again and said, “I am… aware that I‘ve been upset and hostile of the Phantom Cluster. But ultimately, you are still bonded with them and they still offer you some semblance of protection. I am... also grateful that they gave us a chance to know that Jason is back. At least we know now that Jason had dug himself out a few days earlier.”

The three of them looked at each other.

Jason was going to be found and brought back to them. No matter what.

A few months later, almost 6 months after Jason's return, the silent mass that was Jason’s star suddenly bloomed into a protostar, larger than Robin’s. She was a ginormous, funneling top of blue and red nebula, quickly consuming the stellar remnants in the galaxy.

“… what does this mean?” Nightwing muttered as he stared at the footage of her new form. The other stars were cheerfully circling around their sibling again, their song now joined in by their returned sister. “Is he back for real? Was he not back before? Does this mean that he wasn't himself or something?"

Robin was silent, listening to the song. True to Nightwing’s words, the song was beautiful and ethereal.

It was a heaven’s choir, a siren’s song, a mother’s lullaby. It was beautiful in all sorts of ways. The sound was cold and sent shivers down his spine but oddly enough, he welcomed it.

“Do you think he’s… mad?” Robin asked. He felt strangely serene as he listened to the song of the stars.

“… hm?”

“Do you think Jason is mad that I’m Robin and that’s why he’s not coming home?”

Nightwing stared at him with such horror and disbelief that Robin quickly backtracked.

“It’s fine. He’s going to come home,” his tone was firm, hiding his inner insecurities. “The stars foretell it.”

Time passed and Jason’s star remained as a protostar, his own star often twirling around her in happy circles. Both sisters were cute to look at, especially because one was so big and the other was so small. The two of them spun cheerfully around each other, being fed nebula by their family, and Robin watched it all.

Of course, while the stars were in stasis, he was not.

He continued his duties as Robin, made secrets between only Nightwing and the stars, helped others and lived on, even when his mom was killed and his dad was paralyzed and in a coma. He could not prevent it because he had not known.

It was a cruel, cruel fact that the heavens did not care for civilian lives when they were lost.

(The stars did not care much for anyone but the Robins. It was a thought both flattering and terrifying.)

When his dad found out about him being Robin, he was forced to quit. He handed his uniform to Stephanie to keep safe for him, and then he was… normal again.

His protostar seemed unhappy with the decision, but thankfully not with him, because when he climbed onto the roof of the Drake manor to talk to her, she responded back just as eagerly as always. However, she had stopped moving, a sign of either displeasure, discomfort, or something from the future.

“Do I come back to being Robin?” He remembered whispering to her one night, and her answering twinkle made his heart swell.

He liked feeling important, but he also never truly wanted it. The pain and suffering that came from being a hero truthfully scared him. It was only the thought of Batman and Nightwing, as well as his star, that kept him from quitting all together when he first found out that Jason was back.

But he could admit to himself that he liked the feeling of flying through the air, beating bad guys, and saving people. He liked the feeling of recognition and attention.

He didn’t mind not being a hero for a little while. At least he knew that he would come back in the future.

Soon, Stephanie donned the Robin uniform, and at first, Tim could admit that he had been worried. She was reckless and foolhardy, but she was a good person with a keen eye for puzzles and problem-solving. He wanted her to succeed and in order to do so, she needed to meet the cluster.

It had been him who introduced her to her own celestial object and he was also the one who taught her about the Phantom Cluster and their abilities.

The both of them bonded over endearing and anthropomorphic astronomical bodies and Tim was the one who taught her to be Robin too, since Batman seemed insistent on kicking her down. It was difficult to make plans while Tim’s dad was also adamant on driving Stephanie away, but they made it work.

It was a peaceful night, as Tim snuck onto his roof and Stephanie quickly followed with a picnic blanket that was spread over his house shingles. It had been years since the both of them first met and then began working together in the hero scene, boosting each other up with their stars by their side. Now they were good friends after dating for a while and then Tim breaking up with her due to his change in status from a vigilante to civilian.

As they were chatting under the moon, with a tablet holding footage of their respective celestial objects, everything changed.

The song of the stars had cut off slowly, grinding to a halt and making both of them pause in their conversation.

“Uh. They just stopped singing. What does that mean?” Stephanie asked nervously.

Tim stared at the tablet and reached over to bring it closer. “… sometimes it means that there’s something we need to know or something is happening. I wonder what’s going on.”

He knew that Dick was also mostly likely noticing something was up as well.

Both Stephanie and Tim stared at the tablet in silence, tension building as nothing happened yet. The stars and planets slowed down and Tim’s star even stopped spinning, motionless.

Tim’s eyes were drawn to Jason’s quasar-turned-protostar.

There was another beat of silence, and then the camera’s feed turned to white with a sudden screech.

Both of them flinched from the loud scream and then watched a supernova consume the vision of the camera. It took a while before the brightness lowered and the shrieking of metal stopped ringing through their ears.

“Oh my gosh! Look!” Stephanie shook Tim’s shoulder, but it was unnecessary because he couldn’t take his eyes off of the screen.

Jason’s quasar had turned into a frighteningly enormous star. Almost 20 times the size of Dick’s star, Jason’s star had turned into a star that was so blue, it was white. She floated in space for a moment, before she then began a slow cycle around the cluster, carefully avoiding the planets so they would not burn in her luminosity. The rest of the cluster paused, as if taking in the sight of her before following suit and then…

Song burst from the feed again.

“Whoa,” Stephanie said, in a hushed whisper, “it’s beautiful.”

Dick had once described his and his star’s growth into adulthood with new identities. He had said that his star went supernova and transformed from a black hole to a giant star.

He had mentioned how the song had changed, with the addition of a fully mature voice of an adult star.

It happened the same way this time too.

Jason’s star had a light and delicate voice, distinctly feminine and quite high. She provided a soft harmony to the song alongside Dick’s star, with the both of their adult voices enriching the sound of the other stars, who were still children.

Stephanie gave another soft sound of awe.

Tim was more focused on what this meant.

It had been four years since his death. Now that his star had changed, it meant that Jason had also changed his identity, like how Robin became Nightwing. Whatever had happened, Jason had now grown up into an adult. He had come into a new identity in the four years he had been gone, and now he had found himself and alongside with it, his star.

But a question still remained.

Where was he?

————

Tim bopped his head to the music as he bent over his desk. It was another night of peace as he stayed in his room to do his school assignments, while his dad and Danna went on another date.

He was finishing up the last of his homework when he heard the door opening in the faint distance. He took a reflex glimpse outside the window, where he saw a cloudy sky, and then poked his head out of his room.

"Dad! Are you home?"

Silence.

Tim immediately tensed. He patted his pockets for weapons but found nothing. He inched back into his room and picked up the bat that was by his door. When he finally left his room again, he tried to go for nonchalant as he called out, "Dad! Did you bring home the wings I asked for?"

He carefully made his way to the foyer. But before he could turn around the corner and look at who had entered his home, he was knocked back by a fist.

He cried out as pain bloomed on his face. He squinted through the tears, silently wondering how they could hit so hard before he swung the bat. It was stopped with a hand, but Tim maneuvered his body and then lunged forward to kick the assailant back.

He darted backwards to get some distance and stared.

It was a muscular man, all clad in leather and black kevlar with a red helmet on his head.

Tim catalogued his appearance and could not figure out who this person was.

The only person with this kind of memo was the Red Hood, which was an alias that the Joker used, but that couldn’t be possible.

"Who are you?" He snapped. "What are you looking for?"

"What? I'm looking for a who," the man hissed, his voice coming through as electronic. "I'm looking for a Robin."

Tim's stomach dropped.

He said slowly, "I think you're looking in the wrong house. Robin isn't here."

"I heard you quit, Timothy Drake. I heard you quit being Robin and gave it to some other kid. Do you think it's that easy? Do you think it's that easy to leave being Robin behind?"

Oh crap.

Tim scrambled away as the man then lunged at him. He swung the bat again and as the man blocked with a fist, Tim lashed out with another kick. The man grabbed him by the ankle with the other hand and then threw him to the side.

Tim choked on his breath as his back hit the wall, knocking down some picture panes and shattering them on the floor. His back was already starting to ache, but he didn't have time to worry about that when the man struck again, punching him in the stomach.

Tim gagged on the bile rising up his throat before he attacked back with a jab to the throat. He then kicked the man twice in quick succession, making him grunt, and darted up on his feet, dodging a hit from the man's fist again.

"Who are you?!" Tim cried out, his blood freezing in his veins at the thought of Bruce and Dick's secret being known to others.

Would this man reveal their identities? Take Tim as a hostage? Use him to blackmail Bruce?

The man laughed mechanically. He reached behind his head and unlocked the helmet with a faint hiss of air. Then he dropped the helmet onto the floor and brushed his hair back with bright green eyes and a wild smirk full of teeth like he wanted to tear Tim apart.

Tim's eyes widened.

If the familiar face shape didn't key him in, it was the four pointed star on his cheek, unmistakeable and alight with bloody orange and turquoise, that told him just who had came into his house with the intent of attacking him.

"No..." he whispered in disbelief, scrambling backwards again as his breath came out quick and panicked.

Jason had come back?

Jason was back!

If he hadn't just been beaten by him with his fists, he probably would've been happy. Now he was just extremely confused and frightened.

"Oh yes," Jason purred. He was fully grown now, well muscled and clearly trained by someone other than Batman for the last four years. "You're in luck, Robin. You're the first one I saw after being back in this hell hole."

Tim was mentally making a list of the things he needed to do.

Finally, he replied slowly, "But why? Why did you see me first? And where were you?"

"I was dead, obviously," Jason scoffed. “And I came here to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay, cool,” Tim said nervously. “Did you need to punch me to ask me questions?”

Jason didn’t answer, but instead, swung to punch him again. Tim yelped and rolled to dodge. He was barely back on his feet before Jason grabbed his hair and pulled him down, kneeing him in the stomach.

Tim coughed but also took that moment while he was bent over to drop and kick out his legs, knocking Jason off his feet.

Jason fell and Tim jumped over him to get away. He flew down the stairs and barely reached the entryway when he was pounced onto by Jason, who felt like a damn elephant as he pinned him onto the floor with his body weight.

They wrestled but Tim was so out of Jason’s weight class that it wasn’t even funny. Tim could feel the panic within him rising as he struggled and tried to get away from the previous Robin, a once beacon of hope and light for Gotham.

“You have it so easy,” Jason hissed, as he started wrestling him to the ground. “A dad, money, a good home. You never had to dig through trash for scraps. You never had to take care of your dying mom while you were starving yourself. You never had to fight for your life while being tortured!”

Tim kicked Jason in the stomach, allowing just enough space for him to throw back his elbow to his chin. Jason made a faint noise of pain, and punched him once more, but before it could escalate, the most intense feeling of nausea struck Tim.

For a moment, he wondered if he was going to throw up over the previously dead Robin’s hands, but when Jason also paused and moved away from him with a gasp, he realized that both of them were struck with the same condition.

Tim blinked rapidly as the both of them stared at each other in thinly veiled confusion and distrust. Jason suspiciously stared at him, and then looked up out the window that was placed over the door. As Tim blinked away the stars in his eyes, he was beginning to realize that it was not just stars in his vision, but also stars in the sky.

The night was now clear, allowing them both to see a patch of sky with two distinctive lights.

Both Robins, old and new, stared at the rapidly twinkling lights in the distance. There were two flashes, blinking over and over, as if trying to get their attention.

The two sat there in silence. Then Jason looked down at his wrist, which held a watch that was now projecting the image of his star. She was spinning and bursting with solar flares like crazy, enough that Jason gave a disbelieving, almost angry laugh.

"Okay, jeez, I get it, Princess. You want me to keep your sister's fucking host alive."

Tim exhaled in relief, casting his eyes over to the night sky, which held his star in the distance.

Thank the stars that she helped him.

He didn’t want to know what would happen if her and her sister couldn’t get their attention.

He silently mouthed, "Thanks, partner."

The sky twinkled noticeably one last time before it stopped.

Tim jolted when Jason suddenly bent down and started taking off his shirt.

“Excuse me?!” He shrieked, feeling the bruises ache as Jason started undressing him. He struggled weakly, but Jason was still pulling apart his clothes.

“Shut up. Where’s the damn mark?”

Just to spare himself the indignity, Tim pulled his t-shirt to present his side and snapped, “Here.”

Jason stared at the four pointed star, colored with baby blue and butter yellow, for a beat and then stood up in a huff.

Tim glared at him. He loved the Robins and he loved Batman, but that didn’t mean he was just going to forgive him for almost killing him!

"Where are your medical supplies?" Jason asked, looking around his room.

Tim grimaced and said, "The kitchen."

“Where?”

He eyed him with distrust. Jason put his hands on his hips and waited.

“…. In the left cabinet next to the stove.”

Jason went off to look for it, probably, and Tim slowly sat up, rubbing his shoulder that had been knocked against several surfaces this night, while he lifted his eyes to the window again.

His star was still there, faint due to her distance from Earth, but she was still just barely bright enough that he could find her through Gotham’s smog.

Thank the heavens for her and her sister.

Jason came back with a stomp and the emergency medical kit in his hands. He sat down next to Tim and raised a hand, palm up.

"Hand."

Tim gave it to him.

Jason opened the kit and then began to inspect, clean, and wrap up his wounds. Even for his back, Tim was asked to take off his shirt and Jason applied bruise gel all over it. Tim was tense at first, but eventually, he just kind of melted underneath Jason's hands and closed his eyes as he was taken care of by the previous Robin.

Sometimes he would ask Tim questions.

“So what do you call your star?”

“Partner. She calls me partner back too.”

“Ha! You’re like cowboys.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“Like hell I do!”

But Jason didn’t hurt him again. Tim was full-on relaxing by the end of it.

When Jason was finished, Tim was lightly dozing from the warmth of the numbing creams and the fact that it was a late night on a school day. The fact that he hadn’t been hugged or touched in a while certainly aided his sleepy haze too. Jason snorted at the sight of him and said, "Aren't you too trusting? I just beat you up."

Tim grumbled as he opened his eyes and uncurled from his position. "You're an asshole, y'know that? What was all of that even for?"

Jason sighed and said, "I changed. And... I guess… sorry. I wasn't in a right state of mind when I came here."

Tim twisted to look at him. Looking at him closer, Jason's eyes were still green, though noticeably less bright.

The shade of green was so familiar that Tim stared for a long time before he suddenly blurted out, "The league. You were with the League of Assassins!"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "I was."

"Was it Talia? Did she revive you? What happened?"

Jason looked exasperated but he nodded with a deliberately careless shrug. "I died, crawled out of my grave like a zombie, and then she picked me up. I went with her to the League and she threw me into the Lazarus Pits before training me. Now I’m here again to take back what’s mine.”

“Robin?” Tim blurted again. “I’ll give it back to you. I was going to— but someone needed to be Robin and my dad made me quit so I gave it to a friend and she became Robin for a little while, but I don’t think she’ll mind if you get it back.”

“Breathe,” Jason deadpanned, eyeing him with an unidentifiable emotion. “And I don’t care for it anymore.”

“You sure? You definitely cared about it 20 minutes ago,” drawled Tim.

Jason glared at him and Tim narrowed his eyes at him right back.

Eventually, Jason rolled his eyes and looked away. “Well, I stopped caring.” He pointed at Tim demandingly. “I don’t give a fuck what happens next, but if you tell anyone I’m here, I’ll break your damn face!”

“But why?”

Tim could understand that Jason was angry. Whatever had happened in the League had changed him for the worse, but there was still that familiar, charismatic, and caring boy inside, evident by Tim's carefully bandaged wounds (despite being the one to inflict them, but whatever). He could see that Jason was feeling vengeful too, but he didn't want Jason to be estranged from Dick or Bruce.

"I have plans," Jason said with a sneer. "Plans for Gotham that can't have B and Dick interfering."

"... are you trying to get revenge?"

"So what if I am? I died. Better yet, I was murdered. It doesn't matter what you think, I'll do what I need to do and because you're the host of my star's sister, I'll let you go this one time."

Tim thought of Bruce's brooding and endless self-blame at Jason's death. He thought of Dick's almost desperate attempts in training Tim and his neverending grief from the loss of a brother and the loss of a possible future knowing him. He thought of Alfred's silent sorrow, his eyes full of fear when Tim used to suit up in the Batcave. He thought of that period of time where Batman brutalized every criminal he came across, even the petty ones, turning Gotham into a city of rage and pain.

".... They all mourned for you," Tim said, not really knowing what outcome he was looking for by saying this,"B and Dick mourned for you. It was so bad that I had to force them to make me Robin because Batman needed him. Batman needed you."

Jason stared at him, his eyes flickering between greenish hues before he looked away, eyebrows furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason snorted coldly. “They clearly didn't care enough if the Joker is still alive. I’m going to stay here and I’m going to kill the Joker. No one else avenged me, so I’ll just have to do it myself.”

The Joker?

Tim's breath hitched as he froze so badly that even Jason paused and raised an eyebrow at him.

Tim stared at Jason with wide eyes.

He could not help but look down slightly, at the four pointed star that covered Jason’s cheek, a mark of the heavens that bound him to a star.

Jason snarled, “What?!”

Tim said slowly, “The… The Joker’s not alive.”

When Jason’s tense posture and aggressive stance slackened into shock, Tim had to continue and say, “He died a while ago.”

Jason grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he roared, “Who did it?!”

Tim pursed his lips.

Jason could probably keep a secret, right? He didn’t believe that he would go and tell anyone, especially because….

“Nightwing did. And I helped him hide the body.”

|||||||||||||||||||||||

Check out my CB!Jason art here

Tim and Dani are partners!! Hooray!

I'm sure you can guess who Steph ends up with, hm? She’ll get her own story, dw.

Tbh, I wanted this to be a 3+1 thing with all of the other Robins bc I thought it'd be short, but then it became longer than I expected, so I just... continued writing.... 😶 I think I got too excited again.

I'm trying to write in chronological order, but the history of the Batfam is so ridiculous that idk if I can do that, but if I don't do that, I'll get confused myself, y'know? Someone please help.

The scene where Jason beats the shit out of Tim apparently comes after he reveals his identity to Bruce… so I’m going to switch it for it to make sense. He was also supposed to choke Tim in this fic, but then it got too dark… so I changed that too :9

“How come none of them could figure out that he was with the League?” They knew he was revived in the coffin, so no one thought of the Lazarus pits bc they didn’t think he was basically a zombie (suspend your disbelief, please!). Also, more info on Jazz will be in the fic with Jason’s return.

Tim was originally supposed to go with Tucker, but then I thought about it and I changed it because 1) like Dick and Jason, his star is sort of the opposite of their personality, 2) I don’t see how they’ll encourage each other to grow, 3) a secret third thing

A deeper explanation of reason 2 is on AO3.

[paper-mario-wiki]

I feel like I've ended up in the same spot as so transmasc before me: I have a lovely cis boyfriend who loves my tits which I love for him, but I am getting dysphoric to the point I wanna lift my lips and show a lil teeth when I see his hands coming towards them. Feels bad because they are his favorite and we haven't been fucking as much because as soon as he starts touching me I am out of it™ and get all in my head and freeze up. Any advice?

good god, brother. i am utterly baffled at why you have elected me as the strategist for this problem, and i'm even more confused as to why you have chosen to go into as much detail as you have.

but.

if i were to give you some advice on this

i'd say that you should consider a conversation with your partner about the long-term plan for the relationship. a "relationship" is two lives that are connected, right? and your life is not one where you're gonna have boobs for the rest of it (or at least based on what you've told me i would assume, should you have your way, those bad boys are gettin lopped off at some point), therefore it's pertinent that it be brought up, because it concerns your life, therefore it concerns the relationship, therefore it concerns him, yes?

now, the first and most obvious thing to start with out the gate is the boundary, made clear and concise: the hills are now closed, off limits to tourists. all discussions regarding this come next. make it clear that it's about something quite core to your identity, and something that does in fact cause physical pain (a panic response from the nervous system is pain homie).

this brings some followup questions (and remember, this isn't an interrogation, it's a dialogue to share): how does he feel about this? if he's against, why? for that matter, how much does it bother him? is there something he doesn't understand about your discomfort? is there some concern he has about your financial or bodily well-being with regards to the procedure? is it because it's vital to his attraction to you as a partner? if that's the case, would their removal be a deal-breaker?

now keep in mind, these question can be brought up whether or not you've got immediate plans to engage in the aforementioned lopping-off of your aforementioned Bad Boys, because the actual point of this dialectical exercise is to create a simple, easy to navigate, easy to understand conversation, which will set a foundation for further negotiations-- should you learn something new about each other, or yourselves, or the relationship as a whole.

either way, i do not think that letting it keep happening and keeping it to yourself is a good idea. i can understand feeling guilty about withholding some physical and emotional gratification you could give "easily" to this person you care dearly for, but trust me when i say that it's not the way to let it be. not just because it's unfair to your partner to secretly grow to resent them for a reason you don't want to vocalize, but to yourself as well.

you may not know it, but by keeping it to yourself you're slowly building up a resentment. that frustration actually shows up pretty clearly in your message. and even if what you're frustrated about is only that particular activity, that activity is irrevocably tied to another person. specifically, a person that you consider to be a pretty central pillar in your life. if that resentment grows, it can evolve into anger, hatred, fear, paranoia, and all sorts of nasty things. and even aside from the emotional and psychological damage that can do, it can grow into a physiological issue, where your brain wears out more and more due to the growing emotional distress ripping through your neurons with all sorts of "emergency" chemicals. like i said, the panic response is a physical pain, even if your body doesn't feel like it "hurts".

so. to summarize.

ABSOLUTELY bring it up. if you don't, it could become damaging to your relationship, and also your actual real life physical brain.

when you do bring it up, remember that the goals are to set a boundary, and to reach an understanding through mutual conversation. it's a dialogue, not a lecture.

when you reach an understanding, figure out if the relationship needs to be renegotiated in some way. that usually means new boundaries, or expectations. or maybe nothing! though surely your boyfriend can find more things to love about you.

that's as best as i can muster. you don't have to follow it, but hopefully it'll at least give you some ideas you can use.

[starreyblueberry]

Timmy Turners fate in the new series is one of the most anticipated/theorized aspects of the new show right now. We have multiple easter eggs towards him being a possible character in the new show, and due to the creator saying that Timmys kids could possibly be Cosmo and Wandas next godkids, I don't think Timmy has kids yet (aka the channel chaser ending might be on its way, but not happened just yet.) He is arguably going to either be a huge hit or miss, everyone has different ideas, fates, what he should be, what would be the best conclusion to his character. The lines between real genuine trauma and gags in the old show are blurry, as well as core aspects of his personality. It’s so hard to actually write him as an adult for the new show purely cause what exactly are you going to take from the show that MATTERS. Will you take the lovingness of his parents from season one? or the neglectful spiteful parents they become from season 4. Will you take the horrible grades as him actuallly being bad at school, or crocker failing him on purpose. Will chole even be his best friend? Or is it back to AJ and Chester? Or will his only friends be cosmo and wanda?

We’re Cosmo and Wanda parents to Timmy, or just godparents.

Its already proven that timmys magic somewhat stayed (aka Peris existence, Dale being a millionare, hell even dimsdale/fairy world being intact) If they will acklowdge that? The school mascot being Timmy turner adjacent, past fairy’s seeming to have remembered Timmy (The tooth fairy having a little card of Timmy, Jorgen hanging out w cosmo and Wanda more CAUSE of Timmy’s adventures etc). He’s somehow a crutal part of almost every piece of the show and he’s not even there. I fully believe they’re gonna explain why a lot of Timmy’s wishes have stayed (in my opinion so many of his changes have made the world in general a better place, and he has saved the universe so often undoing his shit would kinda change the whole fabric of space and time, thus making his magic stay, memories are more… iffy.)

I know a huge thing is also the family dynamic, the fact Timmy is their favourite, hell the HALL OF TIMMY!!! The fact they keep a picture of his room in their house, the fact that they reference him sometimes within conversations with hazel. Never actually spoken his name but implied that’s their Timmy (aside from one time) That the reason the world is right now the reason this problem or circumstance or blessing is happening is because of Timmy Turner.

The amount of pure power Timmy has over the show is something crazy, and I do trust the new writers to give us an ending that will satisfy us. He’s been so connected to many people’s childhoods, showing found family at its core. He’s snarky, loud, smart, kind, and more. People want to see him happy, people want to see him with his family. Who you count as his family is up to you. It’s already been semi-confirmed it’s gonna be connected to the channel chasers ending since most of the general audience has said they wished the show ended during that time ( I have my own opions about it but I digress.) It would be super cool if they did their own take, aka any unconventional Timmy future that we haven’t seen as a concept in the OG show. I know many people are rooting for too remember, for them to be united, and I really wish it happens. We also have to remember this is hazels story too, and we’ll be seeing the end of Timmy’s story rather then the middle of it. A special about him would be amazing though, especially if he’s either the hero, or the villain. Idk!!One day I’ll make a full post about every possible future Timmy and my preferences towards which ones, but for now I’ll stick with my analysis of the OG show.

All I know is that Timmy changed Cosmo, Wandas, and Peris life almost more then any other Godkid, and I like to think the show respects the impact he had. Not only as their godkid, but as their first kid to consider true family.

[rachelsfav-queer]

Wednesday: I really don’t see what this all has to do with the bouquet of flowers you offered me, Enid. Quite frankly, you seem to be acting stra-

Enid: *fed up* I LIKE YOU!! THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO DO WITH IT! I LIKE YOU WEDNESDAY AND I WANT TO KISS YOU!! I WANT TO KISS YOU ALL OVER YOUR STUPID, SHARP FACE! THIS! IS! A DATE!!

Enid: I’VE BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND BUT YOU’RE THE MOST CLUELESS PERSON ON EARTH AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING BECAUSE I EXIST!!

Enid: I WANNA BE YOUR FRICKING GIRLFRIEND!!!

Enid is left panting from screaming so much and Wednesday is left flabbergasted, mouth wide open and her face bright red. As literal months of missed flirting and misinterpreted gestures pass by her eyes in less than a second, Wednesday realizes how true Enid’s statement was, as harsh as it may have been. She truly was the most clueless person on earth, perhaps even on the astral plane as well. Just as Enid is about to storm off, Wednesday speaks.

Wednesday: Enid. I apologize for unwittingly putting you through this torture of trying to get through my admittedly thick skull and confess your feelings towards me. I’m ashamed to share any trait in common with that socially inept gorgon you call an ex boyfriend…

Enid: *interrupting sadly* Wends… I didn’t mean that whole, clueless thing. I just… my emotions got a bit ahead of me, I’m sorry. You’re not-

Wednesday: But I am, am I not? I’ve been completely clueless to your advances and looking back, it’s certainly not from a lack of trying on your part. I wish I could’ve noticed your affections earlier, so that I may have told you that they are returned in full by me.

Enid: *starstruck* Wow… well, I’m super glad that you feel the same way about me, Wends. And just for the record, trying to court you has been like, a thousand times more enjoyable than it was with Ajax. At least you were aware enough to go along with everything I had us do, he was barely aware I was even talking to him half the time. Again, he’s cute, but very clueless.

Wednesday was caught on one part of Enid’s sentence.

Wednesday: Court me? You want to court me, Enid?

Enid: *smirks and giggles* Of course, silly! I would absolutely love to get the chance to sweep you off your feet! Just like you deserve, cutie! *winks*

Wednesday: *blushes, smiles* Oh, mi loba. I would love nothing more than to be swept away by your affections. What a fitting proposal for an Addams, being courted by such a beautifully deadly creature as you, Enid.

Enid: *extends her hand* Well then, mi luna, will you allow me to court you? Prove myself worthy of your divine beauty?

Wednesday: *takes her hand* As if you haven’t already proven it by saving my life. But yes, please woo me, Enid.

On the other side of the graveyard, Yoko and Divina are watching the interaction, eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Yoko: Wow, that was literally the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.

Divina: Yeah, that was harder to watch than you trying to be flirty with me before we started dating, baby.

Yoko: *spluttering* I- you- you said! But-

Divina cuts her off with a kiss.

Divina: Shh, you’re cuter when you’re quiet. *winks*

Yoko somehow blushes bright red.

End <3

(Note: Sorry this was so damn long lol. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head of Enid courting Wednesday, so I had to add some plot to it. Hope y’all enjoyed!)