#it posits that this is the Best relationship for them

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

[theosmommy1966]

Unfair Love

Your fingers were cramping from how hard you were holding the door. Your eyes mad to be deceiving you, Regulus fucking Black cant be standing in front of you. The guy you loved from the simply age of 5 all the way until the end of school. He had been your best friend, the guy you pined over for years and years while he pushed you aside every time he got a girlfriend. Only to suck you right back in when he got bored. 

“No..” You said moving to close the door to your brother's manor. Tom, Mattheo and You were triplets. Magical beings already formed crazy connections but the three of you could literally feel each other and each other's major feelings. So the shock and pain of seeing Regulus had pulled them from the upstairs living room to the top of the stairs. Leaning against opposite walls, Tom positions so he could see down the stairs easily keeping an eye on you while being positioned in a way to be easily overlooked. 

When Regulus pushed his way in, it took everything in both of them to stay put but your voice stopped them. “Tom is home. If that's not bad enough, so is Mattheo. Do not come any further into my home Regulus.” Regulus paused just inside the door, while he had been friends with both boys in school. He also knew they were fiercely protective of their ‘baby’ sister. They would kill each other if the other hurt her, so they would easily Avada him if he pushed to hard. 

“Y/n.. Dont marry him.” He said in a nonchalant tone. Acting like he wasnt rocking her world and trying to crumble her relationship to pieces. “ Regulus.. Your being a dick.” You said unconsciously stepping towards the stairs and pulling your hands up to your chest. He stepped towards you and smiled in a cocky way that made you want to slap him “Come on y/n/n, you know you its always been me.. Dont marry him.” 

Those words sparked anger in your gut. 

Stepping towards him this time you sneer. “I was second to every single girl that even looked your way in school! You literally asked me to the yule ball and then FORGOT and went with some girl from Ravenclaw! I cant.. I wont.. I.. I..” It felt like a let down to your last name when that spark died and never turned into a fire as you started to almost hyperventilate. Every time he broke your heart played through your head as his eyes flicked above your head. 

You didnt need to turn around to know your brothers were coming down. Mattheo was past you quickly, having moved before your breathing even got uneven. Tom wasnt as familiar with panic and anxiety attacks as you and he were. He didnt stop to comfort you as he grabbed his old friend harshly and jerked him out the door. He didnt slam it on his way out knowing that would just startle you and make it worse. 

Tom had always for some reason been the one you went to for comfort. You thought it was probably just because he was the ‘oldest’. He was the one who retucked you into bed when you had bad dreams even though he was the same age. He had always just carried himself in a way that gave big brother vibes. Every where you went people thought you and Matt were twins and Tom was the older brother. 

He would always have a hard time dealing with others feelings but he always made the most effort for his siblings. When you collapsed onto the stairs and started sobbing he moved the rest of the way to you quickly. He tries to get you to calm your breathing but its like you cant hear him. He does the only thing he knows too, the same thing he use to do when you were children and he couldnt wake you from a nightmare. Pressing his forehead to yours he gently entered your mind. it was easy to find you in panic because when all the thoughts finally formed into a picture you were stood frozen while everything moved around you. 

Him saying your name broke your focus as you turned confused then relieved to see him. “Tommy” You said in a broken whisper as he reached for you, tucking your head against his shoulder and hugging you he looked around. “Lets walk through all this, yeah?” Nodding against his chest “I just feel so much right now.. Im so mad at Regulus. Ive tried my entire life to be what he wants, to be someone he sees but he never did. I was just someone to placate his ego in between relationships.” 

Tom watches as memories of you crying, of Regulus manipulating you and leaving flash around him and he squeezes tighter. “He hasnt spoken t-to me in years and then he just shows up here the night before Im supposed to get married?!” You sob and then suck in a harsh breath “Oh my god. Teddy.. Whats he going to think when he finds out I was crying over another man when im supposed to be relaxing and getting ready to marry him!” 

You pull away and pull out of your head and then away from Tom in the real world. Standing you start to pace and pull at your hair. Tom sighs and stands to try and stop you but the door flies open. Mattheo running in frantically looking for you, only to be shoved out of the way by your tall sandy blond fiancee. “Tesoro” He barley whispers as he rushes to pull you into his arms. Your knees giving out again but he keeps you up. His huge hand cups the back of your head and neck as he shushes you gently. 

Theo swears his heart is breaking as your shoulders rack with sobs. He turns to look at his other best friends, Tom is staring at the door, clearing pissed and trying to stay put. Mattheo is pulling at his own hair when he sees the questions in his friends eyes. Hes struggling because he wants to tell him so he can better comfort you, but he doesnt want to betray your trust. Thankfully he doesnt have to, you can feel his panic and pull away just enough too look up. “Regulus was here.” 

Theos head snaps back to you and he tries to reign in his feelings quickly knowing that they will all play out on his face. His first feeling was worry, he had worked so hard to show you how you should actually be treated. So many dates where he couldnt even hold your hand yet. Regulus had treated you so poorly from day one that his nontoxic love was foreign and unwelcome. 

You had grown up in vastly different environments. Birthing triplets had killed your mother. While your father wasn't horrible or abusive, he was unattentive. He would rather you have a nanny (who he sleeps with before replacing and repeating) then try and raise you alone. While Theo grew up with parents who not only loved him but each other. 

Next was anger at the audacity. Then was worry again but this time for you. Taking a deep breath and taking your cheek in one hand he wipes your tears away. “Ok, tell me why your so upset by that. We have to be on the same page to talk through this. Can we go sit down?” you shake your head and pull him up the stairs, away from your brothers to your room. You let go of his hand and keep walking straight for your bathroom. 

After a few mintues long arms wrapped around you, crossing over and gripping your upper arms. “Im here, Tesoro. Whenever your ready.” You didnt register any measure of time as you stood under the water with him holding you and pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I dont deserve you theo..” you say so quietly he almost doesnt hear. Before he can ask what you mean your already speaking. “Here I am, the night before marrying you, crying over some other guy.. God im so horrible.” 

Before your hands can cover your face, Theo has spun you around and is tilting your face forcing you to look at him. He looks just a little annoyed as he speaks, “Dont say that. Do you remember what Tesoro means?” You sniffle and nod but he raises his eyebrows waiting for you to say it. “It means treasure.” He nods and smiles just a little “So.. My Tesoro couldnt be horrible.. I get it darling.. He was your first love, theres a lot of trauma there. I know your not crying because you miss him, your crying for 17 year old you, for 15 year old you and so on. And thats ok, because thats how we heal.” 

Theos heart warmed as you stare up at him in awe. “I know its difficult for you, my love. That this open communication and understanding isnt something that comes naturally too you. So youll have to give me just a little grace while I continue to learn to navigate you. I promise one day Ill be an expert.” He leans in and kisses your forehead, staying there for just a moment to give you both a second to pull yourselves together. 

When he pulled back the smile he loves was back on your face. He sighs happily and kisses your nose before looking at you. Everything was right in his world again, all he needed to do now, was wait for you to go to sleep. Because Regulus.. Well Theo completely understood where YOU were coming from. But Black? Nah. While tending to lean towards his mothers Hufflepuff nature, sometimes he needs to remind people why he was sorted into Slytherin. Why he became friends with The Dark Lords children. Why he and your brothers trusted him to care for you. And tonight, it would be Regulus` turn to learn. 

[charlesslut16]

Can you write a fic (I was thinking about max but you can do any driver really) where the reader and the driver are best friends to lovers in the early days of the drivers career. The reader supported the driver through it all and wants nothing more but for them to succeed. As the drivers career really starts to kick off, the reader falls pregnant. When the driver finds out, (thinking of max here) he thinks he's going to be a terrible father and gets nervous thinking how he may ruin a whole life, he suggests getting rid of the baby and the reader thinks it's cause of his career, tells him she respects the fact that he doesn't want the baby, but she's going to keep it. ANGSTY please

-losing you to trauma-

summary : max is to unsure to have children, to stay with you and raise your daughter...

PAIRING: max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : max leaving reader, angst

note : as i'm a girl of a single mother, whose father did almost the exact same thing, it hurts. But i hope that you still like it!

masterlist

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Max Verstappen's Formula One career was just beginning to take off. He was young, talented, and driven, with an intensity that made his presence felt on the track and off it.

His best friend, you, since childhood, had always been there, cheering him on from the sidelines, through every victory and defeat, every celebration and heartbreak.

You both shared a bond that was unbreakable, an understanding that didn't need words. You had seen Max's potential long before the rest of the world, had believed in him when he was just a boy with a dream and a passion for racing.

And after time, you two had become a couple. A happy one, both driven by the drill of driving and passion. But as Max's career soared, so did the distance between you both. Not in your hearts, but in the time you could spend together.

You understood; you had always known that Max was destined for greatness, and you were content to support him from the background. You never complained, never asked for more than what he could give.

Your relationship had evolved quietly. What started as innocent hand-holding during tough times in your racing careers became something deeper, more profound.

It wasn't long before you crossed the threshold from best friends to lovers, a natural progression that felt right for both of you. You didn't need to label it; you simply knew you belonged together.

But then, life threw the both of you a curveball. You found yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test, the weight of the world suddenly resting on your shoulders. You knew this would change everything, for both.

When told Max, his reaction was far from what you hoped for. Instead of joy, there was fear in his eyes. He looked at you, his face pale and his hands shaking, and said, "I can't do this. I don't know how to be a father. I'll ruin everything. Maybe we should... maybe we should consider not having the baby."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You had expected hesitation, but not this. Not the suggestion to get rid of the life you had created together. Tears welled up in your eyes, but fought them back.

You needed to be strong, for yourself and for the baby.

"Is this about your career?" you asked, her voice trembling but steady. "Are you worried that having a baby will ruin everything for you?"

Max shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. "No, it's not that. I just... I don't want to mess up. I don't want to be a terrible father. I don't want to ruin a whole life because I don't know what I'm doing."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Max, I respect that you're scared. I am too. But this isn't just about you. This is about us, and about this baby. I can't make this decision for you, but I need you to know that I'm going to keep it. I understand if you don't want to be involved, but I have to do this."

His face crumpled, and he pulled you into his arms, holding tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

You clung to him for dear life, tears streaming down your face. "I love you, Max. And I believe in you, just like I've always believed in you. You can do this. We can do this."

But as much as you tried to reassure him, you could feel the chasm widening between. Max was consumed by his fear, by the thought of failing not just as a driver but as a father.

And though he loved you, his terror of the unknown, of the future, was driving a wedge between the both of you. He could never but your love above the insecurity and that broke you to pieces, that could not be set back together.

The months passed, and Max's career continued to flourish. He threw himself into his racing with a ferocity that left little room for anything else. You watched, heart breaking a little more each day, as the man you loved slipped further away from you.

When the baby was born, a beautiful, healthy girl, Max was there. He had not held her, at the side of you and the baby, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and fear. But he still couldn't shake his anxiety, couldn't let go of the belief that he would fail them both.

You knew you had to be strong, not just for yourself, but for your daughter. You had always believed in Max, and would continue to do so. But knew that he had to find his own way, had to come to terms with his fears on his own.

And so, with a heavy heart, you let him go, hoping that one day he would find his way back to them. That he would realize that he could be the father their daughter needed, and the partner she had always believed he could be.

Until then, you would keep supporting him from the sidelines, cheering him on just as you always had. Because that's what you do for the ones you love, even when it breaks your heart.

Deep in your heart, you wanted him to come to your house and say that he was sorry and wanted to be in your lives, but as time passed, you realized that he would never come to terms with it.

His trauma being too deep for him to start a family, you accepted the fact, but you never forgave him for it. You love him with your whole heart, and you always will.

Maybe your ways will meet again, who knew?

[izelascendant]

Sportsmanlike

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Rating | Mature Summary | Young passionate tennis players messing around with lots of plot and complexity. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Word Count | 3.7K Tags | Tennis, Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationships Author's note | I haven written anything in FOREVER. I'm still such a noob at tumblr and it still confuses me (I'm loyal to ao3), so I wasn't sure of what the best way to organize this was. There will be multiple chapters.

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Sportsmanlike on AO3 | Chapter 1 - US Open 2006, Chapter 2 - Finalist Fusion, Chapter 3 - Aftermath and Accolades, ...

US Open, 2006

Her

Not everyone is eligible to play in the US Open Tennis. The event is exclusive to players who have earned a certain ranking, as well as a few slots offered by invitation. That’s how she finds herself competing after having received a 'wild card' invitation. Surrounded by a supportive network of people who believe in her skills, she’s being pushed into the prestigious fourth and final Grand Slam tournament of the year—even though she is still technically considered an 'amateur'. In fact, it feels like everyone around her believes in her abilities more than she does herself.

She feels strangely out of place among the other players, all fully devoted worshipers of the sport. Her entourage is composed of tennis fanatics—who live and breathe the sport—while she feels disconnected from it all. Her skills are sure to be praised, but deep down, she still feels like she doesn't belong. Unlike them, tennis isn't the center of her life. She doesn't rely on tennis for survival—in fact, she wouldn't mind if it vanished, which sets her apart from the fiercely competitive and confrontational athletes.

Nonetheless, she plays well. Perhaps too well for someone who doesn’t take it as seriously as her opponents. It seems almost unfair how easily she gets through each round.

Her heart races as she wins match after match. The contrast between her polite, gracious demeanor and the fiery, hot-tempered reactions of her competitors is stark. Some throw fits of rage and tantrums. She can't help but offer sincere apologies and genuine praise to everyone she encounters, even in the most intense moments of the game. As the sweat drips down her forehead, she smiles coyly and humbly accepts the accolades, feeling a mix of exhilaration and sheepishness.

Art and Patrick

The umpire's voice echoes through the stadium, making the final announcements to the crowd as the eager spectators find their seats. Patrick adjusts his position beside Art, spreading his legs casually. Art, meanwhile, plays with the tag displayed around his neck, his eyes darting around the sea of merchandise that carries the "US Open 2006" logo. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation and excitement.

“D’you know about her opponent?” Patrick asks after letting out a small burp, gesturing towards Anna Mueler as she emerges onto the court, her entrance acknowledged by the applause and cheers of the crowd, and with her waving back in response.

“What about her?” Art replies indifferently.

“She’s a wild card; they brought her out, and nobody really knows who she is, but she’s been killing it. I’m just eager to see what she’s all about.”

“Huh.” Art remarks, narrowing his eyes a little.

They both shift their focus back to the court as the umpire announces her presence. Unlike Mueler, her entrance is reserved and humble, merely offering a modest wave to her coach as she acknowledges the applause. While her demeanor may be understated, there’s a sense of graciousness.

She strides onto her side of the court, grabbing her racket. Her copper hair is messily pinned into a casual ponytail, with a smattering of freckles dusting her shoulders, revealing her toned physique. Her simple dark green outfit clings to the contours of her figure—though her appearance is less formal compared to other female players, there’s an undeniable charm to her aloof demeanor, drawing them in.

Patrick leans in, studying her intently upon her settling into position. Art does the same by resting his elbows on his knees.

“She’s a pretty thing, too.” Patrick turns his head over at Art with a smug grin.

Art doesn’t reply but he sure can’t disagree.

“Ready? Play.”

The game starts as Anna Mueler serves, with virtually no dramatic build-up—Art and Patrick's eyes dart incessantly between the two. The atmosphere is almost eerily silent, save for the sounds of racket impacts and grunts of exertion from the competitors. They observe with bated breath, captivated by the swift movement of her legs as she dances across the court, her fiery locks swishing back and forth in sync with her brief skirt fluttering about, revealing the shorts hidden underneath.

She scores her third point, marking a victorious blow against Mueler with a powerful one-handed backhand. Her movements are noticeably disorganized and bordering on sloppy, and yet, to her advantage, it seems to be playing off brilliantly .

“Holy shit.” Art mutters, undeniably taken aback.

Patrick smugly looks toward Art, wearing a "told you so" expression on his face. As they lean in to get a closer look, their mouths hang slightly open, both fixated on the ongoing match. The intensity of her actions is so captivating that it borders on pathetic as they watch, their eyes glued to her every move. With each passing minute, their gazes follow the way her rosy cheeks redden and her breaths grow increasingly labored.

Surprisingly, she doesn't appear to be nearly as exhausted as Mueler, even despite her unstructured, chaotic playing style. She graciously acknowledges each point won by her opponent, a polite nod or smile as Mueler gains momentum. Her attitude leaves Patrick utterly amazed—given his past moments of unsportsmanlike behavior.

“How the fuck is she so unbothered?” Patrick ogles at her, his head unintentionally tipping to the side as he takes in her every move.

Unsurprisingly, he receives no reply from Art, as his awestruck state turns him speechless.

Mueler, her opponent, lashes out in absolute disbelief after the final point is scored, impulsively smashing her racket against the court floor in a fit of frustration.

She flashes a smug, coy smile as she glances at her coach, as though downplaying her victory like a stroke of pure luck. She ambles towards the net, extending her hand towards her defeated opponent, only to have it rebuffed with a heated outburst in a foreign language as Mueler storms away in a huff. She’s quickly interrupted as her friends, family, and well-wishers swarm around to celebrate her win.

As Art exhales deeply, Patrick locks eyes with him, his grin crooked but full of enthusiasm. “We’ve gotta talk to her.”

Tashi

Tashi Duncan seemed to have beat them to it. 

“Hey,” She says as she approaches her after the crowd of family and friends has dissipated from her entourage. “Great game. You absolutely killed Anna.”

She meets Tashi’s eye with a warm, contagious beam, her cheeks flushed with a mix of lingering exertion from the match and genuine happiness at the interaction. She giggles softly, letting her bag fall gently to the ground as she tentatively steps forward, wholly captivated by their interaction. "I feel bad," she admits with a sheepish half-smile, her laughter bubbling up as she feels Tashi's gaze linger on her.

“Don’t.” Tashi replies, unfazed. “She’s a sore loser and a racist bitch, anyway.”

Her laughter continues to fill the air, even as a hint of tension underlies Tashi’s words. Sensing the need to maintain composure, she tries to keep her nerves in check, reminding herself that they're only facing each other in the finals—easy-peasy.

“I’ve, uh—been watching your games, too.” She breaks the slightly uneasy silence with sincere appreciation, her smile slightly crooked as she tries to hide any hint of infatuation. "You’re incredible," she says admiringly, looking up at Tashi and attempting to mask any potential starstruckness in her eyes.

Tashi's gaze remains unwavering for a moment before she softly breaks into a gentle smile.

“I’m kind of on the fence about playing against you.” She instinctively reaches up to scratch the back of her neck in a self-conscious manner, and a soft chuckle escapes her lips. 

Despite the growing sense of ease, a hint of insecurity still lingers, as if she's silently questioning if she's made a good impression thus far. It’s Tashi Duncan, after all.

“Why? Scared I’m gonna wipe you out?” There's a hint of challenge in Tashi's voice as she responds.

To her surprise, her opponent's response is one of continuous admiration—it's rare to see such genuine enthusiasm, and it's almost contagious in its sweetness.

“I’d actually prefer that.” She continues to look at her with a sort of fascination. “It probably means more to you than it does to me, and—” she hesitates for a second, “I wanna stay on good terms with you.” She can feel herself blush a little. “—Hopefully.”

Their whole interaction is refreshing to Tashi. 

“Oh, so you’re thinking of going easy on me?”

“I don’t think I’ll need to.”

A silent understanding seems to form between them, a bond taking shape through the few words they've shared. The smiles they exchange are genuine, laced with a subtle sense of kinship. Perhaps it's the shared adrenaline of the game, or maybe it's the knowledge that they'll soon be competing against each other in the finals—whatever the reason, there's an undeniable connection forming.

“You coming to the party on Long Island? Adidas sponsorship.” Tashi asks, breaking the silence once again.

A flicker of excitement dances in her eyes as she hears the question. "Oh, I doubt I was invited—Or maybe my coach just forgot to mention it.” She lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Fuck your coach.” Tashi shrugs nonchalantly, her hands disappearing into her pockets. “I'm the one inviting you.”

She smiles and nods in return. “Then I’ll be there. For sure, yeah.”

Tashi, amused by her opponent's excitement, can't help but wear a smirk on her face.

-

Fire and Ice

Donaldson & Zweig vs. Shaffer & Buchanan. 

This match determines whether Art and Patrick make it to the finals, a pivotal moment in their journey and a do-or-die scenario that determines their fate. The two of them are fully focused on the game; their expressions are a mixture of determination and playfulness. Art's golden hair is tucked away behind the white cap he wears backwards, while Patrick's dark curls bounce around as he moves, his features framed by the shadows cast by the bright lights of the court. They exchange smug grins and nudge each other occasionally, a bond of support and friendship that makes their journey through the tournament all the more enjoyable.

From their vantage points in the crowd, she and Tashi watch intently, their eyes fixed on the match unfolding before them. You would expect a fierce rivalry between two opponents in such high-pressure situations. 

Yet, there they are, sitting side by side, their gazes glued to the court.

Sure, they had only met yesterday, and their situation had already become somewhat volatile due to public opinion, but she had no intentions of outshining Tashi—leaving a lasting impression on Tashi—a sense of mutual respect and admiration cancelling out any potential rivalry.

As she reaches for her cup, she feels the unexpected touch of Tashi's hand on her knee—a small gesture that sends a rush of warmth through her body. Who knew such a simple gesture of physical touch from Tashi Duncan could be so exhilarating.

Tashi leans into her, pointing down at the court in full focus mode. “The blonde one; look at how receptive he is.”

She can’t help but smile a little at her level of focus. She also can’t deny how beautiful she looks when she’s like this. Leaning in in return, she tilts her head slightly and nods towards where Tashi is pointing.

She takes a moment to admire Tashi's intense concentration, her smile growing wider as she admires how beautiful she looks when she’s focused. She leans in closer, her head tilting slightly as she follows Tashi's gaze. A slight nod of her own acknowledges Tashi's observations, a mutual understanding as their minds sync in the moment, focused on the same objective.

“Your bet is on those two?”

“Hm,” Tashi leans back a little, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The other one’s nailing those dropshots.”

She follows Tashi's gaze intently, her own eyes flickering from left to right as she takes in every move on the court.

“They’re good.” She watches the dynamic between the duo below with a hint of surprise, her eyes widening at their unexpected coordination. She turns her head towards Tashi, unable to resist the sly smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Never as good as you, though.”

Tashi eyes her suspiciously, her gaze narrowing as she attempts to decipher the real motive behind her compliment. "Are you trying to butter me up for some kind of weird strategy reason?" she asks, her tone a mix of seriousness and playfulness. 

There's a trace of amusement in her eyes as she waits for a response, clearly enjoying the banter and the lightheartedness of their interaction.

She chuckles through her nose, shaking her head slowly before she responds genuinely, “You know you’re going to win tomorrow. I have no ulterior motives.” 

Tashi leans in closer, her hand brushing a little higher on her opponent's leg, a hint of challenge in her voice as she teases her. "Playing little miss humble, are we?" The touch is subtle yet deliberate, and her words carry a hint of competitiveness. 

She laughs softly in return, her cheeks flushing slightly at the unexpected touch from Tashi. She takes a breath, her voice filled with determination. "I'm serious," she reiterates, her eyes locked on Tashi's. "Even if I feel like I am going to win, I’ll hold back."

Tashi pauses for a moment, a slight furrow in her brow, a hint of surprise tinged with doubt as she looks at her counterpart.

“I don’t want you to let me win. I want to win.”

“And you will.” She responds without missing a beat, her gaze locking with Tashi's in a way that speaks volumes—as if she had forever been loyal to her.

The bleachers erupt in applause as Patrick scores the final point, the sound drowning out the intense moment between the two girls. The blond boy sprints towards his partner, the duo celebrating and laughing uncontrollably, their joy infectious in the moment. 

The sight brings a smile to both girls' faces.

“Well, we’ve got our finalists.” She raises an eyebrow at Tashi, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Fire and Ice," she muses, a sly grin spreading across her face. "I've always preferred the heat." She leans back slightly, her braid cascading over her shoulder.

“And I’ve always preferred the cold.” She replies, her voice filled with teasing enthusiasm.

Long  Island, pre-finals party

Tashi and her girl

She stands amidst the gathering of tennis enthusiasts, friends, and family, her heart pounding with both excitement and anticipation. The prospect of mingling with the elite in the tennis world is both intimidating and thrilling. The combination of nerves and anticipation dances in her chest, fueling her determination to make the most of the night.

Tashi's heels click against the pavement as she approaches, a seductive whistle escaping her lips as her eyes rake over her opponent's figure. A confident smirk plays at her lips as she takes in the sight of her, her approach oozing with charm and assertiveness.

Her voice drops to a low, playful tone, a mixture of charm and shyness lacing her words as she responds with a simple "Hi."

Tashi looks stunning in the strapless royal blue dress, her hair down and loose curls cascading around her face while the redhead in front of her wears an equally beautiful gown, her hair pinned up with a couple of strands falling loosely by the sides of her face.

She's taken aback for a moment as Tashi steps closer, her heart skipping a beat as she finds herself enveloped in a tight embrace. The unexpected hug leaves her slightly flustered, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

“Glad you could make it.” Tashi's breath is warm against her ear, the smirk on Tashi's face only intensifying.

“You look fucking amazing.” She chuckles nervously, her attempt to hide her infatuation with Tashi failing miserably.

Hand in hand, they navigate their way towards the dance floor, their fingers intertwined as they make a brief stop at the nearest drink stand. With a playful glance, they mix a dash of liquor into their soft drinks in hopes of not being caught. As they weave through the crowd, Tashi regales her with juicy secrets and gossip about the event sponsors and attendees, their conversation flowing effortlessly, and—once again, paradoxically—it feels like there’s no sense of rivalry between them whatsoever.

Patrick and Art

The two boys stand a couple feet away from the main crowd, their gazes pathetically locked on the two girls dancing together on the makeshift dance floor. Patrick holds the bottle of his Coca-Cola up to his mouth, a tiny sigh escaping his lips as he watches them from afar. Art, meanwhile, has one hand casually shoved in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding his drink.

Art leans in, a hint of surprise in his voice, "I didn't know she was friends with Tashi Duncan."

“Girls are like that; they act nice to each other all the time. They probably hate each other.” Patrick chimes in, sharing his theory about the girls' behavior.

“No way, man.” Art shakes his head. “Look at them; they look like—like they’ve known each other forever.”

Patrick playfully nudges his friend's arm, his smirk widening as he suggests, “Like us?” He looks back in their direction. “You almost can’t tell they’re competing against each other in the finals.”

"Yeah, just like us," Art replies with a chuckle, his expression tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "I'm still sharing a hotel room with the guy who's set to beat me in the finals."

Patrick gives Art a firm pat on the shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I've already told you I'll let you win," he says, his voice filled with playful determination.

Their attention drifts back to the dance floor, their gazes drawn to the spectacle before them. The music pumps through the air, the beat energizing the dancers as they move in sync with the rhythm. Both Art and Patrick find themselves captivated by the sight of the girls dancing, their eyes lingering on them longer than they realize.

“Fuck,” Patrick's voice cuts through the air, his reaction betraying his inability to tear his gaze away from the girls.

Art gives his friend a firm nudge, a silent urging for him to keep his focus and behave, all while being just as mesmerized himself, his focus never faltering.

"Hey, I mean, Tashi Duncan's a pillar of the community." Patrick attempts to redeem himself; however, the moment of sincerity is quickly undercut by his next statement, which is delivered with a big, smug grin on his face. "I'd let her fuck me with a racket."

Of course, it's nothing Art hasn't heard before—prompting him to chuckle in response, his eyes rolling in a playful gesture. "C'mon, Patrick," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Patrick continues to act smug, his playful demeanor on full display as he swats Art's arm with his hand in a teasing gesture. "Eh, don't pretend like you haven't been drooling over her friend," he remarks, a knowing look in his eyes. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as he adds, "You never told me you have a thing for redheads."

A bashful smile forms on Art’s face. "Shut up," he replies, his voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

"I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m happy with either one of them," Patrick continues with a mischievous grin, his playful nature infectious.

They shift their focus back to the girls, their attention drawn like magnets. 

“So, which one d’you think is gonna win the finals?” Art asks, his head tilting slightly as he asks the question.

Patrick chimes in, his words undecided. "I think she has good chances against Tashi," he explains. "Her scoring against Mueler was fucking crazy."

“Damn straight.” Art responds with a small huff. “But it’s Tashi Duncan,” he adds after a brief pause.

Patrick lets out a sigh, his eyes fixated on the dance floor. "I guess we’ll just have to wait and see," he replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Dancing girls

♬ Its gettin hot in here (so hot)

So take off all your clothes

I am gettin’ so hot, I wanna take my clothes off … ♬

Hair swaying to the beat, Tashi moves in sync behind her, their bodies flowing together effortlessly. As she leans into Tashi, their hips move in harmony, a choreography seemingly perfected in a matter of seconds. There's an obvious chemistry between them—-they both know what they’re doing—and they’re doing it well .

“How long d’you reckon they’re gonna stand there for?” She whispers to Tashi, her voice laced with amusement as she discreetly glances towards the boys who have been ogling at them.

Tashi giggles mockingly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as she speaks. "What a bunch of pussies."

She laughs in response to Tashi's remark, finding her bold demeanor both amusing and refreshing. Tashi grabs her by the hand, her grip firm yet gentle, as she leads her away from the dance floor.

 "C'mon," she urges, her voice filled with a sense of excitement.

She follows Tashi, curiosity getting the better of her as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. "Where are we going?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mixture of wonder and anticipation.

Desperate boys

As the girls leave the dance floor, Patrick gives Art a nudge, bringing him back to the present moment.

“Where are they going?” Art asks, his curiosity piqued.

Patrick responds with a sarcastic remark, his eyes never leaving the girls. "How would I know, dumbass?"

Art scoffs in frustration, his thoughts racing as he tries to reason with his friend. "Well, we’re not gonna follow them around and seem desperate—”

"Yes, we are," Patrick asserts, his determination unshakable.

Art protests, voicing his hesitation about approaching them. "And say what?" he exclaims. 

Yet, despite his reservations, he finds himself following behind Patrick. Together, they make their way towards the girls, their footsteps filled with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

[folkwhoredoll]

by the shore - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader (friends with benefits)

synopsis: being friends with rafe has its benefits

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex), few curse words

request: rafe x Reader, they are best friend that’s are on a family trip that they take every year in summer, reader is good friends with both Sarah and rafe, rafe and reader are a bit tipsy messing around and find their way to the beach and that’s were the smut happens :) hope you can do it thank you.

a/n: hi everyone! it's been a while since my last post because things got busy in nursing school but since it's summer break, i can now post again! thank you to the one who requested this <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the beachfront estate where you and the Camerons vacationed every summer. The annual family trip was a cherished tradition, one you eagerly anticipated each year. It started long before you even entered school, a yearly event your parents initiated to celebrate their friendship with the Camerons. Naturally, you also formed a growing friendship with Sarah and Rafe.

Though, if you were honest, "friendship" didn't quite describe the bond between you and Rafe. Whether you and the Cameron heir were dating was unclear, but he acted like you were most of the time. Almost no boys dared to ask you out, not with Rafe always glaring at them from behind you. He accompanied you almost everywhere, even pretending you were his girlfriend to keep other girls away.

But your relationship with Rafe wasn't simply a friendship because of what you two did behind closed doors. It was no secret that Rafe had several experiences, his natural charisma drawing girls to him. Perhaps that's why you couldn't resist him when he told you he admired you months ago. He was your first.

Not one soul knows about it; you couldn't risk it.

The evening air was filled with laughter and clinking glasses as your families gathered on the deck, enjoying the night of their getaway. You felt a pleasant buzz from the beer you and Rafe had been sipping, the alcohol buzzing through your veins. Sarah had to excuse herself to answer a call from Topper, leaving you and Rafe alone under the twinkling fairy lights.

Rafe grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Wanna take a walk down to the beach?" he suggested, his voice slightly blurred but full of excitement.

You smiled back and nodded eagerly, the idea of sneaking for a late-night adventure sounding perfect. "Absolutely. Let's go back before Sarah gets back and decides to drag us into some boring game."

Rafe laughed, a deep, infectious sound that made your heart flutter. The combination of alcohol and the intimate setting seemed to excite you.

The two of you stumbled down the wooden steps leading to the beach, giggling and shushing each other while your hands gripped tightly around your beer bottles. The fine sand was cool beneath your feet and the ocean waves lapping gently at the shore.

Rafe motioned for you to sit near a large rock, sitting down first to make sure that it was comfortable enough. You positioned yourself beside him, sighing contently as you took in the view before you.

"Remember when Sarah and I built a sandcastle when we were like, ten? Then you ruined it with your soccer ball." You said.

"In my defense, I didn't mean to kick it towards your castle." Rafe chuckled at the memory. "And I got the worst punishment from you because you refused to speak to me for a week."

You hummed, sipping more of your beer. "Still not over it."

He snorted, leaning his head back.

The next moments were spent in silence. You and Rafe took turns drinking what was left from the bottle, smiling whenever you would make eye contact, and leaning closer and closer to him until your shoulders touched.

You took a deep breath when you felt Rafe kiss your cheek suddenly. "What was that for?"

"What? Can't I kiss you?" He smiled innocently. "It's not like we haven't done anything more than a kiss."

You threw him a look, knowing that in a few moments, you would be doing something that friends don't normally do. How Rafe could always be turned on, you could never understand. But you don't complain, not when your hormones also betray you every time you see his muscles strain from his tight shirt.

"Come on, Y/n. No one can see us from here." He whispered, his breath tickling your skin as he lowered his face to your neck.

You didn't say anything, and Rafe took it as a sign to move further, abandoning his beer to the side. He placed one hand on your thigh and another hand on your waist. Your head was spinning from both the alcohol and Rafe's hands, suddenly not able to speak as you savor the moment of his lips on your neck.

"What would our parents say when they find out what we do?" He wondered teasingly, smirking when he saw you discreetly push your thighs together. He loved you like this: submissive as you let him do whatever he wanted.

"Probably celebrate. They've been teasing us for years." You finally replied, a laugh coming from your throat as you remembered the times when they would try to set the two of you up in every gathering.

Rafe suddenly lifted the skirt of your sundress, causing you to gasp. "Out here? Really?"

His other hand moved from your waist to your back, feeling for the zipper of your dress. "It's a perfect spot. No one can see us or hear us unless you scream, of course."

His cocky attitude made you roll your eyes, though your cunt already fluttered at the thought of being bare under his body as the sunset. "We have to be fast, got it?"

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you tilted your body, swiftly pushing him back so you could move on top and straddle him. Rafe, although shocked by your sudden movement, smiled cheekily as he witnessed you reach to your back to unzip your dress.

"Damn, baby." He breathed as he eyed the way the straps of the dress dropped, hastily helping you to get out of your clothing. He licked his lips as he stared at the sight of you. Your breasts perked up as the cool sea breeze touched your skin, leaving you in your underwear.

"Take it off, Rafe." You told him, helping him take off the shirt that accentuated his muscles.

Following your request, Rafe moved quickly and placed his shirt on the sand beside the two of you, lifting your hips and guiding you to lay on his shirt.

He finished removing the rest of his clothing, never cutting eye contact with you even as he pulled his cock out. You made a quick look back to the house, making sure that you were not within anyone's eyesight.

You gasped as Rafe pulled your panties down, your cunt fluttering at the excitement. He lowered his head down until it was leveled with your pussy, his manhood hardening at the sight of your wet folds.

Without warning, he gave your cunt a long lick, pushing his warm tongue as deep as he could reach. You moaned loudly and quickly gripped his hair, your back arching as he sucked on your clit.

Rafe reached a hand upwards to cover your mouth, not too tight to restrict you from breathing but just enough to muffle your moans. Your chest heaving as you gasped, the alcohol and his tongue working together to give you the best pleasure.

Rafe himself was groaning as he enjoyed the sight of your writhing body, his heart swelling with pride, knowing that it was only him who could make you feel that way.

Your moans were exchanged with whines when he suddenly moved away from your pussy, kneeling in front of you as he stroked his stiff dick.

"You said we have to be fast." He chuckled, teasing you. "Ready, baby?"

After seeing you nod, Rafe pushed himself inside you, a loud groan erupting from his lips as he felt your warm and wet folds around him.

"Best cunt in the world." He whispered to himself.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you completely, growing needy and desperate for a release. "Move, Rafe. Make me cum, please."

Your words sounded like music to Rafe's ears, further feeding his ego. "Since you asked nicely."

In one quick movement, Rafe thrust in and out of you, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he could reach deeper.

The sounds of both of your breaths were mixed with the sound of the ocean waves as sweat grew on the surface of your skin. You were shamelessly whining and moaning in every thrust while Rafe was closing his eyes as he groaned in pleasure.

He pushed your other leg upwards, having you nearly folded in half as he pushed harder. He looked down to where you two were connected, his cock twitching at the sight. "Taking me so well, baby. Come on, I know you're close."

You were panting, breathless, and unable to speak. Your hands were clawing on Rafe's shoulder, wanting to push him away from the overwhelming feeling.

"R-Rafe…" You breathed out, feeling your pussy pulsate around him.

"Yes, Y/n. Go on, cum for me." He urged you, his pace never stopping nor slowing down.

You looked at him, admiring how he looked with his disheveled hair and warm cheeks. His muscles were tensing as he thrusted faster.

Without warning, he pulled your legs apart slightly, just enough so he could reach your clit with his hand. You almost screamed at the contact, another surge of gratification taking over your body as he pinched your bud.

"Fuck, Rafe!"

He smiled, hips going faster until he felt you cum around his cock. Your hips were jerking upward as you released, thighs shaking as you squirted on him.

Rafe moaned loudly, and after a few more thrusts, he released his load inside of you, not letting a drop go to waste.

You were quiet as you panted underneath Rafe, your legs still shaking occasionally while you enjoyed the feeling of both of your cum inside you.

Rafe was whispering compliments in your ear softly, stroking your skin as he slowly pulled himself out. He then helped you back into your underwear and dress, gently guiding you as you regained your balance. Rafe was quicker as he dressed himself up, grabbing your hand immediately and leading you back to the house.

"Let's clean up inside before Sarah finds us here."

[sunny-day-jack-official]

Sunny Day Jack -- A Difficult Update/Setback

Hello everyone.

It is with great unfortunate sadness that after many months of trying to work with our current programmer for Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack, we have had to make the difficult decision to terminate their working relationship with them.

This isn’t a choice made or taken lightly. We understand that doing so comes with a great amount of disappointment, and an attempt was made to do our best to withstand the situation because we knew that either way, it would be the disappointment of you all– or our health and safety.

We’ve made posts to social media before today, but now we will be going into a smaller bit of depth to the best of our ability. 

After coming onto the project in 2023, a series of negative interactions began between Us (the affected) and the programer. The programmer was brought on by former management at the time quickly, and with little integration.

Issues had cropped up at the time, chief among the affected being creator Sauce. It was around this time that the HimboEngine was created between older management and this programmer. And work on the engine, to the best of our knowledge, began. 

There had been at the time an internal push not to use this engine and revert to the originally promised one by creator, Sauce. And while we understand that the core drive was to make the game as accessible as possible to as many computers as possible, as well as to create a superiorly programmed product– it was only programmed in or by the programmer and one other person.

By that point, the push to resume working in NaniNovel continued. However, we were told that too much had been completed in Himbo and it was not financially viable to roll production back.

When prior management left in 2023, we continued to work with this programmer under the continued understanding that considerable work had been done.

However, issues still occurred. And there were instances of inappropriate treatment and actions between management and the programmer in question.

Attempts were made for many reasons to accommodate this person, and to allow them to grow and hopefully become aligned with the team’s core values. No persons were forced to work with them, besides management. And management has done their best, to their own ability, to not have to rollback the project and persist.

We are not comfortable releasing the extent of the disagreements and actions that have caused this separation. We have to focus on the future, and those involved in this decision are not comfortable reliving and reiterating the events that took place. 

We know more than anyone it seems that unfortunate things have happened. And we apologize for not holding on any longer. However, we are unable to interact with this person any longer. It is for health reasons– it is for fear of safety reasons– and it is with an unbearably heavy heart.

We must ask any and all fans to please not seek this programmer out. We will not be further releasing their name. To attempt to maliciously contact, find, or “expose” this person would be to go against the affected team member's wishes entirely.

However, this means we are now unable to any longer have access to several resources.

The loss includes:

Any progress on SDJ (builds)

The HIMBO Engine, in its entirety

The current most build of SleepyTime Jack

Access to and ownership of the SnaccPop website

The planning Github, contributed to by other SnaccPop team members

We will probably never get these back.

The programmer has made it clear to us that not only unless we reinstate them, but give to them a position of authority within SnaccPop, that we will never get these back. They have idled the concept of releasing or continuing work on these things without our consent, "for the fans".

We have no clue if this will happen. But in this instance we can say that we do not consent to any unauthorized release of SDJ builds. We do not know what SDJ assets this programmer has or has downloaded, but we are aware they are storing game sensitive information in private storage spaces.

We would advise fans to avoid any SnaccPop website domains or projects not posted by official accounts. And we hope, if Programmer can see this, they will understand that regardless of whether they intended to or not- it is unacceptable, and a choice that will likely reflect deeply on their personal career and something that could potentially blacklist them should other developers come to find out.

Otherwise, while it would be nice to have back these things paid for- the programmer has made it clear they believe this is in the fan's best interest. Hiring them back is a requirement, and they believe that the fans paid for the content, not SnaccPop, so they're under no obligation to return it.

The amount loss totals to several thousands of investment, months of planning and work, and contributions from multiple persons from across the team (consequently, making their work either temporarily or even permanently unusable.)

This is why we were hesitant to make any changes or decisions on the matter. We understand that it might not have been the correct choice to actively degrade our own health for the sake of the project, but the valid disappointment, frustration, and even distrust of fans was something we felt was worth the effort to try to make things better.

It's never an ideal thing to feel you are putting yourself above or before so many people. We had hoped that all these negative experiences were the result of miscommunications or otherwise emotional/personal narratives. But regardless of what they are now, we cannot continue to withstand them. We hit our breaking point.

No personal or individual contractors were made to endure mistreatment, and the affected were content to bear the circumstances while we could. But a point has been reached where we no longer can.

As of now– we are aware this individual is currently attempting to make pledges to the Patreon to further “elaborate”. We are aware they are monitoring our posts on our social media accounts, and we are very much aware they are unhappy with being removed from this position.

All we have to say to this is the following:

Please. Leave us alone. The whole of the SnaccPop team is not comfortable being around you. The SnaccPop team does not feel safe with you around ANY member. And the only reason we will not further elaborate is because we are tired, weary, and want to be left to develop this project in peace.

We don’t want to be around you. And that is OUR choice. You cannot force yourself upon people who do not want to be around you. And if you continue to try, you will never be able to move on.

Please just leave us alone.

–

As for updates, for now? A team of four programmers is assembling the game together. 

We don’t have much to update yet, because we are actively waiting for more concrete information to become clear.

The intentions of a customizable pronoun system are in the works. Those programming are longtime, since-the-beginning fans of the project. The whole of the SnaccPop team has come together under this situation. It’s a sad reason to do so, but we’ve been doing our best.

We still plan to release something by October of this year. And we’re hopeful, because we’re a bunch of fans now working together and collaborating (with pay–) on this project, just like it was always intended to be.

Whatever is released in October will be on Early Access still. And we know it’s been a difficult period of time for the development team AND fans. But we’re going to make the best of the situation.

Again– please do not harass, stalk, “call out”, or “expose” anyone. Do not try to figure out or pass around who Programmer is. 

This entire situation has ultimately been a large drain on the affected persons and we just want to be able to figure out what comes next and how to make the game. We'll answer what we can to the best of our ability.

 Our team will actively be taking a mental health break for the month of June, while management plans and restructures production. Creator Sauce will be picking up any work unable to be performed in order to support the team, for no cost and out of personal passion and a desire to help the team move forwards. But it will NOT help the team at all for this to be reduced to gossip or “drama”.

We are tired. And we are hurting. And we understand the monumental loss AND the disappointment to fans occurring at the same time. The last thing we want or need is to have to relive the situation more than necessary.

Thank you all so much. We are sorry, and we apologize. We did our best.

-SnaccPop Studios / Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack development team.

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day four + five

Summary: Illumi takes you to meet his family as promised, it goes exactly how you'd expected to some degree. You're tired afterward and Illumi ends the date in the best way possible.

Word count: 13k ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, the dinner is very uncomfy for the reader, Illumi slowly exhibits signs of horniness

A/N: There will be a bonus chapter but it takes place in the future rather than being a continuation of this! Thanks for the support! :3

Day one Day two + three

Taglist: @alien-00715-blog @rebirthbunbun

Your wrist hurts. You think it’s broken if the unnatural lump didn’t give it away. You simply stare at it, cradling it with your other hand as you sit in the corner. It hurts like hell, but you’re somehow tolerating the pain.

“It’s not broken,” Illumi states, the dim light shadowing his face as he slowly slides off the bed and approaches you, “it’s simply dislocated.”

His eyes are half-lidded from what you could see of them, signaling his mild disappointment with you. You don’t respond, looking up at him as you continue to cradle your poor wrist. Illumi crouches down to your level, long hair draping perfectly over his shoulders. 

He’s beautiful, even in times like these.

He’s within arm’s reach, staring you dead in the eyes with that same disappointed expression. He only seemed to show emotion during times like these, wanting to make it clear to you just how stupid your actions were. 

He reaches a hand toward you, palm facing upward. “Give me your hand.” 

You’re reluctant, afraid he wasn’t done punishing you and was fixing to dislocate or even break more bones. Your heart was beating rapidly, your knees pushed against your chest with your injured wrist resting in between. Illumi only gestured his hand, he was becoming impatient.

“I won’t ask again.” his eyes are still boring into you.

You exhale sharply, tears stinging your eyes as you slowly present your injured wrist to him. He looks down at it, grabbing it roughly before quickly popping the bone back into place; the sudden sharp pain causing you to jolt and instinctively yank your arm. He doesn’t let go, grip tightening even further as he watches a tear fall down your face.

“Fix your face,” he orders. “you’re in no position to cry. This is your own fault.”

You quickly wipe your tears with your free hand, looking down at your knees as you try to prevent more from coming. Illumi then brings his other hand to firmly grab your wrist, rotating it to ensure everything was back in place. You wince in pain but manage to prevent yourself from pulling away again.

He finally lets go of your arm, slowly standing as you quickly pull your arm back into you. He’s staring down at you, his eyes melting holes into your soul. “I don’t understand why you can’t just behave.” he says, voice condescending, “You do know this means you won’t get food for a while, right?”

Fuck, you must’ve really upset him.

What you had done wasn’t even of great defiance, you had simply knocked his hand away when he was trying to wake you up for the third time. He was sitting too close to you on the edge of the bed and had visited at two in the morning according to the digital clock on the wall. You were tired, and disoriented, as he’d woken you to talk to you about his day. It wasn't uncommon for him to do this, unconsciously using you as an emotional outlet regardless of what you were doing. 

You should’ve just entertained him, he would’ve left eventually. You could tell his silent frustration was building every time you gave a hum or silence for an answer, his voice changing slightly with every other lazy response. You kept falling back asleep as he talked about his earlier activities, giving explicit details about his killings and quirky adventures in his flat, bored tone. He was annoying.

It all happened so fast, your wrist quickly being grabbed and dislocated as you tried to stop him from shaking the sleepiness out of you for the third time, the pain causing you to fall out of bed and scoot against the wall. 

That leaves you in your current predicament.

“Next time I’ll break it. You’re lucky I didn’t do that from the beginning.” he says, staring down at you. He doesn’t say another word as he goes to leave, your body relaxing once he’s out of the room, the titanium door clicking shut behind him.

Your wrist still hurts, and now you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.

.

.

.

Opening your eyes, you exhale deeply as you’ve had yet another nightmare regarding Illumi. Your body is sore. You can’t move, at least you don’t want to, not with Illumi spooning you like this. You can feel his head resting against you, his grip around your waist still firm. You wish to get up though, to be free of his hold, and so you shift, pushing down on his arms to move them off you. He doesn’t budge; you can’t tell if he’s asleep or awake. You shift again, putting a lot more force into it this time. His hold briefly tightens as he suddenly rolls over, dragging you with him and slamming you back onto the bed with more aggression than he intended. 

He was definitely awake. 

You were in an even worse position now as he managed to smother you even more, his weight partially on top of you and his embrace even tighter. You’re still as you lay there, wondering what it was you did in life to deserve treatment such as this. 

“Illumi,” you call out to him. He remains silent. “Illumi,” you call again, reaching forward and allowing your hands to dangle off the edge of the bed. 

He finally responds, “Hm?” 

“Could you let go of me?” you ask. He falls silent yet again, not making any move to loosen his hold on you. “Please, Illumi.” you feign a softer voice.

A few seconds pass before Illumi reluctantly releases his grip, eyes watching as you quickly slide off the bed. He continues to lay sprawled out in the same position as if you were still underneath him, his black eyes tracking your every movement. You quickly make your way into the safety of the bathroom, relaxing once the door is shut and locked behind you. 

Taking your time with your morning routine, you take a minute to stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed and your lips form a small frown, even when you relax your face. Spending so much time around Illumi is starting to take its toll on you; you hope this stupid date ends before your face transforms into a permanently pissed expression. 

You take a second to rub your temples, massaging them to soothe your growing anxiety as your mind starts thinking about tonight’s dinner. It doesn’t work, you’ll just have to deal with it. 

You sigh before opening the door, fully expecting to see Illumi standing and staring on the other side. You don’t. Instead, he was over by the balcony door, the curtains covering it moved aside as he looked out. He doesn’t acknowledge you despite knowing you were watching him. Your eyes shift to his hip-length hair, taking this moment to admire how it always seemed to flow gracefully behind him.

You finally speak up after staring at him momentarily, “What’s the plan for today? Before we go back to Kukuroo Mountain?”

Illumi continues to stare out the glass door before he slowly turns to look back at you. His expression is neutral, but something feels off about him. He turns forward again. “There is an aquarium I wanted to visit… after breakfast, of course.”

Looking down at the oversized Persian rug sitting in the middle of the room, you bring your hand up to your chin. “So… who are your family members?” 

He replies, “They are assassins."

“I meant their names and personalities.” you reiterate, rolling your eyes. 

He finally turns around to face you. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that.” 

Illumi knew you were still anxious about tonight’s events, trying to predict your fate by gathering what little information you could. He thought you were worrying over nothing. Without you asking, he walks over to the wardrobe, takes out multiple outfits, and lays them out on the bed. He then looks up at you expectantly, seemingly allowing you to choose your outfit again.

You look down at the options, then up at him, not knowing how to respond to his sudden susceptibility. Illumi wasn’t one to give you a choice, let alone give you a choice without you asking for it. You assumed his recent submission to your requests was simply to get you to shut up, thinking he’d return to his overcontrolling ways immediately after the storm passed; he didn’t, he’s only favoring you more.

You take an outfit that caught your eye and change in the bathroom, taking extra time to ensure you look perfect. The last thing you wanted was to sit in front of the Zoldycks looking a complete mess, though that should be the least of your worries. You move to sit on the lounge chair once you are finished. It doesn’t take Illumi long to get ready himself, your eyes lingering on him as he shuffles through a drawer, pulling out an orange pill bottle and shaking a singular tablet into his hand. 

He examines it for a moment, then grabs a water bottle sitting on the dresser before turning and offering you the items. “You should take this.”

You slowly grab the items, examining the little pill yourself before looking up at him. “What is it?” you ask.

“Diamox. It helps with altitude sickness.”

Confusion was spread across your face before you realized he was taking you to the actual Zoldyck mansion located on the mountain’s peak, making this much more personal and intimate than you ever wanted it to be. “Wait, we’re going all the way up the mountain?!” 

“Indeed. I would rather not have you passing out in front of everyone, so I’d advise that you take the pill.”

“What happened to just meeting on ground level?” you ask, clearly not wanting to be taken up the mountain.

“Some members of my family aren’t very fond of leaving the house. Just take the pill.”

You examine the pill further before reluctantly popping it in your mouth and taking a swig of the water. The pill is a bit hard to swallow but you manage to get it down. You had taken too long though, allowing it to dissolve a bit and leave an awful taste in your mouth. Illumi takes the water bottle from you, placing it on the TV stand before slowly grabbing your hand. It felt like your hand no longer belonged to you whenever he held it as if he had completely removed it from your body.

Illumi then walks you out of the suite. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, his pace was slower than it ever had been. He feels oddly warm compared to his usual coldness, his grip surprisingly gentle. Instead of taking you to the hotel’s restaurant as usual, he takes you to an outdoor dining area, sitting you down at a two-person table. The table was more of a small patio table than an actual dining table, resulting in him being closer than necessary; your legs would’ve touched if you weren’t seated sideways. 

You stare at the blockades surrounding the hotel, then at the trees gently swaying in the wind. You can’t see people in the distance from here as the trees and hedges block your view. The butlers that would be standing guard outside the hotel were out of view at Illumi’s request, leaving just the two of you in complete silence. 

“What’s the change for?” you finally ask after avoiding Illumi’s stare for some time, looking past him but not directly at him. 

He slowly blinked at you from what you could see in your peripheral vision, not responding audibly. You look away just as quickly, nervously scratching your head and turning your attention to anything other than him. 

He thought it’d be nice to eat outside, thinking it would clear your mind and dissuade you from saying anything he would make you regret, especially since he was much closer to you now. The last thing he needed was an incident right before you met his family — or any incident at all seeing how you’d become more docile since yesterday’s episode. It was probably the trauma. 

His eyes remained fixated on you, a slight change in his way of staring that managed to make you even more uncomfortable. It wasn’t a negative emotion he was hinting at thankfully, but you still couldn’t help but be slightly concerned as you couldn’t decipher it, only knowing that it felt a little more… intense.

“Aren’t you tired of staring at me?” you ask, still refusing to look at him. 

“No.” his answer came as quick and honest as you’d expected.

“It makes me nervous.”

“I know.” he admits but doesn’t make any attempt to avert his attention. 

It was his love language, when he wasn’t upset, the size of his pupils further indicating the intensity of his emotions. You quickly glance at him. His pupils were round rather than their usual oval shape, he was really admiring you. You look away yet again. 

A butler approaches, placing a singular plate of food and fork on the table before returning to his station. You look down at it, then up at Illumi. You noticed his hand position, him gripping both sides of his chair as if he planned to scoot even closer to you.

“Nope,” you objected before he could move, “we aren’t doing this today.” 

Illumi pauses, his pupils slowly returning to their oval shape. A small frown on his face as he slowly sunk back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

He chose not to force it. Thank god. 

You quickly grab the fork and plate before he can change his mind. It was a small, basic feat but you felt victorious nonetheless. You take your time eating, allowing yourself to enjoy the flavor rather than quickly chew and swallow like you would if he were adamant about feeding you. He continues gazing at you, but you manage to ignore it.

Eventually, you finish, placing the small, empty plate on the table. Illumi stands, as do you, and you follow him around the side of the hotel. His pace suddenly slows before you reach the truck, however, then stops completely. “There is something I wish to give you before we set off.” he says dully.

You look at him curiously as he fishes in his pocket, pulling out a small, black box. When did he sneak that into his pocket? He turns to you, presenting the piece of jewelry inside. It was a ring — an engagement ring. 

Your eyes snap from the ring to him, to the ring again, then finally back at him. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for this?” you ask almost sarcastically, but secretly dreading having to wear it, especially in front of others.

“I would’ve given it to you sooner, but you tend to be quite unpredictable. For your safety, I thought it best to hold onto it until I could ensure you wouldn’t destroy it.” Illumi’s voice was soft despite his subtle threat.

You watch as he takes the ring out, putting the now empty box back into his pocket and holding his hand out to you. You’re reluctant, not really fond of sporting it despite knowing you didn’t have a choice. After giving him your nondominant hand, he gently slides the ring onto your finger, holding it for a little too long as he gazes in admiration at the little piece of jewelry while you stare in repugnance. 

“We’re now officially married.” Illumi says unenthusiastically, slowly releasing your hand. He wasn’t wearing a ring, though.

The way he continued to stand there and stare down at you made you feel as if he was preparing to try something. Your suspicions were confirmed when he slowly raised both of his hands as if moving to cup your face, his staring becoming intense yet again. You quickly turned away.

“You’re wasting time. I want to go to the aquarium.” you said, hoping to dissuade him from whatever it was he thought of trying. 

Illumi remained quiet, his hands paused midair. You’re just being shy, he can wait a bit longer. Thankfully, his hands began their descent down at his sides and he slowly shifted his gaze to the black truck up ahead. “The aquarium… right.”

He began walking once again, much to your relief, and you soon found yourself seated in the passenger side of the truck. Soft music played as he pulled onto the empty road, though it was quieter than usual. 

The aquarium was quite large, just as you’d hoped, the only living beings in there being the aquatic life, a few butlers, a few employees, and, of course, you and Illumi. You watch the dolphins as they swim in circles, occasionally leaping out of the pool and spouting water out of their blowholes. There was a glass wall next to their indoor enclosure, giving a clear view of the vast lake just outside the aquarium. You found it cruel, completely understanding what the dolphins must be feeling whenever they caught a glimpse of the freedom they should’ve had. 

Illumi doesn’t notice anything, though if he did, he’d argue that species of dolphin won’t survive in lakes, therefore justifying their imprisonment.

He’s silent as he follows you around, seemingly lost in thought as he doesn’t appear to be as engaged as you were; not that you were super engaged either, the pretty fish and marine life doing little to take your mind off of what’s to come. 

“We’ve been here longer than we should’ve. It’s time to go back to the hotel.” Illumi’s voice fills the room. 

You continue to look down at the gray tree frogs as they sit perched on a branch, their large, black eyes looking back at you. You eventually look up at Illumi, frowning in a pathetic attempt to change his mind about the whole dinner thing. He stares at you blankly, indifferent to your emotions, and begins walking back toward the aquarium’s entrance. You groan loudly, to which he ignores, and follow him. The ride back was silent, he didn’t play any music. 

As you arrive in the hotel’s parking lot, you take note of two limousines parked out front, Shiori standing next to one of them. Illumi does his performance, helping you out of the car, and guiding you over to Shiori. She bows in formality, but Illumi ignores her. He opts to help you inside the limo, but he doesn’t get in himself, only shutting the door behind you and leaving you alone and confused. 

“Hello, Master (Name).” Shiori greets after entering the limo a few moments later, the vehicle starting and beginning to make the long drive back to Kukuroo Mountain. 

“Uh, hi?” you’re still confused. 

Shiori dryly chuckles, “I suppose Master Illumi didn’t tell you that you would be riding with me?”

“No, he didn't.”

“Master Illumi does like to keep to himself. I was instructed to inform you of the details and proper etiquette regarding tonight’s event as well as answer any questions you may have. To start, how are you feeling now?” Shiori’s voice is soft yet monotone, her gloved hands resting neatly on her lap. 

‘Well, I’m scared and I don’t want to go.” you say, fiddling your thumbs together as you look out the window. 

“I understand your feelings, Master (Name), but I assure you have nothing to be afraid of.”

That’s easy for her to say. She has a place within the Zoldyck family, whereas you don’t. 

“I’m going to be an outsider sitting in a room full of notorious killers. I have everything to be afraid of.” you say. You didn’t know much about the Zoldyck family aside from the fact that they kill and hire only skilled butlers to serve them, as well as any small details Illumi and your assigned butler were willing to share.

Shiori chuckles again. “The Zoldycks are assassins rather than mere killers. Their job is to complete missions for clients, not harm innocent people. As you are Master Illumi’s partner and no threat to them in any way, they would have no reason to harm you.”

You cringe at being called Illumi’s partner, the sound of it making your stomach churn. “Don’t call me that.” you groan, shutting your eyes as you bury your face into your hand and lean against the door. 

“My apologies, Master (Name). Shall I begin my lesson on etiquette?”

You agree and tone her out as soon as she starts her lecture. She explains that you are to sit and be silent unless directly spoken to, only answering with short responses if that was the case. Shiori put great emphasis on the word “directly” as if hinting at something greater.

Shiori continues, gesturing her hands as she speaks, “You absolutely must remain composed throughout the dinner, even if someone is insulting you.”

This catches your attention. You turn to face her again. “What do you mean by that?”

Shiori stops her gesturing, moving her hands back down to her lap, a small frown on her face. “What I mean is that it is of the utmost importance that you don’t let anyone’s offensive behavior get to you.”

Oh, someone wasn’t pleased about your existence. Your anxiousness was justified and you began fiddling your thumbs once more. Shiori simply stares at you, her head slightly tilted as if trying to get a better angle of your face. 

“So like,” you start, causing Shiori to straighten herself, “who are they?”

Shiori answers swiftly, “The Zoldycks are a family of assassins. They are highly skilled at their jobs and are known for their efficiency as well as their lethality.”

God, you can’t stand how much in common she has with Illumi.

“I meant their names and all.” you reiterate.

“My apologies, Master (Name). The Zoldyck family members you will be meeting today include Master Kikyo, Master Illumi’s mother; Master Silva, Master Illumi’s father; Master Zeno, Master Illumi’s grandfather;  Master Milluki, Master Illumi’s younger brother; and Master Kalluto who is Master Illumi’s youngest brother.” she explains. Your head is spinning from the amount of times she’s said the word “master” but you managed to retain the information. “There is also Master Killua who is also Master Illumi’s younger brother, but he will not be present.”

Shiori intentionally leaves out further details regarding Killua’s inability to attend the dinner, not wanting to give you a bad impression of him simply not caring, though he doesn’t, but also not wanting to delve into his and Illumi’s unsteady relationship. It would be awkward to mention that one time he tried to murder his little sister, right?

“Oh.” You reply simply, turning your attention down to your shoes.

“Is there anything else you would like to know, Master (Name)?” Shiori inquires. 

You’re silent for a moment as you slowly glance out the window before looking back at her. “What are your thoughts on this shitshow?”

Her eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t comment on your use of profanity. She answers, “My personal thoughts on the matter are irrelevant, my only job here is to provide the assistance and support you need to strive.”

You frown. “Do they know about all the horrible things Illumi has done to me so far?”

“They do know where you’re being kept and that your circumstances may not be entirely voluntary, but they don’t know all the intimate details. Some may have their suspicions but are choosing not to confront as you are a rather… sensitive matter.” she pauses for a moment before continuing, her face showing slight guilt. “Additionally, they may feel it is not their place to interfere with Master Illumi’s personal matters, especially one as unique as this.”

You don’t respond as you simply stare at her, causing her to sink back into her seat. “Shiori,” you finally say, “why did you choose to work as a butler for them?”

She’s nervous, though she tries her best not to show it. Her eyes shift downward towards the ring on your finger, then back up to your eyes. “I believed becoming a butler would provide me with the opportunity to learn and grow. Working for an individual like Master Illumi is challenging but also rewarding, his high expectations require me to constantly push myself in order to improve and excel at what I do.”

“What about taking care of his hostage is rewarding?”

She knew you’d ask that as you’ve asked something similar in the past. She thought it appropriate to give you a direct answer, though finally. ‘While the circumstances regarding your situation are not ideal, I asked to become your personal butler with the goal of providing you with a comfortable life at the estate. I knew he would be more likely to choose a butler like me after the… incident… that had occurred, so convincing him wasn’t difficult.” she looked down at her hands, a small frown on her face. “I understand your feelings towards the situation, Master (Name). I really do. It’s rewarding to see you smile though, even despite what’s happening. I only wish to see you happy.”

Shiori does genuinely care about you, though in her own way. A way much, much better than Illumi’s in your eyes. You wonder if the two of you would’ve been friends in an alternate universe. 

“Do you..” you pause for a moment, “do you know how or why Illumi came up with this date idea?”

Illumi had already answered this, but you felt as though there was a huge part of it he was leaving out. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he’d suddenly thought of treating you like an actual person, to some degree, after months of torment and controlling behavior. 

“I’m sorry, Master (Name), but I don’t think I’m allowed to disclose that type of information even if I did.” Shiori states, continuing to stare down at her hands.

She had her suspicions when a butler from another group began lingering around your residence far too often, though she never confronted the older lady, only humoring her questions to some degree and directing her to Illumi if she wanted more in-depth answers. She could feel Silva’s judgemental stare through her monocle as she did so. 

She didn’t know much about Silva, but she knew he wasn’t entirely devoid of compassion. He most likely sent in his own butler after realizing just how serious Illumi was when he failed to hear news of your inevitable death after the fifth month. He wanted to assess the situation and see if you really were Illumi’s so-called spouse. 

You weren’t, not willingly at least. He concluded that you were more of a plaything than a spouse; he thought Illumi was confused.

He got his scoop but did not confront his son about it. He did, however, help in other ways such as giving Illumi a lesson on how to court his partner and being very thorough on how said partner should be treated.

This resulted in Illumi being softer towards you — or rather less likely to physically punish you. Shiori didn’t tell you any of this though, it was best if you remained unaware.

You stay silent for the rest of the car ride, feeling ill when the limo pulls through the gates and takes a specific manmade trail up the mountain. The bumpy ride only made you feel even more sick. Why didn’t they choose a better vehicle for this?

You refrain from looking out of the window, afraid leaning too much against the door to get a better look at the cliff would cause the limo to tip and you all to fall to your deaths. Shiori attempts to calm you as you’re now visibly shaking, but her monotone voice and nearly blank expression don’t help. You feel queasy, your heart feels heavy. You can’t tell if you’re sick due to anxiety or sick due to the high altitude. Probably both, though that Diamox should’ve kicked in by now. 

You let out a small whine as the limo slowly pulls up in front of the Zoldyck mansion, all of your negative emotions intensifying as reality sinks in. It’s cold. You hope it's due to the altitude and not from the lingering threat of death. The sea of dark lenticular clouds surrounding the mountain only makes it worse, you can’t see anything other than rock formations poking out from the clouds as well as occasional lightning.

It’s like you’re in a whole new dimension.  

“Master (Name),” Shiori calls out as she gently grabs your trembling hand, “I assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. No harm will befall you.” she states once again with a gentle smile. 

You respond in the form of a tear rolling down your cheek, your eyes wide as you stare at her. You quickly wipe it away as your door is suddenly opened, the breeze only making you feel colder. 

You take several deep breaths, swallowing hard as you slowly turn to face Illumi. He’s holding his hand out as usual, but his eyes have a more dictatorial feel to them. You quickly take his hand, assuming his family is watching and judging despite not being present. He doesn’t say anything as he helps you out of the vehicle, his grip on your hand a bit tighter than usual and his stare burning holes into you. 

You know what he’s demanding without him even needing to say it. You close your eyes for a moment as you slowly breathe in, and then out. You’re visibly calmer now, as he wanted, and he slowly releases your hand.

Shiori and a few other butlers trail behind as you follow Illumi towards the mansion’s front entrance. You swallow hard yet again as butlers open the door, mentally preparing yourself to see bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood splattered all over the place. 

You don’t.

The interior was comfortingly warm and quite nice if you ignored the assortment of weapons and odd, hopefully animal, skulls on the wall. It’s unsettlingly devoid of people as you walk through the mansion, you would’ve expected at least a few house butlers roaming about. You hear hushed muttering and whispering as you approach the main dining room, your dread immediately flares once again as you follow Illumi inside.

They’re all staring at you. They’re all judging you. 

You hold your breath briefly to keep your facial expression mellow, but you feel like you’re being watched by a pride of bloodthirsty lions. Their eyes follow you and you alone, causing you to try to hide behind Illumi. You’re unsuccessful as he moves himself out of the way. You don’t look at them, you can’t bring yourself to. It takes all your willpower to keep yourself steady as your knees threaten to buckle under their watchful eyes.

“This is insane…” a boy, who you assume to be Millluki, whispers to his grandfather, eyes still looking at you. He probably didn’t mean to be so loud, but how could you not hear him in this unbearable silence?

Zeno ignores him, but Silva shoots him an icy glare in response, causing the boy to stiffen and correct his posture in his seat. Silva then turns his attention back to you, but your eyes have a magnetic relationship with the table as you approach it, sitting directly across from him after Illumi pulls the chair out for you. 

You keep your gaze lowered as Illumi sits to your left, an empty seat to your right. You can feel his father’s intense gaze on you, as you do everyone’s, and you fiddle your shaking hands underneath the table in a hopeless effort to soothe yourself. You can see who you thought to be Kikyo on Silva’s right, and Zeno on Silva’s left; both brothers on either end of the table. 

You wonder who this empty seat was for if Killua was the only one missing. 

“This is (Name).” Illumi finally states after allowing the silence to linger for an unnecessary amount of time. His demeanor is slightly off despite his nonchalance. 

You’re freezing all of a sudden, you can’t decipher if it’s because someone decided to turn the AC on max or because Illumi was radiating energy. Considering you can only feel it coming from your left side, you conclude it was Illumi.  Illumi doesn’t say anything further and you’re not daring enough to add to his introduction, not that you wanted to anyway. 

“So Illumi, this is your… partner?” Kikyo asks, her tone rather uncertain and her demeanor ungracious. She didn’t like you, that much evident in her body language and how she kept her lips pursed when she watched your timid form enter the dining room. Even without knowing you personally, Kikyo thought you were a bad influence; you do not belong here.

“Yeah.” Illumi confirms, once again not adding any details. 

“Are… they an assassin too?” Kikyo inquires further. You can see that she’s gripping the edge of the table, her long nails digging into the expensive marble. 

“No.” Illumi responds.

Kikyo grits her teeth before swiftly correcting herself, her expression returning to one of slight vexation. “A hunter of some sort?”

Illumi replies, “Nope.”

“A nen user?! Anything achievable?!” she was grasping for anything that would prove you had at the very minimum some kind of honor.

“No. They don’t do anything at all.”

You’re not the melancholic type, but sometimes you wish you weren’t born — times like now. Kikyo’s shocked, as is everyone else, though internally, and she covers her mouth with her hands. In her mind, Illumi had just confirmed her biggest worries: you were nothing but a burden and an obstacle in his career as an assassin. 

You rub your knees together. You feel awkward. You shouldn’t be here. The tension is suffocating, but you feel as though the negative energy is directed at Illumi now. 

“So… they’re useless?!” she brings her hands down, almost slamming them onto the table. No one reacts to her offensive comment. Normally, Kikyo would’ve had better etiquette when hosting for a guest important enough to be invited inside the Zoldyck mansion, but you didn’t deserve that. You were just some person.

Illumi especially does not react, only casually sipping his wine as his mother begins to berate you. You awkwardly shift in your seat as the insults fly, trying your best to keep your expression neutral like everyone else’s. 

“How DARE you bring someone so inadequate into this household?! Just what were you thinking, Illumi?!” she yells.

You really wish you’d kept your mouth shut the other day.

Not in the mood to hear Kikyo’s whining, Zeno speaks up, “There’s no need for that. I’m sure Illumi has his reasons, we mustn’t judge.” his voice was nonchalant, almost teasing as he spoke. 

Kikyo sneers, clearly not taking too kindly to Zeno’s comment. “You know as well as I do that there is no reason to have someone so useless in the family! We mustn’t encourage this!”

“Kikyo.” Silva’s deep voice booms throughout the room, causing you to sink into your seat. He had turned his head slightly to look at his wife, the action causing her to fall silent while gritting her teeth once again. He turns back to you and you courageously meet his gaze. He’s scaring the absolute shit out of you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away as you continue to cower before him. You’re a feeble little thing, aren’t you?

Silva won’t judge though, not externally at least. “Father’s right, we mustn’t judge Illumi.” he forces a softer expression as he holds his hands out in an almost welcoming gesture. “Welcome to the family, (Name).”

You were officially a Zoldyck now.

You merely nod your head in response, a repressed frown on your face. Silva then crosses his arms, attention turned toward Illumi. “I’m surprised they’ve survived for this long.” he closes his eyes and lets out a small chuckle. “They’re in one piece too. You must be really serious about this.”

“I suppose so.” Illumi, who had been silent the entire time his mother spoke negatively of you, nodded in agreement, ignoring his father’s implied incredulity in his ability to keep you safe. He couldn’t blame him, however, as you’ve had several encounters with him and still managed to live another day. You seemed to have a knack for getting out of certain death situations, causing Silva to realize just how strong of a hold you had on his son’s heart. 

“Woah,” Milluki chimes in, his fingers rubbing his chin in curiosity as his eyes rake over you a little too much, “I never would’ve expected anything like this from someone like you, Illu. What’s so special about them anyway?”

Illumi’s reply came swiftly, “I don’t know.” 

The tension is oppressive once again. When’s the food coming so you can eat and get out of here? 

Illumi’s words were immensely shocking. They believed that someone as distant as him would have some sort of grand reason for wanting to pair up with you. Instead, it sounded like it was a whim that occurred to him with no ulterior motive in mind. They didn’t understand him, you didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand himself.

Illumi continues, “I saw something in them and I’ve been trying to figure out what it was. My efforts were in vain though, so I accepted the fact that I simply would never know.”

Your eyes drift downward again as they all look at you. It was like they were trying to solve the puzzle themselves based on your appearance alone. 

“You don’t know?” Kikyo, as expected, was the first to verbally react. “You don’t know?!” she repeats, her voice a bit louder. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Either you have a valid reason or you’re just wasting your time!” she huffs as she glares at you.

Her presence feels overwhelming, she must be releasing aura. It does not compare to the aura Illumi is releasing, though. 

“This… person… is nothing but a nuisance.” her tone is sharp as she continues speaking. 

Illumi nods. “They can be troublesome at times, I’ll agree with you there.”

You can’t tell whether you should be surprised or not at Illumi’s unwillingness to stick up for you. You prefer not to be as that would mean you’d have to recognize him as someone who’s supposed to fight for you. He’s not your savior in your eyes, and he never will be. 

“Troublesome…” Kikyo repeats, her voice laced with malice. She scowls deeply as she prepares to rant again, but the butlers distract her as they place tonight’s dinner on the table. Your internal prayers have finally been answered.

You feel slightly relaxed as everyone is now distracted by the lavish meal before them, but you’re still slightly shaking. You keep your hand bearing the ring under the table and use your other to pick up a fork — or try to as the fork seems to be glued to the table. You look at it confused, then briefly glance at Illumi. He returns the glance, but to a butler who quickly moves to replace your fifty-pound fork with a fork of normal weight. You were able to lift this one with ease and you slowly began to eat. 

You don’t turn to look at Kikyo as she scoffs. “See? Weak.” she slowly shakes her head.

Illumi doesn’t acknowledge her, but Zeno does. “Now now Kikyo, that's enough. Shouldn’t we try to be more welcoming to our new family member instead of criticizing their every move?” 

Kikyo huffs, her head turning away from you. She didn’t know what to say or think anymore. No one ever seemed to consider her perspective, no one seemed to understand how dire this was. She can’t even stand the sight of you right now, especially with you right next to her son. 

She takes a deep breath. “I just don’t think they’re good enough for Illumi. That’s all.” her voice feigns a sense of calmness. 

You didn’t take as much offense to her comments as you should considering you don’t want to be with Illumi either. You simply ignore her and continue eating.

“Illumi, how did you two meet?” Silva suddenly asks.

You nearly choke as you swallow. You keep your eyes glued to your plate, your teeth holding your tongue in place as you prepare yourself for Illumi’s answer. You know Illumi won’t lie about this, and you know things would only get more awkward when he proudly announces that he stalked and kidnapped you. 

Illumi slowly sips his wine, making direct eye contact with his father. He sets the glass down, taking his sweet time before he replies, “I saw them while I was out on a mission. I visited them frequently after that and our relationship grew from there.”

You were right, he did not lie. 

He had skewed the truth, making it seem as if you two had bumped into each other and hit it off rather than him stalking you and breaking into your house. However, Silva wasn’t dumb; he knew Illumi was misleading based on your subtle body language alone. You weren’t just afraid of them, you were afraid of Illumi as well.

“I see. That’s certainly interesting.” Silva feigned ignorance nonetheless. “I’m sure you make them very happy.”

“I try to.” Illumi states flatly. At least he was acknowledging you weren’t happy with him, but knowing him, he probably blames you for it rather than his own actions. 

You visibly cringe, but quickly correct yourself. Everyone already caught onto it though, so there was no point in trying to hide it. 

“Congratulations to the both of you.” Silva states, eyes glancing at you for the final time before the subject changes to an assassin-related topic.

You stay quiet as almost everyone ignores you, seeming like they have lost interest in the stranger in their home. That was fine by you as you were no longer in the spotlight. 

Illumi pulls your chair out as dinner concludes and you all head towards the living room. You can feel Milluki staring you down as you walk in front of him, but you refrain from complaining as you remind yourself that Illumi is not your savior. You enter the living room, noticing Shiori standing formally in the corner. Illumi looks at her, causing her to nod and walk over to you.

“Master (Name),” she says, “it is time for us to go. Please follow me.”

You’re confused as you thought you’d have to stay for much longer but follow Shiori nonetheless, assuming Illumi had decided to cut things short. You’re forever grateful as Shiori guides you out of the mansion, not even questioning the fact that Illumi was staying behind. No one says their goodbyes to you, not even Illumi, as they all silently watch you leave. 

Milluki chuckles once you’re out of earshot. “You get a pretty good idea as to why Ilu chose them once you see them from behind!”

He continues giggling to himself, but his smile instantly vanishes when a loud snapping sound rings throughout the room. His face twists into one of great affliction as he clutches his freshly broken arm. 

“What the hell, Illumi?! I was only joking!” he shouts, annoyed more than anything. 

Illumi simply stares at him, expression neutral but clearly threatening. Milluki steps back and grits his teeth, muttering insults under his breath as he turns to leave. The act of brutality takes no one aback, Kikyo disregards it as she makes her thoughts and feelings known to Illumi. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Illumi.” she states calmly, her hands tightly gripping her fan. Kalluto, who hadn’t spoken a single word throughout the entire ordeal, looks up at Illumi curiously. 

“I know.” Illumi simply replies.

Illumi’s nonchalance only serves to further provoke Kikyo. “Have you no honor for your family?!” she yells, glaring at Illumi. “Do you not care about how much you’re holding yourself back by wasting your time with that weak person?!”

“I’m not holding myself back, I’ll be fine.” Illumi casually crosses his arms.

Zeno soon parted after confirming there was nothing more to do, leaving only Silva, Kikyo, Illumi, and Kalluto in the living room. Kikyo was at a loss for words and she turned to Silva, expecting some kind of backup. Silva, however, continues to silently stare out of the window, watching the limo as it takes you away. 

You’re exhausted. You’ve never been exposed to Illumi’s aura for such a long period and you feel like you’re about to pass out. Huh, maybe that’s why Illumi decided to end things early. 

“I see that you look fatigued, Master (Name),” Shiori says as the limo begins the long drive back to the hotel, “I trust the dinner with the family went well.”

“Went well?!” you nearly shout despite your tired state, “I was insulted and stared at for the vast majority of it! Not to mention the overwhelming tension in the room, it was horrible!”

“While I understand the experience may have been unpleasant for you, it is important to note that no physical harm occurred to you. In that sense, the dinner went well.”

You let out a deep breath. “You’re just like Illumi sometimes, you know that?”

“I appreciate your observation.” Shiori responds, not sensing your mocking tone.

“That’s not a good thing.”

“It is understandable that you may not perceive our similar mindsets as a positive attribute.”

You merely groan and shut your eyes, resting your head against the door. Once you reach the hotel, Shiori escorts you inside. She ensures you’re set for the night before saying her farewells, leaving you alone in the suite. 

You would scream if you weren’t so tired right now. Instead, you change into your silk sleepwear and throw yourself into bed. It’s over with; you’re relieved. You turn on your side, hugging a pillow as you try to drift off to sleep. You hope this date ends soon.

Something was touching you. 

You’re a bit groggy as you stir, quickly realizing your movements were partially restricted. “Illumi?” you call out into the darkness.

“Did I wake you? Good.” he answers, voice uncomfortably close to your ear. You jump from the sudden closeness, causing him to tighten his grip briefly. After a moment, he audibly sighs; an uncommon sound from him. “You were rather brave during dinner tonight.” he spoke with his usual monotone voice, though it had a hint of exhaustion to it. 

“I didn’t do anything.” you say, shifting in his arms as you try to get comfortable once again.

“That’s the point. You didn’t pass out.”

“You were overwhelming me.” you complain as you think back to how ungodly cold and uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. The whole time leading up to the dinner, you thought his family was going to be the biggest threat to you. Illumi proved you wrong though, he was the biggest threat to you.

“You caught on quickly, I’m glad.” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “My mother scolded me when you left, saying you were weak and a waste of time. You shouldn’t worry about her, she won’t hurt you. None of them will.”

None of them except him.

You’re quiet as you think back to all of the things she’s said. You don’t feel any type of way about her comments, they were true after all. “Your mother is right, Illumi. You should listen to her.” you say, your gaslighting attempt made apparent.

“I know she is. It was my choice though, and I don’t regret it.”

He continues rambling about the discussion he had with both of his parents after your departure, but you don’t listen as you glance at the clock. It was two in the morning. Typical of him to wake you up at this hour to express his feelings, except this time he was allowing you to fall back asleep.

.

Day 5

.

Illumi was acting strange — stranger in a way you were used to at least. That much was apparent when you woke up to him standing next to the bed and staring at you, his hand gently caressing your cheek. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken up to him doing this though this instance felt much, much different. 

“Wake up, (Name).” Illumi commands in a softer tone of voice. You’re groggy as he��s allowed you to wake up in your own time these last few days. He begins gently poking your cheek, the pokes becoming more firm the longer it took for you to rise. “Today will be exciting. Get up.”

You yawn as you begrudgingly sit up, moving around Illumi to get off the bed as he didn’t think it was necessary to step out of your way. As you’re completing your morning routine, you are harshly reminded of Illumi’s proof of ownership on your finger, the jewelry twinkling in the light as if signaling you to its presence. You consider ripping it off and flushing it down the toilet, but as much as you wish to, you know better. By the time you walked out of the bathroom, Illumi was sitting up in bed, sleepwear still on. 

You scratch your head in confusion. “Why did you wake me up if you’re just going to hop back into bed?” you ask in an almost annoyed tone.

Illumi turns his head slightly in your direction, expression eerily innocent. “Breakfast is on the way, that’s why. Come back to bed.” when you fail to make any move, Illumi’s head slowly turns even more, his stare silently commanding you to obey. 

You tilt your head a bit before reluctantly moving to slide back into bed. You pull the blankets onto you and turn away from Illumi. 

“Don’t fall asleep.” he directs. He shifts, supposedly turning to face you. Your assumptions are confirmed when he turns you over onto your back. “We can talk while we wait if you need something to keep you up. How was your sleep last night?” his tone was still flat and boring despite returning to its softer version, only making you want to fall asleep even more. 

You respond nonetheless, “It was restrictive.”

As expected, Illumi is not a very good cuddle buddy. It’s like he’s trying to prevent you from escaping rather than lovingly holding you. You can’t wait to return to the estate. Not because you want to be there, but because you would have your solidarity again and not have to deal with Illumi’s overbearing nature.

“Restrictive? How so?” Illumi asked. He had moved a bit too close to you.

“I’d like to be able to move around and position myself properly at night.”

“Hm. I see.” Illumi leans forward slightly, invading your space even more. “If you’re sore, that’s a good thing. It will make our trip to the spa all the more special.”

You don’t respond as you focus your attention on the blank TV ahead. A massage does sound nice right about now. You rub your shoulder, you definitely slept on it wrong thanks to Illumi.

“It’s only polite to ask about my night’s sleep, (Name).” Illumi continues.

Humoring him for the sake of getting him to shut up, you respond, “How did you sleep?” 

He replies quickly, “I didn’t sleep.”

You gesture your hands in confusion, shaking your head. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” Illumi tilts his head slowly, eyes boring into you.

“Have me ask you a question you don’t have a response to.”

He slowly straightens himself, but his expression remains unreadable. “Because I want to talk.” 

You cover your face with your hands, irritated Illumi had woken you just to have this stupid little back and forth with you. You had rolled back onto your side and before Illumi could turn you over once more, a knock could be heard at the door. You let out a deep breath, relieved as your prayers have been answered. 

Your eyes trail Illumi as he answers the door and brings in a service trolley. You’re sitting up now as he unfolds a mini bed tray and places it over you. You dramatically sigh when he sets a singular plate of food on the tray before sliding onto his side of the bed, the only fork available being held in his hand. 

“Must you do this every morning?” you ask, leaning away from him as he is sitting far too close to you.

“I could’ve done this every morning, but I didn’t. You’re only making up for yesterday.” the softness in his voice was long gone though he wasn’t upset — not enough to show it at least.

You ponder why he was so insistent on feeding you despite already having a good idea as to the answer. He probably thought it was a romantic gesture, which it is, but only with an actual lover rather than an erotomanic, crazed assassin. You can’t stand the way he stares so intently at you, especially at your lips, when he feeds you. You’re quick to turn your head away after each bite, quickly chewing and nearly swallowing the bites whole in an attempt to speed up the process. Illumi, however, takes his time, the sections of food on the fork getting smaller and smaller the more you rush. 

You watch as Illumi moves at a deliberately slow speed as he scoops up the last piece of food. He then grabs your chin firmly as he feeds you the last bite, his hold preventing you from turning away. You shut your eyes, swallowing the piece whole as you just wanted to be done with this. He doesn’t let go right away, however, his touch lingers for moments longer before he finally releases you. 

“You should get ready.” he says as he sets the fork on the empty plate. “You can get your clothes out of the wardrobe.”

You’re quick to move, your uneasiness being relieved now that there is some space between the two of you. You don’t even think about how he’s allowed you into the wardrobe for the first and only time throughout the entire duration of this so-called “romantic” date. You take your time as you look at all the options, Illumi cleaning up and pushing the service trolley out into the hallway. 

You change in the bathroom after finding a combination you like, Illumi is dressed as well by the time you come out. Your hands are in your pockets as you approach him by the door, not wanting your bodily autonomy ripped away even more by giving him the idea to hold your hand. 

He makes no move thankfully, and quietly leads you out of the hotel and into the Mercedes truck. 

Music was playing; you don’t know whether that’s good or bad anymore as any mood Illumi was in deemed to be bad for you. He’s speeding too, he seemed to be eager to get to his destination. Your grip on your seatbelt relaxes as he pulls into the spa’s parking lot. You take a second to collect yourself after experiencing Illumi’s reckless driving, sighing as he helps you out of the truck and leads you into the building. 

You don’t notice Shiori standing formally in front of the reception desk immediately upon entering, your attention focused on the beautifully decorated interior. Though it wasn’t anything super fancy, the simplicity and interior design still managed to captivate you.

“Good morning, Master Illumi and Master (Name).” your attention snaps to her and she bows her head. You nod in acknowledgment but Illumi doesn’t respond, he rudely walks off as Shiori continues speaking, “Master (Name), it is my pleasure to be able to serve you today. Please follow me to the changing room.”

You do so without question, eyes still looking around as you take in the calm atmosphere. Peaceful ambient music plays throughout the spa, you can already feel yourself relaxing as you manage to forget about Illumi’s existence. Now sporting a fluffy white robe with matching slippers, you sit on a reclining chair.

Shiori, now gloveless, gently applies various creams and masks onto your face, even going so far as to put slices of cucumbers over your eyes. Her hands move skillfully as she then gives you both a manicure and a pedicure.

“It’s nice to see you so relaxed, Master (Name).” Shiori speaks softly as she finishes up. “I only hope for this trend to continue. Please follow me to the massage room.”

You rub your palms together as you follow her, relishing how soft your hands, feet, and face feel. Now it was time to get rid of this crick in your shoulder. The massage room was small, though it felt just right. A singular bed sat in the middle of the room, two chairs off to the side, and a small table with a beautiful succulent on it placed in the corner. Thin, white curtains covered the glass wall, but see-through enough to allow the right amount of light in.

You undo your robe and lay belly down on the bed, Shiori then places a white towel over your lower half. “The masseur will be with you shortly. Please enjoy yourself.” Shiori says, bowing her head before departing.

You shut your eyes as you hear the door click shut. Your mind wanders as the near fantasy-type music plays. You imagine yourself in a fairytale garden, a small smile creeping onto your face as you watch fairies flutter in the air. A sign of life returning to your eyes causing you to laugh as you skip around. A magical butterfly lands atop a flower bud, causing the bud to bloom and release the most pleasant of fragrances. You gently hold the freshly flowered plant, careful not to damage it in any way. 

You were truly at peace — or so you deluded yourself. 

The door clicks open, ruining your dreams of being in a magical, happy place and snapping you back to reality. You glance back, then return your attention forward as you are met with the person you didn’t want to see: Illumi. 

“Hello, (Name).” he greets. You really didn’t want to hear his voice right now.

“Are you getting a massage too?” you inquire, waiting for him to make his way over to the two seats pushed up against the wall. He doesn’t, he merely shuts the door and walks over to you.

“Giving.” he corrects. You try to sit up upon hearing this, but Illumi pushes you back down just as quickly. “Relax. I will be gentle.”

“Wait-” you try to protest, but his actions cut you off. 

His hands move skillfully, moving with a perfect combination of firmness and delicacy as he begins working on your shoulders, slowly massaging the pain away. You shiver under his touch, hands gripping the bed as he rolls over various knots. 

“You’re full of tension. It seems you’ve been holding it in for quite some time, haven’t you, (Name)? Let me help you release all of that.” he pinpoints the exact spot that needs the most attention and applies pressure, causing you to groan. “You’re very responsive. I wonder what other sounds I can get out of you.”

You’re too caught up in the intensity of the massage to fully grasp what he had just said. If you could see Illumi’s face right about now, you would immediately know what was on his mind. His expression was still blank to the ignorant, but someone more knowledgeable about his behaviors would be able to detect the hint of libidinousness within his eyes. His eyes were rounder as they had been nearly all morning whenever they were focused on you. His touch gradually becomes more sensual as they move across your back, nearly threatening to venture into forbidden regions before he was able to catch and compose himself, remembering there was a time and a place. 

“Perhaps I should give you more massages like this from now on.” he speaks, his voice low and almost sultry.

You did enjoy the massage, you won’t lie, but you also don’t want Illumi to get comfortable with putting you in positions like this. Nevertheless, you choose not to respond, thinking in the future you would probably give in if the need were strong enough. You’re quick to turn opposite of him as you put your robe back on, your adrenaline nearly fading once you are covered. 

He says nothing further as he escorts you out of the room and into the small sauna. You sit in the corner, your eyes closed as you pretend Illumi isn’t sitting directly in front of you and staring. You cross your hands in front of you, the warmth of the steam eliminating any remaining soreness within your body.

Your time at the spa comes to an end as you’re now dressed and back in the car with Illumi. You stare out the window, noticing but not reacting to how Illumi constantly glanced at you as he drove. 

“We’re going to the museum.” he says, eyes now back on the road where they should be.

“Cool.” your tone is dull.

Illumi kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the drive though it seemed as if he wanted to say something more, that much evident in his slight frown. 

When you reach the museum, Illumi is quick to begin his unusually talkative behavior as he walks around the empty museum with you in tow. Your hands remain in your pockets, mind not really there as he gives one-sentence explanations on the museum’s various torture devices in his signature flat tone. You follow him like a kid following their parents who are out shopping, annoyed, and wanting to go home. It’s almost nostalgic in a way. 

Illumi notices your demeanor, as much as he tries to ignore it in hopes you’d drop it, and stops in his tracks, looking down at you. “Are you tired? We can take a break at the cafe if you’d like.”

You merely nod in response and he leads you to the cafe. You take your seat at a small table, not hesitating to eat when you are served a warm drink along with a snack. Illumi continues his staring habit, head resting in his hands as he observes you.

You’ve eaten your snack and are now focused on finishing your drink. You slowly sip the now lukewarm beverage, eyes focused on anything other than the man sitting across from you. 

“Feeling better now?” Illumi inquires.

You ignore his novel concern for you in favor of asking your own question, “When are we leaving?”

Illumi sits up. “Eager, are we? That’s good. The next activity would have to wait until later, though. We still have more time to spend here.”

“I meant when are we going back to Kukuroo Mountain?” you reiterate, setting your empty cup on the table.

You were, in fact, eager, but for a different reason than Illumi wanted. The day was moving too slowly for you, and Illumi’s presence was overwhelming even though he hasn’t released any aura since yesterday. You just wanted to be away from him and have time to relax and recharge. 

Though you hadn’t asked in a while, Illumi was fed up with your constant inquiries about returning to the mountain — also known as your way of rushing to end the date. Illumi was displeased, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re ungrateful. I’m trying to spoil you and all you’re concerned about is getting rid of me.”

“How so?” you ask, genuinely curious to see what kind of mental gymnastics Illumi went through to conclude that you were ungrateful.

“For starters, this entire date was designed to make you happy. I spent months planning and millions of yen buying all to ensure you’d enjoy it to the fullest. Even despite everything, despite considering your outlandish requests, you still remain unappreciative. What more do you want me to do?”

His response was exactly what you’d predicted. 

“Maybe let me go outside? Let me see my family again? Let me go entirely?” is what you would say if you were in a bolder, emotional state. Instead, you merely stare at him with an almost blank expression. 

Illumi’s voice grows cold. “You owe me something.”

“I’m sorry, Illumi.” you say flatly. You were always the one apologizing as Illumi is, of course,  never wrong about anything. 

Illumi calms himself, willing to forget your rude behavior in favor of ending the date on a good note. “Consider yourself fortunate, (Name), as I still wish for you to enjoy yourself. Who knows when you’ll be let out again, hm?” he pauses for a moment, allowing the silence to dramatize his previous words. He continues, “Let’s finish exploring the museum.”

And with that, Illumi rises out of his seat. You follow suit, both of you silent as you walk around the remainder of the museum. He didn’t bother with his one-sentence explanations anymore, not that you minded considering you weren’t listening to him anyway.

Eventually, the two of you leave, the car silent as Illumi drives. Despite the lack of music, Illumi wasn’t upset with you, but rather pensive. His attention continues to flicker over to you as he’d done earlier. For once, Illumi felt a ping of uneasiness. He was pleased with your compliance, sure, but he didn’t like your sudden unusual demeanor. You hadn’t asked a single question regarding the day’s activities like you had been doing in the past. 

After several minutes of silence, Illumi finally speaks, wanting to get you re-engaged. “The spa and the museum seemed to be to your taste, no?”

You rest your head against the door, still staring out the window. “Yeah.”

Illumi glances at you yet again, keeping his eyes off the road for even longer this time. “Good. As for our last activity, I have planned something unique.”

“Awesome.” your response was still short and dry. You didn’t fall for his attempt to prompt curiosity. 

Illumi frowns slightly as he listens to your incurious reply, his hold on the steering wheel temporarily tightening. “Your response lacks excitement and interest. It seems you couldn’t care less about what’s happening.”

“It’s not like you show enthusiasm either.” you say.

“I am very enthusiastic.” Illumi states unenthusiastically, his expression blank aside from his slight frown. “It’s overflowing.”

You merely hum in response which only furthers his discontent. Illumi, still insistent on keeping the mood light despite his annoyance, pushes his feelings aside. He remains quiet as he drives back to the hotel, his expression composed, though cold, and his eyes fixed on the road.

You thought he was being unusually emotional, he thought you were being dismissive. 

As Illumi helps you out of the truck for the final time, his grip on your hand remains firm. He leads you inside the hotel’s lobby, walking down a hall he’s never taken you before and into the grand ballroom. The ballroom was large, yet empty, with not a single person or piece of furniture in sight. The room felt liminal, the floor’s pattern the only thing giving it some personality. 

Illumi stands with you in the very middle of the room, attention focused on one of the far walls. “We are dancing.” he says, his voice slightly echoing in the room. 

You look around as if expecting a band or some sort of radio to magically appear. When it doesn’t, you turn to look back at Illumi. “In silence?”

Illumi slowly turns to face you, his demeanor off once again. His voice is low as he speaks, “No distractions, just us.”

His fingers intertwined with your own before pulling back, essentially pulling you into him. You’re caught off guard by the sudden contact despite mentally preparing yourself for it, especially with how slowly his other hand settles around your waist. Illumi then leans in, his head next to yours as he whispers into your ear, “Just follow my lead.”

The dance, if you could even call it that, goes exactly how you had expected — unpleasant — for you at least as Illumi was clearly enjoying himself. It felt like he was rubbing against you too much despite his gracefulness, performing moves that would optimize maximum contact with you. His actions became increasingly assertive as the dance went on, his grip on you tightened and the hand on your waist shifting lower and lower. 

His movements were surprisingly elegant, you never would’ve expected someone like Illumi to be this good at dancing. You tried to mirror him, the only music heard being your echoing footsteps and the ringing of complete silence. You’re unable to meet his strange and foreign gaze, the roundness of his pupils reminding you of some sort of alien. Maybe he was an alien, that would make a whole lot of sense. 

He’s almost melting into you like he was trying to merge both of your bodies, his touch gradually becoming more intimate and amorous. 

“Illumi.” you call out.

The hand on your waist returns to its original position, his grip slightly looser and a little space being allowed between the two of you. As his movements slow and the dance comes to an end, Illumi firmly holds you in place, almost hugging you. His head rests next to yours, his eyes closed as he savors this moment. 

He then pulls away, stepping back as he looks down at you with a near-amatory gaze. He says nothing, and neither do you, as his attention shifts towards the ballroom’s door before falling back on you. “It’s getting late.” his gentle hold on your shoulders slid down to your upper arm. “Let’s go to dinner.”

You slowly nod and walk with him as he makes his way to the hotel’s restaurant. You keep your gaze lowered as a butler serves your meal, Illumi lacking one of his own. His intense stare remains fixed upon you as you eat, his eyes never wavering from you, even when you make your nervousness clear. It was like he was trying to burn your image into his memory, every detail of your form being seared into his mind. 

He looked hungry which made the absence of food before him even more bizarre. 

“Aren’t you hungry? Why aren’t you eating?” you ask. You didn’t mean to express concern for him, just wanting to know why he was acting so strange.

Illumi shakes his head slightly. “I’m not hungry for food.”

His words left no room for misinterpretation yet you managed to be completely oblivious as to what Illumi was hinting at, your mind more focused on finishing your meal so you could escape his direct attention. 

“Enticing.” Illumi suddenly says in an almost whisper, more so speaking to himself than to you. “Tempting.”

You look up at him. “Huh?”

His words hang in the air, and his eyes widen slightly. He doesn’t respond further and his gaze manages to intensify. There are pieces of you that remain enigmatic to him and he craves to understand your intricacies. To understand you is to possess you, and he yearns to possess you completely.

He’s as still as a statue, his eyes as watchful as a camera. You can’t read his expression or decipher his mood, his lips pressed into a thin line as if unsure whether to hint at a smile or a frown. When was the last time he blinked? You can’t stand him. 

With your meal finally completed, the moment arrives for you to return to the suite. Illumi rises out of his seat gracefully, his hand extended as a silent invitation. You’re disinclined, but you take it nonetheless, eyes focused on the ground as he leads you out of the restaurant. Illumi’s expression returns to its usual calmness, though his quick pace and eager movements betray his facade. 

After entering the suite and locking the door behind him, Illumi hands you your pajamas, his hands moving in a way to ensure they touch yours. You don’t react, only locking yourself in the bathroom before you change clothes, tossing your dirty ones into the hamper. Your eyes trail to the ring on your finger yet again. You were vexed that the ring was so beautiful, so expensive, as its beauty was tainted by the story behind it. 

As you step out of the bathroom, you find Illumi changed and sitting up in bed. He’s, of course, staring at you, and the TV’s light softly illuminates the room. It was on a very low volume, however, rendering you unable to make out what was playing.

Your steps are slow and calculated as you make your way to your side of the bed, eyes glued to the TV as an excuse to ignore Illumi’s gaze. You made sure to leave a generous amount of space between the two of you but it didn’t matter as Illumi moved closer to you.

“You enjoyed yourself today. That’s good.” he said. It was more of a confirmation to reassure himself than a question in need of your input. He pauses for a minute, eyes focused on the near-silent TV. “We’ll be going back home tomorrow.”

Your heart flutters in excitement, but you keep yourself composed, eyes still focused on what the TV is showing you. “Is… this the only time you’ll do something like this?” you ask, a bit hesitant to ask your question as you didn’t want him to interpret it as you wanting to spend more time with him. 

Illumi contemplates your question, eyes still focused ahead of him. ”It would depend on your level of appreciation.” his answer was left intentionally vague as he didn’t want to commit to a single answer. 

“So you’ll do it again?” you glance at him. 

After a moment of deliberation, Illumi slowly turns to look at you, pupils now freakishly round. “I could be convinced.”

You look away from him, turning your attention to the TV for the final time. You then shift under the covers, turning onto your side and away from Illumi as you try to find a comfortable sleeping position.

Sitting up even more and scooting closer to you, Illumi removes the covers off of you and places a hand on your hip. “Don’t go to sleep just yet.” he calls out. “We still have some time to spend together.”

“I want to sleep.” you state, your eyes remaining closed as you try to ignore his touch. 

He ignores your declaration. “I want to talk,” he states quietly, voice carrying a hint of determination, “I have something I need to tell you.”

You feel his hand gently squeeze you, though you don’t react to it. “You’re free to talk.”

“Perfect.” his hold on your hip tightens as he flips you over onto your back, moving you in front of him and claiming his position between your legs. His face is perfectly shadowed yet perfectly illuminated as his eyes devour your figure beneath him. 

His hands move to hold your waist, the intensity in his eyes softening slightly as he speaks. “(Name).” he says, his tone displaying a sense of vulnerability and primal need. “I want you.”

You’re merely frozen in the submissive position he’s put you in, eyes wide in shock at his confession. You’ve stirred unfamiliar feelings within him, emotions new yet powerful enough to consume him.

He leans down closer to you, placing a hand right next to your head for support while the other remains on your waist. “You’ve been tormenting me all this time, teasing me yet averse to the idea of giving in to me.”

Your hands hesitate before moving and gently grabbing his wrists, your head turning to the side as a sign of shyness and embarrassment. His eyes soften in adoration, realizing his words' effects on you. 

“(Name).” he murmurs, savoring each syllable on his tongue as if it held the sweetness he strongly desired. “Give yourself to me.” his command lined with velvet, a gentle yet firm request for your willing submission.

“Illumi…” is all you say, unable to think of a coherent response after being put on the spot like this.

The hand on your waist moves to hold your jaw, tethering on the edge of gripping your throat, as he pulls you into a weirdly passionate kiss. He pulls you in closer as he deepens the kiss, his body further pressing into you, and his desires let loose, making themselves increasingly obvious to you. 

The weight of Illumi’s control oddly arousing as he made his dominance over you painfully clear, leaving no room for doubt or confusion. You tremble in shock from the kiss, causing him to quietly hum and fuel his desire.

He finally pulls away, eyes undoubtedly filled with lust as he looks down at the beauty before him. “Every part of you will bear the mark of my desire.” he whispers as he leans down toward your neck, hand now interlaced with your own as the other trails back down to hold your hip. “I’ll make it so that you never forget who you belong to.”

Shit.

Why didn’t you figure this out sooner?

[magicaii]

mha 424 and bakugo's sorrow

bakugo's devastation is so palpable and raw. and while it's not spelled out directly because of how incoherent and emotional he is in this scene, his feelings go a lot deeper than just being sad that izuku doesn't have a quirk anymore.

ever since izuku got a quirk and their relationship had started to change, as well as bakugo reflecting on his treatment and deep down feelings about izuku, he's come to realize that he actually cares about him and doesn't want to continue holding him at arms length. bakugo had to go through a lot of introspection to reevaluate his role in their history and his feelings about izuku being in his life. this gave him the chance to atone for his past actions by moving forward and being a positive force in izuku's life rather than one who only ever knocked him down, so that instead of having to dwell on his guilt he can channel those feelings productively into being the best friend and rival he can to push izuku's growth as a hero and make up for it. it was very much a case of not only bakugo but izuku both moving on from their past together, never looking back. deep down, bakugo wanted to be equals with him. he wanted to be his friend properly this time, without the bullshit and insecurities.

but because izuku lost his quirk, bakugo now has to come to terms with the fact that the quirkless kid who he bullied exists once more and has just lost everything, and it's impossible for him to not feel at least a little responsible that whatever was holding their newfound relationship together has just been ripped away. it's almost like ofa was a bandaid, hiding a wound bakugo holds himself accountable for inflicting. in some ways, this regression must remind bakugo of the damage he formerly sought to cause, and unlike before, they cannot simply just focus forging a better relationship when bakugo has to face everything incriminating him. and bakugo can no longer stay by his side and do everything he can to atone because the past is alive and can't be overcome anymore, and this 'version' of izuku that doesnt have ofa makes him feel specifically guilty because bakugo is in a position of power over him again; they can't be equals.

bakugo doesn't just want to be rivals with izuku forever. he wants to earn that position. he wants both of them to play an active, healthy role in each other's lives and be good for each other, unlike before. and it must really hurt him that, in his eyes, there is no more reality where one day, when he has fully atoned for all of his actions, he can finally stand by izuku's side as his friend without that guilt weighing him down. because now izuku will wind up quirkless again and bakugo feels like there's nothing he can do for him anymore.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Busy days give cute ideas-

Since the Hotel was rebuilt, Lucifer has stepped up and has started doing Kingly things again. Talking to the Sins- helping them sort out arguments basically- but also helping Charlie brainstorm ideas for bringing in Sinners and activities.

He forgot how busy being a King made him-

Then Reader, a Sinner that came after the Extermination because they saw the King Himself saying to try redemption -plus free room!- grabs him one day without warning, and throws him into bed. Just full on waits on his every need, watches a movie he hasn't seen before but does like, makes lunch and dinner for him, plays card games-

They do everything Lucifer has been seen enjoying. And Reader remembered? He barely spoke to them, but here they are. Being kind to him.

Basically a full day of reasons why he deserves a break, Lilith wasn't anywhere near as caring as he falsely remembered, and that he REALLY needs to get to know Reader now-

Lazy Dayz in a Dreamy Haze

Busy Lucifer x GN!Reader

TW: Overworking, relationship issues, sad feelings

(I am almost positive I made this completely gender ambiguous. Please tell me if I missed something or gendered the reader at all!)

Your fall from grace wasn't anything to really write home about. You were a grade-A lazy person in your mortal life, and that inevitably led to your less-than-amazing death. You could sleep wherever and whenever, find the best binge-worthy shows, and overall, you know how to relax for a good time. 

You were a little confused when you saw Charlie's original broadcast for the hotel. How could you ever be redeemed when your sin is just simply enjoying your free time? This seemed like too high a task for a mere princess to accomplish, not to mention that once word got out that the Radio Demon was helping her, it was even more of a put-off. 

You followed the story, though; Kattie Killjoy documented it every time something happened in Charlie's unsuspecting life. You also were one of the lucky few to witness the downfall of Vox’s pride due to the Radio Demon. 

When the extermination got pushed up to only a couple of days away, you had even more doubts about this redemption policy the princess wanted. When the broadcast showed Lucifer there, ready to strike down, the angels soon to torment more than just the hotel if they didn’t win; something moved in you. 

The following day, you packed up your small things and made your way across the city to the hotel. You didn't expect much when you joined the Hazbin Hotel. You saw that the king endorsed it, and if the king said it was cool, then why not? You didn’t reasonably expect your whole life to change, though. 

Not only did you gain a little family of friends, but you also got free room and board so long as you completed Charlie's exercises and you got to see him. Lucifer Morningstar was a pragmatic character in the grand scheme of things. Where his daughter had illusions of grandeur, he was there to make things happen and make things work. Doing this, however, cost him what looked like a great deal.

Lucfier worked day in and day out. Even though you lived in the same hotel as him, you hardly saw him not doing something for Charlie or one of the other inhabitants. Seeing someone doing so much to make a dream come true and not take care of his own was sad. Maybe this was when the first inklings of your feelings for the king kicked in.

Growing close to the others in the hotel, you eventually learn all about Lucifer's problems in his past, from harboring poor feelings towards his fellow angels to having to deal with losing Lilith and his daughter. Luckily, he and Charlie rekindled some of their relationship, but it was clear Lucifer worked himself to death to avoid thinking about the missing person. Lilith, though a once prominent figure in hell, was still not found, causing a lot of people, including Charlie, to assume she just never was going to come back.

You got confirmation about Lucifer's depression one rainy night sitting at the bar. You were busy talking to Husk about Charlie's upcoming bonding retreat when a groggy Lucifer came down to get a drink. While he sat next to you, the bags and lines around his face were as clear as day. For an immortal being, he looked like he was knocking on death's door. He had been working long into the night to ensure Charlie’s next adventure went on without a hitch. 

You had nothing against Charlie and immensely enjoyed her company. You can only assume Charlie hadn’t given her father a break because he was never this vulnerable around her. You knew Husk had a way to get people to open up, but you were surprised he was opening up in front of you. He looked exhausted, as if sleep had invaded him for nights. You wanted to hug him, wrap him in blankets, and tell him to sleep.

While looking over the man, you noticed a band of gold on his hand that he awkwardly fidgeted with. Taking the context clues and knowledge from those in the hotel, you'd bet that was his wedding band. While watching him drink his fourth glass of whiskey for the night, you leaned over and placed a comforting hand on his. “I know you don’t know me well, but Lucifer, you are doing an amazing job. It’s okay to stop and breathe a little. You won’t be letting anyone down if it’s to help yourself.”

His look was no less than shocked; from what you gathered, no one ever really talked to him in a comforting manner. “Uh, well, thank you, Y/N;  you know I am happy you joined the hotel. You will be an excellent Winner if we can ever redeem a soul.”

That statement struck a cord in you again. Why did he know that you would make a good Winner? He had barely even met you when you joined the hotel. He was always so busy and working that the most you two said to each other on a given day was a small hello. Yet he knew enough about you to tell you would make a great Winner. You didn’t know that Lucifer was paying attention from the beginning of your journey at the hotel. He always said his job was to help make dreams come true, especially his daughters. So when you came along and started helping everyone with your calming aura and comforting ideas, he took extra notice of you. That's why he knew all your favorite napping spots, how you put self-care and rest above everything, and how you wanted to help others as much as he did. 

From that day forth, you looked at the King of Hell differently. Instead of wondering why he was so busy and never saying no, you looked for all the times he grabbed that band. In doing this, you learned he liked to make rubber ducks, enjoyed the circus, had a fixation on apples, loved to sing randomly, and had a knack for helping others. 

Honestly, the last part wasn’t that surprising. Charlie had to have gotten that trait somewhere. With Liltih being AWOL and the stories you heard in passing about the woman, you figured she wasn’t where Charlie's helping streak necessarily originated from. Taking this knowledge, you devise a plan to help the King of Hell finally get some reprieve. 

Executing this plan flawlessly took a couple of days. From finding all the proper materials to convincing Charlie to make sure no one called on Lucifer, you had your work cut out for you. You didn’t know why you cared so much about what happened to Lucifer other than it tugged at your once-beating heart that he was so overworked and undervalued. 

The day finally came for you to stop the overworked man and get him to slow down. As he started his day bright and early, you were already downstairs waiting. His arrival was right on time, and everyone knew that when he asked the dreaded ‘what can I do for everyone today’ question, they all had to say nothing. 

When he heard he had nothing to do, Lucifer returned to playing with that ring on his finger. This was your cue to help him find a better way to distract himself than taking on millions of small tasks. You stood before Lucifer, hand outstretched with a broad smile, “Do you trust me?”

You were met with little hesitance, and before you knew it, you had taken Lucfier up to the day room on the top floor. You had set everything up for the first half of your relaxation day. There was a giant pillow fort taking up center stage of the room. 

Lucifer was taken aback. This was the sweetest thing anyone had done for him. It is a little cozy retreat away from having to work, a welcomed distraction. He was excited to see what your mind came up with. The whole interaction left a warm feeling in his chest, one he didn’t know if he was ready to explore yet. 

Crawling in, you beckoned Lucfier to join you inside and get cozy. The magnificent fort was littered with various comfort foods, cozy blankets, and a TV with what Charlie called his favorite shows. Turning on the fairy lights and TV, you immediately saw the tension in his shoulders begin to relax. 

You two stayed there for hours, watching shows, eating good food, and talking. Lucifer didn’t know when the last time he allowed himself to be this free with another person. You were content making sure he understood how valued he was, but you couldn’t deny the proximity, and the ease of the conversation was beginning to make you feel some type of way. 

When the final movie was put on the TV, you let out a slight yawn. You had never disrupted your sleep schedule and nap time for someone else before, and your body was beginning to disagree with you. Lucifer took note of this and scooted a little closer to you. When you looked up at him, he just patted his shoulder, and you understood he was offering assistance to you.

You laughed gently in your hand, shaking your head. “No, mister. I am supposed to be helping you, not the other way around. Come here.”

As you said this, you repositioned the situation, so Lucifer rested against your chest. Your arms were wrapped around him, and you were gently playing with his hair. Lucifer hadn't complained about this, so you deemed it safe to continue. His hair was soft, with a little gel from when he woke this morning. Eventually, your hand stopped moving as you drifted off to sleep. 

Lucifer was content like this. He hadn’t been held in so long. This was something he only dreamed of doing with Lilith once more. He thought about all these things and felt your hands slow and your breathing even. 

Lifting his head slightly to look at you and not wake you, he realized you were lovely. The thought initially scared him as he hadn’t thought of another since Lilith, but your compassion and kindness were a refreshment. Slowly, he rested his head back on your chest and took a much-needed nap. 

You had woken first, feeling Lucifer tighten his grip subconsciously around you. Smiling, you stroked his hair again as you pulled out your phone. There was still an hour before the final stage of relaxation day could continue. You closed your phone and realigned your attention to Lucifer. 

He looked so beautiful, almost angelic if you were allowed to say that. He let out tiny snores, and you could nearly not see the bags under his eyes. You gently caressed his cheek without thinking, and when he nuzzled your hand, your face lit up. You told yourself he wasn’t ready and to diminish these feelings immediately. 

Once the hour was up, you gently woke Lucifer with a light shake. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, looking at the now-darkened TV. Once he was situated, he got out of the fort with you, ready for you to lead him on the next adventure. 

You strategically chose the top floor for the fort retreat so everyone else could set up downstairs. See, your plan helped kill two birds with one stone. Charlie wanted a fun way to bring in more sinners, and you wanted to help take the stress off Lucifer's plate. In doing so, the Hazbin Hotel Annual Carnival was born. 

As you arrived downstairs, the carnival was in full swing. Flashing lights, games, food, and even a circus event were happening. You turned to look at Lucfier and shouted, ‘Surprise!’ He was astonished that you not only considered giving him a brain break but also made sure to add something physically fun. 

This was particularly useful in two ways: he loved the circus and would be tired when he went to bed if he got worn out at the carnival. You showed him around the carnival with a broad smile on your face. All the regular inhabitants of the hotel were the carnies and some outside friends Alstor enlisted. 

As soon as you explained everything, Lucifer had your hand in his and dragged you around. Though you were still exhausted, seeing this man so happy was well worth it. You participated in the games and the face painting. Lucifer laughed hard when he saw you get his Iconic makeup done. 

As you made it to one of the last games, you found Angel managing the Apple Bobbing contest. With a broad smile, you drug Lucifer over and place your bets on who could get the largest apple. You hoped the newly painted makeup would withstand this trial as you went first. Coming back up with a tiny apple, Angel had to make one of his inappropriate jokes. 

Next, the king himself went for an apple, not before blushing at the lewd comment Angel had made about you. He really needed to teach him that it's okay to keep thoughts inside. As he went down for an apple, he found a golden one and took his chance. Popping his head up, Angel rang a bell, signifying the grand prize. 

Lucifer was handed a giant white snake plushie with a top hat as his winnings. He smiled, holding the cute item, and then turned to you. Gently, he wrapped the snake around your arm and shoulders, smiling wide. Your heart fluttered at the notion that he had given you his grand prize, no questions asked. 

Over the loudspeakers, an excited Charlie could be heard asking everyone to come to the big top for the show. Lucifer was excited that his daughter, as a ringmaster, would entertain all these guests. As you two took your seats in the crowded room, the lights dimmed, and Charlie, in an adorable outfit almost identical to her father's, came out. 

The smile on Lucifer's face when he saw Charlie look and act like him was heartwarming. You could almost see tears in his eyes. Lucifer was notably the most involved watcher of the show, answering questions, raising his hand for volunteer options, and even performing a song with Charlie. It was a fantastic event that left many impressed. 

As the circus act ended, Charlie approached you and thanked you for taking over this task. She had already gotten many people asking to enroll in her redemption program. While Charlie was talking to you, it was missed by all the knowing soft smile Lucifer had while staring at you. He realized that he hadn’t gone to rub his band once this entire day since you showed up.

Looking down at his hand, he moved the band from his left finger to his right. He wasn’t fully ready to let go of Lilith, at least not in the semblance of her being the mother of his child, but he was ready not to let his past hold him back anymore. He walked over to you and Charlie and gently interrupted the conversation, asking to steal you away. 

Charlie said yes, giving you a big thumbs up before she went on her own way, too. You gave Lucifer your full attention again as he led you to the Farris Wheel. Climbing aboard, you two faced each other and began talking like earlier that day. The conversation seemed so fluid for you two, making this a beautiful moment. 

Once at the top of the wheel, there was a sudden jolt, causing you to move forward and land in Lucifer's lap. Both of you laughed gently as you resituated back in your seat. In doing so, however, you noticed his left hand was bare. You panicked, “Where did your ring go? Did it fall when I moved? We have to look for it.” 

Lucifer just laughed at you and shook his head. He showed you his right hand now adorning his wedding band. You calmed down and looked at Lucifer as he explained, “I have never been so well taken care of, Y/N. To say I appreciate you would be an understatement. For seven years of my life, I have lived in this dark shadow that I was at fault for losing all I held dear. Though Charlie has been there trying to help, I still drown myself in work to forget Lilith.”

Lucfier repositioned to sit closer to you, looking you in the eyes, “However, you have impacted my life since the day you arrived. I have been watching you and find your efforts to comfort and help those around you refreshing. I find it so amazing you even took time out for me to plan all of this.”

Lucifer gently touched your cheek as he continued, “I have loved every minute of this day, and as I began to love it more and more, I realized I couldn’t let Lilith control my life forever, especially if she wasn’t here. I am not ready to completely let go; she is the mother of my child, and I hope she is alive and well. I am saying, though, that I am ready to move on and try to live more carefree again. You, Y/N, have been a dream come true.”

Tears welled up in both your eyes as you took in the words. You smiled and reached your hand out to hold his. Hand in hand, you two laughed and looked over all of hell from the top of the wheel. You were happy he finally accepted being free from his past and taking self-care and love for himself seriously. It was also astonishing that you were the one to teach him this. 

As the Farris Wheel ended and let you two off, the darkest point of the night finally hit. Grouping up at the front of the hotel, Lucifer's arms wrapped around you. A beautiful array of fireworks went off while you looked up to the sky. Turning to face Lucifer, you felt like you were living a dream. Who knew Lazy Days would result in a beautiful Dreamy Haze.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my favorite DnD things is that my beloved and I have been playing with the same DM since 2017. We’ve had several campaigns within the same setting and our old characters often make appearances.

NPCs are consistent and it’s funny that one party might have a positive relationship with someone only for the next campaigns party to struggle with that person.

Our previous campaign was a party called The Storm Giants: my fighter centaur, my beloved’s drow monk, our cleric luxodon, and a rogue tiefling. But while playing in that setting the DM was also in talks with my beloved and I about our next characters.

See, he had already broached the idea of letting me play a secret dragon, a character who would join the party in their mortal form to spy on my beloveds upcoming character. I was only a little dragon for balance reasons, so I wasn’t OP. I was so excited to play Orion, a gender-fluid tiefling courtesan chock full of secrets.

Together the DM and I were plotting out my characters family and backstory while the current party was stumbling through their adventure. That meant that I got inside information on who we were interacting with who were also dragons in disguise.

My centaur was all for ambushing an NPC giving us trouble, when I secretly knew that we absolutely should not do that because he was in fact an ancient dragon. We also ended up passing a brothel and my centaur went to see a sex worker. The party joked it should be Orion as it was common knowledge my upcoming character was a sex worker. The DM and I made eye contact.

It would be incredibly fitting for Orion to be spying on the Storm Giants for their boss, and my centaur was a huge blabbermouth. So the joke ended up manifesting, Orion got an off screen cameo and the party was jumped shortly afterward for being a nuisance to the blue chroma and couldn’t figure out how the enemy knew so much about them.

But the best was that at one point the party was sailing through the region that the DM and I had established would be where Orion grew up, and where their moms, ancient blue and brass dragons, still lived. It was a beautiful tropical archipelago.

Our cleric, Joe, decided to go swimming. While deep underwater he came eye to eye with an ancient blue dragon who blinked then swam away.

The Storm Giants flipped the fuck out. Why was there an ancient dragon?? Were we supposed to go track down an ancient dragon? What had it been up to?!?!?

The DM gave me a tiny secret smile and I knew he was just foreshadowing Orion’s origin but the Storm Giants were pissing themselves over it. A year and a half later the party screamed when they realized what had happened.

[room-surprise]

Laios is terrified of parenthood: Why?

Laios (Λάϊος) is an ancient Greek name. Sometimes it is translated as Laius, but these are both spellings of Λάϊος, which can also be transliterated as Láïos.

Laios comes from λαιϝός, from Proto-Indo-European lehiwos, and can mean left (the opposite of right), and awkward.

There are two mythological figures named Laios, but right now I'm going to focus on one of them: Oedipus' father, Laios the king of Thebes.

This mythical Laios did some particularly vile kidnapping, rape, and violated the laws of hospitality. As a result, he and his entire bloodline was cursed by the gods.

Laios’ sins are primarily focused around the violation of social taboos, engaging in inappropriate relationships, and being unable to restrain himself from hurting others with his actions. He is also depicted as rude and violent.

Laios’ punishment was that his son would someday kill him and marry his wife. In order to avoid this, he pierced his newborn son’s ankles so he would not be able to crawl, and abandoned him in the countryside to die. The child was found by shepherds, who took him to the nearest king, who adopted the boy and named him Oedipus, for his swollen feet.

When Oedipus was told by an oracle that he would kill his father and marry his mother, Oedipus, not knowing that he was adopted, immediately fled his home to avoid harming his beloved parents. While on the road, he encountered king Laios on a narrow road. Laios ordered Oedipus to move out of the way, and Oedipus hesitated too long, so the king nearly ran him over. Furious at Laios’ rudeness, Oedipus dragged him from his chariot and killed him.

The “Laios complex” in psychology is named after the character in the Oedipus myth, and it is described as when a father desires to kill his children, especially his sons, in order to leave behind no successors.

This name is a fascinating choice on Kui's part.

As a low-level nobleman in a historical setting, one of Laios' overarching life responsibilities is to marry a woman, reproduce, and make sure those children grow up to fill his position in society when he dies. Laios in Dungeon Meshi has a very bad relationship with his parents, especially his father, as well as issues with children and parenthood, and when you combine that with the subtext of his name indicating a fear of having children/sons, it paints a very interesting picture of our strange protagonist.

We know that one of Laios’ deepest psychological wounds, attacked by the nightmare clams, is his parents demanding he return home to the village and give them grandchildren. This is a recurring nightmare he has, so it must bother him significantly.

He also becomes so uncomfortable watching a loving father-baby interaction in the living paintings, that he can’t even try to eat food, even though he’s very hungry. This behavior makes no sense without the context of Laios' fear/aversion to father/child relationships.

Finally, in a “what if?” comic about reversing the character’s sexes, the idea that if Laios had been born a woman, he would have never left the village and have birthed children. Female Laios is shown holding a baby, looking miserable, and regular Laios seems quite upset. He says that the current timeline, despite everything that has gone wrong, is “the best one.”

This is speculation, but all of this taken together suggests that Laios may actually feel fear, disgust or revulsion towards the idea of having or raising children.

This could be because he doesn’t feel comfortable acting out the role of husband and father that he feels society demands of him, or because he’s afraid of hurting his children the way he was hurt by his parents, or it may simply be a visceral discomfort at the idea of reproduction, something which some people experience for a number of reasons.

This fear could even be taken as evidence (among other data points) suggesting that Laios might be asexual and/or aromantic, though these sort of fears are of course not unique to people on that spectrum.

Of course, none of this means that Laios could never, or would never have children, but it suggests that this fear is central to his character, and understanding this is important to understanding who Laios is, and why he does the things he does.

(This is an excerpt from Chapter 4 of my essay about the real world cultural and linguistic references in Dungeon Meshi! You can read it here.)

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 4

Part 4:

There was a hand on her boob. When Liana opened her eyes in complete darkness, it took her a moment to remember where she was. Art was sick. She was in his room because she wanted to make sure he fell asleep; in reality, she fell asleep herself. Now their legs were tangled, his heavy breaths tickled her neck where his head was buried, one of his hands was holding her waist, and the other, well... it was on her chest.

She knew it wasn’t intentional. None of what happened in the last day was intentional. That’s not her relationship with Art. It’s a glitch in time. One of those moments where the universe collapses into itself and needs to fold a bit to straighten the course. She considered waking him with a sharp movement but remembered how miserable and wretched he looked yesterday. He would cry from embarrassment if she woke him now, with them in this position. So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and decided to deal with the problem in the morning, if necessary. She tried to remind herself that the more Art slept, the faster he would recover, and she could return to her routine. With these thoughts and his breaths as a grounding factor, she managed to fall asleep. When she opened her eyes again, Art was gone. 'The fever broke. Thanks for everything, Li, went for a run' was the message waiting for her on her phone, making her smile unconsciously. The glitch was over.

The last two months were harder than Art was willing to admit. The studies and training were grueling. The routine was exhausting. And Tashi was still in a relationship with Patrick. Art didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Well, of course he knew. Tashi was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. But it’s not like he lacked girls around him who were just waiting for him to say hello to jump into his bed. Maybe he was thinking about it more than usual because lately, Liana didn’t have a free moment. She was stressed from exams and choosing her major. She didn’t tell him that, he just knew her. Liana was the most calculated person he knew. She made long-term plans, for no real reason. When Patrick would come, she would plan the time she spent with them two weeks in advance. Art knew the uncertainty about her major weighed on her. He also didn’t know how to help her. His life was clear to him; Tennis. Tennis, family, and Patrick. Everything was clear, easy, and unchallenging. Patrick was supposed to visit in two days, and Art would never say it out loud because that’s his best friend, but he hated it. He knew Patrick was coming to be with Tashi, that he would waste Liana’s time, and in the end, he wouldn’t have time to sit with him at all. Maybe that’s what made him approach Tashi while she was collecting balls from the court after practice. “Art...” she said in a dubious voice, not fully understanding what he was doing there. Their schedules almost never overlapped. Their practices were at different times. He thought of inviting her to eat first, using some of his cafeteria points, but he remembered that Liana preferred their cafeteria over the one near her campus. “Do you need help?” he offered instead. “Sure, why not.” Tashi shrugged, her voice unconvincing. She knew he wasn’t just here. She knew Patrick was supposed to arrive and that Art was going to say something that would anger her. “I see you want to say something, so just say it.” She placed the basket of balls down, folding her arms. “Okay.” He sighed, moving towards the bench as she walked after him. “Patrick is coming the day after tomorrow.” He said. “I’m aware.” Her answers were sharp. She didn’t have time to waste on him and his circling around without saying what he wanted. “Do you want to plan a surprise party or something?” she asked jokingly, trying to move the conversation along. “Why are you still with him?” He looked her in the eyes, deciding to be direct. “Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow, her face changing. She was no longer curious; she was angry. “He’s in love with Liana.” Art said automatically. He seemed as surprised by the words that came out of his mouth as she did. Patrick is in love with Liana? No way. At least he didn’t think so. So why did he say that? Now the thought that Patrick wanted Liana while he was with Tashi, the most beautiful girl he knew, wouldn’t leave his head. Tashi continued to look at him without saying anything, then chuckled, making him raise an eyebrow. “No, Art. You’re in love with Liana.” She rolled her eyes, her level of anger rising. “Absolutely n—” he started to defend himself but was immediately cut off. “And even if he does. Even if he wants to marry Liana. Even if he’s sure she will be the mother of his children. What do you want from me?!” She shouted the end of the sentence, causing Art to shrink for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend?” she asked, starting to walk away. “I’m not in love with Liana.” Was all he managed to say in response, “She’s my best friend,” he muttered, quickly following her, not fully understanding why he was explaining this. “Art,” Tashi suddenly stopped, close to him. “I suggest you open a dictionary to check what ‘best friend’ means and when you understand, don’t cry that you lost yours.” She ended the conversation (which led nowhere) and only pushed him further from his goal and confused him about what the goal even was. Why did he start this? He hadn’t seen Patrick for too long. Or Liana.

When Liana entered her room, around midnight, Patrick and Art were there. “Give me the key!” She extended her hand towards Art, who just smiled. They both knew he wouldn’t give it. “I could have been with someone. I could have entered here with someone, and at the peak of the moment when we enter my room, you’re here!” She raised her voice, but not too loud because the hour didn’t allow it. “I’m not joking, Art, give me the key. You can’t come in here whenever you feel like it! Tell him!” She turned the end towards Patrick. Talking to him as if it were completely natural for him to be at Stanford in the middle of the night. “Who is this mysterious man she could have entered with at night, Art? I thought you were keeping an eye on her,” Patrick’s voice was amused, but the thought of Liana bringing a random guy to her room didn’t appeal to him. “That’s why I have a key, to scare off guys she meets in the library. Once, I saw her hanging out with someone who wore Crocs,” he said to him. They talked about her as if she wasn’t there, knowing full well it was the thing she hated most. “Out. Both of you, out!” She crossed her arms under her chest. “Hey, Amanda the lowbreaker, are you going to hug me and say hi, or just yell at me?” Patrick understood that her nerves were frayed at this stage of the day. “Amanda?” Art asked, not understanding what they were talking about. “She knows.” Patrick didn’t look at Art for a second. He only saw Liana. Her dark hair, identical to his, was tied in a messy ponytail, and there was a coffee stain on her shirt. She looked exhausted, yet she approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist, causing him to close his eyes for a moment. If Patrick could pinpoint the smell he loved most in the world, he would say it was citrus and roses. Liana’s scent. To him, it characterized summer from the moment he met her; smelling it in the middle of the year felt like a bonus. Like a pay raise for a job well done. Even though he knew nothing about his job was going well. Art cleared his throat, and they separated. “What are you doing here?” She really sounded exhausted. Like she hadn’t slept in a while. “I told you I was coming. I put my things in Tashi’s room and wanted to say hi before you go to sleep. We’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?” he asked at the end, his voice begging for a positive response. He couldn’t leave without making the most of the time he had with her. Time she would have to allow. Art watched the dynamic between them from the side. Thinking about what he said to Tashi; Patrick is in love with Liana. Patrick is in love with Liana. Patrick is in love with Liana. Like a mantra he couldn’t stop hearing for two days. Now also seeing it. Patrick is in love with Liana? Maybe it’s a crush? Art tried to remember how Patrick was with the girls at school, did he hug them for too long? Did they have private jokes? How did he look at them? “I don’t know if I can, Pat, I have an exam in two days...” her voice was apologetic. "Then I'll just sit next to you while you study. Come on, you can't say no to me." His smile was genuine, teeth showing. Not a smirk. "Alright..." Liana shrugged, her tone half-defeated, half-amused. "But you have to promise to behave and let me study," she said with absolute seriousness. "I'll behave however you want, Amanda. I'll be the quietest, I'll be so good for you. The best boy in the world," he winked. It was objectively funny banter. Tho Art wasn't amused. "Okay, fuck off, both of you. Now. I want to sleep!" she declared, giving Art a small push, shaking him out of his daze. Patrick is in love with Liana.

Hey there, me again. Is posting once a day a bit too much? I hope you're enjoying it. Tell me what you think about the characters so far. Also, tell me if you want to be tagged for the next part. Have a great weekend ❤️

taglist: @swetearss

[jyeshindra]

MARS, SCORPIO, & ARIES

Mars: Ambition, drive, power, courage, instincts, anger, passion

Aries & Scorpio (Pluto)

Both are ambitious, driven people. Motivated by goals and desires. They want to take action and are independent people. Do not easily obey or submit to others. Passionate people and can be spiritual as well. They can both resist temptation and focus in on what they want.

Solitary people. Mars likes to operate on its own. Undisturbed and un-influenced. Can be loners or they just like to lead the pack. Both positions are lonely.

They both have excellent instinct and trust their natural talents. They have a strong sense of self built on their accomplishments. They are hard-working and can put their noses to the grindstone!

Scorpio is more subtle and reserved (yin/water) but ultimately has more stability and focus (fixed). Scorpio studies, analyzes, processes, interprets, understands. Pluto is the destroyer, so Scorpio has a lot of concentrated power. If Aries is a cannonball, Scorpio is a laser. 

Scorpio has more endurance (Scorpion). They can weather a lot of different situations and will defend themselves if they have to. But this won’t be their first response (yin). They’ll likely figure you out first, pinpoint your weaknesses, and keep their head above water. But best believe, they know what buttons to push and how to hit where it hurts. Cold people, ruthless at times. More feminine-leaning Scorpios can display this easily. Spiteful people, can hold a grudge if they really are emotionally invested. Eye for an eye kind of people. They will linger emotionally in situations and fester. 

Scorpio’s expression of Mars + Pluto creates this desiring nature. This kind of speaks to a Scorpio theme which is suffering. Scorpio can have a relationship with desire where it is extremes of grasping and staying away. Hot and cold hot and cold. Never satisfied. They are (yin) so they need something to fill them. Something to warm them up. They like to hold onto things. Some Scorpios can be indulgent (Taurus/Venus opposition) but it’s more like Scorpio will indulge their feelings. If they really want something and they’re fixated on it, they will indulge that desire. 

Aries on the other hand can be more dynamic and bold (Fire/Cardinal). They like to explore, try different things, and make progress towards what it is they have set their sights on. Aries is not like Scorpio in terms of endurance. They can burn out more quickly, get frustrated, quit, or just throw themselves at the same wall repeatedly. 

Aries is the baby (Ram/Lamb) of the zodiac so there is this theme of maturation with Aries. They need to master themselves and their abundant fiery energy. Scorpio is more likely to have the introspection available to understand their motivations and why they do things. Aries can be like this as well, but they can also be childish in their approach to matters.

Overestimating their abilities, underestimating their abilities, biting off more than they can chew, taking on too much at once. Their Martian energy wants to do, do, do, do, do, and it’s firing on all cylinders.

On the other hand, because Aries is so dynamic, their Martian energy is geared towards leadership (cardinal). Where they go, other people tend to follow or mimic. Something about their nature (fire) is infectious and inspiring. Their Martian energy manifests as a light for others to follow through the challenges they face.

Aries clears the path (cardinal) and breaks down walls. As it matures, it learns to focus its energy and apply itself in the right ways. It picks the positions that are suited for it. It does not only think of itself, it thinks of others too.

Scorpio learns to balance their control and surrender. They learn to investigate themselves and kill off the parts of them they no longer need. Ultimately, Scorpio achieves an inner peace and builds their inner security so there is no need to fixate or obsess. They channel that focused energy on the things that give back to them. On what makes them emotionally content.

Both energies are incredibly inspiring though, Scorpio + Aries. These people can bear a lot and are fierce protectors of the people they love. Aries may be more demonstrative (yang) while Scorpio will be subtle and quiet in their affections (yin).

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 14

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

It felt like it didn’t take more than a few hours for you to make it deep into the woods surrounding the city, remembering the paths your mother used to take you on up into the mountains. You let your hands pass over the bark of trees that had grown so much taller since you last had seen them, the canopy above casting green shadows down onto the forest floor as the entirety of the world seemed to wash over you. You walked with a new clarity, a new sense of purpose, thanking the Mother silently that you hadn’t had to explain more to the Night Court about your own affairs. You were free. You were far from the cabin in the woods, healed, refueled and ready to move on. 

You continued walking, until you came upon a clearing through the trees, looking down onto the quiet city that was slowly rising to life. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you looked across, the House of Wind stuck into the side of the mountain, glimmering in the morning light. You hadn’t said goodbye to Elain, Nesta, or Feyre. And while you knew they wouldn’t be upset at your lack of manners, you still felt a sense of responsibility. 

You wondered what would become of that great family, who had taken you in without question, allowing you to eat their food, sleep in their beds and care for you when you were wounded. They were rulers, diplomats, fae in positions of power, and yet for that week they had been your nurses. You wished them the best and turned back to the deep green wood. 

There was no set path to follow, no destination in sight. You allowed yourself to wander freely, allowing your feet to guide you. Birds, singing out their early morning songs chattered in the treetops, a counterpoint to the crunch of your footsteps. You felt the weight of the world lift from your shoulders, each step deeper was a step farther from the worry and constraint of the world. The dense foliage seemed to absorb your anxiety, replacing them with a profound sense of serenity as you imagined running through the bushes with your mother in hot pursuit, a smile on both your faces with sweat pouring from your brow but without care, giggles echoing through the trees. Your fingers brushed over the rough bark of the ancient oaks and wondered if your mother had touched the same. 

The woods grew more alive with subtle sounds of the world waking up - the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush and the murmur of a hidden stream. 

You came upon a large meadow, the spring flowers a riot of colors as you perched upon a large boulder, the moss soft under your boots and fingers as you breathed in the air around you. Your mind was quiet and content, and the world was yours. 

________________________________________________________

It felt like it didn’t take more than a few hours for you to make it deep into the woods surrounding the city, retracing the paths your mother used to take you on up into the mountains. Your hands brushed over the bark of trees that had grown so much taller since you last saw them. The canopy above cast green shadows onto the forest floor, and the entirety of the world seemed to wash over you. You walked with a new clarity, a new sense of purpose, silently thanking the Mother that you hadn’t had to explain more to the Night Court about your affairs. You were free. You were far from the cabin in the woods, healed, refueled, and ready to move on.

You continued walking until you came upon a clearing through the trees, looking down onto the quiet city that was slowly rising to life. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you gazed across at the House of Wind, stuck into the side of the mountain, glimmering in the morning light. You hadn’t said goodbye to Elain, Nesta, or Feyre. And while you knew they wouldn’t be upset at your lack of manners, you still felt a sense of guilt. You wondered what would become of that great family, who had taken you in without question, allowing you to eat their food, sleep in their beds, and care for you when you were wounded. They were rulers, diplomats, fae in positions of power, and yet for that week, they had been your nurses. You wished them the best and turned back to the deep green wood.

There was no set path to follow, no destination in sight. You allowed yourself to wander freely, letting your feet guide you. Birds sang their early morning songs, chattering in the treetops, a counterpoint to the crunch of your footsteps. The weight of the world lifted from your shoulders with each step deeper into the forest, the dense foliage absorbing your anxiety and replacing it with a profound sense of serenity. You imagined running through the bushes with your mother in hot pursuit, both of you smiling, sweat pouring from your brow but without care, giggles echoing through the trees. Your fingers brushed over the rough bark of the ancient oaks, wondering if your mother had touched the same.

The woods grew more alive with subtle sounds of the world waking up—the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush and the murmur of a hidden stream. You came upon a large meadow, the spring flowers a riot of colors. Perching upon a large boulder, you let your fingers run over the soft moss and breathed in the crisp, fresh air around you. Your mind was quiet and content, and the world felt like it was yours.

A few days and nights of wandering passed without meeting anyone on the way. You sustained yourself on the meals packed for you, sheltered in the tent lovingly provided in the rucksack. You had no issue making your way over the mountain, down the other side, and deeper into the wilderness of the Night Court. On the third day, you found what looked like a path through the woods, long untended but remembered by the underbrush. You followed it and, among the pines and oaks, discovered what looked to be an abandoned cabin. Its windows were missing glass, the door was off its hinges, and the roof had missing slats, covered in moss as the forest reclaimed its property. You made your way around the perimeter, checking for signs of life, and seeing nothing but long-abandoned pots, pans, and furniture.

Attached to the side of the cabin was a small greenhouse with many panes of windows shattered, the tin roof rusted, but small plants still thriving within. You made your way inside, the light of the afternoon shining through cobwebs. The floor was torn apart, with boards arching under the dampness of the forest. It was one room, with a ladder leading to a lofted bed. The curtains, frayed and tattered, fluttered in the breeze as you took a few creaking steps in. The wood stove, perched in the back corner, was rusted over but still looked usable. On the wall, a single desk or kitchen table held various cups and plates left out, and a single candle sat in the center as though someone might be coming back for dinner. But from the layer of dirt lain on the table, you doubted anyone had dined here in many years. The back wall was lined with shelves, crusted over with dust and dirt. You ran your hand over the pans left behind, books heavy and rippling from rain, pages stuck together. Oil lamps lined the walls and seemed to still hold fluid. You dropped your rucksack and clambered up the rickety ladder to see the old, dirty mattress lying on the upper loft with a lamp next to it, the blanket old and rotten.

When you dropped back down to the floor, you gazed around the room. It was broken, worn down, neglected, and yet it seemed to yearn to be lived in. Perhaps it could be home.

You left your pack in the cabin, wandering outside to take in the surroundings. Planting beds needed tending, but the soil was rich. About fifty paces into the woods was a babbling creek with clean water. You decided that for the time being, this would be as good a home as any other.

You spent the next few days cleaning out the cabin. You formed a makeshift broom by collecting old, dried weeds from the creek and securing them to a broken branch, tying them together with a braided cord you found on the shelves. You swept out the dirt and grime, taking care to clear the cobwebs from the rafters and windows. You ripped the rotten boards from the floor, replacing them with bundles of sticks for the time being. You pulled out the old mattress, cutting pieces of it for tinder. You scaled the rooftop, surveying the rotten pieces and laid down brush and moss to patch the holes. It leaked less but still allowed a steady drip when it rained. You cleared the chimney of the stove, finding a rather unhappy squirrel family living within but managed to get it working after an afternoon of sweating and swearing. You tended to the garden and greenhouse, pulling out weeds and turning over the dirt. You saved the seeds of the fruits and vegetables packed for you, pressing them in a piece of wet cloth and planting those that would survive the heat of summer.

Sleep still came in bouts. If you slept with any sort of awareness, your mate still wormed his way in, so you often spent nights tinkering with the oil lamps, working into the early mornings as you tried to mend the curtains with old fabric scraps from around the cabin. Only when you reached exhaustion and seemed to fall asleep from mere necessity, when you slept with a depth of death, did you sleep without his interference. Even then, when it seemed you regained a sense of consciousness, you awakened yourself.

You had found father down the creek a large lake in a clearing and you felt comfortable enough to strip down and bathe in the water, allowing it’s cold temperature to soothe you as you cleansed yourself of the grime of the days.

Within the garden, you collected various stones and etched into one of them, “Anthea. Your escape was worth it.” You laid it among blooming purple flowers that you couldn’t identify. 

As you settled into this new routine, you found a sense of peace and purpose. The world around you was wild and untamed, yet it felt like home. 

My lovely tagged readers: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006

[sleepyangelkami]

Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say i’m obsessed with your carl fics. It’s alarming how many times i’ve read them lmao.

CLINGY c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.

 ☆ WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clingy was a word you had much distaste for.

when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.

more specifically, he'd found you.

the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.

it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.

when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.

the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.

you opened up, albeit it was slow.

you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.

he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.

you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.

and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.

you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.

rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.

this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.

you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.

if that was clingy, then so be it.

carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.

there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.

"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.

you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.

but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.

you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.

now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.

apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.

"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"

it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.

confrontation wasn't exactly your forté.

it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."

offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.

a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.

you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.

that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.

like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.

carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"

clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.

and neither were you.

you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.

the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.

he'd made you cry.

and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.

he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.

before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.

"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"

in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get it―" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.

"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.

rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.

it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.

finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.

the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.

"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.

he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."

the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."

he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.

finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.

you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.

it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.

his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.

your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.

he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.

a sort of comfort from the world before.

he knocked, receiving no answer.

"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.

when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.

tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?

"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."

you two were so different.

carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.

and when you were upset? you shut off.

"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"

a shrug was the only thing he was met with.

your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.

there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.

finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.

you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.

you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.

a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."

his heart quite literally shattered.

"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."

you sniffled at the boy. "but you said―"

carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."

it'd take a while for you to believe him.

but he'd do whatever it took.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[pokemonshelterstories]

i visited my aunt recently, and found out she's had an indeedee helping her out around the house. i read up on it a little, and apparently they can use their psychic powers to figure out their owner's needs and take care of them without being told. is this... ethical? she's just been having him help her with dishes and cleaning, and he didn't seem unhappy, but it rubs me the wrong way using a pokemon as an unpaid butler.

i totally get where your worries come from. when you're concerned about pokemon welfare, you have to ask questions like this to make sure that people aren't reading what we want to see into a pokemon'a behavior and needs.

indeedee are a really interesting case, because- similar to pokemon like togepi and ralts- they rely on positive emotional energy to thrive. but in particular, they seek out what we can only really describe as gratitude. altruistic behavior is documented in a lot of social pokemon, from gardevoir to rattata, so it's not entirely out of the norm for a pokemon to want to help others; studies of wild indeedee also show that they perform "servant" behaviors regardless of a lack of a trainer's presence, and they'll perform them for other pokemon even at their own disadvantage (for example, giving food to a pokemon of a different species). it's just part of their needs!

you're absolutely right to be cautious, because it's the sort of relationship with a pokemon that we have to be careful is in the pokemon's best interest. but right now it sounds like this is a beneficial relationship for both your aunt and her indeedee!