#it would be sitting on my shelf with pride

[livinghostly]

i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

[ghouljams]

I just saw a tiktok where the caption was “pov: your situationship just kissed you in the forehead, said ‘I left you a backstrap in the fridge’, and left for work” and the videos is of the woman checking her fridge, seeing a piece of meat, and then looking like she’s reconsidering her whole life. My city slicker suburbs ass didn’t know this but apparently backstrap is the equivalent of beef tenderloin for hunters, each deer/elk has like 1-2 pieces so giving someone a backstrap is downright a marriage proposal.

I have no idea where this would fit into Ghost and Goose's relationship (definitely before they get together officially), or even if it would be (would Ghost hunt?) but all I can think about is Goose staring at the meat on the countertop when Duck walks in and is like "what's wrong?" and Goose just points to the backstrap and goes "Ghost gave me this." And now both of them are staring wordlessly at it when Price comes in and goes "what are you two gawking at?" and they both point at it and say in unison "Ghost left this." and now the whole family is staring at this declaration of undying love on the kitchen counter.

God the backstrap, I've seen that tiktok and that's the most beautiful cut of meat I've ever seen in someone's fridge.

I know I just made a post about Ghost being an animal guy and not hunting like a normal person, but I also think hunting is something he would take a lot of pride in. He likes the survivalist element, but he also likes the feeling of being a provider in a very primitive way. He went out and got food, killed it and butchered it himself, just for his little family. Anyway *throws fic at you*

"Left you somethin' in the fridge," Ghost tells you on his way out for the day. You give him a look of quiet confusion and he tips his hat a little lower over his eyes, not looking at you.

"It's not another frog is it?" You grimace, thinking of the last time you went gigging.

"One frog, one time," He grumbles, not bothering to answer you as he walks towards the stables. You sigh and go to clean up whatever mess he'd left. You wish he'd stop leaving things in the main house's fridge, if he wants to put live animals somewhere he should put them in his own damn house. You shiver remembering the frog you thought was dead leaping at you as soon as you'd opened the fridge door. You're not squeamish with cold blooded critters but that would scare the pants off anyone.

You brace yourself as you tug the communal fridge open. Nothing jumps at you, which is a good sign. You crouch down to sort through the contents for whatever Simon left and freeze. Sitting right in front on the top shelf, neatly covered with cling wrap, and a post it with a hastily scribbled out heart, is the most beautiful cut of meat you've ever seen. Brilliantly red and marbled. You tug it out to inspect, push your finger against the plastic film to check that it's actually meat. There's no fat, and the cut is a lovely sort of tenderloin. Where did Simon...

He went hunting recently. You remember the deer in the back of the truck, the marrow filled bone he'd tossed the dog. Jesus fucking Christ, you know exactly what this is. You quickly stuff it back in the fridge and slam the door to go get your mom.

You both stand in front of the open fridge as she inspects the meat. She stiffens, apparently coming to the same conclusion you did and forces the plate back into your hands.

"What is this boy doin' givin' you the best cuts off his venison?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Momma, I swear to you I don't know," You carefully settle the backstrap back in the fridge. If your brain wasn't so stuck on the fact that Simon is the one who gave it to you, you might be cooking up recipes already.

"Where's your daddy, he needs to see this." She looks out the kitchen window, surveying the pasture for your father's horse. The last thing you need is her calling him in to see Simon's... declaration.

"No momma," You pull her back, "Momma please, you're gonna scare him off."

"I'm not scarin' anyone off, he's-" She gives you a look, her smile scrunched to one side and her brows drawn in confusion, "Baby, you think I'm gonna scare off the man giving you prime cuts from his hunt? Please-" She waves your concern off and you groan. It's not like he's proposing, you doubt Simon even- He probably doesn't even know he's giving you something the butcher won't even sell.

Actually how did he wrestle this away from the butcher? Usually the guy in town will pay through the nose for good venison. You've never seen a cut this clean from the usual guy though.

At least Simon has the good sense not to look startled that you're in his house at the end of the day. There is a sort of silent confusion around your cooking in his tiny kitchen, but he's nice enough to stay quiet as he goes to shower off the day's dirt. When he comes back he's smart enough to take a seat at the little round table, but just stupid enough to ask, "What's this?" When you set a plate in front of him.

"Backstrap," You glare at him, "with some veggies and potatoes. Why? What is it to you?"

Simon glances up at you, waiting for you to elaborate on this line of questioning. You know he doesn't like these games. You sigh and drop down into the seat across from him, he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

"Why're you giving me the best cut?" You ask, trying not to sound like you're expecting anything.

"What'm I suppose to do with it?" He responds.

"Didn't the butcher offer to buy it off of ya?"

"Didn't go to the butcher," He tells you evenly. You stare at him. This fucking- God you could wring his neck. He killed a deer, went through the trouble of butchering it himself, and he still gave you the best cut. All the work just to- to-

You press your hands against your face with a groan.

"Ghost."

"Princess." His low rumble makes you shiver, how pleased he sounds to have caught you off guard...

"You know my momma thinks we're gonna get married now," You tell him through your fingers. He hums, and you hear the click of his silverware as he starts eating. Done with the conversation apparently. You truly hate how much you love this man. He's going to be the death of you.

God but what a way to go.

[flowerandblood]

Rage | Revenge | Relief

[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, kind of incest but not really, mention of marital infidelity ]

[ description: Aemond thinks his life couldn't get any more fucked up until his mother tells him and his little brother that her partner and his daughter are coming to live with them. He gives them a wide berth until one night when he overhears a conversation between his stepsister and her mother. The power of angst, dark, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

Part 2 − Guilt | Greed | Grace Part 3 − Pride | Promise | Price Part 4 − Blame | Betray | Bliss

Series & Characters Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

When his mother decided to divorce his father, he immediately knew who he was going to live with − he had no intention of sitting at home with a man who had paid him no attention all his life. What he didn't suspect at the time was that there was something else behind his parents' separation besides a total lack of affection − or, in fact, someone.

Criston Cole.

When he found out about their affair, when his mother admitted to him that it had been going on for years he didn't speak to her for a month − not because he thought she had no right to really fall in love, but because she was always telling him about the principles of faith in God, the importance of fidelity and virtue.

When he met Alys at one of the parties he went to with his friends from university, when he saw the look she gave him he decided he didn't give a damn − they fucked in the men's bathroom like animals and then went to her place to do the same.

He stayed with her for longer than he had originally intended, not taking calls from his mother.

He eventually returned home; he had his studies to finish, however it was how long he disappeared for that started to worry his mother.

He didn't tell her who he was seeing and why, recognising that he no longer trusted her.

The thought of moving in with Alys occurred to him when one day his mother announced to him and Daeron that Criston and his daughter would be moving into their house − he laughed at her words, shaking his head and said that if they moved in, he would move out, making her burst into tears.

He had the impression that he didn't feel anything anymore.

That he was empty.

Everything seemed strangely funny to him, meaningless.

The day they arrived he sat locked in his room; Alys was sending him naked pictures of herself with messages about what she wanted him to do with her when he came to visit her.

On the one hand it turned him on, on the other it embarrassed him, he wondered how a grown woman could be so desperate.

He was more cautious than her, sending her pictures of his dick didn't thrill him even though she sometimes begged him to do it.

She was just texting him about what position he was going to fuck her first when his mother knocked on his room.

"Aemond. Will you come down to say hello?" She asked softly, hopefully. He pressed his lips together feeling a squeeze in his heart, tapping out a reply to Alys on the keypad of his phone.

Silence.

He heard her give up and go down the stairs.

He felt tears under his eyes, felt rage at the thought that these strangers would now be roaming his house, taking his space, making him uncomfortable even here.

He managed not to see any of them for a few days and felt wonderful about it, going to class first thing in the morning, spending afternoons and evenings with Alys, only coming home late at night.

However, when he came back one time, he saw, putting his keys back on the shelf, that the glass patio door was pushed open.

She noticed a girl similiar to Criston, with his dark hair and big eyes; she was sitting sideways to him on one of the wicker chairs, wearing a thick, light jumper and shorts, her hair loose, as if she was already going to bed.

He saw her nervous gesture, her fingers pressed to her mouth, her eyebrows arched in pain, her whole figure tensed as if someone had just tortured her.

"And what is she like? Have you met her?" He heard the sound echoing from the speaker of her phone, saw her lower her gaze, her lips slightly parted.

"I don't know. She's just normal, Mum. Kind." She mumbled, her voice soft and calm, scared, girlish, young, innocent.

He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop on this, but he just stood and looked at her, unmoving from his spot, standing in the shadows in the corridor.

"Kind? Has she bribed you yet? Is she prettier than me?" The voice on the other end of the receiver was getting more aggressive and frustrated − he saw the girl scowl inwardly, shaking her head, lifting her shoulders up as if she didn't know what to answer.

"She didn't bribe me, she just…I don't know, Mum, I don't know what you want to hear from me, she's just a normal ordinary woman."

"DON'T LIE!"

He saw her cover her face with her hand as she trembled all over; he knew she couldn't take it, he saw tears start to run down her cheeks.

"− I'm not lying mum, I already told you, I moved out with dad for now because it's closer to my university from here, I −"

"You left me. After what he did to me. Was it worth it? For those few miles? To live in the beautiful big house of your favourite daddy's lover?"

"Mum, stop, please." She begged like a small child who asks a parent to stop hitting him already, that she had already understood her lesson, that she would be good now.

He had no idea why he felt a tightness in his throat looking at it, why his heart was pounding like crazy, why he couldn't move or breathe.

"You don't love me anymore. If you loved me you wouldn't have gone with him. You wouldn't have left me. I hope you like your new mum. Good night." She said and suddenly there was the sound of an earphone being hung up.

The girl burst out sobbing, leaning her whole body forward − he had never witnessed anything like it before in his life.

Why is it always the children who have to pay for their parents' mistakes?

He felt he should go upstairs, he felt he should leave her, but instead he moved towards the fridge, opening it. He heard her jump up surprised, only now spotting him through the glass, not knowing what to do, whether she should go or wait for him to leave first.

He, however, pulled out two cold beers and opened them with a loud pop of the cap; he walked outside, placing one in front of her, the other in front of him, sitting down in the chair opposite her, taking a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.

"If you tell my mother I smoke, I will kill you. Do you understand? I'll make your life a living hell." He muttered, lighting his cigarette from the flame of the fire and took a drag, leaning comfortably against the backrest.

She looked at him with her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide open, her cheeks all red − he thought she looked like a pet that children really want to have when they are little, a rabbit or a dog, a faithful companion and friend with big eyes.

She squeezed her eyes shut at his words and shook her head, massaging her forehead with her hand, as if she couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Nice to meet you too. I'm guessing that you are the Nicest of Alicent's sons." She said ironically.

Despite the harshness and mockery in her words, she said them so softly and warmly that he snorted with a grimace of amusement, shaking the ash from his cigarette onto the tiles beneath them with a tap of his finger.

"Yeah, that must be me." He hummed, looking to the side, exhaling the smoke loudly through his nose, reaching for the beer bottle − he took a long, loud sip from it, setting it down with a loud hiss of the baubles inside.

"Your mummy is always so pleasant?" He asked, looking at her curiously, wondering why he was so intent on bringing her out of her shell.

Why he was so cruel.

She, however, looked at him indifferently, unmoved; she smiled at his words lowering her gaze, her cheeks red from tears. She shrugged her shoulders.

"She's had a bit of a change of heart since she discovered my father was fucking your mother in their bed. But you probably wouldn't care. You don't seem like the kind of person who enjoys unnecessary drama. Right?" She muttered, leaning back, taking the cold beer he gave her in her hand and took a sip from it, turning the bottle in her hands.

He squinted his eyelids, wondering what kind of girl she was, what she might have wanted.

He liked being in control of what was going on and he wanted to work her out as soon as possible, to see what she cared about, to have her in his grasp like he had Alys.

"And what do you think about it?" He mused, slipping his cigarette into his mouth and taking a drag with a quiet hiss, not taking his eyes off her.

He saw that she was glancing at his scar, at his fake eye, and he felt frustration.

"I think that's my business." She said softly, spreading herself comfortably in the chair, lifting her knees up so that he could see her pleasantly firm thighs perfectly. "I only confide in friends."

He raised an eyebrow and sneered, taking another deep sip of beer, finding her naivety charming in a way; he figured she was younger than him by about two or three years.

"What conditions do you have to meet to be your friend?" He asked lowly, and she looked at him indulgently, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"You have to not be a cold, sophisticated dick." She said calmly.

He smiled broadly at her words, however the smile did not reach his eyes, wide open, empty and cold.

"I don't think I meet your requirements then. What about fucking? Can you imagine the face of our parents if they found out? Sweet God." He chuckled shaking the ash off his almost-smoked cigarette again with his pointing finger − he saw that she raised an eyebrow in disbelief and laughed lightly, as if he had actually amused her.

"I admire the level of your insolence. I really do. I'm full of appreciation." She said, smiling in a way that made him feel uncomfortable − he sensed that he had drawn from her the opposite reaction to the one he wanted. He licked his lower lip, looking at her intensely.

"If I offered you to come with me to my room, would you go?" He asked teasingly, wanting to pander to her, wanting to dominate her verbally. She cocked her head, a soft smile never leaving her face.

"Why not."

He swallowed loudly glancing down at her thighs, feeling a strong throbbing in his trousers at her words, his cock expressing an overwhelming desire to carry out his plan.

Fuck.

Actually, why not?

He rose dropping his cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with his boot, grabbing a bottle of his beer with his hand, walking back out into the dining room − he heard her get up and move behind him.

They both walked quietly upstairs and headed for his room. He walked in taking a loud sip of his beer, turning over his shoulder to look at her − she came in behind him with her bottle, closing the door quietly, just standing and looking at him in complete darkness.

"So?" She asked quietly, lightly, making him completely hard.

He could fuck her while his mother and her father slept in the next room.

He could cum inside her and then look her father straight in the eye at dinner.

"Take off your jumper." He muttered as he drank his beer to the end, setting the empty bottle down on the ground, pulling his leather jacket off his shoulders.

He watched as she obeyed his command without a word, she had a T-shirt underneath, apparently the top of her pyjamas − he could clearly see the outline of her nipples and breasts through the thin material.

"Come here." He instructed, and she approached him slowly, looking at him with those warm, soft eyes of hers; he took the beer from her and set it down on the nightstand by his bed, then glanced up at her.

"I'm not kidding. If you don't leave now, we're gonna fuck." He said dryly, and she blinked, looking at him without a shadow of surprise.

Seriously?

He chuckled seeing that she hadn't moved from her spot, reaching a hand to his belt buckle, undoing it.

"Get undressed."

He stared at her with wide eyes as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, her lovely breasts firm, looking like those of the busts of Aphrodite created by ancient sculptors.

"Not your first time, is it?" He murmured, pulling off his tight black blouse. She shook her head − he could see she was breathing a little faster at the sight of his bare chest.

"Does your daddy know about this?" He asked amused, and she shook her head quickly, looking at him horrified.

"Are you going to tell him about it?" She asked startled, and he chuckled under his breath, pulling her close in a confident motion.

"Please. I suspect you don't do fucked up stuff like me anyway, kid. My mother would be very disappointed in me if she found out, you know?" He hummed and lifted her by her hips, laying her on her back on his bed, kneeling over her.

They both looked at each other and giggled as if they were doing something joyful − he couldn't believe how turned on he was, how much his heart was pounding.

"You know they'll fucking kill us if they find out?" He asked in a trembling voice as if he wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing. She nodded, her eyes were shining.

He thought they both wanted revenge on them.

And even though it was childish, he felt a kind of affection and tenderness for her.

He thought she understood him, that he would make her feel good.

"Such a good girl. Your dad raised you well. But your big brother will teach you better." He gasped, panting along with her, slipping off his trousers and boxers. She looked at him intently, squirming beneath him, her cheeks red, her eyes big and trusting, her lips parted, plump and shiny.

She looked at him as if she had known him for years.

As if they were doing it together for the hundredth time.

With a sure, light movement he slid her shorts and panties off her thighs − they were left completely naked in front of each other, and for some reason feeling no shame, she reached out to him. He leaned over her and let her embrace his neck.

He brushed her lips with his, at first just to try how she tasted, and then he sink deeper into them, pleasantly full and moist. He slid his tongue down her throat with her loud purr, in his other hand taking his cock, jerking it a few times in his palm, the tip of it glistening and pink, sticky from his precum.

"− will you be a good girl for your big brother? hm? −" He murmured into her mouth and she nodded, panting as he did, her thighs parted in front of him in a surprising gesture of trust.

He slid his hand between her legs to check her condition and smirked feeling it was as he suspected, his fingers spreading her wetness all over her hot womanhood, teasing her clit with calm strokes, making her body shudder, her lips parted in silent, innocent moans.

"− I haven't even touched you yet, and you're already leaking? − I'm beginning to wish I'd introduced myself to you sooner −" He gasped, rubbing her with sure, circular motions, her hips coming up against him, looking for any source of friction.

He groaned low, surprised, when her small, soft hand caught his length and with a calm, sure movements began to squeeze it, massaging it up and down, feeling it throb hard in her grasp.

"− your loss, big brother −" She whispered sweetly, looking at him with such an innocent smile that he felt like laughing and telling her how adorable she was.

"− true − don't worry, we'll make up for our lost time now − hm? − we'll get to know each other better −" He purred delightedly, running the tip of his nose over her cheek, breathing faster and faster, licking his lips, their hips seeking fulfilment in the touch of their hands, their lips beginning to rub against each other again, wet and sticky, not giving each other full kisses.

"− with or without a condom? −" He whispered, running his tongue over her upper lip, and she sighed softly, writhing beneath him, his fingers teasing her slick folds with increasingly determined movements, his palm all wet with her moisture.

"− without − 'm taking pills −" She gasped with some sort of pride, her free hand combed through his short hair; he smirked under his breath, taking his hand from between her thighs.

"− good girl − spread your thighs wide − yes, just like that −" He hummed, and she let go of him immediately knowing what he wanted to do, her hands on his back and neck, stroking him in some kind of excitement and anticipation.

He directed the fat head of his cock at her entrance looking down at her, pushing against her slit, her lips parted wide when she felt it.

"− last chance − yes or no, kid? −" He exhaled and she tightened her fingers on his back.

"− yes −"

He had to kiss her to silence the loud sounds that ripped from their throats as he slid into her with one sure, sharp thrust − he began to move inside her immediately, unable to stop himself, the frame of his bed began to creak beneath them with each push of his hips.

They kissed loudly and quickly with a sticky, wet click, their bodies slapping against each other again and again, her naked breasts pressed against his chest.

He wasn't sure he'd ever let Alys embrace him so tightly, feeling him with her whole body, but she was different − he could feel the need in her fingers, she wanted him to be close and he wasn't going to deny her that.

"− look at you − so good to your big brother, hm? − so well prepared to greet him −" He panted into her mouth feeling her insides clench on him greedily at his words, intensifying his sensations, making him lose control completely, his hands clamped down on her soft, hot body smelling of pleasant, girly shampoo and shower gel.

"− you're so big −" She mumbled with some kind of awe and delight, their tongues licking and teasing as his cock with each thrust rubbed against the spot on her upper wall from which her body shuddered.

"− here? − when I fuck you here it feels good? −" He exhaled and she nodded quickly, moaning louder and louder into his mouth, her walls throbbing hard on the verge of orgasm, their naked bodies bumping against each other fast with a loud slaps.

"− yes − please −" She mewled, panting and quivering beneath him, he stifled her sounds and his own low moans with kisses, speeding up his pace, feeling that he was about to come probably harder than he had ever done before in his life.

"− quiet − do you want your daddy to look in here? − to see me taking care of his little girl? −" He hissed and she tilted her head back; he had to cover her mouth with his hand as she began to moan loudly while the orgasm shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him greedily, sucking him inside.

He only managed to make a few desperate thrusts with his hips to prolong their pleasure before he cum inside her, panting loudly, clenching his eyes, feeling such incredible relief that he felt like he was about to pass out.

"− fuck −" He gasped, collapsing on top of her − his hips rocked inside her for a moment longer with her innocent purr of satisfaction.

They both breathed loudly in an attempt to calm themselves, lying with their eyes closed, feeling that, along with the pleasure, their bodies had left the rage, grief and disappointment.

He felt her look at him and he opened his eyes, thinking she was about to cry, about to say that this was one big mistake, but she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"− God − we're insane −" She whispered with amusement, her eyes shining − he had no idea why he was smiling too, why he felt so damn good, why he felt such immense satisfaction.

"− yeah − that's correct −" He muttered lowly, feeling the fatigue and relaxation slowly overpower his body. He hummed when he felt her hand begin to stroke his hair wordlessly in a soft, light movement, with a kind of tenderness he had completely not expected.

He didn't know himself what he thought of that; he had never allowed himself to be touched like that by Alys saying he wasn't her pet, however there was something different about her touch.

Some kind of genuine concern from which he felt a tightness in his throat.

"This will be our little secret?" She asked quietly, running her fingers through his hair, down his neck and across his cheek. He murmured under his breath and lazily brushed her hand with his lips.

"Yes."

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family: Family Portrait

I finally got around to reading the SxF light novel, Family Portrait...and I mean "finally" because it's literally been sitting in my shelf since it was first released in English back in December of last year! I was distracted by Code White and the SxF video game which came out around the same time, but even long after that, I was having trouble getting motivated to read it. For some reason, experiencing SxF in novel format instead of in anime/manga just didn't appeal to me, plus the fact that it's not written by Endo himself (these weird preferences of mine are also why I'm not into reading fanfics either). Don't get me wrong, in general I love reading stories in prose form too, but for a series like SxF that already has such an established visual identity, it doesn't feel as "authentic" to me if that makes any sense. But I did want to read it eventually, since it is an official part of SxF media and Endo did the illustrations and does acknowledge the book (he wrote a nice afterword at the end). So I finally sat down and read it in sections over the course of this week! I'll share my brief thoughts on each of the contained stories:

Novel Mission 1

Since this was the first story in the book, it took me a while to get used to experiencing the world of SxF in novel form. There were some things I felt would have been better conveyed in anime/manga, for example, one of the very first gags about Yor misinterpreting Anya's nature class as some sort of hardcore outdoor survival trip. As I was reading that part I was like "I get the joke, but it would have been funnier if I actually saw these images and the characters' expressions with Endo's comedic illustrations." It was also a bit jarring to hear the characters thoughts and feelings from third-person narration, but I got used to it. As for the story itself, it was Damianya focused, something I'm not particularly into, but I don't mind it either. I liked the rare, soft Damian moments, and the thing with the squirrel eating Anya's peanut trail was funny. I also liked the scene at the beginning where Loid and Yor feed Bond together while Anya watches.

Novel Mission 2

Oddly, this was my favorite of the stories! Of all the characters, I think the author nailed Yuri's unhinged thoughts the best - as I was reading, I couldn't help but hear every cringe thought in his voice, which is a good sign of how well the author gets the character! I actually chuckled at a few parts too, both from his insane Yor-obsessed and anti-Loid musings, as well as from his banter with Anya. The police interrogation scene was great and would be even better if it ever gets animated! I also found it interesting that this story has the first instance where we find out what Yuri thinks about Bond (that he's fat and useless - rude!) Also his first time hearing about Franky apparently...makes we wonder if Endo will make him feel the same way if these things ever come up in the manga.

Novel Mission 3

I liked this story a lot too! I think it worked the best in novel format out of all of them, probably because it was more focused on drama and emotions than comedy. It's ironic that the two official SxF stories that feature the deeper side of Franky's character - this one and the omake chapter from volume 13 - are both not even part of the main canon! Alessa would have definitely accepted Franky's job as an informant, but he felt that someone like her should only be surrounded by "beautiful things." The poor man really needs to see that inner beauty matters too, and he has that! I also think he should have swallowed his pride and told Loid the real reason why he wanted the disguise...not that it would have changed the outcome. Poor Franky.

Novel Mission 4

This was a cute Forger-focused story, but like the first one, I felt it had parts that would have been more effective in anime/manga form, for example, "hair monster" Yor and whatever hideous painting Felix ended up making! But despite that, it was still funny and cute. Though I do think the author went a tad overboard with Yor's flustered antics...they just kept going and going, lol. Also, like the movie, we have another scenario of Loid getting flung into the air by Yor but landing gracefully on his feet (though this instance was much tamer since she wasn't drunk and only pushed him instead of hit him). Again, maybe I would have appreciated the humor in this story better if I saw it in anime/manga with Endo's hilarious designs and expressions, but for what it was, it was enjoyable enough.

Short Novel

This extra short story would be perfect as a reintroduction story for a future anime season...maybe one day!

-----

Overall, the Family Portrait novel is a nice addition to the Spy x Family universe. Even though I feel the humor in the series is most effective in illustrated form, it's still nice to have more stories in the canon, especially ones that show new sides to the characters, like the Franky and Yuri stories. Like the movie, it's debatable if this novel should be considered true canon or not, but personally, I don't find anything in it that contradicts canon, at least not yet. So yeah, definitely check out the novel if you haven't already! 😁

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 7 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)

It’s been around a few good months since the attack on the hotel, everything has been quiet around the hotel and you’ve been adapting well to the residents of the hotel. Since you were technically a staff member. Plus, since you’ve confessed to Alastor, things didn’t change much

Was what you wanted to say

You find yourself pulled out of your comfort zone when you’re set to have some form of duty. Then there was your little self-imposed obligation to go on dates with Alastor that suited him. While you were happy Alastor was enjoying your time, you can’t help but find yourself drained by the end of it

Not to mention Charlie’s insistent of your inclusion in her various activities. You really really preferred to be in the comforts of your room watching aime and reading manga or manhwa or whatever they are called

Still though, Alastor always knew when you were burn out from socializing and would put a stop to your suffering. Followed by a relaxing cuddling and anything you prefer. His attitude and behaviour towards you didn’t change all that much if you don’t count the increased intensity and the easiness of making him flustered

Because you and Alastor were a ‘confirmed item’, there were a lot of teasing from the hotel members to which Alastor prides himself on blocking off and you let him. Though there was an odd dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer

What you could describe as a parent or father judging his child’s lover type of deal. An example was you leaning against Alastor while on the lobby couch then Lucifer comes sitting next to you as well and moved you so that you were leaning on him. Or another where they were both preparing your meal and had a contest over, but because they took too long, you made your cup noodles

It was all weird and all, though nothing to stress over. You like staying at the hotel all the same, even though your friendship with them isn’t all that strong compared to what you share between Alastor or Lucifer

“You know, Pager, it got me thinking.” Lucifer started. It was a random quiet and slow day, as rare as it is, Alastor was out in Cannibal Town to gossip with Rosie. Of course he told everyone else he had important business to attend to.

“Yeah? You’re not thinking of making another library themed duck collection, right?” You gave him a suspicious gaze, looking up from your novel. “I’m not accepting those. I have like… a whole shelf of them back home.”

Lucifer awkwardly chuckled, “Okay, I mean, no! Of course not.”

You gave him a look of pure doubt. “If you gave me some and Alastor knew about it, you bet he’ll burn it.”

“Just gotta make them fireproof or something.” Lucifer whispered, but he shook his head and cleared his throat, sounding more professional. “Okay, this is serious! Very!”

Without warning, he suddenly dragged you into a portal of his own and you two arrived in a realm of his making. A realm where everything was golden. You hugged onto him tightly when you realized it was a gold sea below you two. Naturally, you yelled at him for doing this out of the blue

You had him held onto your while you wrote ‘wings’ on your page to form a pair of them behind your back to keep you afloat. You went back to yelling at Lucifer before he gestured to you, saying this was the point

Unable to comprehend, you said of course because you were no angel. Nor did you expect him to just drag you into another realm out of the blue

“What if you didn’t need to write on your pages to get things done?” Lucifer suggested, his wings flapping from time to time to remain in the air over the flowing golden liquid below you two.

“Then I can’t do anything. I’m nothing without my quill and pages or at least a surface to write on.” You answered, pointing to the wings that magically appeared from your words alone. “You know that.”

“I mean as in you don’t use them. Maybe start small, like don’t use your pages and only your quill to write.” Lucifer cryptically explained, you gave him a raised brow and he groaned, “Oh, come on! You watch your little shows, you know what I mean! Writing it in the air and poof!”

You laughed. Yes, you’ve seen these things happen in TV shows and anime, but you never got the chance or want to try it out. You see, you don’t exactly see yourself to have something so overpowered in your skillset or ability list

From what Alastor told, his immense power came from the evil deeds he has done in his years alive. His ticket to Hell had his name when he first killed. Then his power slowly built up from the serial killings he did. Adding to that, there was fraud, manipulation, and corruption. His twisted moral of how a hunter make good use of their prey was way too concerning for you

Cannibalism. He ate his victims as a method of exposing the bodies, well, only the ones he saw were healthy. But still. Then he told you like a storybook before bed how he dug up graves in the bayou where he dump the bodies or put it somewhere noticeable on purpose to catch the attention of the public

Afterwards? He speaks through the microphone in his booth while the radio all over his hometown state listens, he sympathized with the victim and their family and friends, he warned listeners to be careful, he wished the authorities to make quick work in finding and arresting the killer. All while a sick smile was on his face as he made those broadcast

It’s times when he tells you his cruelty that you’re reminded with who you rescued, sure Hell was a piece of work, but Alastor was another story. He’s something straight out of a serial killer movie, but in real life. You can’t question enough how Alastor fell for you and turned to a yandere type as well, but not like you’re regretting it now. He grew on you far too much

In contrast to Alastor’s build-up or something like a pre-register in Hell for power, you’ve done doing to that degree. You didn’t kill others, you aren’t even manipulative, and you definitely wasn’t brave enough to commit some other crimes. If anything, you were a victim

You already can’t understand why you had the power you do now. Alastor theorized before it was due to the fact you love books, but then the question changes to how your powers were this unique. Why were you any to summon and conjure items you understand? 

Alastor can do something similar but it’s just that. Similar. He snaps his fingers and things just appear. There were limits, but something he can’t do was summon angelic steel or weapons like you can

Once you joked how you were actually destined to be in Heaven. That got Alastor into a frenzy. Immediately pinning you down and patting your back to see if there were wings

“A joke! It was just a joke!” You shouted at him, there was that crazed look in his eyes that sent a chill down his spine. Even though you have his soul and limited his powers, he was still the more powerful one between you two.

Alastor blinked and got off of you, his eyes narrowed as his smile shrank, “A poor joke, Darling. Even if you’re destined for Heaven and taken away from me… I will find you and drag you back down to Hell.”

You got Lucifer to bring you back to your room and leave thing as that. You don’t think you can do it, it was a pleasant thought, to be able to do that you’d be more powerful. Then again, you’re not seeking to be powerful. There was nothing for you to fight for. You had Alastor, that was enough

Not in Lucifer’s case though. He kept pestering you on learning, randomly bringing you to his golden realm that you got used to it and just prepared pages with the word ‘wings’ written on it. His persistence caught Alastor’s attention

At first, Alastor was annoyed that Lucifer was trying to spend time with you and to your delight chased Lucifer away, but after you told him what it was about, he was interested to see your power grow as well. Claiming that it was a great opportunity

Of course, he added that it wasn’t due to him doubting he can’t protect you in times of needs, but he didn’t want what happened on that roof to happen again

What if you didn’t have a surface to write on? What if you didn’t have your book with you? What if your pages were wet? What if your quill was taken away from you? What if you were put into a situation where you can’t rely on your pages and quill?

In that sense, Alastor was all for Lucifer’s idea. Since Lucifer was the one to see how your power developed, he was the better supervisor than Alastor. As much as your love hates to admit it. Though he wanted what’s best for you and he thinks you needed this now that you were staying at the hotel where sinners and demons can roam freely

“Fine…” You sighed, “I’ll try your little idea…”

“Yes! Come on! We’re starting training!!” Lucifer opened up the portal with his apple cane. 

“Have a productive time, My Beloved!” Alastor hugged your good luck, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll have your favourites ready when you return.”

And so started with your little power upgrade project

Lucifer spared no expenses when it came to dragging you out of bed from your comfort activities to do more trial and error

It felt like the days when you were back in your living years, having to study and work. The twist was that you enjoy it since it was your first friend from Hell that got you to work. If anyone was in doubt about Lucifer being the King of Hell. He was a hellish tormentor for you

Turns out, that golden realm he has was all under his control and that golden sea could have been dry land. Oh you were so pissed when you learned that. Sure it helped with exercising your wings ability but he could have told you in the first place!

You’re very very tempted to just smack him in the head. But you told yourself not to give into temptation and just be good and get this over with. Lucifer is still the King of Hell and a powerful fallen angel that was leagues above you. You can never compare or try to win over

Alastor, the sweet thing, was always there for you when you needed some comfort or when you didn’t have motivation to continue

He provided you with so much that you thought back to your time alive

When you were down in the dumps and burn out, you longed for someone to be by your side to support you through thick and thin. You thought you had it, but it was a lie you told yourself. You thought that was happiness, it was nothing but a joke you drown yourself in

You truly enjoy your time with Alastor and all that he has given you, devoted to you. You can’t thank him enough

In the end, there was truth to Lucifer’s little theory. You started with plainly writing in the air with your quill, nothing happened naturally. Later on, you started to envision writing on something and it worked just a smidge. You soon learned to see the air as your surface, treat it like there was a hologram of a page there and write on it. Like all those sci-fi movies and TV shows you watched

Letters started to appear in a neon glow, coloured in your signature colour of your aura. In no time, the letters appeared more constant to your writing, then words formed. That was a big step, your next goal was to actually summon something

That took more time to perfect, but you got it since you were past the big goal of writing on nothing or air. The items you summoned grew in size and weight, then you barely managed to summon your angelic weapon. You fainted right after it appeared

You lacked stamina and energy to maintain it after using so much to summon it into existence. A short break was taken before you pushed yourself to continue. Lucifer and Alastor both supported you while reminding you that there was no pressure

No pressure. They actually mean it. It wasn’t a tactic to guilt-trip you into working harder. Figures appeared in your mind but you shook it away. No, you’re doing this because Alastor and Lucifer believes you can do it. You’re doing it not because you were forced. You want to do it

It was when you finally managed to summon an angelic weapon and maintain it for a good while that Lucifer deemed your powers successfully upgraded. Him having to act like a system congratulating your work, it left Alastor confused, but he too praised you for your achievement without giving up

Next step was to not use your quill to write, you already had an idea to use your fingers like a particular anime’s protagonist from long long ago. Maybe you should rewatch it for some more ideas. But there was something else that you never got around to ask

“Oh yeah, why is it that you keep bringing me to this goldy realm of yours?” You poofed away some random objects you summoned with a wave, “Can’t we just do all this in the hotel? It’s big enough for it and we didn’t actually use much space anyways.”

Lucifer groaned, “Oh, no. No~ No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Thats, uh hah, no. Bad idea.”

Your head tilted, “Bad idea? That’s the hotel you rebuilt with the others, right?”

Lucifer would be banging his head from that movement, sadly and unfortunately for him, there was no wall in sight in this weird golden realm. “Yes, but now Charlie let Vox’s people install these screens all over the place and… Arghhh… I had to destroy the TV in my room cause of all the heebie-jeebies I got from it.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, it was like the day before I asked you if you thought of that power upgrade thing.”

No wonder Alastor was more pushy about you staying in your shared room or his radio tower recently. Never letting you away from those areas. Now you understand what it was about. You did wonder why Alastor didn’t tell you, but then you recalled how it was you that have been stressing about the deal with Lucifer and your power, so there was never a chance for him to tell you that

And naturally the other hotel members would assume Alastor told you so they never approached you. Ohhh… You feel like a jerk now

You quickly made your way down to the lobby, easily finding everyone you needed

“Charlie!”

“Oh! You want to join our activity? We’re gonna do some online competition with this new—”

“No, Charlie, why did you accept VoxTech’s stuff?” You questioned immediately, stepping between the group and the large screen. 

“Vox was sponsoring us! He gave us so much help! He even had his employees install everything around the hotel.” Charlie praised, though you noticed how her eyes stayed glued to what was behind her. The others all nodded in agreement, seemingly in a trance.

Your eyebrows furrowed, you looked behind you, just a peek was enough to see that Vox had been hypnotizing them to say good things about him. You glared at the screen, showing Vox and his hypnotic eye. This doesn’t work on you. “Alastor!”

“Darling!” Alastor appeared through the shadows, immediately turning you away from the screen as his hands held your face so that you stare at him, “Did he do anything to you?”

“It’s okay, hypnosis has no effect on me.” You spoke through squished cheeks, you squeeked when Alastor stole a peck before releasing you. You blush, never will you get used to this, you peeked around your lover, seeing the group recover. “Alastor, destroy all VoxTech products in this hotel. No matter how big or small.”

Alastor’s grin grew, “With pleasure.”

You wrote ‘recovery’ on your pages and restored the gang back to conscious minds. You would try your newest technique, but this was more concerning since it was on someone other than you

When the group snapped back to their senses, Charlie and Vaggie shouted at you for what you told Alastor to do. You argued back that they weren’t even aware that they were mind controlled by Vox, it was a matter of time before they were mere puppets. You pointed over to Angel who’s boss, Valentino was Vox’s partner, and Angel backed you up easily

Lucifer offered his thoughts on the matter as well, claiming that’s why he doesn’t watch TV that often. He didn’t want to say anything because the hotel was Charlie’s and it was her decision on what she does with it

You went on to warning them how controlling and unseemingly evil Vox could get, he truly is manipulative with that perfect CEO outlook he gave everyone around him. When things don’t go his way, he was sure to retaliate like a baby throwing a tantrum. You relate with Alastor on how you two view Vox. Truly, you wonder why he was accepted as an Overlord with that personality of his

From this the group honestly saw how you were once an informant for Lucifer. You speak your mind, acting swiftly and precisely. Your knowledge on other demons, Overlords even, was a deadly weapon at your disposal. Your secretive nature made things more complicated since you wouldn’t be one to share unless necessary

Alastor praised and sang you words of flattery at your action, even though he was the one that did all the work. You merely had to drag him to your level and kiss him to shut him up, then you two went back to your shared room to cuddle while having your movie night

Charlie and Vaggie cut all contacts with Vox and his company, warning him to stay away from the hotel if and when he has ill-intention to associate with it

“F**k!” Vox slammed his fist onto the table, his screen face glitched with error messages as his rage continued to raise. All his cameras and speakers in the Hazbin Hotel was gone, the connection wasn’t merely lost, it was completely gone. 

He didn’t expect someone with authority to make Alastor destroy them all. He thought the bleeding princess will keep him at bay, and he was so close to finding out about that figure on the roof that day. Someone that protected Alastor and removed all the eyes he had to watch that battle.

“Pages…” Vox mumbled, he tugged on a chain that suddenly appeared. A contract chain. “You better stop meddling in my plans!”

“It wasn’t me! I swear!” The pulled in figure cried, her long hair covering her crying face, “I’ve been here all this time! How can I do anything!?”

Vox glared, pulling on the chain until it was choking her, “Well, it’s not everyday you see a sinner with the power to command pages to do their bidding, right? Who else if not for you? Huh?”

The female demon cried and sobbed more, “It wasn’t me, it really wasn’t… Don’t punish me…”

Vox eyed his giant tank with aquatic creatures, his grin grew, “Yeah, I think you need some reminding.” He told his little weak contracted soul to his eye level, “Who it is that owns you, you don’t get to decide. Copy-Kat.”

Note: Hi hi everyone!! This is back from a bit of a pause (as you can tell, I've been working on another series). Though this part might not be as good as you'd like. But necessary for the future parts. Haha~

The requests sent a long time ago on the Reader's/your past acquaintances and interaction with Vox will be added to the parts after this! Or treated as trivia when direct contact is made!

Give this series a warm welcome back~

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist

[ashdreams2023]

Severus snape and reader is 20 but has to take an internship since they dropped out from beauxbatons, is now dating severus as his full time assistant, and they were cuddling by the campfire in severus's office (bones if the relationship is secret)

Just between us

Summary: you and severus are dating secretly

Whispers they were always whispers, either was in the classrooms, the halls or even worse the great hall itself.

You’re supposed to get used to it now, it has been a year now, since your landed your internship and become the potion masters assistant.

It wasn’t easy that’s for sure, you were young and you just dropped out of school, one of the best at that and people just didn’t know how to mind their business.

Fortunately for you, you had the pleasure of being taken seriously by the potion master of the oh so great hogwarts.

Severus didn’t play around when it came to his field of work and you respected that, you tried to learn as much as you can from watching his work, study beforehand so you can he helpful in class and be prepared for any questions that might come up.

Eventually severus swallowed his pride and made it clear that he finds your work acceptable and gave you permission to be his substitute when he’s not in for the day.

And not only that but things developed…emotionally, you still remember when you stayed behind on Christmas and he was the only professor left in the castle, you invited him to have dinner in your chambers, you chatted about work and whatnot, he knew how to keep a conversation interesting and by the end of it you two took a walk around the empty grounds.

You don’t recall when you decided that you can address him as your boyfriend in your head but you do know it felt right.

"I’m back" you say softly not to startled him or your cat, although the two know your schedule like the back of their hand/paw now.

Your cat meows happily but doesn’t get off of Severus’s lap, he’s sitting on his arm chair near the fire reading.

"Welcome back" Severus mumbles glancing momentarily up from his book then looked back down.

You sighed then took off your coat and placed your wand on the small desk near the sofa.

Your stood up on all fours on your boyfriend’s lap and called for you, a chuckled escaped your lips and within seconds you scooped the little guy into your arms and slid snuggly into Severus’s lap.

Severus raises his arm up to give you more space to be comfortable, his arms rested on your waist comfortably like he’s done a million times before.

"And you don’t think they will catch up at one point?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about" you scratched the head of your cat and kissed his jaw.

"Really? Going down the dungeons every night, laughing every time someone asks if you’re single" He raised a brow at you.

You bit your lip and patted your lashes "I missed you too"

Severus sighs and tightens his hold on you "Kindly do remember that I don’t want to be the next hot gossip topic of my fifth and sixth year female students, they are more than bored and would devour the chance"

"I would never put you into such horror, they are ruthless!" You laughed.

"I can only hope" he closed his book and placed it back on the shelf beside him.

"It’s only between us and kiwi" Your sweet cat purred laying comfortably in your lap.

"And kiwi better learn not to steal potion ingredients from my private pantry to play with"

"Aww sev don’t be mean to my baby"

The man sucked the inside of his cheek then cupped your cheeks with his hand and leaned down kissing your soft lips.

You kissed him back smiling into the kiss.

[grapejuicestyless]

The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

[lost-in-lamentation]

💉🌧 - sick fic, rain.

lucifer × gen!reader. fluff.

warnings: lucifer gets sick, kind of collapses, nothing serious.

content: on a rainy day, lucifer lends you his umbrella. he discovers the consequences later.

back to the 500 follower event: here.

lucifer has always been prepared for anything. even the rainy days, which are scarce in the devildom to begin with.

the rain continuously pelts against the windows of his office in RAD, rattling the frames as it fights to keep the inside world dry. quietly, lucifer overlooks the proposed curriculum for a new devildom mathematics class as you scribble away on your own assignments. the demon enjoys these moments, when neither of you can be bothered by anyone from a specific set of individuals. but the rain is only getting worse, and lucifer needs to prioritise.

“MC, are you done your work?”

you stretch your arms above your head, a soft yawn escaping you as you nod your head. “just about. should we head back?”

“yes. the rain may only get worse if we wait any longer.” lucifer hears you hum in agreement and begins to pack his own things away. the papers rustle as he slides them into a folder; a gentle sound compared to how it continues to rumble outside. he tells you he’ll wait at the front doors for you, grabbing the umbrella he keeps just in case from the shelf. you don’t take long to finish, but when you run up to meet him, lucifer can’t help but notice the way you’ve draped your uniform jacket over your head. “do i want to ask what you’re doing?”

“well…” shifting your weight from side to side, lucifer can tell you’re debating your options. “i don’t have an umbrella.” the avatar of pride shoots you an incredulous look, causing you to stutter. “look, i- it barely rains down here! you can’t just expect me to have an umbrella at the ready!”

all of a sudden, you’re pouting at lucifer, and he is at a loss for words. he scans you carefully, releasing a resigned sigh as he holds his umbrella out to you. “we’ve wasted enough time.”

you shake your jacket into its original place as you take the umbrella. “what about you?”

“i would prefer if you were protected from the rain.”

“you’ll get sick if you walk in the rain.”

“nonsense. that only applies to humans.”

lucifer learns it does not apply to only humans.

three days later, beel is knocking quietly at your door, reporting that lucifer has not been seen for the last 24 hours. you suppress a cheeky grin, promising the concerned twin that you would go and check on the eldest. you pad down the hallway in almost complete silence, the carpeted floor doing well to muffle your footsteps. your knuckles rap softly against lucifer’s door, but before you can get a response, the door creaks open by itself.

“lucifer?” you whisper into the pitch black room, waiting for your vision to adjust to the darkness as you shut the door behind you. “lucifer, where in diavolo’s name are you?” you hiss in feigned annoyance, pulling your d.d.d. out of your pocket to use the screen as a flashlight. finally, you see him; sitting on the ground, propped up against the couch rather than on the couch itself. despite the lack of lighting, you can tell that his hair is dishevelled, and his breathing comes out erratic instead of steady. carefully, you shuffle to his side, pocketing your phone so that you have both your hands free. your fingers are gentle as you brush the stray hairs out of his face, and your hands, cold to the touch, have lucifer leaning into you for a fraction of a second. “you’re burning up…”

instantly, pride returns. lucifer pulls away from you, eyes wide as he struggles to gain his bearings. “MC, my room is not one where you can come and go when you’d like,” he rasps, pulling himself up while he pretends he wasn’t just unconscious on the ground. “leave before i curse you.” the demon forces himself to his feet, face twisted in concentration as he tries not to tremble where he stands.

you straighten your back to stand next to him, arms held out in front of you in the event that lucifer fails to continue to stay upright. “you don’t look like you can curse anyone like this, lucifer.”

the air turns hot from his displeasure. “regardless, there is no reason for you to be in here.” lucifer can only manage a step before a migraine takes a hold of him. there are claws digging into his skin and a chasm splits his head in two, forcing him to his knees.

“lucifer!” you’re at his side in an instant, pulling his hands away from his head and gathering him into your arms. he gives in to you right away, his body weight pressing on you as the strength is sapped from him. his breathing, you notice, is jagged; he can barely take one full breath without it being interrupted. “lucifer, you need to lie down.” with much effort, you slide closer to the couch, counting yourself down mentally before pushing him up onto the cushions. when he groans at the movement, you can’t help but shush him softly, carding your fingers through his already mussed hair. you keep it up for a few minutes, waiting until his breathing evens out to slip away. but the eldest brother, sharp as always, calls out to you before you can leave.

“MC?”

you never thought you’d hate to hear lucifer so weak. “i’ll be right back, okay?” in record time, you run down to the kitchen to get him some water, as well as a spare rag just in case. by the time you return, lucifer is already sitting back up, dazed eyes lighting up ever so slightly when you appear in front of him. “didn’t i tell you to lie d-”

“don’t leave me.” you inhale sharply, attention snapping back from the things you gathered to the sick demon on the couch. “i won’t know what to do if you leave.”

carefully, you set your things down on the coffee table behind you. “i would never leave you, lucifer.”

“you just did.”

“i went to get you water,” you say in a low voice, reaching behind and grabbing the water bottle for him to see. “here.” lucifer waits for you to unscrew the cap before extending his hand to take it, but you shake your head ‘no’ and bring it to his lips for him. “your hands are shaking too much.”

luckily, a sick lucifer is much more agreeable than a regular lucifer, and he accepts without complaint. you watch as he slowly comes to his senses, cheeks flushed a scarlet red from both embarrassment and his sudden fever. “i’m sorry, MC. i am not myself.”

you give him a sigh, gazing at him with such stark affection that lucifer thinks he’s hallucinating again. “get some sleep then. i’ll make some food for when you wake up.”

lucifer says nothing, but instead wraps his fingers around your wrist weakly. “don’t leave.” he pauses, and you feel his grip tighten. “please,” he whispers; he begs.

unmoving, your eyes flicker from his hand on your wrist to his face. lucifer lowers his head, unwilling to return your gaze. behind you, the clock ticks rhythmically, counting the seconds that lucifer has been waiting for a response. of course, you resign, turning yourself around to sit on the edge of the couch. you swing your legs up onto the cushions, leaning back onto the arm rest so that you’re angled upwards. once you find yourself comfortable, you pull lucifer towards you, letting his head rest against your shoulder as more of his weight falls onto you. although his temperature still runs high, it’s lower than what it was when you first found him. the best thing now, you decide, is to hold him close.

you can hear the gentle patter of rain against the windows, a reminder of what landed you in this situation in the first place. but now, with lucifer peacefully dozing off in your embrace, you can’t help but think that you might never buy an umbrella at all.

a/n: .... hi guys

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[bethanydelleman]

There’s a new book out called The Darcy Myth that says in the summary that P&P is actually a “horror novel” about how scary love is for women… I know the Bennet sisters’ situation is precarious but to call it a “horror novel” ? :P

Okay... so... ug.... did this woman even read Pride & Prejudice? Because from the news coverage I would say no. Let me highlight some passages from the article:

Darcy should be considered the main antagonist of the famous love story

Not Wickham? Not the man who runs off with literal teenage girls?

Darcy pays Wickham to marry Lydia, saving her reputation, and later tells Elizabeth, “I thought only of you” when acting. For Feder, this phrase is proof of the hero’s self-interest. Darcy condemns Lydia to a life with an amoral man, all so the Bennets don’t become so disreputable that he won’t be able to marry the woman he loves.

Um, sorry, but no. Darcy tried to get Lydia away FIRST, she refused, he respected Lydia's autonomy as a human being. Becoming brother-in-law to Wickham was probably worse for Darcy personally than Lydia being "ruined"

I found Feder’s exploration of “Pride and Prejudice”as a Gothic novel — rather than a comedy of manners — far more compelling than her critique of Darcy.

Wut? No. Not even a little bit, what? That is a different genre.

“Darcy helped codify the dominant expectation that potential romantic partners — especially heterosexual men — are not only still eligible but in fact more appealing when they play a little hard to get, even if playing hard to get involves cruelty, insults, expressions of disinterest, ruining your beloved sister’s chances of happiness, and other red flags,” she writes. Women spend their time, energy and emotions on men who, quite simply, are not worth their effort.

Okay, except ELIZABETH NEVER TRIES ANYTHING WITH DARCY. She just sits there and he falls in love with her. If she did put effort into any relationship it was with Wickham, who again, is presented as a massive red flag in the end. This line of argument is wild.

Yet, seeing the sheer number of times women pursue cruel men in pop culture laid out one after another — in Disney movies, Taylor Swift songs and much more — is affecting. Feder concludes convincingly that this cultural conviction harms women in the same way the patriarchal boundaries of the regency did. She writes: “If we zoom out, we see that the Darcy myth also helps to prop up and fortify a very Gothic, patriarchal universe that is, and always has been, scary for anyone who is not a very particular type of man. After all, if we are trained from childhood to invest ourselves in men who treat us poorly, aren’t we more likely to end up in abusive situations and under threat of assault?”

Okay, so this is a valid point, but it also is based on a misreading of Pride & Prejudice or is heavily influenced by adaptations. Darcy isn't cruel, he's snobby and somewhat rude but definitely NOT cruel. Wickham is exactly the type of man you want to avoid: charming until he isn't.

ALSO WHAT DISNEY PRINCE IS AN ASSHOLE??? @princesssarisa? Can you be offended at that one in my stead?

So... this book sounds like rage-bait insanity and I won't be reading it until proved otherwise. Putting it on the avoid shelf along with Secret Radical.

Last note: There is a valid point to be made that jerks or dark broody men have been romanticized, but Austen DOES NOT DO THAT. That is not an Austen thing. Use an actual problematic Gothic or Byronic hero.

[cillivnz]

tidal [murphy macmanus]

PAIRING — MURPHY MACMANUS x F!READER

GENRE — SMUT, SLIGHT ANGST, FLUFF.

WORD COUNT — 2030

WARNINGS — established relationship, cursing, mentions of physical fights, deep cuts (cleaning = pain), bruises, blood, injured!murphy, reader cleans his scars, pet names, sexual innuendo, oral sex (m! receiving), smoking, p in v sex, cowgirl, creampie, slight breeding kink, breasts/nipple play.

A/N — wanted to write fluff, but my horny ass can’t sway from smut. so, enjoy.

NOTES; Leannán — lover

"Fuckin' cocksucker." You hear your boyfriend yell as he entered the apartment. Glancing over your shoulder to see he hasn't yet reached the living room, you proceed with making coffee for the two of you. "What's wrong, baby?" You call out. When no response followed, you decided to pause your coffee preparation and look for Murphy.

Your eyes widened when the sight of him revealed, silhouette first. Murphy was leaning agonisingly against the wall which his bloody hands stained red. The same crimson dripped out of a slick cut tainting his still flawless skin, knuckles reddish blue with incisions.

"God, darling! What happened?" You rushed over in a frenzy, almost falling to the floor, Murphy with you. He chuckled slightly at your reaction before groaning when it ached to laugh.

"He-he, you shoulda' seen the other guy." He said when you began stroking his cheek just below the cut, he winced softly at that. You let your exasperation be known at his pride.

His shirt was torn from places near and above his abdomen which turned out to be slashed as you took a closer look; even, superficially, drawing blood. Your brows furrowed together in pain. You had (through great difficulty) come to terms with his and Connor's way of living, but seeing Murphy in physical agony was something your heart could never grow accustomed to. You knew he was in the best of spirits knowing he let 'justice prevail' yet another time, but you knew he'd feel guilty letting you take care of him. Seeing the pleading look on your face, Murphy gave you a weak smile, the helplessness evident on his face.

"Oh, baby—" you slowly trailed off, kissing the unharmed portions of body. When your kisses trailed off to his abdomen, and finally down to his v-line, you understood where this would end up, and you weren't in the mood right now.

Boy, were you wrong.

"—let's get you cleaned up." You grabbed his hand and gained composure, a tear escaping your eye, unnoticed by Murphy. He let out a sigh before limping slightly, and following you to the bathroom.

You grabbed the medical kit from the cabinet, back facing him as you ordered, "Go sit on the slab, I'll be with you in a minute."

Though the sight of you right now was inviting; tight jeans hugging your curves perfectly, and one of his old t-shirts which was a little raised due to your stretching to reach the topmost shelf, which Murphy would've done for you, if he wasn't the patient; Murphy obediently sat on the slab.

When you turned around his eyes immediately landed on your tits. The shirt was so loose that your bare shoulders were visible, as was your tainted collarbone from Murphy's kissed and your tits. It seemed significantly low-cut, more than needed at the moment. You saw him shift in his pants from the corner of your eye; eyes rolling in disbelief.

He's horny. Broken, beaten up, and horny.

Taking antiseptic and pouring it on some cotton you began to address his wounds.

He seemed to be taking the pain pretty well; his high pain tolerance came to you as no surprise, considering how many brawls he's been in, but he did wince a little as you moved to the slashed flesh of his face. "This one's deep — I'm sorry for the sting, baby." It saddened you to see him in this state, but he did his best to show you he's alright, chucking softly, before coughing in pain.

"I hope I ain't broken somethin'." He groaned, beginning to shift to his side so he could look at you better. "I hope it's not a rib." You sigh softly.

"What was it this time?" You asked, not facing him while rummaging through the drawers to find gauze. "Hm?" He halfheartedly questioned. His eyes were on your body and your body was on his mind; thoughts of you were cut short when you, yourself asked him, "Why did you fight?"

"Rocco." He said less and you understood. You chuckled when he said, "He's a troublemaker, wee lad." You were about to leave the bathroom, looking for a substitute to the hidden gauze, when he grabbed you by the arm. "Come 'ere for a sec," he pulled you closer. You stood between his legs, arms on either side of him.

"You're not even gonna kiss your patient, doctor?" He massaged your curves. "Might be the only cure for me—" His eyes trailed to your lips, oh, how he'd want nothing more than those plump, soft, crimson lips to paint his skin! "You'd make a naughty patient, Murphy." You teased in a sultry tone, "Can't help it," he replied, "My doctor's the sexiest."

"Oh, yeah?" You teased, giggling, "Tell me more." He grinned.

"See, she's the prettiest lass ever. 'Never seen beauty like hers." You blushed, "She's got sexiest eyes that look into my soul when she's sucking my cock. She's got a cute little nose that scrunches up when she laughs at my jokes. And don't get me started on those lips of hers..." You inched closer, softly kissing his neck, and around the tender skin above the cut on his cheek.

"And if her kisses are the cure to my wounds, I'll let myself be slashed over and over." He breathed out, eyes closing in relief when you began sucking on his sweet spot. He placed your hand on the bulge in his pants. "Look what you do to me."

"I didn't do much..." Your voice trailed off as you kissed along his jaw. "You needn't. I could never get over you. Even when you're not around, I'm like this— at the sheer thought of you— it's paining me."

You were at a loss of words; never able to compete with him when it came to vocalising your love, but he never complained. You made up for it by staying. He'd expected you to walk out the first time he got into a fight — but you didn't. You stayed; kissing his crimson scars and watching them heal by your love.

"I'll have the water running for you." You pecked his lips, he nodded, smiling into the quick kiss.

He sat curled by the sink while you filled the bathtub for him. As it filled, you grabbed his hand, and gently stripped him off his rags. Once bare, he let you guide him to warm waters. He was hesitant in sinking in, shivering a little. It wasn't the water though, he trembled from pain and his state devastated you.

"Try to relax, honey." You cooed; he simply sighed in response. "Would you like me to help you?" You asked, an insinuating smirk plastered on your face.

He knew your looks of sexual innuendo like the back of his hand, for he elicited them.

"Please, have your way." He whispered. Even Murphy was surprised at the fact that his hard-on was now noticed by you, not when you removed him from his clothing. "Is this for me, baby?" You asked as you slowly stroked his cock. "All for you, my love. It's made for you." He groaned, head fall backwards as you applied more pressure and hastened your movements. You hummed, licking a long strip from the base to the slit at the tip. "God, you're killing me."

You hum in satisfaction— the sound sending shivers down his spine, causing him to twitch in your mouth. When he began fiddling in the bath— hands not knowing where and what to grab, you began stroking his length instead, free hand gently pressing him down so as to lay him. "Relax, Murphy. I want you to relax for me." Your tone was soothing, nonetheless sultry.

He then let the warm waters consume him. You were all he needed in this cruel world of injustice and dirty politics; to find something as sweet as you, the Lord really did consider him a Saint for blessing him like this.

"That's it darling, I'm gonna cum for you." He grabbed your hair and began hastening your movements. You sucked determinedly, eager to satisfy, and your efforts bore fruit when he hit the back of your throat and let his seed flow down.

"Oh, sweet angel..." He grabbed your face to kiss you. It was damn near impossible for you to not touch his face— his black eye, and slit cheek preventing you— nonetheless, the kiss was passionate and loving.

"Let's get you cleaned, my love." You helped him bathe.

After drying him, you gave him warm clothes to wear. The Boston winters were cruel, and the rain outside was merciless, too. He wore a cozy grey sweater, and sat in front of you, on the couch.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The first puff was passed to you, as became his habit; lighting it for himself, yet he'd always let you have it first— something you've always found endearing, though he doesn't realise how much these little make you fall harder in love with him, as if being more than head over heels as you are was possible.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" You asked him, when his gaze darkened. "I wanna fuck you so bad right now." His voice, barely audible.

"Murphy..." You look at him pleadingly. He knew, too, he couldn't even walk without your support and he wants to pound you. But his hard-on was back, and it throbbed for you.

And, that's how you ended up like this.

Riding him fervently, while his hands practically ached to touch you, still, placed on his sides. His grip on the sheets scrunched the bed-sheet; you were desperate to touch him, too, but your own hands were pinching and playing with your nipples.

You bounce on his cock; the lack of support making your movements sloppy, yet so hard and deep, your thighs ached every time you would lift yourself till only the tip remained inside and then pushed back down as your cunt squeezed him in like a vice.

"That's it, baby, cream on that cock." He looks up to you, your messy hair framing your face perfectly as sweat began to form in your cleavage. Your lips were swollen from kissing him, your breasts bounced with every thrust and your knuckles turned white, gripping the sheets instead of running your fingers through your boyfriend's hair.

He was in so, so deep— his tip kissing the top of your walls rhythmically every time you'd shove down on his cock. You were mesmerised even more so by his face. Those pale blue eyes looked at you, pleadingly; aching, for you to cum. He needed release, of modern worldliness and sexually, and you've become that release for him.

It only took a few more thrusts before he plunged inside you and began grinding your hips together. "Yes, fill me up!" You moaned like a pornstar, causing Murphy to continue thrusting into you, while his mouth ravenously devoured your tits. The overstimulation driving you into a frenzy; you shivered uncontrollably as he stilled, having his fill of you, and letting your excruciatingly hot walls drain his cock.

“I love you so much,” You moaned, as you began to pull yourself up, away from his cock, but it seemed like your cunt's vice-like grip had other plans. "I love you too, leannán— so much." He whispered, out of breath. His swollen lips wet at the sight of you— dripping in his load and your own cum. He pulled you in for a fervent kiss before he could get hard again and fuck you more than both of you could handle right now.

You laid him down whilst kissing, and he weakly pulled the blanket up for you. The minute you snug in, his strong arms wrapped around your waist; one hand tracing circles around your nipples, as if hardening them would put you to sleep, but the little erotic feeling satisfied you.

And your tidal love sweeping Murphy's shores of sins clean was all this Saint could've prayed for.

So you drift off to sleep, in each other's embrace.

TAGLIST — the sweetest, @takemetoyourbestfriendshouse <3

to join, interact with this post.

main masterlist. more from ‘the boondock saints’.

[amhrosina]

“Why are you so nice to me?” (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: oop- i’m in my frank castle era and no one can stop me. this was meant to be 500 words and then i accidentally wrote 3,000. soft!frank is my comfort character and that’s the hill i’m choosing to die on.

Summary: Frank and Reader unexpectedly confront their feelings for one another on a rooftop.

Warnings: mentions of blood/past injuries, soft smutty frank, reader is female presenting w/ long-ish hair

You glared at the bouquet of roses that had mysteriously appeared in your kitchen window, thrusting your purse against the couch with a huff. You had been gone less than five minutes, but you knew that was more than enough time for Frank Castle to send you a message.  

You knew it was Frank’s doing. The flower vase had been plucked from the top shelf of your kitchen cabinets, a place that, conveniently, only Frank could reach. His signal was simple, but effective, and the only way he had been communicating with you for the last six months.  

Six months. That’s how long it had been since you stumbled across his unconscious body on your rooftop, covered in blood and bruises. When he came to, you were in the middle of stitching up a cut on his arm. He had thrashed around, trying to get away from you in his vulnerable condition, but his head had been thoroughly battered, so you had won that struggle. That was the first and likely the last time you would be able to subdue the Punisher.

When you had finished patching him up, you helped him to his feet and said your goodbyes, convinced that you’d never see him again. Then the flowers started arriving. Every once in a while, a new bouquet would appear in your windowsill, and you’d know that Frank wanted to see you. Sometimes he came to your door and knocked, other times he’d slide through the window from the fire escape. A few times, after especially hard nights, you’ve had to track him to the rooftop, where you’d sit with him for hours, not saying anything to each other.  

Frank liked that you didn’t ask too many questions, and at first, that was an easy thing to offer him. You barely knew anything about him, other than the fact that he made sure bad people paid for their wrongdoings. But, as your relationship with Frank had evolved, so had your concern.  

It started really subtly. You would see a report on the news about a warehouse explosion and wonder if Frank was involved. That quickly developed into hoping you’d get flowers so that at least you’d know that he was alive after bad shit went down in the city.  

Now, you were harboring a big fat crush on the big bad Punisher, and you didn’t know what to do about it. Frank was easily one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen, but his demeanor was what drew you to him. Yes, he was responsible for killing some really bad men. Yes, he was violent and angry at the people who took his family from him. Yes, he was extremely grumpy sometimes and would distance himself from you for a couple of weeks at a time.  

But he was also very gentle and caring. You felt it in the light touches he’d press into your back as he walked past you in your tiny kitchen, and in the way he’d consoled you after your favorite stray cat passed away. Even when you had tried to carry too much up the stairs and scraped your knees to high hell, he had gently cleaned the wounds while you tried and failed to hold onto your pride in front of him.  

Frank Castle was a deeply misunderstood human being, but you saw him, and he saw you.  

You glanced at the clock – 11:48pm – and went to put your shoes back on. If it was this late already, he’d be up on the roof waiting for you. You grabbed your first aid kit, which had been emptied and restocked about a million times since meeting Frank, and the bag of sandwiches you’d ordered at the bodega on the corner, grateful that you’d bought enough for two.  

New York City was beautiful during the day, but at night, when the city was lit, and the streets weren’t crowded with cars and people, it was encapsulating. October called for cold nights, so you shivered as you walked through the roof access door. You hadn’t thought to bring a jacket.  

Frank was sitting in his usual spot, back against an air vent, legs stretched out in front of him, looking out into the city. The only indication that he knew you were there was a slight head tilt. His face, in all its beauty, was stoic and surprisingly unmarked. Tinges of yellow and green were scattered across his face – old bruises that were almost completely gone. His expression suggested that he was thinking hard about something, which meant he might not even say a word to you tonight, other than a quiet “Goodnight,” when he was leaving.

You gently sat down next to him, handing him a sandwich and tearing into your own.  

“Thank you.” It was a hushed whisper, barely audible, but you bumped his shoulder with your own in response. You were both silent as you ate, and you spent a lot of that time scanning his body for injuries. He didn’t seem like he was in pain, and you couldn’t see any wounds, but that didn’t mean he was untouched. Frank was a master at pretending he was okay.

You were startled out of your thoughts as Frank slowly leaned his leg towards yours, brushing up against your own in a warm and comforting manner. Your gaze flicked up to his face, only to flick back down to where your legs were touching.  

“Are you okay?” You asked, tilting your chin towards his body. A breeze picked up, and you involuntarily shivered as you turned to look at him.  

“Are you cold?” His voice was a smooth, warm injection into your veins, something you felt in the pit of your stomach. He had already begun taking his jacket off, apparently uninterested in your response. He gently wrapped the jacket around your shoulders and untucked your hair for you, taking care to tuck any loose strands behind your ears. You muttered a thanks, before turning away from him so that he couldn’t see the blush creeping up your neck. He had no idea how crazy he made you.  

His gravelly voiced echoed across the rooftop as he said your name.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

“I mean, the sandwiches, the stitches, the late nights. You let me into your home. You could’ve easily left me for dead when you found me the first night, but you didn’t. You could’ve easily forgotten about me. Gone on with your life and pretended you’d never seen me.”

You met his fiery gaze, curious as to where this was coming from. Your arrangement worked because neither of you asked each other tough questions.

“I...I don’t know, Frank. Maybe I’m just a nice person.” You shrugged.

“No. Not this nice. There are plenty of people who would’ve run screaming if the Punisher ended up half-dead on their rooftop. Some might’ve finished the job. Why did you help me? Why do you help me, even now?”

His gaze was determined, and it dawned on you that he might be asking these questions out of insecurity. Did he think you were doing this in exchange for something? You were as honest as you could be without letting your feelings for him loose.  

“I don’t have a good reason for why I helped you the first time. I couldn’t just leave you for dead, I guess.” You shrugged again, looking everywhere but his face. “I help you because I think you might be lonely. And I’m lonely too. And because I believe you’re a good person, Frank,” you finished, giving him a pointed look.  

He took a slow breath, looking down at his lap. You guessed you were right in your assessment. You gnawed at your bottom lip, hoping you hadn’t crossed a line that would cause him to distance himself from you.  

“I’m sorry,” you start, shaking your head, “I shouldn’t have said that about you. I’m-”

“I think you’re probably right,” he interrupted, looking back at your face, “You make me feel...less alone. Which is probably why I keep coming back.” He granted you a small smile, something you’d only seen on a few, rare occasions.  

“You make me feel less alone too, Frankie.” You whispered, tucking your knees into your chest and resting your chin on them.

You sat in comfortable silence, looking over his features as he did the same.  

“Is that why you came tonight? If you’re not hurt...,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not hurt, right?”

Frank chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not hurt.”  

He paused, looking directly at you. You felt a sturdy warmth in his gaze. His eyes, usually distant and cold, were soft and unwavering as he shifted his body to face yours.  

“I think...I mean I’m pretty sure I came because I wanted to see you. Is that such a bad thing?” His question was barely spoken above a whisper. He wore a vulnerable expression, an expression that you’d come to yearn for. Frank Castle was not a vulnerable man, but you’d seen him at his worst, and you’d stayed anyway.  

You faced him, crossing your legs so that your knees were touching his. Slowly, you lifted your hand, softly tracing the scars that littered his face. The scars that you’d sewn together time and time again. Across his eyebrow, down his nose, across his lips, and along his jaw line, until you finally rested your palm on his cheek.  

“It’s not a bad thing, Frankie.” You murmured.

He leaned into your hold, squeezing his eyes shut. You know it must be hard for him to admit his feelings, however confusing they may be. For the short time that you’ve known him, you could clearly tell that he has an undying loyalty to his late wife and kids.  

He leaned in, resting his forehead on yours. His hands came up to cup your neck and jaw. He repeated your name under his breath like a mantra.

“I don’t know if this makes me a bad person, but when I’m with you, it just feels,” he paused, “it just feels right, ya know? I don’t have to hide from you. You see me. You see me, and you don’t run.”

You shook your head. “You’re not a bad person, Frank.”  

Slowly, he leaned in further, pressing his lips against yours. It was a soft kiss, but the intent was clear. Tingles ran through your body he kissed you like you were the most important thing in the world. His hands tightened around your head, pulling you towards him.  

His tongue ran against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You’d never given permission so quickly before. Your tongue met his in a searing kiss. You’d never been kissed with so much passion. Then again, it seemed Frank functioned on passion, whether it be with anger or otherwise.  

You parted from him, catching your breath. His expression immediately turned apologetic, but you shook your head before he could get a word out.  

“Let’s go inside.” You gestured to the door.

He followed you down the stairs, fiddling with your fingers as you led him to your apartment.  

As soon as Frank closed the door behind him, he was on you, his front to your back. He slowly stripped his jacket off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor beside him. His body was warm, despite the chill in the October air. He tilted your chin towards him, angling your head so that you could look at him.  

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can tell me to stop. I won’t be upset.”

“There you go again, trying to give yourself an out.” You smile at him, turning so you could fully face him. “I want this, Frank. I have for a long time. Do you?”  

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He backed you into the wall, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. His hands roamed down the sides of your body, from your waist to your hips, cupping your ass as he molded his body to yours. Your body responded, arching towards him. He left a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck, where he focused the attention of his tongue.  

You let out a soft moan, running your hands down his torso. You pawed at the bottom of his shirt, slowly lifting it up his body and over his head. You’d seen him shirtless before this, but he was usually bleeding or unconscious, so you stifled another moan.

Your eye caught a new bruise, blooming ugly and purple around his ribs.  

“Frank! You said you weren’t hurt!”  

“’s nothin, sweetheart. Just a bruise,” he mumbled into your neck.

Your body clenched at the pet name. You could definitely get used to that.  

He molded his body into yours again, lifting your body and wrapping your legs around his waist. Navigating to your bedroom was easy for him, considering all the times he’s had to walk through it to get to your bathroom.

He softly placed you on the bed, bringing your shirt up and over your head. His lips met yours again, and you quickly started undoing his belt buckle. His hands stopped yours from reaching their goal.

“I got it, baby. Let me take care of you, like you take such good care of me.”

You laid back, panting as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs. He stifled a groan and gazed at the ceiling. You were wearing a matching set of black lace bra and panties. His hands roamed up your legs, pausing at the tops of your thighs. He leaned in, licking a line from your navel to the top of your panties.  

You moaned, arching into his touch.  

“Frankie, please.” You gasped, begging for him to keep touching you.  

He gazed at you, before reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra. Slowly, he brought his hands down your sides again, pulling your panties down and placing them in his back pocket.  

You were now completely bare before him, gazing up at him with a doe-like expression.  

He mumbled your name under his breath, running his hands across your stomach.  

“You’re...amazing. You’re beautiful. I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I never thought...,” he trailed off. His voice was breathless, like he was trying to take in the sight before him.  

“Please, Frankie. Please.” You pleaded with him to touch you, voice breaking.

His eyes darkened as he slowly took his pants off, holding your gaze.  

Your eyes widened at his size, although you shouldn't have been surprised. You’d seen the man in his underwear many times before when you were patching him up, so you had a good idea that he was big, but you never let yourself think about it too much.  

You shuffled back on the bed as Frank crawled up your body, stopping when his head hung above yours.  

“Is this still okay?” He murmured, looking for any signs of regret in your eyes.  

You groaned. “Frank, if you don’t fuck me into next week right now, I’m never speaking to yo-”

You were cut off with a searing kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and he swallowed your moans as he lined himself up with your entrance.  

He pushed into you with the gentlest thrust he could muster. You pulled him closer to you, arching into his body.  

He let out a muffled moan into your shoulder when he was fully inside of you.

“So wet for me, baby. Fuck.” He grunted as he pushed into you again with more force.  

An overwhelming warmth overtook your body as he got rougher with his thrusts. He was moving at an agonizingly slow pace, but you could already tell you’d be sore in the morning.  

“Please, Frankie. Faster.” You moaned into his chest. He obliged, slamming into you faster.  

The room became a den of moans, skin slapping skin as he fucked you raw. He reached down, circling his thumb around your clit. Your heart very nearly leaped out of your chest. The knot at the bottom of your stomach became tighter and tighter as you got closer to your orgasm.  

“’m gonna come, Frankie.” You shuttered, holding onto his biceps as his finger began making faster circles.  

“Come, baby. Come on my cock, sweetheart.”  

You groaned as your orgasm washed over you. A sickening wave of heat and pleasure overtook your body, and you swore you saw stars for a second. Frank’s finger didn’t slow, riding out your orgasm as long as possible.  

Your heart pounded as you came down from your high. Frank sat back on his knees, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he pounded into you with a newfound force.  

“Where do you want me to come, baby?” He grunted through gritted teeth.  

“Oh god, please come in me, Frankie. I’m on birth contr-”

His moan cut you off as he came deep inside you. Warm spirts of his cum filled you to the brim. He panted, kissing your inner thighs as you both came down from your highs.  

You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Frank Castle deep inside of you. You both groaned as he pulled out. Frank disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a cloth, cleaning you. Your legs shook with the overstimulation, which made him smirk and kiss your thighs again.  

You were barely coherent as he helped you under the covers, only coming to when you realized he wasn’t crawling into bed next to you.

“Stay. Stay with me. Please” You mumbled, holding onto his hand as he tried to walk towards his discarded clothes.  

He nodded. “Okay, baby. I’ll stay.”  

He got under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. He mumbled your name into your shoulder as he left a trail of kisses down your neck.  

“I meant to ask you to dinner, tonight. I wasn’t expecting this.” He murmured.  

You sighed happily, kissing his scarred knuckles.  

“I would love to have dinner with you, but ask me again tomorrow, Frank. I’m sleepy.”

You were falling into unconsciousness quickly. He kissed your temple and nodded.  

“Okay, sweetheart.” 

End Note:

I hope you liked it. This was not beta read so if you see any mistakes, no you didn’t! I’m newer to writing smut (but not new to reading it! lol) This will likely develop into a series, where we get glimpses of Frank/Reader before this night and afterwards. I’m also a hoe for Matt Murdock so don’t be surprised if he shows up. I don’t have a specific point in Frank’s storylines that this takes place, so let’s just pretend it all makes sense.  

If you want to be on a tag list, let me know! 

[hiimawarish]

laws of attraction

s. alhaitham has solved many enigmas, except you. cw. mutual pining? kind of? fluff. a lil romantic tension. implied academic rivals. tw. none. not proofread. wc. 0.69k a/n. i was getting ready for bed, the first sentence popped up in my mind, and here we are. i have no excuse. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

There were not many things Alhaitham struggled to understand.

From his focus on linguistics and ancient languages to his almost obsessive pursuit of knowledge in other areas such as physics, he had discovered from a young age that his mind was gifted. No book was too advanced for him. No lecture too complicated or dense. Alhaitham’s life had been overcome with a thirst for knowledge that he had never quite quenched, or perhaps he had never been truly interested in satiating it. 

Whatever the reason, the truth remained that Alhaitham had found fewer challenges the more he studied. Be it Kaveh’s emotional outbursts or the inefficiency of his classmates, Alhaitham was unfazed. Keeping to himself was more a second nature than a habit by now—as natural as breathing, as reading.

It allowed him fewer failures. Not that they were ever abundant.

Unless it came to you, that is.

“Struggling?” His voice left him in his usual stoic manner, and yet the flash of anger in your eyes did not go unnoticed. Although subtle, if one were to pay close attention to his face, they’d notice the slight curve on his lips—a smile. “Which book?”

“Shut up.”

An amused chuckle left him at your words whispered in anger. The heat gathered in your cheeks at the sound, shame spreading to your ears and down into your neck and cleavage, hidden from his eyes under the Akademiya’s uniform. His laughter, though short, seemed to anger you even more—Alhaitham had discovered, quite quickly, that any sound coming from him seemed to have that effect. Even when he was merely offering his help to reach the book that you not-so-gracefully had been trying to get for the past ten minutes.

In spite of your mumbled, aggressive words, Alhaitham stretched his arm. His fingers traced the spine of a few books—linguistics in context, a comparison in-depth of language evolution around Teyvat, a compilation of ancient runes—until he finally got to the one he was sure you needed. He plucked it out from the shelf, admiring the familiar cover for a few seconds, before handing it to you.

“I never said I needed this.” You replied stubbornly. 

You were always too fast to refuse his help. That was his fault, according to Kaveh, but Alhaitham disagreed. Giving you fake praise on that draft you presented him on your first day of class would have been a disservice to you, and yet you had been far too prideful. Now you avoided his help—him—like the plague. 

Alhaitham glanced once toward the table you had been sitting at, an arrangement of old textbooks, reports, and scribbled notes surrounding your space. He turned his eyes to you, a questioning look that told you the answer was obvious. You did need it. You did need the comparative essay on how language had shaped Sumeru’s two faces. 

You were, still, too prideful, it seemed.

“You do, actually.” He placed the book on your table, dismissively. “It’s a primary source, shouldn’t you know that?”

A stubborn silence on your part is all he received. 

Alhaitham sighed. “It seems I overestimated your common sense. Or lack-there-of.”

He should leave. He knew that—his rationality screamed at him to stop bothering, to take your words at face value, and just leave you alone. But he couldn’t. Whether he relished in provoking you or simply saw you as an enigma that he needed to understand, he couldn’t tell. 

“See? You’re an idiot.” You nudged him angrily, ineffectual fists hitting his chest. Some other students had stopped, looking curiously at your exchange—usually, the attention would bother him, but he was too focused on you. On your scrunched-up nose, your furrowed brows, your lips pressed together in a thin, tempting line. “If you’re here just to make fun of me, leave. I’m sure you have far better and more important things to do.”

He sighed, though his lips curved in a subtle smile—he was familiar with facts, concrete information, but you seemed to be too abstract for him to grasp. The only thing Alhaitham knew for sure was that you were a magnet.

And he understood the laws of attraction too well to fight.

more works.

©2023 hiimawarish do not translate, repost, copy, modify

[brandogenius]

ok ok ok ok i have an idea can you do julien x shorter reader? like she's shorter than julien idk i just think it would be really cute for julien to be taller for once lol

oh my god i absolutely can lovely!

‼️RPF‼️

HC - julien x short reader!

- you already know she takes pride in the fact she’s a bit taller than you

- 4’9 and 5’0. it wasn’t that big of a difference but the way julien says it, makes it out to be something like 4’9 and 7’0

- having someone FINALLY shorter than her gave her some sort of confidence. teasing you always about it any second you can get.

- “how’s the weather down there baby?”

- julien took any chance to tease you whenever you were standing directly beside lucy considering your height difference

- julien loved to rest her chin on your head and wrap her arms around you. perfect combination

- her hoodies and t-shirts were just a bit baggier on you and you loved it.

- doesn’t need to be the only one to stand on chairs when meeting people (cough cough julien meeting bo burnham at the grammys)

- she loves having you sit on her lap. playing with your hair

- you’re unable to reach the top shelf so julien comes in like “don’t worry baby stand back i got this!” and proceeds to be unable to reach for it either. having to call phoebe or lucy in shame

[outalongtheedges]

Goose on Film pt2

Part 1 Masterlist

The big photo albums that Goose kept all of his pictures in, took up the majority of the bookcases in the Bradshaw's study, lining at least the two bottom rows. Goose on Film Volumes 1 - infinity for all Ice cared. He never really bothered to count them, cause whenever he had tried to, Goose had produced another one, adding it to the shelf after making a whole show out of it. Goose would get out the projector and made all of them sit in his living room while telling them a story about each and every one of the photos he's taken for this album.

Ice would be lying to himself and everyone he knew if he didn't admit that he at least enjoyed those evenings just a little bit. In fact he loved them, together with everyone he cares about, Mav by his side laughing and smiling.

Today was another evening like that, celebrating Goose on Film volume 30-something. Mav's last mission, him and Bradley smiling and laughing as they had made it out alive, BBQ at their place last summer and much more.

Ice stared at the cork board with a faint smile, looking at the things Goose and Carole had deemed as important enough to hang up on there. Two post-it notes, one with an airplane Goose had tried to draw that came out looking more like a fish, the two photos he had to steal back from Mav and Slider's wife, a negative to a picture of him and Mav from the 90s and of course their entire pride and joy, a picture little Brad Brad had drawn them. Not being able to draw planes seems to run in the family.

Ice smiled like he only did in private, looking at all the memories the Bradshaws had kept over the years, their entire house a testament to a life full of memories worthy of being stored out in the open.

Goose on Film Vol. 5, open on the floor, first page showing Mavericks sloppy all caps handwriting in a pen that had already seen its best days by the time Goose made his husband write the title with it. The photo to the negative that was on the cork board, gleamed at him in mint condition, like it had never been touched or seen the light of day. Maverick never seemed to look at the camera when he was so most of the photos they have together are of either him or Mav looking at anything other than the camera pointing at them. Nothings changed there.

Sometimes Ice doesn't know which exit ramp on which highway he took to end up here, but he won't question it.

"Ice come back! Carole's getting the ice cream!"

His smile grew, bidding the albums and the cork board a last goodbye. "Until next time", Ice whispered and turned back around to his family.

Listen I know I promised this thing to you guys at least a month ago, I apologize. My apprenticeship is beating my ass right now, time wise mostly. Thing is I've also been writing on an icemav ff. I'm not going to promise you ppl any time frames, cause I know it won't work out, but it'll come.

[miranyx1337]

Alastor x reader

FEATHER CHAPTER II

Tags: fluff (for now ) enemies to lovers, kissing, being protective, cuddles, sleeping problems, flirting, possesive reader is an angel, fem reader

Looking for a fact, it's hell; it was not bad. Clean room, a huge bed, and soft bedding. My wings were carefully bandaged, although, as the hotel owner advised, I should always hide them. It took a few days before I recovered. The constant nightmares tormented me. I stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to come to terms with the situation. I tensed whenever I heard footsteps approaching in the corridor. Moreover, from time to time, I experienced rather hmm … peculiar phantom sensations on my wings, far from pain, they actually made me feel calmer.

The person who visited me most often, and actually the only one, was Vaggie. Perhaps she simply saw herself in me from a few years ago: scared, disoriented, and wounded in a place she thought she would never end up. I couldn't imagine spending eternity locked in a hotel room, waiting for help that would never come.

Short walks through the corridors turned into lounging at the hotel bar. Husk didn't ask uncomfortable questions. He simply listened to my tales of what it's like up there. In the evenings, a television porn star joined us, flooding us with anecdotes from the set and the city, but apparently, something came up for him today.

Sitting on a too-high swivel chair, I observed the bartender work, the glowing glass bottles, and dishes. I was always accustomed to glowing trinkets, though I felt like one of them.

Again, a shiver ran through me, as if someone or something carefully watched me from the shadows. Perhaps a few sips of alcohol or a hatred for the constant sense of helplessness led me into one of the darker corridors.

Leaning against the wall, I tracked a shadow leaping from one wall to another until it materialized right in front of me.

Glowing red eyes, a familiar nonchalant smile, and the only puzzle I couldn't solve here.

A glass sphere with an eternally frozen red rose floated in front of my face. Uncertainly, I grabbed the object, feeling a pleasant coolness on my hands.

I saw you like things like that - demon tilted his head, smiling wider. So, he was responsible for my constant feeling of being observed. Outbursts of anger or reproach were out of the question,

I needed to play HIS game.

"Oh, that's pretty. It's nice for you to notice. I thought everybody tried to avoid and ignore me - I adopted a tone filled with gratitude and warmth.

Of course, I knew it's not like that, but seeing how pride and superiority paint themselves on his face, I knew I was hitting the right spot."

"A nonsense, how could anybody ignore such beauty like you’’

Alastor hand moved towards my unruly locks, then tucked them behind my ear. I tensed like a string. How this mortal, steeped in sin and reeking of murder from afar, dared to touch me. Fixing me like some doll on a shelf.

Guided by foolishness and the unique chance that he happened to lean in, I scratched one of his ears and then yanked it closer. Wanting to face him directly, I had to stand on my toes.

"Listen, one more time acting like a creep, and I will make a pillow from this fur."

A dark aura behind him reached the ceiling, accompanied by his slimy, dark claws.

I went too far, and it's time to run. I stepped back, still holding the sphere in my hand,

My wings unfolded instinctively in full splendor, barely fitting in the corridor

A brief cough and radio static interrupted the tense atmosphere. Dark aura disappeared behind its owner, who straightened up and carefully fixed his hair.

"Understood, no more hiding in the corner. You know, unearthly women always slightly intimidate me - He was back to his cherry tone and smile

I tucked my wings away, adopting a more confident posture despite a few feathers escaping from under the bandage. One of them drifted towards the radio demon. He allowed it to gently settle on his hand.

"Oh, it reminds me. I need to fix my pillow. It's started to lose feathers - His gaze shifted from his hand to me.

With a magic snap of my fingers, I made the feather return to its tru owner.

"I don't like to leave a mess behind me - I changed the topic, ignoring his bold suggestion.

I turned around; my hands shook, and I felt warmth on my cheeks.

"Thanks for the gift - I muttered under my breath, hastening my steps.

As I reached my room, it felt like someone had bitten my wing.

Alastor hastily closed the door of his station, desperately retrieving a white feather from one of the boxes.

"It's still here."

He feared she might have taken this one too. Demon sighed with relief as he saw that little gift, which had accidentally slipped under his sleeve a few days ago, still lay safely in its place.

Right after the sigh, anger swelled within him.

Who does she think gave her the best room? Who instructed the Husk to meticulously polish the dishes she liked so much? Who assigned Nifty to hang lights in the corridors? Who made sure she heard how powerful he was at the bar?

In his fury, he bit into a feather.

Since she was so afraid of Adam, she could easily make a deal with him. It was subtly indicated that he could defend her.

Perhaps he had to try harder and be more direct than usual. This can’t be messed up. It was a one-in-a-million chance.

Few in hell knew that the only remedy for a ,,bound soul’’ was angelic magic. Her feather alone restored some of his former power and authority. Possessing her soul, he could easily break the contract made years ago, weighing on him like chains growing heavier day by day."

[lunnybunny12]

Blitz x Reader (patching him up)

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN

This is mostly word vomit but hope you enjoy it.

Blitz comes back from a job pretty beaten up.

"Hey, Loona? its getting late I'm gonna head home," you said, closing your computer.

"kay. See you tomorrow " she answered while still looking at her phone.

When you and Millie moved to the pride ring, nether of you expected to be working at I.M.P. Millie got a job there pretty much right away. She would always come home to your apartment frustrated because of the lack of organisation of jobs.

One day you decided to meet her at work and walked into chaos. piles and piles of paperwork strewed everywhere. You offered to help and the boss offered you a job. Its been a few years since then.

"Thank you." you chimed.

Just as you were about to go file away the last few documents and head home, the portal to Earth opened. Moxie and Milie came through with a few scratches but Blitz took one step and then fell flat on his face.

"Holey fuck what happened?" you asked picking up Blits and dragging him to a chair.

"OW! ow ow. Some fucker got me a few times" Blitz said through his teeth.

"I'll say" Millie huffed " The guy practically had him on the ropes"

You looked at Blitz who had a look on his face that read: angry and embarrassed.

" Ah Thank you, Millie. Ever the ray of sunshine" Blitz growled at her.

"Ha ha well... Sir we're going to call it a night. It's uh getting kind of late" Moxie nervously chuckled

"Yea. You all go home. I'll lock up and see you tomorrow"

After that Blitz shuffled himself into his office and closed the door behind him. A few drops of blood followed behind him.

"How... bad was he hurt?" you asked walking to get the first aid kit from the shelf.

"Not bad enough to go to the hospital but he was definitely shaken"

"You want me to help you patch him up?"

"Nah Loona I'll be fine. Could you keep an eye on him when he gets home?"

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

The second that door closed behind him Blitz silently screamed in embarrassment.

He got his ass kicked, fell flat on his face and had Millie make him look like an absolute idiot. AND HE DIDN'T EVEN KILL THE GUY!

And to make things worse it happened all in front of you. He could've melted into that chair.

Since you were hired the two of you have flirted back and forth originally for Blitz it was entirely work place banter. Something to piss off Moxie and to keep up moral but as time went on he started to like you more and more.

Blitz was brought back to reality when he heard a knock on the door.

"Hey handsome, how you doing?" you chimed, closing the door behind you.

He felt heat rush to his face.

"I thought you went home?" he chuffed

"nope. Can't have my favourite boss die. who would sign my paycheck?" you winked.

Blitz laughed "And here I was thinking you liked me for my dazzling personality"

You smiled and gave him a quick look over. he had a few cuts on his face and arms but no sign of where the blood could be coming from. His face was pretty red too.

"Come on pretty boy, can sit on the desk?"

He sent you a pained look.

"Well...it's either you sit on the desk or I sit on your lap"

"OOO is that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart? He smiled wiggling his eyebrows making you blush.

You rolled your eyes and helped him to the desk. It was a bit of a struggle to lift him up there.

"Wow, your desk is huge!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot " He was about to stretch but then recoiled in pain making the pair of you chuckle again.

A while later he was all bandaged up and the bleeding had stopped.

"Ok. I'm gonna clean the cuts on your face and then I'm taking you home."

"You don't have to do that "

"Yea well it's gonna happen and I don't wanna hear you complain about it. Plus it gives me an excuse to hang out with you longer so that's that."

You had a cotton pad with antiseptic hovering over his face.

"This is gonna sting a little but I need you to stay still"

"OW"

Your hand went under his chin to make him look at you. For a second your eyes locked. You could see so many emotions swirling around and you felt your face heat up.

"I-Im sorry" you stammerd

"Wha - no no you... do what you need to do"

That's when the pair of you saw the position you were in. You were stood between his legs. Your faces were inches away from each other and both your hands were on his face.

You both felt as if you were on fire.

Eventually, he swallowed his pride and asked "Can I uh... try something?"

You nodded.

He nervously wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you even closer into a hug. Suddenly ...his cuts didn't hurt anymore.

"Thank you, by the way. I haven't had someone care about me in a while"

A shakey sigh escaped you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hug him back. Resting your head on top of his.

You both stayed like that for a while but you could've stayed there forever.

After you calmed down a little you guided his face to look at you again.

"Blitz?"

"Uh oh. You're using my name. Am I in trouble?"

Your face went red again " Do you wanna be?" you asked leaning in closer, your eyes flickering to his lips.

He quickly realized what you were talking about and he smiled the biggest grin you'd ever seen.

"Fuck yes"