#pink towel has me fainting

[astraystayyh]

seungmin thinks you’re the prettiest at your most ordinary. fluff and softness. pre-established relationship. (happy (very late) birthday to youuu my @starsandrqindrops i love u 💓)

there is an uncharacteristic tiredness that’s weighing on seungmin’s bones, making the mere act of moving his limbs draining. a faint headache pulsates from the base of his temple, and he shuts his eyes closed, forcing darkness to surround his senses, hoping that it’ll muffle the ache latching to his being.

but what soothes his senses is the sound of running water, more so the knowledge that you are near, just out of reach. you’ll come out soon of the shower and seungmin will be okay.

he doesn’t voice these thoughts to you as you come into the room, towel in hand as you dry your hair, clad in one of his old t-shirts. but his body seems to speak for him, eyes snapping open at the sound of you padding to the bed, spine readjusting so he’d sit against the headboard, eager to look at you more intently.

“tired?” you ask, planting a kiss on his temple before retrieving your hair bush from the bedside drawer. the pain in his head subsides, your existence the antidote for all his ailments.

“no, how was your day?” he asks softly, his warm palm resting on your bare knee. you quickly glance at him, at the way his eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly, as if begging you to speak, to weave the dreadful silence with your sweet voice.

“it was good, i tried a new restaurant today,” you speak gently, combing slowly through your hair.

“yeah, what is it called?” he says, thumb circling your soft skin. he is no longer angry at the light, for it highlights every contour of your features. he no longer yearns for the dark, as in its absence he gets to see you. in all your ordinary glory.

and you look so beautiful.

“blossom, they have the cutest pastries. i think you’d really like their cheesecake. it’s decorated with edible flowers. and their coffee is to die for,” you recall excitedly, your eyes locking on his every now and then.

“mm,” he says absentmindedly, laying his head atop your lap. “what else did you do?”

“i had the most boring class today, you know the one with…” your voice fades into the background of seungmin’s mind, lingering like a sweet dream that doesn’t disappear even after you wake.

he’s focused on your bare face, and the way your lips move with each word you utter, he sees your gleaming eyes, radiant under the light, although unnecessary— the star you harbor for heart enough to lighten you up. he sees your hair settling into the curls he loves the most, wet droplets falling into your shirt—his. he sees the slate of your nose that he loves to peck and the cheeks he always cradles before sleeping. he sees you, at your most vulnerable state, at your most beautiful one, and he loves you. god, does he love you so much.

“are you even listening to me?” you giggle, running your hand through his black hair, the one you dyed between giddy kisses in the bathroom.

“you are so pretty,” he whispers, voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. he doesn’t know where this love tide came from, but he knows that the weariness is gone, that a warmth only you can produce has replaced it.

your cheeks are no longer devoid of color, a faint pink hue seeping through them. you smile, widely, with no hand before your mouth, no intent to hide from him. “i love you, you are the pretty one.”

“i know,” he smiles cheekily, further burying his head in your lap, arms wound around your legs. “keep talking.”

“what am i? your asmr podcast?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. his headache is long gone.

“yes, you are mine. only mine, right?” he adds, a bit vulnerably, voice weaker.

“only yours.”

[greyskyflowers]

I really really really wish that Edwin had stay all bloody and filthy when he and Charles came back from hell.

Blood feels weird. It's got a weird.. texture? Consistency? Idk. Anyway, if I was in a dark room and someone said can you guess if it's water or blood on your hand? I would probably be able to tell by feeling it. As it dries it gets a sticky tar feeling and personally, it makes me itch when it dries.

Not to mention the smell and taste of it.

It's unpleasant.

Listen, I had a lot of nose bleeds when I was little, like my parents took me to prompt care because there was so much blood and it'd go on for like a hour straight heavy nose bleeds. I was also played a bunch of sports and was outside a lot so lots of experience with blood.

I think Edwin would absolutely hate the feel of blood on him. Now, ghosts may not be able to feel it like the living would, but I feel like it would still feel weird on them. Maybe like when you walk through a spider web and it's just that almost unnoticeable wispy tug on your skin?

I feel like Charles wouldn't mind it. In a way, he's probably used to it.

And he's the brawn so like of course he's cool with blood, greysky. Where are you going with this?

I think there's a specific intimacy with cleaning someone up.

They're familiar with cleaning blood off each other, although never to this extent and usually it's Charles getting clean up instead of Edwin. He finds he doesn't quite like the role reversal.

So what if...

Edwin came back from hell still bloody and filthy, hands sliding on the floor when he tries to brace himself to get up, looking at Charles with huge, terrified eyes.

A unspoken I don't know what to do is this real please help me what do I do what if it never comes off Charles please

And Charles doesn't even hesitate. He's on his feet and helping Edwin up in seconds.

He ignores the way the blood is making his own skin sticky and probably getting all over his clothes. Instead he notices how in the light he can see there's faint lines running down Edwin's cheeks that don't seem as filthy as the rest of him, how he's still barefoot and it makes him a little shorter than he usually is, how he's grabbing back at Charles a little desperately and is doing everything he can to keep him close.

They could feel each other down in Hell. Charles could feel how cold Edwin's fingers were and his own skin had broken out in goosebumps. Leaving seems to have returned them to normal but there's a little extra sensitivity, a little extra rawness, to his skin.

So he makes sure the water is warm, because he doesn't know if Edwin's skin feels the same way and taking a chance by cleaning him up with cold water feels cruel.

It doesn't stop the shaking though.

And the water swirls down the drain in shades of black, red, and pink.

One of the girls leaves a few big towels by the door and Charles brings them in by opening the door just enough to squeeze them through. He's not ready to let the real world in yet.

Edwin sits there, all wrapped up in a big, fluffy towel and looking lost in the quiet of a bathroom that still smells like mud and rust, like he's still not sure he's really there.

Charles takes a smaller towel to his hair, dries it until it's all messy and Edwin looks so young in the florescent lights as he blinks up at him. The shadows under his eyes seem worse without the filth covering them.

Charles cleans himself up too because the idea of getting blood on Edwin now makes him want to throw up. Edwin sits in the same spot and stares off into space in a way that makes him keep the shower curtain half open to watch him.

It feels like the world has narrowed down to just them. The mirror is still fogged up from the steam and it's quiet except for the occasional drip from the faucet.

There's a dampness in the air as they sit there next to each other, but it's nothing like the heavy humidity that seemed to linger in those hallways where he found Edwin.

They sit there on the floor, wrapped up in damp towels, backs to the door and they stare at the wall. Edwin tilts his head just enough to cautiously rest in on Charles's shoulder, like he's still scared this will turn out to be a trick, and Charles finally let's out the breath he's been holding in since Edwin was taken.

💧💧💧

I don't know. The vulnerability and intimacy of cleaning someone up, taking care of them like that, it always gets me. 😢

[coolyiooo]

BSD Men - When Their Rival Flirts With You

Pairings: Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Atsushi, and Chuuya

❗WARNINGS❗: smut, MDNI, biting, hickeys, public, recording, praise, breeding kink, scratching, etc

🖤DAZAI🖤

Dazai has enemies here and there, but the one he hates the most is Chuuya.You and Dazai were at a clothing store, but Dazai said he'd be right back to get some drinks from a food stand.

You were looking around the store and found a hat aisle. You put on a black hat and checked yourself out in a mirror, when suddenly you heard a faint voice, you almost didn't hear it, coming next to you.

"Wow.."

You looked next to you and saw a stranger look at you. He had red hair and blue eyes, making him attractive to the eye, but he was staring at you a little too much.

"...can I help you?" You asked

He stammers and begins to blush a tad "N-no! sorry, you just ah- it looks good on you. Your just ...yea"

You both stared at each other, until Chuuya looks away from you flustered, pretending to look at the other hats. He didn't mean to say something out loud, even if it was a whisper, but he has just never seen someone so beautiful.

When you were wearing the hat it looked like you were wearing his hat, which only made him feel some type of way.Something about him seemed familiar.

You kept staring at him and he noticed, with curiosity, he looks back at you. You both look at each other, his cheeks have a pink color pigment to them.

"Do I...know you from somewhere-?" You asked when suddenly two large drinks of soda fell on Chuuya, leaving you and him in shock.

"Oh no! What a klutz I am! Belladonna, are you alright?" Dazai asked with consideration

"D-Dazai!" You yelled in shock from the mess he made on the stranger

You turned to Chuuya and placed a hand on his shoulder "Are you ok?" That was when Chuuya finally made eye contact with Dazai

"AHHH!! A WET DOG, OH! it's just Chuuya.."

Your eyes looked at Dazai. It seems he knows who this man is.

"Dazai..." Chuuya grumbled "What the hell are you doing here?!" Chuuya yelled, finishing his sentence

"Oh! I'm just shopping with my, Belladonna. My girlfriend!"

"Your.. what?" Chuuya asked in disbelief

Dazai shakes his head up and down with a huge smile. He then turns to look at you. You looked back at him with a dazed look, how did these two know eachother? Too many things were happening at once

Dazai then gives you a big, fat kiss on your lips, making a loud kissing noise. He then starts to attack your face with kisses, which only drew a lot of attention to the three of you.Chuuya looked at you two with wide eyes as you pushed Dazai away from you, by placing two hands on his chest.

"Dazai! Your making a scene!" You yelled in a whisper, like a mom telling their kid to stop embarrassing them in a store.

Dazai pouted "but, bella-"

"Hey, excuse me. You three need to leave the store. Your being a disturbance to our costumers" an employee interrupted

"Oh, ma'am! It's all this one's fault" Dazai said, pointing at Chuuya

Chuuya's face turned red from anger. He looked like he was about to attack Dazai "what the hell are you saying you bastard?!"

Before the situation can become more of a mess, you stepped in and bowed continuously to the employee

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. We'll leave immediately"

You grabbed Chuuya and took him out of the store. You just wanted to help him get paper towels or something. You didn't even pay attention to Dazai because you were a bit frustrated with him. You practically left Dazai behind, but he followed the both of you until you yelled at him to get some napkins.

You grabbed a couple of napkins from your bag and tried to wipe away some of the soda on his clothes while apologizing. Chuuya's anger vanished into thin air ever since you started to basically put your hands all over his body.

"T-this has nothing to do with you, you have nothing to apologize for." He said with blush on his cheeks "It's all that bastards fault" He finished with an annoyed tone

"Do you two know eachother?" You asked

"Unfortunately" Chuuya responded

He saw Dazai coming back with a paper towel roll and he noticed your hands all over Chuuya. They both just gave each other a death glare

Dazai took your hands off of Chuuya "Bella, you shouldn't touch trash"

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Chuuya yelled, standing up. People's attention was going towards you three again

"Not before I do! I saw how you were looking at her. Don't get any funny ideas!"

You pinched Dazai's cheek harshly, making him yelp in pain, Stopping the fight once again "your acting like a child!"

You then helped Chuuya clean his clothes and learned more about the two, like when they met. Before you left, you forced Dazai to apologize to him.

"now if you excuse me. I have to put someone down" you said

Dazai and Chuuya both had shocked faces, but Chuuya's face turned into a smirk " I think your my new favorite person.. y/n was it?"

You nodded with a smile "see you later, Chuuya" you waved bye.

When you got home, you were just about to yell at Dazai for being an idiot, but he immediately slammed your back against the wall and dove into the crook of your neck, sucking and kissing on it. You were about to yell at him, but his knee started to rub in between your legs, making you aroused.

After creating a couple of hickeys, he pulled away "why was all your attention on him instead of me?" He asked in a breathy, deep voice.

Realization hit you "is that what this was all about? You were just jealous?"

He crossed his arms and looked away from you, closing his eyes.

You scoffed slightly " 'Samu you know I only have eyes for you"

"Then prove it to me, because it didn't look like it back there" he pouted

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the collar of his shirt, forcefully bringing him to the bedroom. You threw him on the bed and got on top of him

" it's disappointing how I have to remind you how much you mean to me, love" You started to take off your shirt "so I'll make sure you'll never doubt me again"

Few minutes have passed and here you are, riding him at a rough pace. His moaning is loud, but so are yours. His head looks down to where your both connected

"You see how good mmn~! I take you?" You asked

He whimpers "yeah~ ah~ so tight and wet mmn~ just for me" His hands grip onto your hips.

He then starts to remember about what happened earlier, how Chuuya looked at you and how you touched him. He wanted to punish you just a bit.He suddenly pushes you and gets on top of you. you were about to say something, but he starts to pound into you, making you stutter a moan

Dazai all of a sudden starts to bite you over and over again, all over your neck. His bites only made your walls clench around him more.

"Your mine, bella~! Ah~! I want everyone else- mmn~ to know your mine ngh! And I'm yours" he pounds deeper into you as you dig your nails into his back.

He smirks, knowing that you'll be leaving a mark on him too

"i- I'm going to mmn! Cum!" You moaned

It didn't take him long before he pushed himself as deep as he can and came inside you, moaning your name while hugging you tightly. You came with him when you felt the warmth, moaning with him.You both were out of breath, still holding onto each other.

He kisses your bite marks and looks deeply into your eyes, a tired smile on his lips

"you know, I wouldn't mind if you left some hickeys and bite marks on me too"

💚RANPO💚

Ranpo's main rival would probably be Poe, so this is how you first met the guy. You were waiting for Ranpo in front of a building, something for an investigation. He told you he was going to invite someone else, but he never told you who or what they look like.

You were simply standing outside waiting for you boyfriend. Off in the distance, Poe saw your figure and immediately thought you were mesmerizing. Poe kind of just stood still while looking at you, the whole world stopped for a second.

While he was admiring your beauty, Karl (his raccoon) got off his shoulders and ran up to you, startling him and making him run after his raccoon.

You were about to call Ranpo, since he was taking a long time. Suddenly, you see a raccoon running towards you.

Everything was moving too fast for you to react. You stood there as you watched this raccoon leap towards you. Your eyes widen a bit, until a hand abruptly grabs the raccoon by the back of it's neck, scruffing it like a puppy.

You were dazed, did this random stranger really grab a raccoon by the neck? You just stood there and looked at this man, who's hair was covering his eyes, until he spoke

"I-im so sorry! He usually never acts like this!" The man apologized

He put the raccoon around his shoulders like a parrot or something. "W-wait that's your...pet?" You asked

"Uh- y-yes"

You were shocked, but immediately became in awe.

You walked closer to the man to take a better look at his raccoon " he is so cute! Can I pet him?"

Poe started to blush, since you were too close to him. "Ah- y-yes! w-well, you can hold him if you want"

Before Poe could grab Karl, Karl jumped on to your shoulders. You jumped from surprise for a second, before you became enamoured by a cute animal on your shoulders. You kept calling Karl cute and how cool Poe was for having such an exotic pet, making him blush. Poe was just about to say something when, out of no where, he felt a harsh slap on his back.

"Hey, Poe! Whatcha doin?" Ranpo yelled with a smile on his face

"R-Ranpo!" Poe said with shock

"Ranpo! Took you long enough. I've been here waiting" you said, a tad annoyed

"I got lost, sugar" Ranpo responded to you while kissing your cheek

"Of course you did" you sighed

"S-sugar?" Poe was stunned

"Oh, yeah! Poe this is y/n, my girlfriend, and y/n this is Poe, the person I told you we're going to meet up today"

Poe felt his soul leave his body. He didn't know Ranpo had a significant other. You were also a little stunned. You just thought 'what a coincidence'

"I see you've already greeted each other" Ranpo said

You chuckled "well I was just having fun with the raccoon"

"R-Ranpo, I didn't know you had a girlfriend"

"Well now you know! She's quite the beauty, isn't she?" He started to attack your face with kisses. People's eyes went towards you two, making you slightly embarrassed

"Ranpo, I love you, but this is not the place" you whispered with consideration

"Your right. We should save all that stuff for later" Ranpo said with a smirk

Poe looked pale as snow "hm? Is everything ok?" Ranpo asked Poe

"Oh, n-nothing. I have to sit down"

Suddenly, Poe felt Ranpo put a hand on his shoulder and leaned into his ear

" I know you must be devastated, but there are other fish in the sea" Ranpo gave him a warm smile

Poe's face went completely red. He couldn't defend himself, even if he wanted to. You just looked at the two with confusion.

"Now time for the investigation!" Ranpo yelled

It didn't take long for Ranpo to finish the investigation, to be Honest, you don't really know why he brought you and Poe along, maybe he was just bored. You all sat on a bench while eating ice cream. You were all enjoying the silence and the taste of the desert until Ranpo blurted out

"Well me and y/n have to do something very quickly before I forget. Just wait for us here Poe!"

Ranpo then grabs your hand and drags you into a building. You still had your ice cream in your hand as he took you into the restroom. It was a single bathroom, so you had the whole room to yourselves. I think you know where this is about to go.

Poe checks the time after waiting for about 5 minutes. He saw the building you and him went into and decided to go and find you two. He looked around in the building and couldn't find a single trace. Poe then decided to just go to the restroom, but before he even touched the handle he heard voices from the inside.

Ranpo was nibbling gently on your neck, leaving small dark hickeys all over you. You were straddling Ranpo as you jumped on his dick. Your hands were on his hair and shoulder and his were on your hips.

"You feel so good around me, sugar~ so tight~" he mumbles against your skin

"Mmn~ too good~ Ranpo, I'm going to cum~"

Poe's face was red as if all of his blood went to his cheeks. He immediately speed walked back to the bench and decided to wait for you two there. He'd be lying if he said your moans didn't aroused him.

When he went back to the bench. He tried to cover his slightly hardened cock by crossing his legs. He couldn't get your voice out of his head. It didn't take long for you and Ranpo to come back. Ranpo had a big smile on his face and you were slightly blushing while smiling.

"We're back! And it's time to go"

Poe blushed a bit "where did you guys go?"

He tried to act dumb, but he forgot he was talking to the Greatest detective. Ranpo smirked and leaned into his ear

"I think you already know"

💜FYODOR 💜

Fyodor is a man who has many enemies, but his main one would be Dazai. You first met Dazai when you were walking with Fyodor to an alleyway. Fyodor left his stuff in a dumpster and couldn't find his hat when suddenly Dazai appeared, wearing his white ushanka.

You were surprised when someone from the ADA found you two, but Fyodor seemed relaxed, as if he knew this was going to happen.They both exchange a couple of words, when suddenly, Dazai noticed your presence.

He was astonished at how he didn't pay attention to you until now. Fyodor's eyes grew a bit darker, knowing what Dazai's thoughts were

"Oh my.." Dazai started, while staring at you with star gazed eyes and slight blushed cheeks

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever come across" he said with a soft voice, like he couldn't believe his eyes

You looked at him with a confused face, shocked by the words this man was saying to you. He shouldn't be flirting with someone from an organization that's trying to eliminate his.

"Ah~ So that's how fallen angels lure the humans into sin. With you being one of them and as stunning, bewitching, drop dead gorgeous as you are, who could ever say no to you? " Dazai said

Before you could respond, Fyodor got in front of you in a possessive manner. Your head peeking out of his shoulder as Dazai looked at you two like he was thinking, then put two and two together

"Oh! I'm sorry, are you two an item by any chance?" Dazai asked, scratching his head

"I would prefer if you wouldn't speak to her" Fyodor responded with a wicked smile

"Wow, how cute! Look at you being all protective~ I would be too if she was mine. You are quite a lucky man aren't you?" Dazai smirks

"Indeed I am and don't waste your time coming up with faithless ideas. She would never fall for someone like you"

Their faces and tone was filled with an intense, passive aggressive aura. It was making you uncomfortable as they both slyly smiled at each other.You decided to back Fyodor up to kill two birds with one stone. To help Fyodor ease up a bit and to tell Dazai to respectfully stfu.

"I would have to agree. I mean, I wouldn't fall for a half done mummy" you said

The cold atmosphere immediately went away when their focus was back to you. Fyodor let out an amused chuckle as Dazai was embarrassed. His face turned white

"I've been called many things, But not a half done mummy" Dazai responded in almost a whine and a pout

After more exchanges of words, someone from the top of a building shoots Dazai. It left you in shock, but Fyodor gave you a reassuring look, you then knew that this was just part of his plan.

After they both said their last words, Fyodor gives you a look that tells you it's time to go. You nod and give him a small smile as you hug his left arm, your cheek laying on his shoulder. While you both walk away, Fyodor kisses the top of your head, side eyeing Dazai who's laid out on the ground looking at you two.

When you two both made it home safely. He brought you towards the bedroom and very gently started to kiss your lips. Your heart was fluttering. His lips felt like tears, kindly caressing your skin and bringing you sudden warmth.It was a struggle, but when you both needed some air, you pulled away. Both of you breathing heavily

"Don't tell me I have to remind you that I only have eyes for you, Fedya" you said in a breathy whisper

He smiled "of course not, my love. I just.. have to mark what's mine"

He pushes you onto the bed and gets on top of you. He begins to kiss your neck, already making you moan quietly.

"I have to show others that you belong to me" he says against your skin.

That night, Fyodor made love to you in a tender, yet rough, way. He left hickeys and bite marks in visible places, which only turned you on more and moan his name.One of your hands was grabbing onto his shoulder and the other held the back of his head while he sucked on your neck.

He was going at a normal pace, but even then he reached deep inside you. He stops sucking on the skin of your neck to kiss the fresh mark. You could hear him quietly groan.

"Oh, how I wish he could see how beautifully you spread your legs just for me, moya lyubov~" he said in between kisses

He lifts his head up, his forehead against yours, looking deeply into your eyes

" mmm~ I want him to know how incredible I make you feel ah~ how much I satisfy you in every way"

"Mmm~ you do, Fedya~ ah~! Your the only one who's ever made me satisfied~" you responded

He smirks then starts to thrust deeper into you, reaching you two closer to your climaxes. "You are so ravishing, my love~ I'm- mmn~ at my limit~" he groans

You wrapped your legs completely around his waist, locking him in place to tell him to cum inside you. The pleasure was too good, you couldn't even form sentences.

He understood what you wanted and kept going.A little while longer of rubbing his cock against your tight walls, he found his release and came deep inside, biting your neck, letting a groan out .

You moaned his name loudly as you also came with him. You both didn't move for a bit. You were just trying to catch your breaths, but he softly says

"I really am a lucky man to call you mine"

💙ATSUSHI💙

Atsushi's rival is obviously Akutagawa. You were on a shopping date with Atsushi, but you both parted ways for a bit and decided to meet up somewhere else.

You were on your phone trying to find Atsushi while walking on the sidewalk. You then randomly bumped into someone roughly, it was almost like you hit a wall.

"Watch where your-!... Oh" the stranger said.

He was annoyed at first when someone suddenly bumped into him, but when he took a good look at you, he felt his mind go blank just for a second, in a good way somehow.You touched your head to ease the pain as you look at the stranger.

He had black hair with white tips at the front. He wore a long, black coat with a ruffled top. You noticed his tone was full of anger at first that soon turned to a calm one.

"I- I'm sorry" he apologized

You felt like it was actually your fault for bumping into him "No, I'm sorry! I wasn't looking"

His eyes widen slightly "I wasn't either. your fine"

You smile kindly, but you realized that you've probably seen him before

"...hey, you look familiar.." you said

He look dumbfounded and without thinking he said "I doubt it. If I've seen someone like you before, I would've remember"

Your eyes widen a bit as you tilted your head. He realized what he just said and blushed slightly "I mean-.. I just have a good memory"

You chuckle gently while scratching your head "Yeah, I must be imagining things"

You both looked at eachother for a second before you heard a familiar voice next to you "Y/n, I got you some flowers! I hope you like them"

You look at a small bouquet that Atsushi had in his hands and smile widely. You gasp "Awe, thank you so much, Atsushi. You didn't have to" you kiss his cheek

"You?..." The stranger whispered, grumbling gently

"Akutagawa?" Atsushi said.

You finally realized why the stranger looked familiar. It's because you've heard about him from the ADA

"what are you doing here?" They said at the same time

"I'm here on a date" Atsushi responded. His eyes darken and his tone seemed on edge

Akutagawa's face looked extremely confused "A date? You? "

You stepped into the conversation "Yes, I'm his girlfriend"

Akutagawa looked at you baffled. Why is someone like you dating someone like him and why does he care so much? He doesn't know you at all, but he felt... Disappointed.

Without thinking he said in a harsh tone "You shouldn't waste your time on a pathetic man like him"

Atsushi eyes looked hurt for a split second. How dare someone talk about him like this?

You protested "Atsushi is the strongest man I know in every way"

He responded " Don't be ridiculous. You could do better"

Now you were pissed "Why don't you mind your own business? And I doubt I could. He's the only one who's ever made me satisfied"

Before anybody could say more, you held Atsushi's hand and dragged him away from Akutagawa. Akutagawa wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Why did he care so much about someone he barley just met? He doesn't know

As you dragged Atsushi away, after a couple minutes, Atsushi started to gently tell you to stop. You immediately stopped as you apologized to Atsushi

"I'm sorry, I just didn't like how he spoke about you and any second longer I probably would've done something I would regret" you said embarrassed

He looked at you with a worried expression "Did you really mean everything you said?"

You look at him surprised "Of course I do. Without a doubt!"

He smiles genuinely while he hugs you passionately "Thank you" he whispers

You hug him back with a warm smile, but you then asked "Don't tell me you believed some of his words because if so. I'll just have to prove to you how much I love you"

He smiled kindly "I already know, love, but um-" he looked away embarrassed with a blush "I..didn't like how he was looking at you" he finished his sentence

"How do you mean?"

"It- doesn't matter, but" he pushed your back gently against a wall while hugging you

In you ear he said " I don't want people getting the wrong idea that your single, so..." Atsushi kisses your neck, pulling you closer with his hand that's on your back, forgetting that you were both in a public setting.

He mumbles against your skin "I want others to know your mine"

Time flew by after you both made it to your apartment. You were both in your room, on the bed, with Atsushi on top of you. His thrusts were rough and so were his bites on your body, but his kisses were so full of love.

The bed frame would occasionally hit against the wall, making a thudding noise.You were both moaning and breathing heavily. The sensation made your heart beat faster as you were slowly feeling your release approaching

He bites on your shoulder as you moan his name loudly. "Your voice is so beautiful, y/n , mmn~! e-especially when you say my name~ "

He kissed your lips and asked "do I- ah~! make you feel good?"

You look into his eyes "you feel so good~ mmn~ i-im actually about to- ah~ cum~"

"I-i love it when you do ngh~! so don't hold back~"

His thrusts became harder and faster. His cock reaching deeper inside of you and it felt like he was only getting bigger. You could tell he was close to cumming too

You scratched your nails against his back, leaving red lines all over him. He kept saying ' I love you's' as he went faster. Both of you moaning and whimpering until he gripped your hips tightly and shot his load inside you.

You were both panting as you felt each other twitching from the orgasm. He was still inside you as he kissed your lips. He looked at you deeply in the eyes

"can we..do it again?"

🧡CHUUYA🧡

We all know who Chuuya's rival is, which is Dazai. You were following Chuuya after you both heard that the port mafia captured him. You've never seen the guy, but Chuuya always talked smack about him, so naturally, you also don't really like the guy.

When you walked down some stairs, you saw a man cuffed to a Pilar. He hands and even neck were covered in bandages. His hair was brown with slight curls.

Based off of what Chuuya has told you, this is Dazai.His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, but when he heard foot steps approaching, his eyes went directly towards you first

His eyes turned into stars as he said "Do my eyes deceive me or do I see a goddess? Am I..in heaven? Oh wait, Chuuya is here. nevermind"

You were taken aback by the flirtatious comment, but before you could react, Chuuya punched Dazai in the stomach. You heard Dazai grunt in pain

"Want to say that to my girlfriend again, you bastard?"

"Girlfriend? You? Out of all people, you have a girlfriend?" Dazai asked in disbelief before he started to chuckle, only making Chuuya punch him again

They both kept making fun of the other for a bit before Chuuya asked him what his real plan for being captured was. Dazai said he planned to be killed, but Chuuya didn't buy it.

Dazai's attention went back to you for a split second, before talking to Chuuya again "You better be treating her well or else I'd snatch her right up~"

Chuuya, with his feet, cuts off the chains that were holding Dazai. "I'd like to see you try without getting killed! And what makes you think I don't treat her well? I bet all you'd do is ask her to do a double suicide with you"

"Your not wrong, but not before i treat her like a queen"

"Shut up! The real reason why I'm here is because I want to fight you. I want to crush you and whatever scheme you dreamed up"

Dazai then, with a snap of his fingers, unlocks his cuffs. They both exchanged words, Dazai spoke about how if he wanted to be free he would've done so. They then proceeded with full on fighting each other.

At this point, you were just there watching the fight. No real reason as to why you were there, but at least you were enjoying the fight. After awhile of them beating eachother up, Dazai told Chuuya why he can't kill him and if he did, he'd just get into trouble. This made Chuuya mad because he knows Dazai is right

After a few more words, Chuuya held your hand gently and walked towards to the stairs to leave. Before you two left, Dazai said something to you

"If you ever want to do a double suicide call me, my belladonna~ I would love it if you, a goddess, to be the last thing I see on this earth"

You saw that Chuuya was about to yell some shit at him, but you then said with a smile "Wish I could say the same, but I'm in love with Chuuya"

He smiles back at you "Oh Trust me, Belladonna. You could do so much better"

"BASTARD!" Chuuya was about to go beat up Dazai again, until you held the back of his jacket to keep him steady

"Trust you? trust me when I say you can never be compared to Chuuya. Not in a million years"

Your eyes suddenly darkened as you still held a smile "I don't like it when assholes make fun of the people I love, so please shut the fuck up"

Your words only made Dazai shiver "so creepy. I bet you learned that from Chuuya"

Chuuya ignored his words and just looked into your eyes. He loved that you just told Dazai off. Chuuya simply cupped your cheek as he smiled at you. He kissed your cheek, but you grabbed his face to kiss his lips.

You were both passionately kissing while Dazai was just uncomfortably watching. "Um- hey, you guys know I'm still here, right?"

Chuuya suddenly carries you bridal style "Yea, sorry, we suddenly have plans. Something you wouldn't understand"

Before Dazai could say anything Chuuya left. You quickly found yourselves at your shared apartment on the bed. You both kissed eachother roughly while moaning.

He pulled away for a second "Sorry, darling, but I have to let others know that your not available"

He went to kiss your neck and shoulders, already starting to bite and leave hickeys. You held the back of his head to bring him closer. He picked you up by under your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and your arms went around his neck.

He then aggressively hits your back against a wall and looks at you "Say goodbye to walking, love, because it's going to be a fun night~"

Minutes passed and you find yourself bending over a table as Chuuya fucks you from behind. Both of you moaning loudly while your skin claps against each thrust.The table was scrapping against the ground from how aggressive he was being. His grip on your ass was definitely going to leave a mark and your nails left scratch marks on the table.

He then bent over. His chin was on your shoulder while he kissed your cheek. Chuuya, out of no where, bites deeply into your shoulder, making you moan his name loud.

He pulled away "Oh, f-fuck~ you feel so fucking good, doll~ ngh~! If only he could see you"

Something inside him was different. usually he would never do this, but at the moment he was very possessive.

"Doll~ mmn~! do you mind if I show that ass for brains how good I make you feel?"

You could only respond with a nod. You weren't thinking straight, the pleasure was just too good, but you thought 'why not?'.

Chuuya smirks slightly while, using his ability, he got his phone and started to record only your voice and nothing else.When you notice he was recording, you started to moan his name loudly and kept praising how good Chuuya is. You heard chuuya groan deeply as he went at a faster pace

"F-fuck~! I- I'm- agh~! c-cumming~! C-Chuuya~" you moaned

You heard Chuuya's grunts become louder and louder, until he thrusted deep inside you to cum inside you. Both of you moaned loudly as you came together.You were breathing heavily and at the same time you felt your legs quivering. You couldn't feel them at all.

Chuuya then remembers that he's still recording and presses the send button before really thinking about what he just did, but that's for you two to worry about in the future. Dazai is always messing with him, so he was just returning the favor

He leaned into your ear and whispered while he kissed it. "your my love~ I love you so much"

[yueliie]

🎐.お茶 — accident ft t.giyuu

୨ৎ — ♬ ⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ : yue is typing... ✉! ୨ৎ — ↻ SYNOPSIS : giyuu is a quiet man, someone who has slow response to most things yet what happened when he was caught off guard from...a little accident? ୨ৎ — ♯ GENRE : fluff, gn reader ୨ৎ — ↠ NOTE : this is a repost from my old blog cuz I'm too lazy to scroll down to get it... ୨ৎ — ♪ REMINDER : reblogs & likes are appreciated, its help to motivate me, thanks for your support~ ୨ৎ — ► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : accident ft tomioka giyu...

Exhausted.

That's what describes how your body feels right now. 

Your condition was a mess, hair covered in dirt with your clothes stained by your own blood and the demon's that you have managed to slay on your way home from your previous mission.

You weren't really expecting a demon will follow you in the end and you kept on wondering why you didn't sense its presence  before the demon decided to ambush you from behind? 'Maybe I'm more exhausted than I thought I was...'

Slaying a group of demons while saving a whole village isn't an easy job even for any demon slayer, even a high ranking one like the hashira like yourself.

Sighing as you started to strip down and walked leisurely to the tub, steam filling the room as you turn the shower on, toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. Your mind was in shreds; you would never get that picture out of your mind. You grabbed the wooden bucket, filling it with water before releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening your (hair's color)  hair and trickled down your exposed back.

You bathed your skin lightly, taking careful notice not to touch the bruises and claw marks that scattered your body. While doing so, you let out a few hisses as the wounds sting against your skin when the waterdrops sliding down along your skin, you start leaning against the cool tiles as your weak legs threaten to buckle.

Your eyes fell closed over and over, each time showing you the images like photographs. The images of that demon who ambushed you didn't leave your mind, it was probably the strongest one out of all the normal demons that you have to slayed in the past. 

You were so deep in thoughts that you didn't notice the sound of the door to the bathroom slides open and you immediately flinched, slowly turning around towards the doors. 

The color of your face become pale as a piece of paper, all colors have drained yet the faint dust of pink didn't went unnoticed.

There stood your boyfriend and he seems to be shock as you are.

Before you could ask him to leave, the water hashira immediately slammed the sliding door shut without any hesitation. 

Your ears caught the sound of his footsteps slowly start to fading away, appear that he have ran off to another room before you could have a saying in the situation.

Shooking your head, snapping yourself out of the shock as you carefully stood up from the tub before walking out of the bathroom,  steam slowly vanish into thin air as you cut the bath off.  

Quickly taking a towel to wipe the remaining water off, drying yourself before changing into a new (favorite color) yukata. 

After you were done with changing, you immediately went on a search for the water pillar by checking every single rooms your eyes land on, slamming the sliding door to the bedroom harshly and when you saw the familiar red and green, orange, and yellow geometrically patterned. 

"Giyuu!"

And with that you had jumped on him, making him almost lose his balance by the sudden weight of your body on his back. He didn't bothered to respond to you, avoiding his gaze from making eye-contact with you awkwardly. 

You were confused by his lack of responses, leaning on him as you tried to get a closer look at him which he keep on avoiding you the entire time as you do so. 

"Giyuu...?"

Still not responding. 

"Giyuuuuu?"

He didn't even move a muscle. 

You couldn't help but frowned at his lack of responding, you smirked as you grab a hold of the blanket underneath your feets before tackling him down with you slumped into bed, the two of you lay there, reliving the moment over and over in silence but it wasn't long.

"Why hello there, Cherry Boy"

Chuckling, you were sure enjoying the sight of your boyfriend's bashful expression whose eyes were staring into yours awkwardly as he tried to let the words out of his throat. 

"...I'm really sorry about that... I didn't mean to walked in..."

The look of his deep blue eyes shows embarrassment and sincere, you didn't sense anything wrong with his apologizing to you about the accident that took place a while ago. 

Silently, you cups his cheeks with both of your hands, leaning closer to him before letting a kiss on the tip of his nose as his eyes widen. Pulling away from him, you smile softly as you breathe out. 

"I've forgive you, for now, let's go to bed cause I'm beaten"

With that being said, you grabbed the blanket from before and let it covers the two of you as you cuddle close to him with the ravenette hesitantly wrapped his arms around your form, getting comfortable with the position. The both of you slowly doze off to the dream world as the warmth of the loved one keeps the other feel loved. 

© yueliie 2024. do not steal, copy, repost, edit, translate or use my works.

[dxvxx]

It's Exit Exam day and i'm exhausted.

The wannabe overdue acrobat in my belly kicking me for all his worth isn't helping either. I waddle out of my bathroom naked and dripping wet, not bothering with a towel, even the biggest ones stopped covering my body after the second trimester.

I rub my bump as i check my phone and send William a text reassuring him that i'm fine before i open my closet and rifle through it.

I gave up on wearing my maternity jeans a month ago, so i bypass those and pick out a pale beige sundress.

Grabbing it, i shuffle to the mirror to try to see if it would even fit me. Looking at me, you'd think i'm carrying twins with how big my bump had gotten.

I hear the faint sound of my apartment unlocking and smile when, soon after, my boyfriend strides into my bedroom, looking edible in his black slacks and black button-down shirt.

I rub my thighs, looking at his rolled up sleeves and veiny tattooed forearms.

"Babe," it comes out as a whine as i look up at him. Up, because William is a 6'5 "muscled giant of a man while i'm 5'3 and petite, or at least, i used to be petite. "I told you i'm okay." I murmur but lean back against him greedily as he hugs my naked body from behind. He lifts up the weight of my heavy belly off my hips, just the way i like, and i can't help the moan of relief that escapes. "Mmm.."

"Couldn't help myself," he rumbles, dragging his nose up my neck, right to one of my sensitive spots, breathing in my shampoo. I tilt my neck, giving him more access, letting out another soft moan as i feel myself get wet.

I rub the top of my bump just enjoying being near him, but i have to ask..."No- mhmm- one saw you, right?" Even though i know he's always careful.

William is a professor at my college. We met 2 years ago when i was in a class of his and we have been dating on the downlow ever since.

While i'm no longer a student of his, it's still frowned upon and could lead to serious trouble so we're keeping it quiet until i graduate next month.

That's why he moved me out of the dorms and is renting me an off-campus apartment near his house. Something he keeps grumbling about because 'you're not close enough.' I'm pretty sure if i let him have his way, we'd already have been married by now.

He doesn't respond as he trails kisses up and down my neck, nipping and sucking, leaving me breathless and squirming "Wiiiilll" i whine.

My libido has been in overdrive ever since i got pregnant at the end of summer and had increased even more in my last trimester. The barest of touches or even friction from my clothes has me panting like a bitch in heat.

Something William takes great delight in.

"Have i told you how gorgeous you are so full and heavy with my son?" He growls while leaving hickeys on my neck. He tells me every day. William has always been possessive and overprotective, but he had doubled down ever since i started showing.

He cups my bare pussy murmuring out a rough "mine" in my ear. I'm so wet i drip a bit on his hand as i look in the mirror.

It's a sight.

My belly heavy and round, with the skin a bit pink, overstretched and taut with William's tattooed arms wrapped around it.

My heavy breasts that have doubled in size are aching with my rosy nipples pebbled, begging to be touched.

William's hardened length is nestled against my naked ass cheeks.

It's all too much.

My hips roll trying to get something, anything, but he just cups it, giving me a warning squeeze i ignore. "Don't tease mmhm meeee." i half moan half whine. That earns me a slap on my pussy. The sting shoots up straight to my needy clit and i whimper "ooh fuckk."

Two of his thick fingers tease my entrance before he thrusts them home, using his thumb to rub my clit in slow agonizing lazy circles that have me bucking against his hand desperate for more but he keeps his fingers still.

I know what he's doing, punishing me for refusing to stay home this past week, when i officially reached my due date and passed it.

I get more desperate, rolling my hips harder, trying and failing to get him moving, to give me anything. He smirks in my neck, proud of himself, and i'm close to losing it, delirious with lust and need.

"William Ivan Carmichael, I swear to- Ooomph.." He takes out his dripping fingers and stuffs them into my mouth, effectively shutting up my threat.

Fine, two can play at this game, damn it.

I suck his fingers in, swirling my tongue around them like i do with his dick humming as i lick my juices off his skin. He thrusts them deeper down my throat, lazily pumping them before he pulls out and whirls me around. The movement makes my bump jiggle before he claims my mouth in a hungry kiss.

I'm panting and aching by the time he releases me. I don't have time to process or protest as he lets me go, slaps my ass, picks up the discarded dress off the floor, and flings it at me.

He adjusts himself in his pants and says in a rough voice, "Get dressed, you don't want to be late. I'll see you in the Exam hall."

And he... leaves. Just like that.

The Bastard.

I glare weakly after him and collapse on my bed then immediately regret it and moan "ooohh" At the feel of my sheets creating friction against my aching cunt.

I rub my bump restlessly and nibble my bottom lip. I could give myself an orgasm, could even use the toys in our expansive collection, but...it's not enough, it never is. Nothing comes even close to him, to his skilled, pierced dick and his wicked filthy mouth.

"Your daddy is gonna be the death of me" i whisper to our son before i heave myself up and off the bed with a soft grunt.

William doesn't get it. I want to finish my BSN nursing degree. I don't want and will not drop out or delay my diploma another year. That's just a waste of time and money.

I open my underwear drawer and pull out a lacy black set, then think for a bit and return the bra only pulling on the thong. Anything against my nipples right now will be torturous.

I sigh as i pull on the dress next and wince at how it looks in the mirror then try to make it less tantalizing. It used to fit me and reach just before my knees but with my bump...it barely reaches my thighs not to mention how much cleavage it's showing.

But...fuck it. I'm too horny and too pregnant and too tired to care much anymore.

I stuff my swollen feet in a pair of ballerina flats, fluff up my blonde hair a bit then grab my bag and keys. Making my way out of the door, i stop and rub my belly. It feels really uncomfortable today, hotter and tighter than it has all week.

With a sigh, i keep walking, although much slower, and lock the door before i start going down the stairs.

It doesn't matter. I just have to get through the three hours Exam while trying to ignore the urge to jump William right on top of the desk he's gonna be monitoring us from.

Then we'll come back here and i'll demand he fucks me six ways to Sunday then he'll punish me, in panty melting ways for using that tone with him then...

My horny thoughts stopped abruptly, and i let out a startled gasp, widening my legs. I rub both sides of my bump as the baby drops lower, applying pressure on my lower belly and my already aching pussy.

Well, Fuck.

(This is part 1. Let me know if you're interested in part 2, maybe 3.)

[divine-misfortune]

thoughts on rain ghoul first orgasm perhaps??

Reminder for the folks at home I only ever rlly write Rain as Trans masc unless specified otherwise so clit/cunt/etc used for his junk here

Anyways thanks @belle--ofthebrawl for driving me insane about first times grrrrr

I think Rain's first ever orgasm is on his own, alone in a tub drinking in the warm steam and faint smell of mint. Sunk low, near submerged, it's a little awkward considering his lanky limbs and how unfortunately small this damn tub is. He has to scooch himself down low to be able to dunk his head under, and when he fumbles using a foot to turn the tap back on to warm the bath up the water pours directly onto his cunt.

Rain chokes and jolts away from the sensation, forcing his head back out of the water as he stares wide eyed and surprised at the running faucet, then down at the space between his legs. His dusky pink clit barely peeking out from between his folds and he feels it twitch, a pleasant tingling starting in the pit of his gut. Internal heat that rivaled the water around him, he breathes shakily. The warmth in his belly isn't new, he was familiar with it - been a common feeling since he started those hormones but he'd always just kind of endured it without solution.

Oh he's a curious creature, really. Rain sinks back into the water, reluctantly wriggling his hips till he's back under the running faucet. It's a lot but not enough, he reaches down and spreads himself, lets it rush over his clit and his moans come out high and breathy. He watches it, watches how pink and fat his clit gets and maybe even rubs at it a little with the tip of a finger, his body clenches around nothing and he has no idea what to do about that empty feeling. He's honestly too enraptured toying with his clit to consider what else he could do.

One hand spreading his folds, the other fisted into his hair as he unravels. He's a pretty little sight; gills fluttering, skin flushed a vivid lilac, mouth hung open as he pants, eyes screwed shut. His hips twitch up towards the faucet where the pressures is a bit more intense and he cums with a wail. Loud and unabashed. His body shakes, tail curling around the bend of his knee like a boa constrictor, muscles drawn tight from his toes to the deep knit of his brow. It hits him and it keeps hitting him and even when he sags from exhaustion, he struggles to get away from the suddenly overwhelming feeling of the water pouring over his oversensitive cunt. Rain sees stars, he thinks he might have passed out or something but at some point someone's turning the tap off and pulling the plug.

He's a little incoherent and entirely embarrassed as he's scooped up and wrapped in a towel, a low chuckle near his ear as a kiss presses to his temple.

"Did you have fun tadpole?"

[bella-rose29]

Domestic Sweetness - part 1

requested by @oblivious-idiot: HI BELLE MY BELOVED you told me to make a formal request so!! can i request a lockwood x fem!reader - domestic sweetness, cooking for each other, lockwood giving reader his jumper, that kind of thing  feel free to go as wild and fluffy as you like hehe

"Love is wont to bring many calamities upon men" is the other thing I based this on and I feel like it's very fitting indeed

I AM SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME ACTUAL MONTHS TO DO THIS BUT YOU HAD UPDATES ALONG THE WAY SO I HOPE THAT HELPED

word count: 4.6k

warnings: painfully sweet relationship depicted, lockwood actually gets injured quite a lot (sorry to my boy), swearing, I think that's it? oh wait no there's like one or two slight innuendos whoops

“Can you pass the sugar, Lockwood?”

“Sure, here.” A heavy jar was placed on the counter next to you, and you paused in your stirring to measure out the new ingredient. He was smiling widely at you, a grin that could rival the sun with how bright and happy it was, and you almost felt bad about telling him that he’d brought the salt instead of sugar. His brow furrowed, and he checked the label again. “Damn. Sorry, darling, I could have sworn I picked up the right jar. The sun must have faded the pen; I’ll rewrite it.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before going in search of a marker, turning back momentarily to pass you the actual jar of sugar. 

George, Lucy, and Holly had gone out for the day, taking advantage of one of the last few warm days of autumn before winter started setting in and filled up their schedules with clients. Lockwood and Y/n had stayed in, making the most of the fact they had the house to themselves for a few hours and could make as much mess in the kitchen as possible without being shouted at. Besides, if the others did get mad then there would at least be cake to sweeten them up a little. 

Lockwood let out a small triumphant “Ha!” from across the kitchen, telling you that he’d found a pen. There was a brief pause, the only sounds being those of the spoon in the mixing bowl bringing all the ingredients together, and then the sound of a mason jar being opened. 

“Lockwood?” He hummed in response. 

“What are you doing?” You stopped stirring to look over at your boyfriend just in time to see him eat a spoonful of whatever was in the jar he’d just opened. “Wha… what the actual fuck?” He grimaced, pulling a face and sticking his tongue out repeatedly as though it would get rid of the taste. 

“…I had to check it was definitely salt.” He looked sheepish, a faint tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you stood with your hands on your hips and raised your eyebrows at him. 

“Of course it’s salt, dipshit. I’ve got the sugar!”

“I didn’t want to get it wrong!”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to see what a spoonful of salt tasted like?” He didn’t say anything, instead starting to write ‘salt’ on the label with far too much concentration. You sighed, turning back to the bowl. “Idiot,” you muttered, but there was a smile on your face regardless. 

~~~

Lockwood could still taste the salt. 

He’d washed his mouth out with roughly four cups of tea and six pints of water, but the tang of the teaspoon of salt he’d eaten earlier was still there. He couldn’t even complain about it either, because Y/n just laughed at him and said he had to live with the consequences of his actions. 

At least he now knew what a spoonful of salt tasted like. 

He heard you struggle a little from his place at the sink (he’d been put on washing up duty), and looked to his left to see you attempting to reach something on the top shelf. Drying his hands on the tea towel he slung it over his shoulder and stepped over, coming up behind to help. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, while the other reached up and took the second mixing bowl out of the cupboard. “Here you are, darling,” he whispered, deliberately lowering his voice and speaking directly into your ear, tightening his hold around your waist for a brief moment and delighting in both the involuntary shiver and small sound that left your mouth. He kissed your temple and let go, placing the mixing bowl on the counter and moving away to finish washing up. 

“You,” his girlfriend started, clutching the sideboard, “are evil, Anthony Lockwood. Pure evil.”

He just laughed in reply, and yelped when you dipped your hand in the sink and threw soapy water in his face. 

~~~

The cake had been sat on the side for a while now, sponges cooling down so that the icing that the two of you were currently making wouldn’t melt and slide right off. 

“That’s way too much icing, isn’t it?”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll eat any leftovers.”

“Lockwood, you can’t just put everything in your mouth.”

“Icing won’t kill me, Y/n.”

You sighed, fighting back the smile that threatened to break through. “Still. You’ll probably be sick if you eat that much.” Lockwood didn’t bother hiding his grin, dipping a finger into the bowl to scoop some icing up. He laughed when you smacked his chest, smile never disappearing even when he nearly fell backwards off his chair. “Does it taste alright?”

“Yep. Tastes perfect. I could totally eat that whole bowl and not get sick.”

“Well,” you replied, standing up from the kitchen table and heading for the sponges. “You’re not going to find out if you can. The cake’s cool enough now. Here, take the spatula. You can lick it when we’re done. When we’re done, Anthony. Not now.” Lockwood pouted with the implement halfway to his mouth, sticking his bottom lip out so far it looked ridiculous, and you snorted and gave him a peck on the cheek. “C’mon, the cake won’t ice itself.”

A short while later the majority of the icing had been used, spread as neatly as possible over the cake that had now been assembled. “It looks pretty good!” Lockwood said, standing back to admire it. 

“I just hope it tastes as good.”

“Of course it will. You always doubt yourself and then make the most incredible things I’ve ever eaten, so I don’t know why you’re always so unsure.” He’d said it so casually, inspecting the spatula in his hand and leaning back against the counter, and he was talking about cake, but it meant a lot. He wasn’t wrong, and the fact that he’d said that as nonchalantly as he had made your heart clench in your chest. Looking at Lockwood now, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window and casting him in a soft golden glow, you found yourself wondering how the hell you’d managed to end up with someone as wonderful as him. 

Then he practically deep-throated the spatula, and the illusion of Anthony Lockwood as some magnificent and incredible person was partially shattered. 

“Anthony, what the-” you cut yourself off, staring in shock at your boyfriend as he took the nearly-clean spatula out his mouth and stared back, the picture of innocence. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad, not when he was looking at you with those wide brown eyes and titling his head a little in a silent question. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” 

“You- you just shoved the whole thing in your mouth!”

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t seem concerned about the fact he could have choked, instead resorting to licking the spatula like an ice cream to get the last of the icing off. For a moment, memories of his tongue doing a similar thing but in a very different context flooded your brain, not helped at all by the soft moan he let out at the taste of the icing. 

“Just, uh… you could have- you…” He had that innocent look on his face again, and it was difficult to remember what you’d been saying. “Don’t worry about it,” you muttered, gaze fixed on the spatula. Lockwood noticed, of course, and immediately a smug look took over his features. He exaggerated his movements, and the spell was broken. It definitely helped take your mind off of… other things, especially when he accidentally smacked himself in the face with the spatula. 

“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his cheek and frowning at the implement. 

“It’s your fault, you know. I have no sympathy for you.”

“Rude.” There was no malice in his response, and the glare he gave you was teasing. 

“What are we gonna do with the rest of the icing? There’s too much to put on the cake, but not enough to put on something else. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“Eat it?”

“You want to eat everything, Anthony.” He walked over to the sink, dropping the spatula in the water and cleaning it before moving to the kitchen table where the bowl of icing sat. “What are you doing now?”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you closer with his left hand. His right was dipping into the icing bowl again, but before you could chastise him for it he was gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you in to his side, lifting his right hand to your mouth. “Open up.”

“Wha- just eat it off your hand? When did you last wash them?”

“You literally watched me wash them about a minute ago, I’m not sure why you’re concerned about that. We’ve got to eat the icing up, so if you won’t eat it then I will.”

“Fine. Go on then,” you said, sighing and opening your mouth. He paused for a moment, hand a few inches away from your face, and for a split-second you thought you saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. You should have realised that he would take advantage of the situation when his grip on your waist tightened, pinning you to his side so that he could wipe the icing on your cheek instead. A disbelieving scoff left your mouth, eyes widening as you took in the grin he was giving you. “Really? I thought you wanted to eat it?” 

He shrugged. “I can lick it off afterwards.” Under the icing your cheeks burned. Recovering quickly you reached into the bowl yourself, grabbing the back of his top to stop him lurching away when he realised that he was under attack.

“Not a fucking chance you’re getting away with this,” you muttered, spreading the icing over his chin (he’d jerked his head back at the last second, and given the awkward angle it was the only part of his face you could reach). Now it was his turn to huff in incredulity, and there was a brief pause where the two of you stood - still grasping each other to prevent any escapes - and looked at each other. 

Then something clicked, and at the same time you both made a mad scrabble for the icing bowl, hands dipping in to collect ammunition before attempting to smear the topping all over each other. 

When Lucy, George, and Holly came home roughly half an hour later desperate for a cup of tea and a quiet evening in, they found you and Lockwood lying on the kitchen floor, icing spread around most of the room and baking trays used as what looked like makeshift shields, wide smiles on both of your faces. 

George nearly had an aneurysm at the state of the kitchen, but after he made the pair of you swear to clean it before you went to bed and left the room in a huff he couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face. 

~~~

“Did we run out of teabags again?” Lucy called from the kitchen. It was incredible how far her voice could carry, really, since you and Lockwood were in his room a floor up with the door closed and music playing, and yet could still hear her. George yelled back something about how he’d meant to go the other day but forgot, and he couldn’t right now because he was doing yoga. Holly had already gone home, and when Lucy appeared at Lockwood’s bedroom door a few minutes later you sighed. 

“Why do we have to go? We just got comfy in bed,” Lockwood said, even though he was the only one currently under the covers and was still in his day clothes. You had been changing the music over, having grown bored of the previous record. 

“Because I need to wash my hair? And George is probably butt-naked so he can’t go. You two are already dressed anyway, so why does it matter?”

“She’s got a point, Lockwood,” you started. “It’ll be fun! Besides, we’ll have some time for just the two of us, and-” You didn’t even get to finish before he was launching himself out of bed, grabbing your wrist, and hurling the both of you down the stairs, already reaching for his coat and shoes. 

“See you later!” Lucy called, heading up to the attic. “Oh, and we need bread too!”

“Got it!” you yelled back, stifling your laughter at how frantically Lockwood was moving. “Why’re you going so fast? No, slow- slow down!” He had pulled your own coat off the rack and started putting your arms through the sleeves, and was now wrapping his yellow and brown patchwork scarf around his neck. 

“What? Am I not allowed to want to spend time with you? Alone?” He waggled his eyebrows around at the last word, leaning in close and aiming for a kiss, lips pursed comically as he shut his eyes. You pushed his face away, snorting at his theatrics, and put your own scarf around your neck before heading for the front door. Stuffing a bag in his coat pocket (you would never understand how he could fit so many things in them, they were stupidly deep) he followed after you, and it wasn’t long before the two of you were walking down the road hand in hand (or rather, hand in arm; your palms always got uncomfortably sweaty whenever you held hands for too long, and Lockwood had long since learned that letting you nestle your hand in the crook of his elbow was much better for both of you). 

“Teabags and bread, right?” you asked, double checking with Lockwood that you hadn’t got it wrong in the five minutes since you’d left the house. Lockwood hummed in response, a soft smile decorating his face. He turned his head to look down at you, and while his smile was still small you could see the happiness in his eyes. It was strange: before meeting him you hadn’t ever thought that someone could look at you like that, but here was Anthony Lockwood, gazing at you like there was nothing else in the world - in the universe - that mattered more than you. 

Maybe he should have considered that other things did matter, because barely two seconds later he walked face first into a lamppost. 

You desperately wanted to comfort him and check that he was alright but instead laughter burst its way up and out, making you double over and wheeze. 

“It’s not funny!” he exclaimed, clutching his nose, but there was a badly concealed grin under his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed to get out, except you were still laughing and probably looked everything but sorry. “You just- you just walked straight into it!”

“Funnily enough,” he started, wincing as he prodded his nose with his index finger, “I was aware of the fact I walked into a lamppost. Not sure what it was that made me aware of it; maybe the way my entire face hurts has something to do with it?” Your laughter had died down now, one or two small giggles still breaking through, and you moved closer to inspect his face yourself. Knocking his hands away, you brought your own up, feeling along the skin to check for… well you weren’t really sure what you were checking for, but his nose didn’t seem broken, and he didn’t have any cuts or bleeding. He might end up with a bruise or two, but he’d wear them just as proudly as the slight blue tinge on his hand from years ago or the very large eye bags he couldn’t seem to get rid of. 

“Sorry,” you said again, meaning it a little more this time. You paused for a moment, a slightly guilty look appearing on your face. “I really wish I had had my camera with me to catch that though, is that bad?” He stared at you in open-mouthed shock, but the amusement glistening in his eyes told you it was just pretend. 

“How… dare you!” He lunged, arms outstretched in an attempt to catch you, but you spun away just in time, laughing loudly and jogging away down the pavement. Lockwood rushed after you, and his long spindly legs made the distance you had created seem like nothing. He wrapped his arms around your midriff from behind, pulling you back against him and lifting you up in the air all in one go. He spun the both of you around, unable to stop his own laughter as you kicked and squeezed your eyes tightly shut, and after what felt like far too long (but in reality was probably no more than five seconds) he put you down again, twisting you around by his grip on your waist so that you were facing each other. “So rude,” he muttered, grinning while he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “So rude.” Lockwood pulled back, releasing your waist and moving to the outside of the pavement while dramatically doing a little bow and offering up his arm. 

“Are you sure your face is alright?”

“I’m sure. A bit sore, but I’ve had worse. A cup of tea when we get back will help, I think.” He was still bent a little in the middle so you took his arm and let him stand up straight and lead you down the road again. 

~~~

“Is that all we needed?” you asked, walking back over to where Lockwood stood with the shopping basket. “It doesn’t seem like a lot given we came to the big shop.” Lockwood looked a little sheepish for barely a second, quickly schooling his expression back into one that looked more like ‘I’m so happy to be out with my girlfriend’, but you caught it regardless. Narrowing your eyes, you spoke again. “We didn’t need to come here, did we.” It wasn’t a question, and Lockwood shrunk back a little. “We could have gone to Arif’s; you saying he was shut was a lie!”

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I just wanted to spend more time with you, is all.” How could you stay mad at him when he was looking at you like that? Those brown eyes would be the death of you, you were sure of it. 

“Fine,” you replied, drawing out the word. “But we’re buying biscuits.”

“Happy to, since it means we get longer together before you have to go home.” The pair of you started walking again, heading for the biscuit isle, when Lockwood stopped abruptly in the middle of the store. “Did you need anything? You know…” he waved the hand that wasn’t holding the basket in the vague direction of your body. “I seem to remember you saying you were running out of something? Pads, maybe? Or was it the liner thingies? Oh! And painkillers, we need more of those. George used the last for a headache he had the other week and I forgot to restock.”

“How… you remember me saying that?” He started dragging you away from the biscuit isle and instead towards the toiletries isle, seemingly nonplussed about the fact he’d remembered one off-hand comment you had made ages ago. 

“Of course I do. I keep a little list in a notebook so I don’t forget anything. Ah, here we are.” He stopped walking to frown at the display of products before the two of you. “Actually… I have no idea what I’m looking at right now.”

“That’s alright,” you responded, reaching out for the things you needed. “I would have completely forgotten if you hadn’t reminded me, and that would have been a disaster.” As soon as you were done, basket just that little bit heavier, you both turned and left for the biscuits for the second time. 

“You pick,” Lockwood said as you neared. “I picked the biscuits last time and the others aren’t here, so tough luck for them.”

Despite you all calling it the Big Shop it was only a small amount larger than Arif’s, and as such the aisles weren’t all that much taller - you could often find Lockwood’s head floating above the shelves which made it easy to not get lost - but it did mean that if anybody was below the height of the aisles, they were practically invisible. Unfortunately someone had been just around the corner of the biscuit aisle, hidden behind a board advertising a brand, and you didn’t have time to correct your course. 

“Oof! Watch it!” 

At first you thought you’d bumped into a small child, possibly around six or seven years in age but just above the average height, and that he was in need of a personality check for the attitude he’d just given you. Then when you blinked and the child stood up after being sent flying across the floor, you realised that you were in fact looking at Bobby Vernon instead. 

“Sorry, Bobby,” Lockwood said, trying not to smile while the other agent brushed himself off. “Didn’t see you behind the display.”

“Lockwood, that display is the size of a large rat at most,” Bobby scowled, inspecting a non-existent rip in his Fittes uniform. You had only met Bobby Vernon once before (a few months ago, and he hadn’t said a word), and you were surprised that he apparently hadn’t gone through puberty yet. There was the odd crack in his words when he spoke, but otherwise his voice sounded like what could only be described as a mouse’s feet gently pattering over a tin roof, or perhaps something akin to a child talking to you in high tones very far away. 

“I’m aware of that,” replied Lockwood, having given up on hiding his grin by now. “What are you doing here?”

“I was getting supplies for a case that we have tonight. Not sure if you remember what those are, Lockwood, but we’re fully booked for the foreseeable future.” He puffed his chest out, giving the impression of a fairy trying to make itself look bigger than it was, or a small pufferfish going up against a whale. His tone had gone all smug and holier-than-thou, and you didn’t much like it. 

“Actually,” Lockwood started, with a look that told you he was about to start lying, “we’re doing quite well ourselves.” There it was. You’d spoken to Holly earlier that day, and the biggest job that Lockwood and Co had for the next week or so was hanging up lavender in a hotel a couple of streets away. Bobby raised an eyebrow (or tried to; it looked a lot more like he’d been told that someone had just adopted a pair of gerbils for him and named them Harold and Nancy or something ridiculous like that) and scoffed. Lockwood didn’t falter though, his smile staying plastered on his face and his posture confident (seriously, the boy had to have had dancing lessons with a back that straight), and after a few moments Bobby gave up scrutinising him. 

“Well I’d best be getting on,” the Fittes agent said, straightening his jacket and sniffing. “Busy life and all that. I hope you fall in a river, Lockwood. Or set another building on fire so that they can finally take you out of the game.” You huffed an incredulous laugh, not believing how someone who looked so small and mouse-like could say something like that. Before either you or Lockwood could respond Bobby Vernon had walked off, his rapier dragging against the floor a little and nearly tripping him with how long it was compared to his body. 

“He was nice,” you mused, turning to grab some biscuits. Jammy dodgers were the first to go in the basket, since George always ate the lot of them and rarely bothered with any others. 

“Bobby’s always a joy to be around,” Lockwood replied, reaching his hand out for yours. You shook your head and put a packet of bourbons in the basket instead, already going for some chocolate covered hobnobs and digestives. Lockwood had started grabbing at yours, so you cast one last look at the basket and the shelves before indulging him. “Is that everything do you think?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, keeping his lips there while he waited for you to respond. 

“Yeah, I think so. We can always pop out again tomorrow if we missed anything.”

Just under ten minutes later the pair of you were out of the shop, Lockwood carrying the bags in one arm and your hand resting in the crook of his other. It was darker now than when you’d left the house, the evening properly drawing in and clouds darkening the sky, but with Lockwood by your side the world could never be anything but bright. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair (that somehow managed to still look great while you looked like you’d been dragged backwards through a hedge) and threatening to pull his scarf away. You reached out to grab it before the end could break free, effectively making the both of you grind to a halt. “Thanks,” he grinned, probably completely unaware of how he made you feel. A sudden urge to kiss him like those scenes in the movies overtook you, and you took your other hand out of the crook of his elbow to grab a hold of the other end of his scarf. Tugging harshly on the fabric, you yanked Lockwood down to press your lips to his, closing your eyes right before contact. 

Contact never came. 

Not for you, anyway. Lockwood did make contact, but with the floor instead of your lips, and there was a painful sounding thud when he landed. “Oops…” you murmured, hands now held up by your face instead of holding Lockwood’s scarf. 

There was a moment of silence where Lockwood was just lying on the pavement, face down while splayed out like one of those white chalk body outlines in crime reports, and then you couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore. 

It bubbled up, and at the small groan that escaped your boyfriend you tried to stop, pressing your hand over your mouth in an attempt to prevent any more laughter. You were unsuccessful, instead laughing even harder when he lifted his head to show the red print of concrete on his cheek and scowled up at you. Luckily the shopping had stayed in the bags, so when Lockwood pushed himself up off the floor and brushed the stray bits of pavement off of him, all he had to do was pick up the bag. He gently touched a couple of fingers of his free hand to his nose, testing for any injuries, then nodded when he felt satisfied that there wasn’t anything too worrying. He caught you hiding your grin and gave you one of his own before opening his mouth. 

“Kiss my nose better?” 

You snorted, stepping closer to Lockwood but not yet obliging. You checked for any damage to his nose yourself, not trusting him to have done a good enough job. “What makes you think I will?”

“Well I think I deserve some sort of compensation for my injuries,” he replied, using his spare hand to pull you into his chest by your waist. 

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” he said, voice growing quieter as he leaned in. His nose brushed against yours, warm breath on your face a pleasant contrast to the chill in the air. The wind was still pulling at your hair and clothes, rustling the plastic shopping bags in Lockwood’s hand and making your cheeks sting at the cold. 

“Alright then, if that’s what the doctor ordered.”

“It is,” Lockwood muttered, but the end of his sentence was lost in your lips. 

tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlitcanvas, @cielooci, @35-portlandxrow, @laumire, @isimpfor-everyone, @furblrwurblr

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, and of COURSE @oblivious-idiot for the request

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

[valentiyne]

𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Slight Cursing & Soft!Cal. Summary: Requested! Blind date with Calum, a match made in heaven, or a bundle of awkwardness and spilled drinks? Word Count: 2.1k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

You weren't even sure how you managed to end up in this position.

Your skin-colored leggings suffocate your thighs, your heels marking your ankles with raw blisters, and the mini skirt your roommate begged you to wear riding up every damn step you take. She wanted to play matchmaker for the night, claiming this guy she knew from work was "my other half." Now here I was, walking down Hollywood Boulevard in an outfit that a paper towel could probably cover more skin.

The restaurant she told you to meet him at was 20 minutes away from our shared apartment, and you had to be shoved to finally walk out the door. I had no idea who I was meeting or his name.

"You have fun, be safe and I packed a few condoms in your bag!", she pushed me out the door, waving ecstatically with a high-pitched squeal.

A few?

I look up the see the tiny diner come into view, her excuse being "he can't technically be seen in any major restaurants." whatever that means.

Pushing the doors open, I look around the empty room. It wasn't too late at night, only being 7PM- but it was a Monday. The back walls were all mirrors, making me avert my attention to myself and what I was wearing once again. I had stopped and looked at my reflection every chance I got on my way here, and now that I'm placing it in this diner- I am way overdressed. A few coffee pots were on warmers, probably hours old and bitter. The jukebox in the corner was playing some Elvis song that Chloe could name if you played it backward, and I smiled at the thought nevertheless.

"Have a seat anywhere", the waitress calls from the back and I give a faint smile to her. I spot someone sitting in the back left corner, opposite to the Jukebox, a menu propped up to cover their entire face.

Is that him?

I slowly walked towards the booth, looking around once more before standing in front of the occupied table. I cleared my throat quietly, hopefully to grasp their attention.

"Excuse me? Um are you here for a date", I ask after no response, mentally praying I wasn't completely embarrassing myself with a total stranger.

The menu flew down with a gust of wind following, my hair twirling back as I made eye contact with brown eyes and freshly dyed blue hair.

"Hey, Yeah that's me", He smiles nervously, his hand leaning up awkwardly to shake. I quirk an eyebrow at him and slowly slide into the booth across from him, shaking his hand slowly.

"I'm Y/n, a friend of Chloe's", I smile nevertheless, ignoring his very visible awkwardness.

I glance down at the table now, noticing the single menu sprawled out infront of him.

He clears his throat before speaking, extending his hand out once more before retracting it quickly, "I'm Calum."

"Any reason there's only one menu, Calum?", I lightly joke, pointing down at the menu he still had grasped in one hand. His eyes go wide and he slides it over to my side of the table, muttering curse words under his breath.

"Shit sorry, I completely spaced it and told the waitress it was a table for one- maybe two", a hand flies up to the back of his neck and I take note that they are painted silver, clasped with multiple various rings.

I put a hand up to reassure him, a light smile paints my pink lips and he throws his head back and laughs- mainly at himself.

"Tell me about yourself?", He dares to ask, his eyes looking up to meet mine as I focus my attention on the condensation dripping down and pooling from my water glass.

"There's not much to say really, I'm a full-time employee who barely has time to sleep", I laugh softly, toying with the straw settled in my water. That was the stupidest response I could've given.

"I understand the no sleep, I'm always on tour with my mates so sleep is usually the least of my worries", He leans his back against the seat, folding his hands on the table neatly.

"You're in a band? What do you play?"

Calum proceeds to tell me everything there is to know about him- life on tour, the crazed obsessed fans, and the 'sexy' bass he picked up the other night. I sat and listened to every word of it, not bothering to interrupt how passionate he sounded about his hobbies. It gave me a sense of relief knowing he didn't find me boring compared to his hectic lifestyle, maybe even reassured that there's more to life than status.

"Were you two ready to order?", the waitress from before calls from a few tables away, her hands full with ketchup bottles. I look down at my phone to notice that Calum had been talking for 30 consecutive minutes- not letting the overworked waitress take our order sooner.

"Oh yes! I'm so sorry, can we just get one banana split to share?", I smile at the girl and she returns the favor with a slight thumbs up.

Calum turns to me with a laugh, "Really?".

"What?" I laugh now too, it was almost contagious at this point.

"A banana split? I invite you to dinner and you get desert?"

My mouth drops open, and I lean across the table to playfully smack his hand. He retracts his hand quickly, reaching up to push two fingers against my forehead to stop me from reaching across any further.

"There's nothing wrong with dessert for dinner, Calum"

"Never said there was, Y/n"

He shrugs in agreement before pushing his water to the side to make room for the incoming plate. The waitress places the monstrous desert before us, two spoons on the plate and she drops a few napkins at his side.

"You two enjoy!"

We both thank her kindly before I look back towards Calum, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he tries to process how we are both going to manage to finish this. Instead, he leans down with his mouth open wide at the desert to playfully take a chomp at the whipped cream that was piled on.

"Calummmm", I whine, swatting him away as he gives me a cream filled smile. I watch as his eyes make contact with the mountain of whip cream before him and devilish smirk appears. He then leans up quickly, snatching a scoop of the whip cream with his fingers to fling at me. I burrow closer to me seat, protecting my face with my hands as I squeal loudly. In one swift moment, his hand reached across towards me and knocked both of our waters onto the table- destroying our desert.

"Oh shit", he says quickly, his hands flying to tug the napkin from under the plate between us and attempting to clean the mess with one lone napkin.

"You're an idiot", I say in between laughs, my hands wrapped around my stomach to contain the pain now emerging with every breath.

He grumbles something under his breath before he begins laughing himself, his cheeks squishing against his eyes and face bright red.

"Can I say I officially ruined this date? Yeah?" Calum inquires, his eyes traveling down to the drenched shirt I now wore.

"Nah, I think it's probably the best date I've ever been on", I scoop up a piece of our watery banana split, eyeing it for a moment before dropping the spoon back down in the puddle. Calum works on cleaning the rest of the water off the table, attempting to ease the workload on our waitress.

"Let me get you a new shirt at least?", He opens his wallet, tossing more than enough to cover the bill before sliding out of the booth. I nod in agreement and push all the dishes to the front of the table for the waitress, giving him a laugh before sliding out with him.

"Already trying to take my clothes off?", I tease, earning a new formed look of horror on his face. "I'm just teasing, sure I would love a new shirt." He extends a hand down for me to take and I gladly accept it, walking out of the diner with an apologetic wave to the waitress. Calum kept his hand clasped in mine tightly, his head bowed down up until the point we reached the car. I paid no mind to it, knowing the underlying meaning behind the secrecy of our encounter.

"Is it okay if we go back to mine? If you want I can take you home and-", He begins rambling, his hand opening the passenger door for me. I nod my head, plopping down into the seat and clasping the seatbelt across my chest. He gives a faint smile and closes the door behind me with a "Watch your tail."

As he walked around the car to his side, I could've sworn I heard a "Yes!" from under his breath.

Calum's house was more than I expected, it was clasped with vintage decor and numerous shelves honoring his awards and medals. Sure, I knew he was in a band, but this wasn't what I exactly had in mind. I think I expected the house to be littered with clothes from numerous hookups or even just sheets of music paper everywhere. He tossed his keys into a bowl in the hallway, slipping his shoes off and neatly tucking them away. I take note of it and slide my heels off as well, pushing them aside as I step onto the cold hardwood.

"Let me grab you something to wear", Calum says as he makes his way down the hall and toward what I'm assuming is his bedroom. I hear little footsteps bolting my way and I turn around to see a salt and pepper puppy at my feet, circling me as it sniffed.

"Hey little guy", I crouch down to offer a hand before scrunching at its neck.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted a hoodie or a shirt since your top is kinda small- not that that's a bad thing but you must be cold from the wa-", his voice echoes in the hallway, getting louder before he suddenly stops infront of me.

"Who's this?", I ask as the dog licks away at my hand, tail wagging so quickly I was sure he would start floating.

"Oh! I forgot to mention I had a dog", Calum crouches down, picking up the dog and placing him on the couch next to him. "That's Duke, hope you're not allergic or anything." I shake my head, my heart growing at the mere thoughtfulness that he has shown me throughout the night.

He holds up two options to wear. The first being a white and red t-shirt with some type of writing sprawled on it and the second being a oversized green hoodie with embroidery on the front.

"Now these are my prized possessions, If I let you borrow one I'll expect a second date in return. Deal?" He says hopefully, holding both out towards me and I hesitate for a moment between the two.

"They are that important to you huh?", I smile and grab the hoodie to feel the texture of it before deciding on it, grabbing it from his hand. He points at a door down the hallway he just exited from with a nod,

"You have no idea.."

[lifeofpriya]

Romance in The Hamptons - Alexis Lafrenière imagine

[gif credit goes to @alexislafreniere]

author's note: this is my submission for @wyattjohnston's summer 2k24 fic exchange, and i had the amazing pleasure of writing for @wildrangers! a quick shoutout to @2manytabsopen for helping me with Laf's characterization -- love you, bestie 🫶🏼. but yeah, i hope y'all enjoy the fic!

summary: summertime in The Hamptons leads to a budding romance...

wc: 3,028 words

"I still can't believe you managed to find us such a swanky rental," you giggled at your friend, Jamie, as you stepped into the luxury house that was nestled away in The Hamptons. The walls were painted in a cool, beachy white, and the smell of freshly cut grass and lemon cleaner filled the space. The floorboards groaned slightly underfoot, echoing the promise of lazy days and wild nights ahead.

Jamie shot you a knowing smile. "What can I say? Sometimes, being a travel agent has its perks." The house was indeed a steal for the season, boasting an expansive backyard that led directly to the beach, a hot tub that was already bubbling invitingly, and a fully stocked kitchen that made you want to throw a dinner party every night.

You set down your bags and took a moment to appreciate the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm, golden glow across the waves. The horizon looked like a canvas painted with a watercolor wash of pinks and oranges. You felt a gentle breeze waft in, carrying the salty scent of the sea. It was the perfect escape from the stifling city heat.

"Let's grab some drinks and hit the beach," Jamie suggested, tossing you a beach towel. You nodded eagerly, feeling the excitement of the vacation bubble up inside you. The two of you walked out the back door and down the short wooden staircase to the sand. The grains felt warm and soft underfoot as you laid your towel on the sand and pulled out a novel you'd been dying to read. The waves rolled in, a rhythmic soundtrack to the quiet evening that was quickly filling with the distant laughter of other vacationers.

As you settled in, you could hear the faint sounds of laughter and a beach ball bouncing in the distance. You glanced over to see a group of people playing beach volleyball, their shadows stretching long across the sand.

Shrugging your shoulders, you diverted your attention back to your novel, eager to dive into the story between the pages. Well, all was going well until you heard someone yell out, "Heads up!"

You looked up just in time to see a beach ball flying towards you. Instinctively, you reached out and caught it, feeling the rough texture and coolness against your palms.

You turned to see who had thrown it, and that's when you saw him: Alexis Lafreniere. He was jogging over, a sheepish grin on his face, with a group of friends in tow. "Sorry about that," he said, his French-Canadian accent making your heart skip a beat. "Are you okay?”

You felt your cheeks flush as you nodded, holding onto the beach ball. "Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound calmer than you felt.

Alexis looked relieved and chuckled. "Good catch," he said, closing the distance between you. His eyes were a warm brown, and his brown hair was a wild mess from the wind. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Alexis.”

You took his hand, feeling the firm grip and the warmth that radiated from his skin. "Nice to meet you," you said, your voice a tad shakier than you'd have liked. "I'm…" But before you could say your name, one of his friends called out, "Laf, come on! We need you back!”

With an apologetic look, Alexis took the beach ball from you. "I'd love to chat more, but we're in the middle of a game. Maybe I'll catch you around?" He didn't wait for your response before he turned and sprinted back to the volleyball match.

You watched him go, his athletic build moving with ease across the sand. As the game resumed, you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he didn't ask for your name. You shrugged it off, telling yourself it was probably for the best.

The days in the Hamptons passed in a blur of sunscreen, salt water, and late-night bonfires. You and Jamie had made a pact to enjoy every moment, and you both stuck to it. The group playing beach volleyball every evening grew familiar, their laughter a comforting background to your own adventures. But Alexis remained elusive, always disappearing before you had the chance to approach him again.

\\\

One sun-kissed afternoon, you found yourself at the local ice cream shop, the bell jingling as you stepped inside. The walls were adorned with vintage posters of surfers and sailboats, and the smell of fresh waffle cones filled the air. You scanned the flavors, feeling the anticipation of choosing the perfect one to cool off with. That's when you heard it again - that accent. You turned around to see Alexis standing behind you, a sheepish look on his face as he realized you'd caught him.

"Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It's you. From the beach. With the good catch." His smile was as warm as the day outside, and you felt your heart do a little flip. "I've been hoping to run into you again.”

You couldn't help but return the smile. "Well, you found me," you said, trying to play it cool. "What brings you here?”

Alexis shrugged. "Just needed a break from the heat. You know, the usual." His eyes searched yours, looking for something unspoken. "I've seen you around the beach, but I never got the chance to talk. I've been wanting to apologize for that. I'm usually not so… abrupt.”

You laughed it off, feeling a flutter in your chest. "It's fine. I've been pretty busy enjoying the sun and the waves." You paused, then took a risk. "So, are you staying in the area for long?"

Alexis nodded. "Yeah, l've got a place here for the summer. I try to get out of the city as much as I can." His eyes searched yours for a moment, and you felt a spark of curiosity. He was famous, but here, he was just a guy trying to escape the heat with an ice cream cone.

"What about you?" he asked, breaking the silence. "What brings you to the Hamptons?" You leaned against the counter, feeling the coolness of the marble seep through your shirt.

"Just a summer vacation with my bestie," you replied, gesturing towards Jamie, who was chatting with the cashier. "We wanted to get out of the city and enjoy some beach time.”

Alexis nodded, his gaze lingering on you before looking away. "It's a great place for that," he said, his eyes scanning the ice cream flavors. "So, what's your go-to?”

You pointed to the mint chocolate chip. "Can't go wrong with that," you said with a grin.

Alexis nodded thoughtfully. "Good choice. I'l have the same," he told the cashier, then turned back to you. "Would you like to sit outside?" He gestured to the small patio with a few tables scattered under an umbrella.

You felt a rush of excitement. "Sure," you said, trying to keep your cool. As you stepped outside, the warm sun kissed your skin, and you found yourself hoping it wasn't about to turn into a sweaty mess. Alexis pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, watching as he did the same.

You both licked at your mint chocolate chip cones, the sweetness a stark contrast to the salty ocean air.

"So, are you guys here for the whole summer?" Alexis asked, breaking the ice between you.

You took a bite of your ice cream, the mint and chocolate a delightful blend on your tongue.

"We're here for a couple of weeks," you replied, hoping you didn't sound too eager. "It's our annual escape from reality.”

Alexis laughed, a deep, rich sound that made you want to lean closer. "I get that," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's nice to just… be, you know?”

You nodded, feeling the beginnings of a connection. "Yeah, I do," you said, your voice a little softer than you intended.

Alexis's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared. "You guys should come to our beach party tonight," he said, his voice low and inviting. "It's nothing crazy, just some friends and a bonfire.”

Your heart raced, and you felt a jolt of excitement. "That sounds amazing," you replied, trying to keep the eagerness from your voice. "What time?”

Alexis leaned back in his chair, his eyes still locked on yours. "It starts around eight. Just follow the sound of the music and the smell of the bonfire. It's not hard to miss." He took a bite of his ice cream, the chocolate chips glinting in the sun.

You couldn't believe your luck. "We'll definitely be there," you said, trying to keep the excitement from spilling over.

Alexis nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Great," he said. "I'l make sure to save you a spot by the fire.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of excitement and preparation. You and Jamie spent hours picking out the perfect outfits and getting ready for the night ahead. The anticipation was palpable, a mix of nerves and excitement that had you checking the time on your phone every few minutes.

\\\

Finally, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the sky in a tapestry of oranges and purples. You and Jamie made your way down to the beach, the sound of the waves and distant laughter growing louder with each step. As you approached the bonfire, you could see the flickering flames and the silhouettes of people dancing around it. The smell of roasting marshmallows and woodsmoke filled the air, making your stomach rumble.

Alexis spotted you before you saw him, waving from the edge of the light. He was dressed casually in board shorts and a white t-shirt, his feet buried in the sand. You felt a flutter in your chest as he made his way over, his smile growing wider as he approached. "You came," he said, his eyes lighting up.

You nodded, feeling the heat from the bonfire warming your face. "We couldn't miss it," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Alexis took your hand, leading you through the crowd to a spot he'd reserved. "I'm so happy you're here," he said, his voice sincere. The warmth of his hand sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn't help but squeeze his fingers gently in return.

The party was in full swing, with music playing from a portable speaker and people of all ages mingling around the fire. You recognized some of the faces from the beach volleyball games, but there were plenty of new faces too. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, the kind of gathering that made you feel like you'd been coming here for years.

Alexis introduced you to his friends, who were all welcoming and curious about the newcomer. You chatted and laughed, sharing stories of past summers and the thrill of escaping the city. The fire crackled and popped, casting a warm glow over everyone's faces. As the night grew darker, the stars began to appear, twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky.

You watched as Alexis interacted with his friends, his ease and charm evident in every gesture and word. When he turned to you, his eyes held a warmth that made you feel seen and appreciated. You found yourself sharing stories of your childhood and hopes for the future more than you usually would with a stranger. His questions were thoughtful, and his laugh was genuine.

The party began to wind down as the night grew later, and the group around the bonfire grew smaller. The stars grew brighter, and the crackling fire painted shadows on the sand. Alexis leaned closer, the heat from his body a comforting warmth against the cooling night air. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to hide the smile that had been playing on your lips all evening.

\\\

Hand in hand, you strolled along the beach, the waves whispering secrets as they kissed the shore. The moon was a silver crescent, casting a soft glow that danced on the water's surface. The sound of the party grew faint behind you, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of the ocean.

"This is incredible," you murmured, feeling the cool sand between your toes.

Alexis nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's one of my favorite things about being out here. The quiet moments when you can just listen to the ocean.”

You let the sound of the waves wash over you, the saltwater breeze playing with your hair. The stars above twinkled with a clarity that was impossible to find in the city, and the darkness of the night wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The tension between you was palpable, a delicate dance of attraction that neither of you wanted to acknowledge outright.

As you strolled further down the beach, the moonlight reflected off the waves, creating a path of shimmering light that led you to a secluded cove. Alexis stopped, turning to face you, his hand still holding yours. "It's beautiful here," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. "It really is," you replied, your voice barely audible over the whispers of the tide.

Alexis took a step closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the scent of the bonfire lingered on his skin. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might lean in for a kiss. Instead, he tugged on your hand, leading you closer to the water's edge.

The waves lapped gently at your feet, the cool water a stark contrast to the warm sand. You watched as the moon's reflection danced in the ripples, creating a dazzling pattern that stretched out to the horizon. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of the ocean and the occasional call of a night bird. You felt a sense of peace that was rare in the bustling city life you were used to.

Alexis released your hand and took a seat on a piece of driftwood, patting the spot next to him. You sat down, feeling the wood's smoothness against your legs, the salt and sea-worn edges digging in slightly. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence beside you, and you couldn't help but lean in slightly, feeling the electricity in the air.

For a moment, you both just sat there, watching the waves play in the moonlight. The silence stretched out, filled with the sound of the ocean's whispers and the distant laughter from the party. It was as if the universe had paused just for you two, the rest of the world fading away into the background.

Alexis turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "You know," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I've been thinking about you a lot since that first day on the beach.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. "I've… I've thought about you too," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Alexis's smile grew, reaching his eyes. "I'm really glad to hear that," he said, his voice warm and sincere. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your neck. "You know, I don't usually do this sort of thing," he began, his gaze dropping to your lips.

You felt your breath hitch, the anticipation building in your chest. "What sort of thing?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Alexis leaned in, his gaze never leaving yours. "This," he murmured, before his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on his mouth, mingling with the salty tang of the sea air. Your heart raced as you melted into the moment, the feel of his hands on your arms anchoring you to the present. It was a kiss filled with promise and hope, a whisper of what could be.

When you pulled back, the world felt different somehow. The stars seemed closer, the ocean's whispers more intimate. You searched his eyes for reassurance and a sign that this was real. Alexis's gaze was steady, his smile warm and inviting. "I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you," he admitted, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, your heart racing in your chest. "I've wanted it too," you murmured, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. The air was charged with a tension that was both thrilling and terrifying. You didn't know where this was going but didn't want it to end.

Alexis leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that made your toes curl. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, feeling the heat of his body against yours. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you to this moment, under the stars with the sound of the ocean as your soundtrack.

When the kiss ended, you both sat there for a moment, the only sound the gentle whoosh of the waves. Alexis's hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb tracing small circles that sent delightful shivers down your spine. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of the sea and the faint hint of his cologne.

"Thank you for walking with me," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You felt a strange mix of excitement and fear, knowing that this could be the start of something beautiful or just a fleeting summer fling.

[thebrandywine]

hiii. the "you look really pretty right now" prompt is feeling really piers to me.

nini i'm sorry i couldn't just decide on ONE--

"You look really pretty right now."

Piers shivers out a laugh, his heavy eyelids raising as he stares. The man's biceps are tight to either side of his head, his wrists knotted securely to the headboard with a new rope in an obnoxious orange that Leon bought just for him-- his favorite color.

"Do I?" he asks breathlessly. His stomach twitches when Leon sinks his teeth into it, sucking lightly to pull up a mark. "F-fuck."

Leon hums, amused, and smooths his hands up and down Piers' thighs. Those are working to move, too, but his ankles are bound in much the same way as his hands, leaving him wholly immobile and completely at Leon's mercy.

There's something about Piers when he blushes that Leon can just never get enough of, that pink on tan and those hazel eyes blown wide in want. The millions of freckles scattered everywhere, faint as they might be, and how Leon can never keep himself from counting them with his lips until he loses track and has to start again. Piers doesn't have a lot of body hair but the thatch on his chest is nice for Leon to comb his fingers through, to follow as it vanishes on the upper part of his stomach just to reappear below his navel. Then, of course, the happy trail that goes down to Leon's favorite sight on earth.

"Stop teasing me," Piers says. He's still trying to be cute about it, trying to draw Leon in and using every trick he has to get things going, but--

"Thought you said you could take it," he murmurs, tonguing over the mark he's made, exhaling heavily across Piers' skin. "Taste of your own medicine?"

"I can, I just--"

"If you actually want me to stop, I will," Leon says, "but if not…"

He fists Piers loosely, the man having been hard for a while now. Piers' back arches, a relieved moan shuddering out of him. "Fuck, please, please," he mutters, but Leon doesn't move. He twitches his hips up and whines, "Lee."

"We've got all night, pretty boy," Leon teases, giving Piers a single stroke before pulling away. "Think you can last that long?"

--

"You look really pretty right now," Piers grins.

Leon throws him a tired look over his shoulder, half a glare and half exasperation. He's down on his hands and knees scrubbing at the carpet where Lucky barfed while they were out, a bottle of cleaner beside him and the air sharp with the scent of it. They'd changed before Leon had started dealing with it, meaning that he's in a pair of mismatched socks, threadbare sweats, and a stained shirt that's two sizes too big (Chris's, maybe). The sweats cling, and the position he's in gives Piers an excellent view of his ass as it works back and forth with each vigorous scrub.

"Do you want dog barf in our carpet or not?" Leon asks.

"Not," Piers says, laid out in bed on his stomach with his chin propped on his forearms. "I'm just saying."

"Uh huh," Leon mutters, and Piers barely stifles a laugh as the man gets back to work. His ass shakes back and forth, back and forth, back and-- "Quit staring at me."

Piers says, "You're my husband. I'm allowed to stare as much as I want."

"Since when?"

"Since you said 'I do.'"

"You're supposed to save that for the good shit, you know." Leon sits back on his haunches and folds the hand towel in on itself before spraying more cleaner, glancing at Piers again with a raised brow. "Like when we're in bed?"

Piers, more seriously than he means to, says, "Lee, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It doesn't matter what you're wearing or where we are."

The truth of it is that he's spent every moment he's known Leon admiring him and staring at him, watching how the light falls across his face and makes his hair glow, how his smile is only crooked when it's a real one, the way that the years have pressed lines into the corners of his eyes, how he looks back at Piers like he's… worth something.

Leon is pink in the face as he looks away and hunches over the stain again. After a beat, he says, "Shut up."

Piers grins. "Never."

[tklpilled]

nikolai's hair is dyed red in sticky patches.

he drags his fingers through it, undoing the braid he'd carefully made. he tries not to wince as he runs through tangles, his jaw clenching as he stops himself from hissing in pain. he looks down at it once he's done, long and draped over his shoulder.

"fedya," he murmurs, "you've ruined my hair."

"cut it," fyodor replies simply.

nikolai gazes into the mirror, locking eyes with his reflection before quickly glancing away. "i'd rather not." he tries to picture himself with short hair. he decides he doesn't like it.

he runs himself a too-cold bath, washing and rinsing his hair in a monotonous cycle until it's back to its regular white colour and the water is tinted a rosy pink that reminds him of the crystals he's seen in shops. and then he has to get at his skin, to remove the dried blood that isn't his, and he scrubs until his flesh is raw and red. the faint scent of iron is drowned out by lemon-scented soap.

he shivers when he gets out, haphazardly throwing on the pieces of his outfit that aren't completely soaked in blood. he sits on the floor and begins to pat his hair dry. the towel is pulled from his hands, and when nikolai looks up, he sees his companion kneeling next to him.

"let me," fyodor says, and nikolai quietly obeys.

nikolai focuses on fyodor's soft breathing, and he closes his eyes and tries not to show how much he enjoys when fyodor combs through it with his fingers. he almost wants to purr. you do things to me, dostoy, he wants to say, but he doesn't dare open his mouth and ruin whatever this moment is.

that is, not until he feels fyodor parting his damp hair into thirds. "i thought you wanted to cut it."

"no," fyodor replies, beginning to braid it with practised ease. "i prefer it long."

nikolai plays with a lock of silver hair that had fallen out of fyodor's grasp, twirling it around his pointer finger. he lets the man tug at his hair, leaning his head back again when he realises he's straightened up too much. he shivers and tries not to jerk away when he feels fyodor's warm breath on the back of his neck.

fyodor fastens the end of the braid with a small rubber band, and nikolai knows that it's going to hurt like a bitch when he takes it out but he doesn't say a thing about it.

"should i braid your hair now, dos-kun?" he asks as he turns to face fyodor, only halfway joking.

fyodor hums. "i doubt it's long enough."

"not all of it," nikolai corrects himself. he takes a bit of dark hair between his fingers before letting it fall back. "only a bit."

to his surprise, fyodor nods.

nikolai moves to fyodor's side, taking the same bit of hair he'd just let go of, detangling it gently. fyodor closes his eyes, and nikolai swallows thickly and tries not to stare at how beautiful he is.

he produces a tiny, clear band from his coat, and silently apologises to future fyodor when he decides to remove it as he wraps it around.

"there," he says, leaning back and observing his work. fyodor reaches up to feel it. he doesn't open his eyes.

"thank you, kolya."

nikolai thinks he may be blushing.

fyodor tells him, later in the day as the sun sets, hands curled around a cup of tea, "you could kill me now."

nikolai doesn't look at him. "why would i do that?"

he hears fyodor take a sip. "it's what you want, is it not?"

"i'd rather not ruin such a quiet evening."

"you know, gogol," fyodor says, an amused smile finding its way to his lips, "i'm beginning to think you don't actually want me dead."

"that's not true. i despise you," nikolai tries to say, but he thinks his mouth forms the word love instead.

he doesn't bother correcting it.

it makes fyodor laugh, a quick chuckle slipping out, and nikolai finally glances over at him. he doesn't think he's heard fyodor genuinely laugh before.

he likes it.

"dostoy," he starts, tilting his head slightly. "why don't you ever laugh?"

fyodor looks up, setting his cup to the side. "why would i?"

nikolai huffs, because he's the demon king's jester, and being indirectly told that he isn't funny is hurtful. "i'd like to hear it more often."

fyodor smiles up at him. "well, then, i suppose you'll have to make me laugh more."

fyodor is teasing him, nikolai realises. he's hit with the sudden urge to tease him back.

"k-kolya—!" fyodor stammers, eyes widening as his breath catches. "stop that—"

nikolai practically lights up, excitement sparkling in his eyes as his fingers crawl over fyodor's sides. "don't tell me you're ticklish, dos-kun!"

"of course i'm not—n-nohot—" fyodor hisses, his pale cheeks turning a wondrous shade of pink.

"don't worry! i won't tell anyone~!" nikolai promises with a giggle. "our little secret! just laugh for me now, 'kay?"

so fyodor does, laughs his raspy and breathy laugh, and nikolai closes his eyes with a giddy smile as he listens to it. fyodor seems to be trying to control his laughter as if to compose himself, so nikolai scoffs and digs his thumbs into his hips to make him yelp and ruin all his progress. it sends fyodor into a wild and uncontrollable state and nikolai loves it.

he looks down when he feels hands gripping his wrists, pushing him away. he laughs. "how fun~! the demon fyodor can be ruined with just a simple touch! i might have trouble keeping this to myself…"

"nikolai," fyodor glares, but he's still blushing and sort-of-almost smiling, and it ruins the entire intimidation aspect.

nikolai coos. "i'm only joking, dostoy!" he wiggles his fingers, being held just inches away from fyodor's torso. "as long as i get to play with you sometimes, that is~!"

fyodor huffs and shoves him away. "ridiculous," he says, but nikolai already knows that he'll allow it anyway. he almost mentions it, in hopes to see that pretty blush again, but he decides to be merciful for once in his life.

(quietly, nikolai starts to wonder if he really wants to be free.)

[abiiors]

hiii, could i request prompts 44 n 54?? thank youuu<3

“If you walk out that door, then we’re done.” & “The stars will go out before I could ever forget you.”

Kinda woke up feeling a bit sad today so now you will have to suffer through the angst, I'm afraid. Also, she's quite short.

The Rooftop

The rooftop is cold tonight. 

The fur coat you have on is barely enough to warm you up but half of that is through no fault of the weather. 

‘This is it, you know,’  Matty calls out from his spot making you halt in your steps, ‘if you walk out that door then we’re done,’ he smiles, stating the obvious. 

Why has the night turned out this way? You search through the jumbling thoughts in your head, try to focus on one specific event through the ringing in your ears. 

You turn around to look at him one last time, perhaps the last time. His shirt is untucked, the collar open wide and askew. The tie he was wearing at the beginning of the night is now stuffed awkwardly in his pocket, bits of it hanging out. His eyes are flat, emotionless; filled with the blankness of acceptance. 

‘We have been done for a long time now,’ you point out, ‘This is just a formality.’ It’s not meant with animosity or as an accusation. It just is. A fact. 

You rake your brain for a reason, for one distinct point in time when things went sour. But you come up emptyhanded. Except there are the nights; nights full of passion spent intertwined in his arms, nights full of loneliness spent sobbing into his pillows. The highs that were so high that you couldn’t think straight for weeks. The lows that would pummel you straight into the depths of despair. 

‘A formality?’ he laughs and throws his head back for one brief second. The skin of his neck is  exposed, pale and still glistening from all the tears shed earlier. And there were many. You’ve never seen a man go through all five stages of grief so fast. So fast that they blend in together, chaotic and out of order. 

Even now, even this rhetorical question. What is it if not a form of bargaining?

Stay longer and answer pointless questions for me. Stay longer and talk to me, yell at me. Just stay. 

‘Why delay the inevitable?’ you shrug. 

‘Will you really go without giving me one last kiss?’ he jokes. It’s his usual mechanism at play, humour to cover up the sound of his heart breaking in two. Cruel laughter and sarcasm to mask the heartbreak. 

‘And then when that kiss turns into more?’ you ask, ‘and when I fall into your bed for just one more night? Because it always is just one more night, isn’t it? We are always doomed to repeat the cycle, aren’t we?’

The wind picks up, making ghoulish sounds to fill in the empty spaces of your conversation.

‘And so we just forget about us?’ 

You laugh drily. This is perhaps the first petulant statement he’s made tonight, you’ll give him that. But there it is. ‘That’s the plan, yeah,’ you shrug with as much casualness as you can muster. 

‘The stars will go out before I could ever forget you,’ he whispers in his drunk voice. Matty Healy has always been poetic, always had a way with words. But you’ve never doubted his words before. Never before.

You smile sadly at him, finally unable to control the welling tears and look up at the sky. You have spent the entire night on this rooftop and now dawn breaks over the horizon. Winks out the stars one after the other after the other as the sky turns pink. 

‘Goodbye, Matty,’ you close one hand over the door handle, clutching it tightly for support. 

But you linger. Unable to simply just go. 

‘Will you at least text me when you get home safely?’ he asks in a hoarse voice and fidgets with his lighter, about to light another cigarette. His shoes scuff against the floor creating faint lines in the dust. 

Home, You think to yourself, some cold, expensive hotel room. White and grey, full of flat, steely surfaces and perfectly made beds. Just one toothbrush in the bathroom, just one towel. 

‘I’ll text you when I get back home,’ you nod. It’s not illegal for exes to care about each other’s basic safety, is it? 

‘And will you?’ Matty lights the cigarette in his hands, ‘go home?’

So this is what it has come to. Thinly veiled questions that mean something else entirely and none of you can bring yourselves to say what’s truly in your heart. 

‘I will,’ you smile, finally open the door and step out, ‘I’ll find my way home eventually. Someday.’

-----

(Not writing part 2 for this)

[rhaegang]

cattonquick has been eating away at me for months now

there's definitely already a couple fics for this, but i'm obsessed with anything involving feminizing felix, whether it's clothes, makeup, or just highlighting felix's general manic pixie dream girl vibe + the way it brings out oliver's dominant/obsessive side. felix is just So Babygirl & oliver should treat felix like His Babygirl

i love your work btw you're such a talented writer 🖤

This sort of coincides with the previous ask about VS angel Felix. I think Felix is a soft, whimsical little creature who only happens to inhabit the body of a very large white guy with lots of wealth and power. I think he loves to be held, and coddled, and he loves being the baby of his family.

Maybe even some of why he doesn’t connect emotionally with the girls he’s dated is that their mental map of him is incongruent with who he is, so he lives down to their expectations of him.

But Oliver — I think he could help Felix to feel as small and delicate and soft as he wanted, if given the chance.

In fact, I was literally just having a conversation with @rodentsofdisbelief about Oliver maybe stealing a lipstick from Venetia’s dresser as an offering to Felix, encouraging him to try it on, to see himself as a pretty thing.

Strange to think that someone as hot as Felix has insecurities, but really everyone does. I think he’s insecure about how big he is. He prefers to curl up and seem smaller. The fact that Oliver IS so small in comparison fascinates him. He must wonder all the time about being Oliver’s size, about what being Oliver is like. And Oliver picks up on that — he deliberately makes himself smaller for Felix, because he thinks that’s what Felix wants from him, not realizing there is more nuance there.

So when, at some point, it might become apparent to Oliver that Felix wants to be the one who is small? Oliver would be all too pleased to make himself feel larger than life to Felix. And Felix would be scared, of course—at first.

But then, he would start to understand that this is about giving him permission to be delicate, to be fragile, lovely, treasured like a work of art. And that includes things like indulging in his love of pink, of sumptuous fabrics that drape and float, and that he could try another style of earring and ask Oliver’s opinion in private and know he won’t be jeered for it. He could ask a question like “have you ever shaved your legs, Ollie?” and not expect a laugh, only a shake of Oliver’s head, and that curious stare.

“D’you think you could help me shave mine, though?”

There’s just so much of them, you see, that Felix isn’t sure he’ll get it done properly on his own. And all the twisting and bending, what if he slips? What if he cuts himself? He might faint dead away from the blood.

As Felix is explaining his request, Oliver is already moving the stool closer to the tub. He’s already stoppering the drain and running the taps. He’s folding a towel and setting it on the floor, where he kneels.

“Let’s have your trousers down, then.”

And that makes Felix feel faint too, maybe even more than if there had been blood. But he peels his jeans down and steps out of them, then goes to fold himself down to the stool in front of Oliver, who’s wetting a sea sponge and lathering his hands with shaving soap, looking at Felix like there is absolutely nothing odd happening. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing for a guy to want to do in the first place, and just as normal to ask his guy friend to help.

It takes ages to do both legs, and Felix is so glad he did ask for Ollie’s help; he would’ve gotten bored and frustrated halfway if he had tried doing it on his own. But Oliver’s methodical, focused attention seems to put Felix into a sort of trance. It makes the hair on his nape prickle, jolts a strange little shiver between his ears and down his spine. The plunk of the razor into the water. The scrape of it over his knee. The foamy swipe of lather being smoothed up his thighs.

At Oliver’s instruction, he spreads them, and Oliver moves in between them. He rolls the legs of Felix’s boxers up, tucks them into the hinge of his hips. The heat of his breath in Felix’s lap has a predictable effect, but Oliver says nothing about it. He goes back to his task. He waits until the end to have Felix stand so he can finish the backs of his upper thighs, moving one of Felix’s feet up to the stool to make it easier to get at the tender places he needs to touch.

That means Felix can see, in the full mirror facing the tub, his miles and miles of newly-smooth legs. He can see them, and he can feel how strange and soft and naked they are under Oliver’s hands, and he finds himself wishing for something to put on other than his crisp blue boxers. Something that would accentuate his legs better now, frame Oliver’s work like it’s art. Daring himself, Felix points his foot into tiptoe.

“You know, the whole point of high heeled shoes is that they make your legs and arse curve more,” Oliver throws that out casually. Like he didn’t just commit arson, like his words weren’t a molotov tossed through the window of the warehouse where Felix stores all the thoughts and feelings he isn’t interested in thinking or feeling.

It has never occurred to Felix that there might be somewhere a large, ungainly boy could find high heels in a size large enough to fit, but…he thinks, there couldn’t be any harm in it if he asks Ollie to help him look.

[elizais]

Hello, still thinking about the last request you wrote, imagine that the reader actually had very light white hair and always dyed it, not even Chuuya would know. But then Chuuya leaves for a mission abroad and when he comes back early by surprise, the reader is only wearing a towel and a pot of paint in his other hand! She just looks shocked at Chuuya and doesn't know how to react because it's the first time he's seen her natural hair, as if they were so light they were white, you know...

of course!! i've never dyed my hair but I have been on ft whilst friends have, so please take this all in with your imagination and fix any errors.

"you dye your hair?"

request! apologies if i have misinterpreted it and for a late reply, school has been at a million percent. connected to this post but there is no need to read it. warnings: none!

she had removed the colour from her hair, the former light pink being removed and she was stood in a towel before the mirror. her mind had drifted off to when her boyfriend would be coming home.

chuuya was abroad in another city, he hadn't told her much information to not worry his girlfriend. he was due to come home tomorrow and she was incredibly excited. she mostly dried her hair and mixed the dye in the pot.

so much in her own world as she split her hair into sections, she didn't even hear her chuuya opening the front door. wrapped up in her towel, she leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look at her roots.

the heated floors kept the bottom of her feet warm, always grateful for the penthouse's luxurious features. little did she know, chuuya was looking in every other room for her to surprise her.

finishing the bottom section, she clips it aside - humming to the faint music playing. "[name?]" a very confused voice spoke from the body leaning on the doorframe. chuckling as she jumped and turned around.

"chuuya!!" she smiled, hugging him carefully to avoid getting the hair that is in the process of setting getting on him. "what are you doing, doll? your hair is so light.." he asks as he softly touches a piece without dye on.

"you didn't know?" she smiles, genuinely thinking she hadn't mentioned her hair isn't naturally this light yet abstract colour. "no.. why do you dye it?" he asks with pure curiosity as she walks back to the countertops.

"why do you wear hats?" she uses this question as an answer so he realises. "because i like ha- ohh.." he smiles at the way she answered him.

struggling with readjusting the clips throughout her hair, he sits slightly to the side yet in front of her on the countertop. "do you want help?" he asks. simply touching her hair to lift up the pieces she is getting frustrated with.

"thank you! tell me about your mission, chuu." she thanks him and inquires. "oh, nothing big. do you have another brush? i can do the other side if you like." he smiles as he kisses her cheek.

she opens the cupboard, and passes him another brush to apply. "like this." she shows him. little moments like this mean the world to him. carefully, he manipulates her hair's gravity to help them both out.

he ends up getting a splash of light pink on his ginger hair and rocks a pink tinge to the end of his ponytail for a few weeks.

sorry for how long this took! and thank you so much for all the attention on that dazai post, i woke up the next morning and freaked out!!

[ro-valerius]

Do You Think...?

Before being sent out to the yard to speak with his former flame, and before a very brief nap, Tio has a unexpected heart to heart with his sister's blood brother.

It was weirdly quiet in the room without the sounds of breathing from across the room. Tio didn’t even have it in him to get up and steal the extra pillows from Tofu’s bed, even though he knew Tofu would have just thrown them at him anyway. He just lied there, staring up at the ceiling with one arm behind his head as his mind was elsewhere.

Specifically, he worried. He had seen his brother hurt before, seen him almost die, but the endeavor with the pirates had really done a number on him, and now that he knew that he also couldn’t handle even healing magic, Tio was even more concerned. If only he had been closer, been stronger, he could have helped protect his brother-

He had to physically shake the thought from his head. What was done was done, all he could do was support and help Tofu as much as he could in the moment. 

Lost in his thoughts, Veo emerged from the bathroom, his mind as clouded as the dissipating steam. He had hoped the hot water would bring relief to his aching muscles and worries, but it proved futile. With a heavy sigh, he towel-dried his hair, his soft footsteps padding down the hall, mindful of the late hour.

While alternating sleeping arrangements were not unfamiliar to Veo, his sister's battered and bruised appearance, accompanied by a severely injured Tofu, overshadowed any concern about where he would rest his head. Kore had suggested Tofu's bed while she cared and tended to him in her own, and Veo saw no reason to object. As he approached the door, Cheese scurried past him, finding her way into what he recognized as Hana's bedroom. Veo couldn't help but smile softly, then lightly tapped his knuckles on the door before pushing it open.

The room was cloaked in darkness, with only a faint sliver of moonlight casting a gentle glow on the metal of his right arm. With utmost silence, Veo quietly stepped inside, the veil of darkness obscuring his vision, and closed the door behind him.

Tio didn’t even register the knock, or the sound of the door, with as absorbed into his own thoughts as he was. The various windows illuminated his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. He had one new scratch across his cheek, but really, it was nothing compared to what Tofu came home with. A heavy sigh escaped his nose. 

The darkness was oppressive despite his eyes diligently adjusting to the dimness. Completely oblivious to his roommate's current state of consciousness, he let out a quiet sigh and navigated his way towards the unoccupied bed. Taking great care to minimize any disturbance, he settled himself down, ensuring that the bed springs remained silent. He had grown accustomed to staying quiet.

Leaning forward, Veo rested his elbows on his knees, finding solace in the support they provided. He gently pressed his forehead against his clasped hands, seeking a momentary respite from the weight that clouded his mind. The persistent fog seemed to cling to his thoughts, obscuring clarity, while his body throbbed with aching discomfort. The cauterized scar on his arm and the one etched across his chest pulsed with a phantom pain.

With a frustrated groan, Tio sat up, brushing both hands through his hair roughly before setting them down in his lap. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the Viera-shaped shadow on the bed across from him, thinking that he might have begun to lose it.

“Am I hallucinatin’ or are ya real?” he grumbled into the darkness, squinting his eyes slightly to figure out which Viera it was; ever since Veo cut his hair, it was hard to tell him and Tofu apart in the dark. It wasn’t an angry grumble, more of a ‘I can’t believe you caught me off guard so hard’ kind of thing. 

Veo all but jumped, ear twitching and a light pink dusting his cheeks from the mild embarrassment on how much it startled him. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, posture relaxing once again as the tension eased.

“I-I’m real.” He spoke at a volume that was barely over a whisper, cursing at himself from under his breath at the stutter that slipped “I didn’t mean to wake you..”

Realization dawned on Tio as he relaxed his shoulders. 

“Oh, right, Veo. Sorry ‘bout that. And don’t even worry, I don’t think I could have fallen asleep if I tried,” he muttered, turning away with a troubled expression. 

Though he was no longer apprehensive about the shape of the shadow, his shoulders and hands tensed once more as his thoughts got away from him again. Had he been hoping that Tofu would have been feeling up to coming back to the room, or was he just worried? Tio couldn’t tell. He just knew that he had seen his brother beaten and battered too many times, and it was weighing on him. Especially since the first time had been his own fault…

The heaviness that filled the room was oppressive. As the silence grew, Veo's expression gradually softened, his concern evident. Biting his lip, he finally gathered the courage to break the silence, asking, "Would you like to talk about your thoughts? It…” Despite another momentary stutter, he continued, "It might help to get them out…”

Tio’s brow knitted together as he struggled to compose his thoughts. He crossed his legs and leaned forward onto them, one hand tapping his thigh in irritation; not at Veo, just a general irritation at himself, his thoughts, and the situation that brought them to this point. 

“You…worry about Kore, right? Obviously. She’s your sister. And she’s mine, too. And she’s more than that to Tofu. So while I understand his recklessness in the face of the danger she was in, I just…wish it hadn’t come at such a price to himself. And his protectiveness over his adventurer’s guildmates, with even more recklessness… The…last time he had been bedridden due to injury was for much the same reason. Except it was for my sake. And if it weren’t for Hana, he would have died that day, that’s how bad it was,” he murmured, his words coming out slowly, as if he weighed each one before they came out. He was quiet for a long moment. 

“I don’t want to lose him. And I worry that, someday, the cost will be too high, and I will.” The words were soft, full of pain and worry. “He’s not weak by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s reckless and has no regard for his own safety. Everyone else comes first.”

Veo opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he chose to remain silent and let Tio take the lead, offering reassuring sounds to encourage him.

"Of course I worry about Kore and I fear that one day I may lose her… I think that’s normal..” the viera expressed. “Though, I do agree that endangering himself is not a good method of protecting others, if that’s his ultimate motivation. There’s a difference between being willing to take that risk and having no self-preservation…”

He rose from his seat and approached Tio quietly, reaching out with his organic hand in an attempt to soothe but was quick to hesitate, uncertain, deciding to ultimately let it fall to his side. Dropping to the floor and resting on one knee in front of him, the viera then carefully placed that same hand on the bed beside Tio.

“He’s so used to being used as a weapon that I think… he forgets how to be a person,” Tio whispered. He clenched his teeth as he bit back a sob, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears. He didn’t want to cry, dammit! But… “I wish I had known how he felt about himself sooner… I said the most awful things in the beginning… And yet… and yet…!” He broke, covering his face with his hands. “And yet he didn’t hesitate to protect me!” 

Veo acted swiftly, lifting himself just enough to embrace the miqo'te with arms of solace. He gently cradled Tio's head against his shoulder, providing a safe space for him to release his tears without the worry of judgment. With a soothing tone, Veo whispered, his cheek tenderly pressed against Tio's head, while his delicate fingers caressed his vibrant, multicolored hair.

The viera held him tightly, allowing the waves of sorrow to pass through him, all the while softly humming a melodic tune and continuing to stroke his hair. "The past cannot be altered, my dear... What matters is how you grow and move forward from that moment."

Tio tensed at first as the viera pulled him into his embrace, one hand out as if he were going to push away. Instead, his hand rested on Veo’s chest lightly as Tio leaned in. He'd never talked about his guilt before, never talked about his worries. He'd played his role of 'protective older brother' to a T, being an ear for his siblings, comforting them, making them laugh. And the one person who he knew never expected that out of him, the one that always offered to listen, was the one he couldn't admit anything to, because how could he tell Tofu that he was worried about losing him without making him feel guilty, how could he admit to Tofu that he felt terrible about the things that he had said when Tofu himself never blamed him for any of it? His brother was too understanding, or maybe it was that he didn't see any worth in himself. And that was what hurt Tio the most.

After a few moments, Tio calmed himself, pulling away and averting his gaze. He really hadn't wanted to have a breakdown, and he didn't know how he felt about it being in the presence of their newest addition. Ro or Blomma maybe he could handle, but he didn't know how this new guy would react, or how he'd think of him after. But it didn't really matter, what was done was done. He sniffled lightly and rubbed his sleeve roughly across his eyes to dry them.

"S-sorry. It's been…a lot. Ever since they found me, it's just been a lot. No memories, no understandin', I lashed out in anger a lot, Hells, I punched him because I didn' know how to control my anger. Still don't. I misread him so often that it made me loathe him, and then he almost died to protect me, and I realized… He's doing the best he can to protect everyone, because he cares more than he lets on. He's…awkward and stubborn and doesn't understand social cues and never has any inflection in his tone and he's just so frustratin', but… I know why, now." 

"I hope…he figures out that he's so loved by this family, by his partners. I hope he can find enough worth in himself to…live." After a brief pause, Tio cleared his throat and offered a sheepish smile to Veo.

"Ah, sorry again. Ramblin'. You…seemed lost in thought, yourself, before I had to check if I was hallucinatin'. What's up?" Was he trying to brush off his own ramblings? Perhaps. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to be acknowledged, but getting the thoughts out did help. 

As the viera felt him pulling away, he allowed his hold to relax, his organic hand sliding down but still connected to Tio's. He nodded in understanding as Tio spoke, reassuring him that he was truly attentive to every word.

"Please, there's no need to apologize for opening up to me. It's clear that you needed to talk about these thoughts, and I'm happy that I could do that for you," Veo said, offering a warm smile. However, the smile quickly faded when prompted to reflect on his own inner musings.

After a brief pause, Veo began, "Uhm... It's been quite overwhelming, to be honest. I went from a state of solitude to suddenly being surrounded by others, and..." Veo hesitated, realizing he was discussing something he hadn't even acknowledged to his closest kin. Clearing his throat, he attempted to regain his composure. "And sometimes, it feels like I have no chance to think for myself..."

Tio smiled gently at Veo. 

“You ‘n my brother have a lot in common, it seems. There…are places that he frequents to get away and think for a while, all within the neighborhood. The roof is one of them, though lately that one’s been a hotspot for thinkin’ of late. There’s some walkways that no one goes down anymore. And a hidden spot behind the pools. He’s also been known to take naps behind the house, or between the house and the fence. Or, if he’s really got a lot on his mind, he’ll just…feck off to Gods know where and pummel a few guys here and there, dependin’. An’... you can always come here. Just tell me to keep my trap shut, ya know?” Tio said, though he clamped his mouth shut again once he realized he was rambling again.

“It…is a lot to get used to, though. I think I was used to it before, so it wasn’t as rough for me, but…” 

A gentle huff of laughter escaped Veo's lips, tinged with vulnerability, as he leaned forward, seeking solace in the warmth of Tio's shoulder. His forehead gently met the fabric of Tio's shirt, a silent gesture of his longing for closeness. The touch, though innocent, held a weight to Veo.

"Thanks," Veo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his emotions laid bare. "I think I rather like when you talk…not just for your words, but just hearing what you have to say is nice.“ His shoulders trembled with the threat of tears. His hand flexed and squeezed Tio’s that mimicked the one on his heart as a silent shudder of a breath escaped him. “Listening to you helps me think a lot clearer than in the silence of isolation..”

Tio chuckled lightly, feeling some of the weight on his chest lift.

"Well tha's good, then, because not even sleep can silence me! Waking hours I can contain myself but…some of the things I've woken Tofu up with…" There was still a sad edge to his smile, but his eyes had softened. He reached out tentatively and put his hand on Veo's head, slowly and lightly ruffling his hair a touch before smoothing it back down for him. 

"Now, what thoughts do you need to get out? I may not have any experiences, or none that I can remember, but I've got a good ear, I'd like to think," he said gently with a more genuine smile.

Veo chuckled gently at Tio's musings. He shifted closer, settling down beside him and resting his head on Tio's shoulder once more. The room grew quiet, enveloped in a comfortable silence before Veo broke it with a soft voice. "I’m in so much pain, all of the time... Sometimes I can't help but wonder if my heart carries just as many scars as my body does." His words were spoken so softly, almost as if he wasn't sure if he wanted Tio to hear them at all.

Tio’s expression turned more serious as he looked down at the space in front of him. He knew a thing or two about scars. Maybe not as much, but… He didn’t notice his hand reaching up and brushing the scar down his right eye. A heavy sigh escaped him before he could stop it. 

“Scars heal, over time, but the pain… doesn’t always go away. All you can do is learn to live with it, and find joy in spite of it, I think,” he murmured. He drew in a deep breath, smiling once more. “Ro is very good at…soothin’ scars like that. Blomma, too. And Hana. Everyone in this family is great… Gotta step up my game!” 

Veo let out another huff of laughter as he nudged Tio gently with his elbow “Don’t discredit yourself so much, you seem to be very good at soothing as well.” 

“I still got a long way to go, but I appreciate the thought,” Tio responded with a grin. “I just…gotta keep workin’ at it, is all.” He reached over and patted Veo on the head gently, seeing as the viera still sought solace from his shoulder. Maybe he wasn’t as comforting as Ro, as sage as Blomma, as bubbly as Hana, or as understanding as Tofu, but he was himself. And he wanted to try, nonetheless, to improve the lives around him. 

Softly, Veo spoke, his voice a gentle murmur, as he leaned into the comforting touch of Tio. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of tension gradually lifting, allowing a familiar sensation to return. It began as a delicate tingling in his fingertips, traversing up his arm, soothing the remnants of his previous panic.

"We all have ‘a long way to go’," he reflected, his words filled with a touch of vulnerability. "Though outward appearances may deceive, portraying lives meticulously assembled or accomplishments flawlessly realized, that’s not always the truth."

The room enveloped them in a paradoxical silence, where even the absence of sound felt overpowering. Though Veo's fears and worries attempted to relent, tears escaped his eyes, tracing a path down his cheeks, their presence absorbed by the fabric of Tio's shirt.

Tio’s brow furrowed as his tired mind tried to unravel the words that had been said to him. Well, either his mind was tired, or he was dumb, one of the two and he could believe either.

“Ah! ‘Things are not as they seem’ or somethin’, you mean?” He wasn’t sure if he meant for the question to be answered, but he pulled his sleeve over his hand and reached over, gently wiping the tears from Veo’s face silently. He turned his gaze to the window as moonbeams filtered through. After some silence fell over them, his tired mind began to wander.

“Hey…you think frogs take fall damage…?” he murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Veo's delicate sniffling echoed through the room, his heart skipping a beat as Tio tenderly brushed away his tears. A fleeting blush painted his cheeks in a rosy hue, grateful that the miqo'te had averted his gaze before catching sight of him. With a trembling hand, he wiped the remaining traces of moisture from his face, his touch gentle against his own skin. It was only then that he fully registered Tio's question, accompanied by a breathy laugh that escaped his lips like a fragile whisper.

"Yes," Veo replied. "I do, actually… just as much as I wonder if they know what colour they are."

Tio sat up straighter, his face brightening, as much as it could with as tired as he was.

“Right?!” he exclaimed, both hands on his knees as he turned to look at Veo. “What do they see! Do they ever get scared of falling? What do flies taste like?”

Veo's face lit up with a warm smile as he gazed back at him, marveling at how his hair shimmered under the gentle moonlight.

"I'm sure we could find out what flies taste like easily.. unless” he mused “you mean what flies taste like specifically to them?”

Tio’s face scrunched up at the thought of physically eating flies personally. 

“Oh, Gods, no no. I wonder what they taste like to frogs that makes them so inclined to eat them, or is it that they don’t know any better what if we gave a frog steak and they decided that that was better than flies and then then starve to death because they can’t get a supply of steak and-” 

Veo interrupted him with a hearty, albeit slightly breathless, laughter, as if struggling to catch his breath.

"That wouldn't be ideal for the ecosystem! We can't make them fancy steak dinners and mislead frogs into thinking they can get better food."

Tio smiled to himself as he heard the full laughter from the viera; ah good, he’d managed to cheer him up. He hid a yawn behind his hand, then patted Veo lightly on the head. He turned his eyes back towards the window, scanning the stars as best as he could through the window, which, admittedly, needed to be cleaned. He blinked slowly and suppressed another yawn.  

“What if frogs deserve better food?” he asked sleepily.

The yawn spread, and Veo instinctively raised his free hand to conceal his own tiredness, the other still gently clasped on top of the miqo’te’s. Resting against Tio, he gently lay his head on Tio’s shoulder, feeling the weight of sleep pulling at his eyelids.

"I didn't say that they didn't deserve it..." he murmured softly, that warm smile still ever present. His eyes blinked back closed and his breathing slowly evened, dozing on the brink, but still cognizant.

Tio, however, was becoming less cognizant by the moment. “I just feel so sad that all they know is flies…” he said, a sleepy sort of teary eyed beginning to happen. 

Whatever else they spoke about before they fell asleep, Tio couldn’t remember, but a weight had been lifted, perhaps from both, by the time morning came.

[oogaboogasphincter]

Deceits of the Devil (priest!marcus pike x f!reader) | chapter two: the magician

chapter summary: after the harvest dinner, you're kept up all night by a frightening plague and are bedridden for the next couple days. when sunday arrives, never did you think you would look forward to mass as much as you do now that father pike is involved. yet another illness bewilders you during the service and a knight in an alb comes to your rescue - and gives you some very interesting information. does this help you feel less alone or will it make you even more of an apostate?

word count/series~chapter-specific warnings: 6.1k+ words // MATURE (18+ ONLY) MDNI! reader uses she/her pronouns and is incredibly non-religious, slow burn taboo relationship, lots of religious/spiritual talk, horror elements and general spookiness ~ descriptions of vomiting/vomit, some light body horror, fainting, discussions of health, slow burn is slow burning, WE LEARN HIS FIRST NAME IN THE NEXT CHAPTER TRUST I WILL SPARE YOU PRECIOUS READER FROM READING FATHER PIKE AS EVERY OTHER WORD GOING FORTH

a/n: i'm not really sure if i like this chapter, i think i do?? again i'm not really sure where i'm going with this story, but i'm just trying to go with the flow and have some fun with minimalist editing. i have some ideas for later chapters but i'm not too sure how i'm going to get there yet. marcus seems a little ooc to me in this chapter, but he also only had like 30 minutes of canon screen time so i feel like i'm entitled to some creative liberties 😭 again, let me know what you liked and what you'd like to see more of in future chapters! :) *moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader has no physical description

     The embroidered rosettes lining the hand towel’s edges start to warp into one dusty pink blur as you swallow back bile again. You’ve been hunched over the toilet all night, switching between dry heaving and being sick so often that you can’t tell the difference anymore. Knelt on the cold tile, with the moonlight that comes through the window making a mockery of your candlelight, you feel incredibly alone in Lucy’s house. She’s just upstairs in her room, but you don’t want to disturb her from sleep at this hour of the night. You’ll continue to wick your own cold sweat away and clean any residue of gut spillage until you’ve emptied yourself - a point you thought you had reached hours ago. 

When you got back to Lucy’s you felt fine, jovial even. The innocent flirtations and budding friendship you shared with Father Pike at the harvest dinner injected a spring into your step, one so strong that Lucy commented on it with a smile. She gave you a quick tour of her inherited cottage, since you only had time to change clothes after arriving from the airport before you were sprinting off to the cathedral. 

The house is all vintage charm, with quaint rooms and antiquities. Lucy’s room is upstairs, neighboring the room that belonged to her mother before she passed away. Lucy has left it untouched in its entirety because her wounds are still too tender to prod, which you respect with wholeheartedness. You didn’t ask questions when she walked past the room as soon as she introduced it. Downstairs contains the living room, which is populated with wicker and wool save for the pink velvet couch. The kitchen is embellished with mint gingham, complementing the vintage and well-kept appliances. Lucy has an en suite, so the downstairs bathroom is all yours, with its clawfoot tub beneath a massive shuttered window that overlooks the backyard’s garden. Your bedroom has the same whimsical view, albeit from a much smaller window. It seemed dark when you first walked in, but the towering beautyberry bushes just outside explained that. The room is largely taken up by the queen bed, outfitted with pine-colored linen, so you suppose that accounts for the extra shadows too. Despite the eerie silence that shrouds the house, you can see yourself living here peacefully for your visit.

The two of you said your goodnights to each other and retreated to your assigned rooms. You hung up your clothes, stocked the bathroom with your toiletries and cuddled up in the sheets for their first time cradling someone ever. The stress and excitement from your evening had drained you of energy, but somehow you couldn’t find sleep. Actually, you know exactly why you couldn’t sleep: visions of Father Pike danced in your head like goddamn sugarplums. While your visit is contingent on when you’ve deemed your stay sufficient - and when you’ve been accepted for an apartment in a city thousands of miles away from this village stuck in an orthodox time warp - Father Pike is a major draw to settle your wings. 

Regardless of the opportunity that cities hold, it’s difficult for you to find people you mesh well with. You don’t make it any easier on yourself, opting to sequester yourself to university, work, your solitary bedroom, rather than put yourself out there. But that’s because when you do, you find arrogance, cruelty, entitlement. It’s easier on your heart to be alone and you enjoy your own company. 

Enter: Father Pike. He was kind, kinder than anyone else at the cathedral. You might be biased, with his dreamy eyes deviously manipulatling your impression of him into a favorable one. Maybe he didn’t show you any more chivalry than any other person would have, you just spent more time with him so it unfolded naturally. But no - he felt different. You tossed from one side to the other, wracking your brain for answers and scrambling your thoughts once they had composed into investigated little piles to see if an answer was lying in plain sight instead of hidden amongst overthinking. Nevertheless, your mystery remained unsolved of any concrete reasoning. 

You decided it was his honesty: the way he treated you with understanding delicacy when you revealed your unreligious core; how he laughed at your atrocious jokes that erred on the side of being sacrilegious - a genuine laugh at that; his smirk that took pleasure in the mischief shared between you two when he helped maintain your guise, one that gleamed with… dare you say it… devilishness. 

Without your permission, your brain, slightly delirious with exhaustion, began orchestrating a symphony named after him. As you drifted off to sleep, the cozy scent of cinnamon filled your nose, the warmth of his gentle yet confident touch tingled all over your skin. He was like a plate of steaming waffles on a blustery morning, an everlasting hug, a book destined to be your favorite that’s hidden amongst the most unassuming shelves, just waiting to be picked up and cherished by you. You’re doomed. 

A sharp pain in your stomach awakened you and the nonstop churning that followed it had you fleeing to the bathroom. The light was unresponsive when you flipped the switch, and after a few more unsuccessful tries, you barely had time to light a candle before your body unleashed itself. Thankfully you had gotten some light because you were in no shape to aim for the toilet in darkness. You attribute your upset stomach to a multitude of reasons: the nerves from seeing your best friend in-person for the first time in a year; the sudden illness you experienced; the butterflies that Father Pike gave you. You had even begun thinking that maybe there was a part of the meal that triggered you, but there’s no way you’re still harboring anything you consumed in the last twenty four hours. 

Like any time you’re sick, you start trying to think of things that calm you down. Maybe if it is in fact your nerves that are acting up, some peace will help put a stop to your blight. You close your eyes and rest your head against the toilet seat, breathing in and out, images coming clearer to your mind with each breath. A field of flowers dancing underneath happy sunlight, the gentle lapping of ocean waves on a clear day, the scent of a puppy’s fur, Father Pike’s hands… 

Your efforts have the complete opposite effect of your intention. The veins that web across the top of Father Pike’s hands, instead of the heady attraction they conjured earlier, make you squirm like eels caught in a trap. With every little detail about him that you try to remember comes a drowning of illness. Is he… is he making you sick? 

You close your eyes as your body hurls forward into the toilet again. Sweat trickles down your temples and invades your eyes, stinging them with salt and forces you to wrench them open. When you look in the toilet, you jump back with a startle. It can’t be. You scrub your eyes with the backs of your fingers before slowly grasping the bowl with your two shaky hands and peer inside: your vomit is bright green. The pile of sludge glows inside, too weak to illuminate the bathroom, but enough to constrict your pupils out of both exposure and fear. 

What the fuck?! Like roadkill, you turn away out of revulsion but can’t stop staring back at the offense through your periphery. Could you even flush this thing? It looks like radioactive waste straight out of a bad post-apocalyptic movie. With every second that passes of it just sitting there, you become frightened to a degree where you can’t stop trembling. That thing just came from your body. In the dark, now accompanied by neon ambience, your hand searches blindly while your eyes are glued to the monstrosity, like it will get up and walk away. You grab the hand towel to wipe your mouth clean, but you curl into it, muffling your sobs. You wish someone was there to tell you that you’re fine, there’s nothing wrong with you, just to hold you. Only one person clouds your mind…

More lime green empties into the toilet. You huff in frustration, completely fed up. At this point, you’ll disregard the unnatural hue of your vomit as a fluke if you could just stop and be granted the ability to sleep. As silly as it sounds, you determine there is a brown-eyed common denominator in all your illnesses. So, with the dismal energy that remains, you thwart all thoughts of him away. You shut your mind’s doors, shutter the windows, pull the blanket up and over your head and hunker down in your mental fortress. You can feel the arrows of lust being shot at the walls, incessant and ambitious in breaking you down. You don’t let them nudge one brick. They soon retreat and your castle falls silent, like there had never been a threat in the first place. 

To your surprise, it works. Like magic, you’re finally granted some mercy by your body. The cramping dissipates like cotton candy in a puddle, and suddenly, you feel all better. Your muscles are a little sore from seizing and releasing, but other than that, you’re… fine. The cold sweat evaporates and the acidic taste in your mouth is neutralized. You grimace at your puke, which has reverted to its horrible organic color. You seriously don’t know which is more putrid: this horribleness or the glow stick version. 

You now feel comfortable - and eager - to flush so you do. You stuff the soiled towel into the laundry bin, making a mental promise to Lucy that you’ll do your best to scrub any evidence of this night out of it. Within minutes, you’re flopping down onto your bed, huddling under the covers and finding a sleep too peaceful to follow the horrors you just suffered. 

—-

Saturday you’re bedridden - against your will. You tell Lucy about your blunder, excluding the radioactivity bit, and she cancels the activities she had lined up for you two to have some fun, forcing you to stay confined to your bed. She serves you tea and keeps you on a diet of bread, apples and chicken soup, rolling her eyes at you when you beg and whine for a piece of her dessert. But, your best friend always knows best. 

When you settle down for the night, a fear creeps up in you that the events of last night will repeat themselves, or even worse, go to more horrid lengths. But, thankfully, you feel like normal before bed and you stay asleep, thanking the stars and moon in your dreams. You had kept your mind clear of Father Pike, you noted. 

—-

Sunday morning is here and you get out of bed jittering with excitement. Today you’re going to mass and that means you get to see Father Pike again. You laugh at your own foolishness when you realize this will be only the second time you’re seeing him, tugging your jeans up over your hips and jumping to get the job done faster. But, in a town desolate of amusement, you allow yourself to lean into the infatuation. There’s nothing wrong with a little blossoming crush, you tell yourself, untouchable or not. 

Lucy chuckles when you walk into the kitchen, her cereal spoon hovering in mid-air, “Wooow,” she elongates the syllable as you twirl on your heel, showing off your incredibly mundane outfit, “I haven’t seen you up and awake this early in… how many years ago were we in kindergarten?”

“Oh, ha ha,” you grumble playfully, pouring yourself a bowl of cereal and taking the seat across from her. You keep your eyes trained on your breakfast, feeling your best friend’s gaze boring into your lips that twitch with a smile you can’t fight no matter how hard you try. The silence of the cottage, save for the awkward clanking of your spoons, rips a giggle from you that you smother with your hand.

“Don’t act like I don’t know why you’re so chipper,” she accuses conspiratorially. You look up at her, your anxious shoulders deflating with an impatient sigh. 

“Just tell me what time we’re leaving.”

—-

The cathedral looks much less cozy in the brightening sunlight than it did illuminated by warm-toned street lights and candle sticks the night prior, but it’s no less majestic. There are crows perched on the roof, cawing a morning chorus. The structure’s hulking size seems less threatening by their presence in addition to the pale backdrop of the morning. The inky blackness of the night sky has opened to reveal a powder blue, bouncing off camel coats and cherry scarves that had been twisted into muddy smudges and blood ties at the harvest dinner. Even the cathedral’s inner hull seems more like an endless cavern than a sinister vacuum, with your curiosity being stimulated by all that you could not see before; what lies inside all of the corridors, the hidden passageways, the arched doors? Maybe that’s something you could ask Father Pike.

All of the newfound loveliness aside, it doesn’t erase the feeling that you’re in a place where you don’t belong. You didn’t quite think through all the ramifications of seeking out your holy crush, but who doesn’t forfeit their rationale in the face of infatuation? You’re always open to learning, especially about cultures that you’re not a part of, but you didn’t think mass would be this boring. 

Lucy briefed you about when to stand, sit, stand again, when to sing and when to be quiet. So no one would suspect a thing, you follow along like a lamb with the same robotic obedience that everyone else does. You’re surprised to find personal dismay at the lack of life behind the hymns that the other goers recite, nor is there any in Father Thorn’s sermon. It saddens you that these people dedicate their lives to this higher cause, boast about how it divinely guides them to choose the right paths in life, only for them to sing with as much enthusiasm as you do. Father Thorn stands painfully erect, addressing the room like a schoolteacher whose monotone and thoughtless eyes make you think that maybe there was some reluctance in his profession of choice. From the piercing glare he gave you yesterday, you know better than to imagine questioning his integrity lest you want your severed head deposited into his goblet. 

Father Gala flanks the droning priest in a gilded throne that must serve no other purpose than to support the elderly Father’s aching bones. He listens on with a permanent soft smile, flickering his eyes amongst the audience with visible cheerfulness. His eyes lit up when he noticed you in the crowd and gave you a friendly nod, which you returned with amicability. Lucy nudged you on the shoulder when he glanced away with a whisper, “Look, you’ve made a friend.” 

And on Father Thorn’s other side stands who you’ve been aching to see for a whole of thirty six hours. He had taken very seriously to carry out the beginning demands of mass, saying his prayers and following the proposed movements with an almost militaristic adherence. But since the reading of scriptures began, his shoulders relaxed and his fingers interlocked in front of himself with peace. His brown eyes gaze absentmindedly to the narthex behind you and you so desperately want to get up close and see how the sunlight that streams in through all angles of the building hit his irises. Do they shimmer with threads of gold, or do umber chasms allude an unreachable depth? 

Your crush seems eons away from where you sit a few rows back from the sanctuary. The sermon fizzles out to a barely noticeable hum as a tornado of names rushes through your head while you assess your preferred priest and try to imagine which would fit him best. While you’re intent on respecting his title and maintaining proper etiquette for someone you literally just met a few days ago (and internally cringing at the speed of which this infatuation has snowballed) you have to at least dream of what you could call him. 

Is he a David? No, he’s too young for such an old name. But it is biblical and maybe he’s a junior, or the third or fourth. Dave as a nickname is where you draw the line. That just feels all wrong.

Possibly something strong and sturdy, like Joel? Eh, Joel sounds too ornery and old again. 

Go simpler, you think, Jack. No offense to all the great Jacks of the world, but it would be a shame if this exceptional man was dubbed so plainly. 

And none of these options sound good with his last name, which you know as fact: David Pike, Joel Pike, Jack Pike. No, no, definitely not. 

Cutting into your brainstorm, you agree that Father Pike can wear anything and look great. He has his usual black priest garb on, but layered atop is a white robe whose seams are trimmed with a red and gold pattern of tiles. If you’re being completely honest… it’s a little heinous. The fabric looks starched beyond belief and the decoration screams of yester-millenia. But, somehow, his virility isn’t snatched by the drabness. His shoulders maintain that delectable broadness you noticed at the dinner, along with a poise that is mannered yet youthful. The golden threads shimmer adorably in the sunlight with the fidgets of his wrist as he fiddles with the side of his thumbnail. 

As if on cue, his eyes land on you just when your cheeks break out in a heat. Your heart jumps to your throat momentarily but is lulled back down to your chest by his soft, tender smile and the identifying gleam in his gaze. It’s as if you’re his puppet and he’s pulling the strings to shape your lips into a smile to match his own, completely unable to control your body. You think you can’t find him cuter but then he’s upturning his hand so his palm faces you and he waves. Again with your bodily autonomy extinct, you wave back with the shy nature of a blushing virgin. 

Lucy notices your hand first and her eyes are quick to follow your tunnel vision. She takes your wrist and lowers it to your lap, glancing at you with that funny mixture of scorn and encouragement that only a best friend can give. “Not now,” she whispers quickly before returning her attention to Thorn’s speech with the shadow of a smirk. Father Pike still looks at you.

Your mind drifts deliriously to a part of mass that Lucy called communion, when the parishioner metaphorically drinks the blood and eats the body of Christ, or drinks wine from the goblet and eats a wafer from the hand of a priest. The seduction engulfs your mind like a virus thinking about sipping from a goblet that Father Pike holds in his strong hands, meeting his gaze while your throat bobs with drink. While taking the wafer into your mouth as he places it on your tongue, maybe he’s slow to withdraw and your lips would catch on his finger…

Lucy taps your bicep to indicate to you it’s time to stand again. Father Thorn’s voice is suddenly much louder, booming in your ears and reverberating in your chest, down to the ground beneath your feet. 

“God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father; through him all things were made.”

A fickle tingling lunges through your veins, sending your nervous system into a familiar panic. When have you felt this peculiar feeling before? You feel ill, like you want to curl up on the floor and empty yourself, or passing out would be an easier option. Oh no. 

“For us men and for our salvation he came down from heaven,”

Everyone bends at the waist, bowing towards the sanctuary, but you remain standing upright, frozen. Your eyes bulge with wild terror. The blood drains from your face. Father Pike meets your gaze and he furrows his brow in confusion at first, before you watch him be consumed with brazen worry. 

“And by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man.” 

Father Pike disappears from your sight as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

—-

You come to groggily with a lukewarm cloth being pressed to your temple. A low, firm voice is muffled and distant in your ear despite its closeness, but you absorb its warmth intravenously, “Hey, hey, hey…” 

You can hear his strain to remain calm and steady. He drifts away for a moment, you feel your feet being propped up on a pillow, and his breath is back at your ear, ghosting over your dewy cheek. 

Under the safeguard of questionable consciousness and the panicked edge in his soul, he lets an endearment slip, “Wake up, pretty girl, come on…” he whispers in an increasingly pleading tone. His timbre does the opposite of his intention and keeps you wanting to stay asleep, to writhe and drown in his comfort within the darkness of your mind. In your dreams, you can be his pretty girl. 

You roll onto your side and grumble, fighting to stay in your head. The unforgiving surface you’re laid out on shoves against your bones but you remain stubborn. The man at your back chuckles under his breath. He pries your arm from your side and overturns it in his hands, cradling it delicately, and you wish to feel those arms and hands encapsulate you, engulf you like a snake and constrict. But then he’s pinching the tender patch of your inner bicep, jolting you awake. You tear your arm back and by the offense on your face, he knows you’re back in reality. 

Someone had moved you from the spot you had collapsed to this room, empty of anyone besides Father Pike. It’s quiet and dull, exposed stone comprising both the walls and floor. You’re sprawled out on a large and long wooden table, atop a sweetly placed blanket that unfortunately doesn’t do much to cushion. Wardrobes and other tables dot the rest of the room, illuminated by the small and sparse stained glass windows that line the perimeter. 

Father Pike assesses your mindful curiosity and deems you sound and coherent. He decides to awaken you further with a little well-intentioned abrasiveness. 

“Are you going to do this every time I see you?” 

“I hope not,” you sit up and Father Pike is quick to put a hand on your back, steadying you. Only now with your eyes open do you realize just how incredibly close he is to you; his lips parted with apprehension are mere inches from yours. You meet his eyes and you were right - they glow in the sunlight, the caramel streaks highlighted and accompanied by obscured taupe that shelters his innermost secrets. You flinch away imperceptibly, afraid of your own arousal.

“Are you-” he has to clear his throat, turning away to spare you before he tries again. His voice was tight with nerves. 

“Do you feel okay?” Much smoother but there’s still a hint of constraint. He’s softened from their teasing. 

You think for a moment, mentally check in with your body then answer honestly, “Yes, I’m okay.” And you are. Besides a subtle ache on your outer thigh, which you assume broke your fall, you feel completely normal. 

Father Pike stands from where he knelt and puts the back of his hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. You try your very best not to drench your panties. “Do you feel any pressure in your head? Any nausea? Do you feel dizzy while sitting right now?” It’s a barrage of questions, but in his comforting tone it doesn’t feel anywhere near overwhelming or like an interrogation.

“No pressure, no nausea. I feel a tiny bit dizzy, but nothing like before. And after all, I did hit my- did I hit my head?” 

“No, your thigh hit the ground first. It looked like you twisted your knee on your way down. Thankfully, because if you hadn’t, you would’ve hit your head first.” 

Now that he mentions it, your knee does feel a bit funny. Hopefully it’ll just bruise over and won’t cause any lingering issues. 

Your thoughts are obliterated when Father Pike takes your face in his palms, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. He’s checking your pupil size, but it sends an unwarranted, delectable chill up your spine nonetheless. There goes your attempts to avoid a mess between your thighs. You gulp foolishly and he looks at your throat bob. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip before sealing his mouth closed. A habit you can picture him doing any time he’s deep in thought, this time it’s dipped in eroticism. 

“Does being unknowledgeable about the church really stress you out this much?” He’s caring, concerned. Condescension, intolerance and disdain are in a different galaxy entirely than his intentions. His eyes bore into yours considerably, assessing you like you did him earlier. Trying to figure you out. 

You gather your thoughts, taking into account the near-fainting spell you had on Friday and trying with all your might to remember only the vital details of what happened during the night after you got home. Coming up with no definite answer, you shrug, “No, this felt completely unrelated. It was just my body acting out of order.” You had felt uncomfortable during the sermon, but not fearful. It didn’t wrack your nerves to sit there and listen to illusionary words like it had when Father Gala shook your hand for the first time. But even then, your illness had come after the stress. Your sea of anxiety had been drained and what came to be revealed at the bottom was a previously undiscovered chest of volatile poisons. They felt correlated, perhaps, but not connected. 

Father Pike’s worry remains in his face like he doesn’t believe you. Not because he thinks you’re lying, but almost like… there’s something you don’t understand that’s happening. Suddenly it feels a little awkward between you two, with the cause blurry. You decide it’s best to elaborate so you both can have a few more pieces to aid in finding a solution. 

The door is a good distance away from Father Pike’s back and looks as though it’s made of the sturdiest oak to ever grow, but you still don’t trust it. If someone were to lean their ear against the other side, in addition to the enshrouding silence, they could clearly hear what is being said. Mass must have ended a while ago, but the cathedral is open to roaming parishioners, tourists and other inquiring minds. You lean towards Father Pike and he comes to stand at the edge of the table. Lowering your voice, not nearly to a whisper but close enough, you confide in him again,

“But, I won’t lie. I feel as if one wrong move will get me permanently exiled.” 

His expression doesn’t change. The neutrality of it is a little disconcerting, actually, with the way he just remains standing there with his fingertips perched on the edge of the wood, until he retracts himself to where he had been a few feet away. He doesn’t deny nor confirm your feelings, his eyes downcast. 

He clears his throat again. “Are you anemic? Diabetic? Do you have any reason why you’d have fainting spells?” His tone is steeped in worry, rushed. Like he just wants a clear-cut answer so that neither of you have to keep guessing or digging deeper.

And he’s almost a little… aggravated? His words are acute and directed at you, like you’re suddenly the reason to blame. It is your body that’s being troublesome, but you’d like to know what’s been going on with it recently just as much as he does. Even if you did, it’s not your responsibility to tell him, nor your fault for its antics. With his sight still turned away, busy adjusting your feet on the pillow, you furrow your brows in disbelief and make your scoff come off as animated, playful, “I didn’t know you doubled as a doctor, Father Pike.”

Luckily, that seems to put him at ease. The bothered creases in his forehead smooth away and he looks back up at you with a humble smile, as if to say he’s sorry for getting so suddenly worked up. He rests his hand on your shin, so naturally, but he takes it away the same moment and puts his arms at his sides. You know he wanted to leave it there, the flicker of guilt across his face evident. You rein yourself back, tightening the restraints that have come loose on your attraction; you don’t want to break him. 

His voice reverts to its baseline calmness, “I don’t. My brother is a doctor and I would help him review for tests, so that gave me a lot of free training and insight. Just being around him, the physician’s mindset started to rub off on me. They see things in such a peculiar, analytical way, so different from my own. Logic prevails over everything… it’s helped me to decipher who really needs the help and who doesn’t.” 

Oh. Such a strange thing to hear Father Pike admit that… it gets your gears going.

You approach it as gently as you can, while still feeding your curiosity, “Hey… aren’t you guys supposed to believe that Christ can cure anything?” 

You don’t think you mean to bat your eyelashes at him provocatively but you do. He smirks, shakes his head with a chuckle that more or less comes out as an amused exhale from his nose. He cuts your boldness back down to a humble level, “I thought you didn’t know much about the church?” 

Oh? His accusatory smugness mirrors yours. Two can play at this game, apparently. 

“I don’t, but I know enough that you guys put all your faith into your, well, faith.” 

The waning dizziness you felt earlier has officially rid itself, so you feel it’s safe to sit up on the table. Father Pike takes a seat as well in a chair that he’s pulled from aside one of the wardrobes, positioning it close to you so that he’s not too far should you feel woozy again. 

“Well, yes…” He’s thinking, does that godforsaken thing with his tongue on his lip again. Then comes the confession. 

“Some of the parishioners… they’re painfully alone. The only people they talk to are family who either forget their existence half the time or enable them. Being alone all the time, you need to entertain yourself with something. They’ve been reading the same scriptures for their entire lives, it plays behind their eyelids whenever they close; it’s in their dreams.” He takes a heavy breath, steadying himself for the brutal honesty he’s about to lay out to you. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this naked before in his life. 

“It’s not like the Bible gets an update,” you kid quietly. That gets him. The skin around his eyes crinkles as Father Pike laughs heartily, nodding his head, “Exactly.” He echoes you with amusement, “It’s not like the Bible gets an update,” his smile grows fonder. You mourn the joy that leaves his face when it’s replaced with a solemn frown. 

“As much as they don’t want to admit it, the people of this town are like any other. They yearn for change. They need something new, fresh, to stimulate their minds, or at the very least, a distraction from their loneliness. So, on a very normal day, their knee starts to hurt. And then as the days go on and they do their usual tasks, the knee begins to hurt more. It worsens until they fool themselves into walking with a limp, saying that they can’t live their excruciatingly mundane lives anymore. Because they desperately want a change, no matter if it’s a hindrance. 

“Sometimes, pity is king. 

“They refuse to go to the doctor without the church’s approval. They come and see to me, or one of the other Fathers, and we talk through their ailments. I say a blessing or two, and on their way home, suddenly that appointment they were pleading for has lost all urgency. They’ve been miraculously cured by us, or God. But we’re not doing any radical, magical healing here. Don’t get me wrong, there are very real illnesses that affect our parish.”

He pauses to look around the room, as if someone has slipped through the cracks in the rock and hears his rational disagreement as something obscenely blasphemous. His voice is low and wary, but you’re proud to detect a streak of confidence when he talks about his personal beliefs. 

“The others here, they shun modern medicine. They believe what you said, that all things can be cured through Christ. But… that’s not entirely right to me. There are people who need more… pragmatic cures. Then there are others who all they need is a little motivation from the spirit.”

You never thought you’d be empathizing with a priest over feelings of exclusion, no less somewhere in the heart of a cathedral, surrounded by religious paraphernalia. It doesn’t feel like Father Pike is baiting you to say that the church is a farce just so he can blackmail you later. His quick, breathless words speak for themselves; he’s been dying to show someone his heart. But are you really the first outsider to cross his path? There has had to have been someone who wandered into Carmeltree unknowingly or a resident that didn’t readily accept the teachings that they began being indoctrinated with since birth. Father Pike’s motive doesn’t seem malicious, but it’s unclear. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugs, clasping his hands together with a smile amused by the simplicity of his answer, “I have one of your secrets, and now you have one of mine.” 

Dry chuckles fill the room. “That’s a pretty big secret,” you joke.

“What about it?”

“Well,” worry crosses your face, imagining what the Bible wavers would do if they heard what Father Pike is spilling across you now, “if anyone else heard it, about their priest, well, you’d be…”

“Exiled?”

“Yes. Mamed, called a fraud or a non-believer.”

“Well that’s incorrect. I’m a believer.” 

“Not by their standards, you aren’t.”

“See why I’ve confided in you?”

A steady wave of recognition settles in the air. Two people with their morals in line but would be labeled heathens by the rest of the conservative population have established a safehouse in one another to retreat to if need be. Lucy was right - you have made a friend, she just had the wrong Father. 

The elderly one’s cane taps ring out in the gaping corridor outside your room, alerting you and your friend that your divulgence must end. The stiffness returns to his back, squaring his shoulders underneath that heavy-looking alb as he stands and scribbles something on a piece of paper. 

Don’t think about the sweat on his skin. Dappling his muscles, collecting in pools until they runneth over and stream down in little rivulets…

He helps you to your feet with a hand in yours, but it’s shoving the paper into your palm before you have the chance to drool over its warmth. “Here’s the town doctor’s details. If you feel unwell or the fainting persists, please go see him. I don’t-”

There’s a knock at the door. “Father Pike?”

He makes a comically fearful face at you, clenching his bared teeth and widening his eyes, snapping to put a finger to his lips when he elicits your desired giggles. 

“One moment please!” 

He ushers you to a door at the back corner of the room, leading to one of the many magnificent courtyards incorporated into the cathedral. 

You turn back on the step to take one last look at him, “Thank you for all your help.”

He takes your hand in his own two, like his Father before him. 

“You’re in my prayers.” 

You go to leave, but he murmurs urgently, leaning out of the doorframe, “Come back tomorrow. I can help strengthen your act.” 

He winks at you. 

A friend, you remind yourself. He’s just a friend. The giddiness that bubbles up from your heart to your throat begs to differ.

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