#spoon him until he feels better. WHERE!! IS!! THE!! OPTION

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨

　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: In a seemingly perfect relationship, Y/N and Matt face a silent storm when Y/N, after appearing in a video on Matt's personal channel, is the target of cruel comments that leave her feeling inadequate. Unable to share her insecurities, Y/N distance herself from Matt, wallowing in self-criticism and painful comparisons, until he snaps.

WARNING: Crying, insecurities, comparison, yelling, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she tried to navigate the dark mazes of her mind. Since she appeared in the last video on Matt's personal channel, everything had changed. The acidic words of the "fans' comments burned in her memory, leaving deep marks.

It was a vlog-type video, where the couple was spending the day walking through parks, going to museums and strolling through the mall, but comments like "She's not good enough for him", "Matt deserves someone better" and "The other YouTubers' girlfriends are better than this" filled the comments box and echoed in her mind constantly.

What was once a stable and loving relationship now turned into a minefield of insecurities.

Y/N began to see herself through the distorted lens of the comments. She endlessly compared herself to other women on social media – the influencers with flawless skin, sculpted bodies, and perfect smiles. Each comparison only served to erode her self-esteem even more. She wondered what Matt saw in her and if, perhaps, those people were right.

This whirlwind of insecurities made her distance herself from Matt. She avoided dates, responded to his texts in a short and evasive way, and when they were together, her mind was always distant, immersed in thoughts of inadequacy. Matt, in turn, noticed the change but didn't understand the depth of what was happening.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The morning after the video came out, Y/N and Matt sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, along with the random sounds of Nick and Chris echoing through the house, but the silence between the couple was deafening. Matt was engrossed in his phone, responding to emails and interacting with his followers.

Y/N, on the other hand, could barely look at him. The words of the comments were eating her up inside.

"Good morning, baby." Matt murmured when noticing her presence long minutes after she had entered the room without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Good morning." Y/N responded, trying to hide the anguish in her voice, her teeth gripping her bottom lip in a death grip, restraining herself from saying anything else.

She stirred the stainless steel spoon inside the white bowl full of cereal, without appetite. Her mind returned to the nasty comments, each word a knife in her heart. She felt inadequate and inferior.

Her eyes occasionally glanced at Matt, who looked so happy and self-assured, and wondered how he could love her when so many people thought she wasn't good enough. When he had thousands of better options than her.

"Do you wanna go to the mall today?" Matt asked, looking up from his phone in confusion seconds after, noticing the unusual silence. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I am." Y/N lied quickly, nodding her head and forcing a smile. "I just didn't sleep well. Maybe I should stay home today." She shrugged, maintaining eye contact.

Matt accepted the answer without question, returning his attention to the phone a few seconds later. For Y/N, it was a momentary relief, but the pain was still latent, pulsing.

How had he not noticed the sea of ​​pain in her eyes?

Maybe he didn't care anymore.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A few weeks later, Matt decided to take Y/N out to dinner at a restaurant they both loved. He wanted to cheer her up, realizing that she had been distant the last few days. However, Y/N could not escape the mental prison she had constructed.

As they sat, Matt excitedly talked about his new ideas for the Sturniolo Triplets channel and how excited he was to be able to vlog and stream again. Y/N tried to pay attention, nodding her head and keeping her eyes fixed on the boy's face, but her mind wandered to the words that seemed etched into the walls of her mind.

Her orbs momentarily strayed to the tables around hers, noticing other couples made up of beautiful women.

They looked beautiful, confident, and charismatic.

And she felt small and insignificant.

"Did you hear what I said?" Matt asked suddenly with a slight tone of frustration, his brow furrowed and his posture rigid.

"Sorry, I was distracted." Y/N quickly responded, feeling embarrassed, her hands clasped together above her thighs, squeezing her fingers in an act of nervousness.

"You've been so distant lately. What's going on?"

Y/N wanted to spill it all, tell him about the comments, about how inadequate she felt, but the words wouldn't come out. She was afraid Matt would confirm her insecurities.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. Work has been taking a toll on me." The girl lied, avoiding the blue eyes that stared deeply at her.

Matt sighed, clearly worried and annoyed, but accepted the apology.

Dinner continued, but the atmosphere was tense and heavy. For Y/N, every moment was a fight against tears and despair.

He would get tired of her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A small launch event for one of the Space Camp lines. It was a momentous occasion, and the triplets were excited to take a new, longer step in their Internet career.

Y/N wore her best dress with the best heels and the best makeup, trying to look confident, but inside, she was in pieces.

During the event, Matt was surrounded by people, laughing and talking, interacting with his closest friends, and explaining his role within his brother's brand.

Meanwhile, Y/N felt like a ghost, invisible. Every time someone looked at her, she felt like they were judging her, comparing herself o other women present.

At some point, while Matt was busy chatting with some important guests, Y/N heard two women commenting nearby.

"She's Matt's girlfriend? Wow, she doesn't seem like anything special."

"He could get someone so much better."

The words were like stabs. Y/N felt the ground disappear beneath her feet, and all the air escaped her lungs, her heart freezing.

She needed to get out of there.

The girl quickly walked towards the nearest bathroom and locked herself in a stall, tears streaming down her face, completely ruining the makeup she spent hours doing.

She felt like an impostor, a farce.

When she returned to the event about twenty minutes later, Matt noticed her red eyes and lack of makeup almost instantly, excusing himself from those he was talking to and walking towards her with quick steps.

"Babe, hey, what happened?" Matt asked in a low tone as he approached, worried.

"Nothing, just something got in my eye, I had to take off some makeup to get it out." She lied once again. She was getting good at it. Too good.

Matt looked suspicious but didn't insist, nodding slowly.

Upon arriving home that night, Y/N lay down on the bed next to Matt, the duvet covering half of her body. Matt quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the event, seeming to not have the strength to try to talk to his girlfriend or the will.

Y/N lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The culmination of everything happened when Matt decided to share with Y/N ​​a new idea for the channel, something he was really excited about. He had spent weeks planning the boys trip with his brothers and Nate, along with how they would record everything, turning the precious moments into a long vlog, so sharing the finished idea with his girlfriend was a crucial moment for him.

Y/N sat next to him on the large sofa in the living room, curling up on the gray upholstery and trying to focus on the excited words coming out of Matt's mouth, not even giving herself the luxury of feeling surprised at how quickly he spoke - different from his usual self, her mind being far away.

"So what do you think?" Matt asked after finishing his line of reasoning, his eyes fixed on Y/N's face expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

"Ah yes, that sounds good." The girl nodded briefly, smiling slightly, her eyes with a distracted gaze.

Matt frowned, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"You didn't even hear what I said, did you?"

"Sorry, I'm just... distracted." She cleared her throat, looking down at her crossed legs.

"I can't handle it anymore." Matt muttered in a low tone, taking a deep breath as his expression closed completely, one of fury taking the place of confusion, standing up abruptly and starting to walk between the television and the sofa in an attempt to calm himself down. "You've been acting so strange, so distant. I feel like I'm talking to a wall all the time. What's happening to you? Where's the bubbly Y/N I used to know?"

Y/N remained silent, tears already beginning to well up in her eyes as she looked at him through her wet lashes, silently begging him to stop, but Matt continued, his voice rising with each word.

"I'm tired, Y/N. Tired of being ignored, tired of trying to figure out what the hell you want. I feel like I'm carrying this relationship alone! You act like you don't care. Do you even care anymore? Because, honestly, it doesn't seem like it, and with each passing day, I become more discouraged with you."

He stopped his steps, breathing heavily, his eyes now fixed on Y/N, waiting for a response. When she finally looked up, her vision was blurred by the tears that were now running freely down her face.

"Matt, I... I'm so sorry." She began, her voice shaky and weak and her throat burning from the force she was trying to stop the sobs. "I didn't mean to make you feel this way. I'm just going through a hard time now-"

"Hard time? This has been going on for weeks! I don't know what else to do to reach you." The brunette suddenly interrupted her, his frustration boiling over. "You refuse to tell me what's going on, and I'm tired of being ignored."

"You don't understand..." Y/N felt a wave of despair take over her heart, shaking her head repeatedly.

"Then make me understand! I can't go on like this, Y/N." The boy ordered with tears in his eyes, his right hand flying to his own hair, ruffling it roughly in an act of nervousness. "Maybe we're not ideal together. Maybe you're not the right person for me!" The words escaped as quickly as his mind could process.

Y/N felt her heart stop for a few seconds, her skin freezing as her throat closed before a loud, ugly sob shot through her like lightning, escaping her lips intensely. Every cruel comment, every insecurity, everything accumulated in her mind at that moment, confirming her worst fears.

"They were right," she thought, "I'm not the one for him."

All she wanted to do most at that moment was run out of that house and away from him, but with the storm outside, her not knowing how to drive and the late hour prevented her from making any hasty decisions, after all, she had nowhere to go. That was her home, or it was meant to be.

Meanwhile, Matt closed his mouth almost instantly, his eyes widening as his mind seemed to process the words he had spilled, feeling the impact of them, his heart aching as if a hand was crushing it hard as he watched the girl he loved breaking down in front of him.

"I didn't mean that, baby. I-I'm so sorry. Oh my-" His words were interrupted by his own sob before his now weak legs began tentative steps towards Y/N, afraid of her reaction.

But Y/N couldn't do anything but cry, her body shaking violently with the strong sobs that escaped her mouth, clawing at the walls of her throat, her face already swollen and wet with the intense tears that fell without stopping.

"N-no, you're right. I'm a fraud. I'll never be good enough for you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for m-making you loose time with me, I'm so sorry! M- Matty, I-I'm sorry-" That was all her mind could process: apologies. Her hands tightened into fists above her thighs, her long nails digging into her palms, drawing blood and hurting the sensitive skin.

"Baby, please, breathe, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep crying like that. Breath, hm? Please." Matt sat down next to her, his left hand pressing against his own eyes roughly, trying to shake away the tears that flooded his blue orbs, while his right hand flew to Y/N's ones, trying to slowly undo the knots of fingers she had created.

"The comments on your channel... about me. Saying that I'm not good enough for you, that you deserve someone better." Y/N began to say again between sobs, pulling in choppy air between one word and another. "I can't stop thinking about it, comparing myself to other women, and the worst of it all? They are all right! I couldn't bear the thought of being close to you and making you look ugly with me, o-or dislocated... so I distanced myself." Y/N's hands that were surrounded by his right one clenched tighter against each other, her skin taking on a reddish tone due to the strength she exerted in her grip, feeling her wrist and arms shaking with nervousness and anxiety.

"I don't-" Matt shook his head, sniffling and blinking repeatedly in an attempt to stop the tears. "I had no idea. I'm sorry for not having noticed, for not having noticed the signs in your way of acting and trying to understand, I'm sorry for acting on impulse and blaming you, love. I'm sorry for having said those horrible things, I'm so sorry, lovey. Why didn't you tell me?" His blue eyes, which looked at her with attention and closeness, carried immense pain for seeing her in such a state and knowing that it was his own fault.

"I just… I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid that you would agree with them, that you would realize that I really wasn't the right woman for you, and that you would leave me." Y/N choked back a sob, sniffling repeatedly, trying her best to stop her crying, looking up at him as she felt his hand squeeze hers tightly, trying to stop her from keep hurting herself.

Matt's expression softened as his eyes met hers, a mixture of understanding and pain written across his face before he closed them for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N, you're not weak for feeling all this. Everyone has insecurities, but hiding them from me... you're pushing me away, which caused me to think other things were going on, on my own fault. It was a miscommunication on both sides, but I want to help you, and I can't if you don't trust me, babe."

"I'm so sorry, Matt. I'm so sorry for hurting you, for letting my insecurities get to us. I just... I feel so lost." The girl murmured, her voice lowering in volume considerably, her shoulders slumping even more. "Maybe I'm really not the one for you, you know? Maybe they're all right, and you just have to see it, too."

Matt's heart clenched at her words, and he gently lifted her chin so their eyes could meet again, his orbes traveling repeatedly around her face.

"No, Y/N, don't say that." He whispered fiercely. "You are the one for me. You're everything to me. These comments, they don't know us. They don't know how much you mean to me, how much you complete me."

"But how can you be sure? How can you be sure that I'm not dragging you down?" Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her breath still hitching from the sobs and her bottom lip trembling.

Matt sighed deeply, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"Because I know what we have. I know the love we share, and I see the amazing person you are, even if you don't see it yourself right now. You're not dragging me down. You're my partner, and we face everything together, good or bad. And I'm sorry for making it seem different or the opposite of what it really is by acting like that, I wish I could take it all back." He shook his head, feeling his hear burning with shame.

Her gaze softened slightly, a glimmer of hope sparking within her.

"But the comments... they get to me, Matt. It's like their words are a constant echo in my mind." She sniffled, immense pain surging through her shoulders and back as the adrenaline and tension subsided.

"I get it. I really do." He nodded understandingly. "But we can't let other people dictate our happiness. We have to believe in ourselves and each other. We're stronger than this, Y/N. And I'm here for you, always." His thumb caressed her jawline, lightly wiping the wet trails where the several tears fell.

"I don't want to lose you, Matt. I want to be strong for both of us." A small, tentative smile formed on her lips, the first real smile he'd seen in weeks.

"You don't have to be strong alone." He reminded her, his hand finding hers again, holding it firmly. "We'll be strong together. But you need to talk to me. Let me in, okay?"

"Okay. I'll try. I promise." She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening.

"That's all I ask. Just promise me you'll never feel like you're alone in this. We're a team, sweetheart. And I love you so much." Matt leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too, Matt." She whispered, a new determination settling in her heart. "And I'll do better. I'll let you in."

"That's all I need. We’ll get through this together." He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile before using his hand holding hers to slowly pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her upper body to rest against his own, laying her head against his hoodie-covered chest before resting his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply, the fresh smell of shampoo filling his nostrils, making him realize how much he missed it.

They stayed there, holding each other, feeling the weight of emotions that had been suppressed for so long. Y/N knew that the road to regaining trust and security in the relationship would be long and difficult for her, but in that moment, wrapped in Matt's arms, she felt a spark of hope.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @annamcdonalds67 @slutsformatt @chrissturnsss @l34n @chrissturnsss @selenascorner @sturnsxplr-25

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[writing-mlm]

Hey pookie, can I please request a Damian x male reader where they're enemies/rivals to lovers? Like both of them are the top students in their college and they tried to top the other by getting a better grade and showing it off to the other?

(can I please have soft damian too? Please 🙏)

Summa Cum shut the fuck up [D.W]

Summary: Stanford was your dream and some rich kid wasn't going to stop that, but damn those party lights make him look really nice. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.2k a/n: ngl in the first draft the roommate died and it was so left-field field I had to rewrite the whole thing

Summa Cum Lade and Valedictorian, that was the only option. 

Having been your high school valedictorian, gotten into the national honor society, and taking every single AP class you could all four years just for a chance at being at the top. Over seventy applications across the U.S. and every single one had a large accepted letter attached to it. It was your moment— Stanford was yours. 

You’d taken out loans for whatever your scholarships didn’t cover, like your meal plan and housing. But it didn't matter, you were prepared for anything and everything. Nothing was about to come between you and that number-one spot. 

Until you saw Damian Wayne. 

He lived across from you with your roommate's best friend, Jaime Reyes. But the two were painfully different and Jaime would more often than not hang out in the common area just to get away from their suffocating dorm. As such, their dorm door was painfully barren in the hallway filled with decorated doors. Not that Jaime didn’t try, it’s just Wayne would take it down as soon as he noticed. Not to mention Wayne had a thing for glaring at anyone who dared to knock on his door. Never mind that Jaime had been making friends left and right. 

You didn’t care at first, why should you? Some rich kid who doesn’t want anyone to steal his valuables. It’s whatever, not like it’s going to affect you. 

Until it did. 

The two of you happened to have most of the same classes, being the same major and all. And at first, you didn’t pay any mind to him, he was just another one of the kids in the sea of students until the first marking period came around. 

And his name was above yours. 

You remembered staring at your screen, looking at the 99.7% right below the 99.8%. It was the first time since elementary school that you had come in second. It made this feeling bubble up and you nearly had a breakdown. That feeling was pure hatred. This— this stupid rich boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth was not about to take away your goal. 

“Looks like you got competition,” Jaime had laughed from his dorm. You’d only heard it because you needed some fresh air before you tried to scoop your brain out. 

“The gap won’t be as small next time,” Wayne replied as Jaime opened the door. The two of you made eye contact while Jaime awkwardly tried to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

You’d be damned if you let some rich kid who probably bought their way in be better than you. 

You spent all of your free time at the school library or in the common area at night, studying and memorizing. Homework and projects were done in record time and you absolutely used the most out-of-office hours with your professors. All of whom were confused as to why their top student was coming in without needing any actual help. 

Test after test, you saw that the top two students were you and him. Your first finals were tough though. You probably averaged an hour's worth of sleep that entire week and drowned yourself in whatever textbooks or worksheets you could to prepare yourself. 

“(L/n),” Wayne greeted you as the two of you were in line at the TSA. Break officially started the next day but due to your finals being done, you got to leave earlier. 

“Wayne.” It’s a little surprising seeing the son of a billionaire fly commercial, let alone with Spirit Airlines but to each their own. You didn’t care enough to give it another thought. His eyes wander over you and he quietly hums. It doesn’t look like you’ve packed anything other than clothes and toiletries. And your electronics. 

He isn’t stupid. He knows you’re overworking yourself to be the best in school. He knows you obsessively check over the dean's list, that you probably have an alarm to make it a point to never drop below the number one spot for the freshmen. Overall, you rank three, which you’ll take. There are smarter people than you, just not anyone in your year. 

A part of him wanted to relax a bit, and make himself get a few questions wrong to ensure you remain in that number one spot. Maybe then you’ll ease up on yourself and not look like a zombie every single day. But he can’t bring himself to. It feels like pity and Damian Wayne doesn’t do pity. 

Besides, he’s never had someone to go head to head with him who wasn’t almost a decade older than him. To him, this rivalry was fun. To you, it was a means to an end. You felt that deep within you, you needed to beat him. If you weren’t willing to sacrifice your time and energy for that then what was the point in high school of isolating yourself? 

As the line moves up, you cover a yawn by rolling your neck. This stupid red-eye flight is worse than any final you’ve taken. 

You’re beyond tired and you’re sure your expression displayed nothing but that but you were counting on that nap in the flight to fix that. 

Thankfully, there’s not much of a wait as you’re at your gate less than half an hour later, checking in. 

“Oh,” The man at the desk pauses as he scans your ticket. You panic a little, did you get the dates wrong? The time? The location. Shit, maybe those hours of lost sleep had gotten to you. “You’ve been upgraded from economy to first class. Enjoy your flight.” He smiles and hands you back the ticket. You thank him and take your seat, silently happy you were going to sleep in first class. 

—

Returning to Stanford from winter break, you were happy to be back. You felt wasted— almost hollow not studying at home, as if nothing else mattered except studying. But your family didn’t let you get much studying in, after four months apart they missed you. A lot. And you went back to where your family was from to visit them instead of going home so you were never given a moment of

solace unless you were asleep. Your siblings and your extended family were always around you, asking you about college, how they’d seen your grades, and how exciting it was that you were in such a huge school. 

It also felt a little weird without having Wayne there. In a weird sort of way, you missed glancing at his results to see if he got higher than you. To share those smug glances as you passed each other to the showers. Like it or not, he’d become a staple in your day-to-day life on campus. 

You found yourself daydreaming about him being there as your family had parties and celebrations for various reasons. The holidays, your return home, and two birthdays happened in those two months you were away from campus. And they were sad to see you go for another four months. 

Of course, you returned with a bunch of gifts and mementos from your family. 

Wayne noticed it first, he saw you return to your dorm actually looking human. He’d gotten so used to the eyebags and the pain medications you’d take because the headaches were getting too bad, and the early signs of hand tremors you tried to shake off. A part of him was glad you were taken care of during the break, he’d seen a lot of people break down in Gotham for less and just hoped he didn’t have to deal with that at Stanford. 

Maybe he just didn’t want that to happen to you. 

But he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, he watches as you fall into the same pattern. And no one around you seems to give a shit that you’re basically slowly killing yourself. He resents Frankie in a way, as a roommate and a friend of yours, he has the most power in that situation to force some sense into you. Instead, he jokes and laughs at your state, unaware of how damaging it truly is. 

“All that studying won’t help you much, (L/n).” Wayne says as he walks past you the second week back from break, two textbooks tucked under his arm and a cup of water in his hand. You glare at him but only for a moment before going back to reading. For some reason, you can’t really focus knowing he’s around you. Somewhere, probably watching you. Hearing him sit a table away, you check the time for the first time that night. 

4:34 am

What was he doing up so late? Normally, you had the common area to yourself at this time. No one in their right mind would be awake at 4:30. Maybe he was feeling the stress of the new classes, too. Or maybe Jaime was snoring too loudly and he figured since he was awake he should study, too. 

Either way, he wasn’t going to take away from your study time. He already occupied a space in your mind against your will. And that was more than enough. 

Feeling a yawn crawling its way up your throat you swallow it back down and reach for your cup of energy drink mixed with coffee when you feel something hit your neck. You can’t tell what though, as the second you feel it, you’re out like a light. You do feel a hand save your head from hitting the hard table, though. But it was the last thing you remembered from that night. 

—

“You’re finally awake!” Frankie, your roommate, greets you as he walks into your dorm with a slushie and cupcake in hand. You’re sitting, blinking at the floor trying to remember how you ended up in your room. 

“Did I start sleepwalking?” You croak out, your mouth dry and throat tight. Frankie only grins and sits on his bed, watching as your face scrunches at the pain. “God, did you leave the window open again?” Blinking over to the window, you see it wide open and groan, throwing yourself back down to the bed. 

“Wanna head down and grab lunch? It ends in like twenty,” He asks, grabbing his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “Nineteen minutes until lunch is over.” So it’s almost three. You’d slept most of the day but it was a Friday so you didn’t have any classes. You didn’t miss any classes, thank god. 

Then again, you could’ve been studying. 

“I’m good,” Standing up, you crack your back and sigh. Not that you’d admit it, but you needed that nap. “Gotta shower and study.” Frankie frowns, watching as you collect your stuff before leaving the dorm. As you leave, he sees Wayne exiting his room and the two of them make eye contact. He shakes his head and Wayne turns to watch as you leave before nodding to him and leaving. 

Frankie frowns as he watches you leave. You’re stumbling and still trying to shake the sleep off, unaware that your left pants leg was halfway up your thigh and the right one was somehow twisted around. He grumbles and rushes to catch up to Wayne. 

Half an hour later and you’re inside the library. There’s one seat you’ve always sat at and you’re glad to see it’s empty; seeing as you’d be spending most of the day there. 

Setting your stuff on the table that’s pressed against the wall and diving back into where you left off the night before. It’s perfect in the library, there’s hardly anyone inside and the temperature finally isn’t bone freezing or blistering hot. Your headphones are on and there’s no one around, so you’re free of any possible distractions. Not to mention not tired after your ten-hour nap. 

About twenty minutes into studying, you can feel someone behind you; staring. But it’s probably the librarian so you don’t pay it any mind and continue on with your work. The feeling stays for another minute or so, and it’s making you a little uneasy, the Liberian would’ve moved on by that point. Hell, you’ve moved on to your ten-page essay, having enough of reading from the illegal copy of the textbook you downloaded. 

Maybe you should just turn around. It’s probably someone asking for the wifi password. 

Another minute passed and suddenly a slight shadow was cast over your laptop. You can see the outline of the person and go to groan when Wayne sets a cup of your favorite drink and lunch down to your left. It effectively shuts you up, halting the annoyed groan you were fixing to let out. 

A nice gesture from him? That’s… strangely nice. 

“Thank you…?” Sliding the headphones off, you turn to see him but he’s already walking away. Weird. Looking at the food, you almost— almost smile seeing that the food had those protective films covering it. The film was covered in a thin layer of condensation, having been hot but lunch had since ended. Had he been looking for you all that time? 

There’s also a note on it. Grabbing it, you flip it over to read it. 

You need to eat and maintain a good sleep schedule to remain at the top. 

That’s all it says, but that’s all you need. The paper can wait and you basically know all the material by heart already. A break couldn’t hurt. 

—

“A hundred and two. Suck my dick, Wayne!” You grin, slapping your test down in front of him before he can pack his things up. He looks at the paper and then at you. His eyes flicker to the extra credit questions he didn’t have time to finish and it only makes you smile harder. 

“(L/n),” He greets with faux enthusiasm. His eyes flicker across your body in one motion that makes it look as if he is looking down at the paper again. “Don’t let it go to your head.” He’s reluctant to show you his score but you had seen the giant red 98 from three seats behind him. 

“Just let me know if you need a tutor,” Taking the paper back you wiggle it in his face one last time before leaving him alone and you hear him scoff as you walk off to your next class. 

It’s mid-February now and while California doesn’t get as cold as the more Northern states, it is a little chilly especially now that it’s started to rain. 

There’s not much wind, surprisingly enough, so you’re able to keep your umbrella stable as you wait for the campus bus to arrive. While you’re waiting, listening to some music and enjoying the clouds as they roll by, Wayne walks over. He doesn’t say anything, but he stands next to you. 

His hood is wet and he doesn’t have an umbrella, but he’s far from affected by it. You guess Gotham is normally colder than SanFran, plus you heard it rains a lot there. Actual acid rain. But you doubt that. 

“If this is you asking for me to tutor you…” He glares at you and then rolls his eyes. 

“I’m the last person on this campus in need of a tutor.” He snips, his posture getting a little straighter as he speaks. 

“And the only person who needs an umbrella.” You chide. He doesn’t argue that fact and you look down the road. The bus isn’t even in sight, and he’ll probably catch a cold if he doesn’t get dry soon. But if he’s sick he can’t do well— no, you need him at his best. Winning because your opponent cannot put their best foot forward isn’t winning.

That’s probably why he’d given you the food. 

Internally, you sigh and step closer to him. Just enough that the both of you are covered by the umbrella. 

“Thanks,” He mutters, pulling his wet hood down. The red Stanford hoodie is absolutely drenched but it’ll dry soon. Hopefully faster than the cold bus. His hair is a little wet, too. You never noticed the curl to his hair before. It looks nice. You hum and scroll on your phone with your free hand. 

“By the way,” He starts after five minutes of silence between the two of you. “I got a hundred on Professor Guetta’s exam.” The two of you have that professor, but not at the same time. Gritting your teeth, you have half a mind to move your umbrella but decide against it. 

“Don’t let it go to your ego, Wayne.” You’d gotten a 98, never mind the fact that you overslept and missed a good ten minutes and never got to finish the exam. 

“Never, (L/n).” He hums as the bus finally pulls up. 

Shutting the umbrella, you all but push past him to get inside and away from him. Never mind the fact that you can hear him snickering quietly. 

—

“99.” Wayne shows you his paper before you can even stand up. You stare at the paper and sigh. The two of you had been having this feud for two years now. One might think that as juniors in college, you’d give it a rest, maybe finally relax and actually put this… academic one-upping a rest. And you almost did. 

But going into junior year you learned who your roommate was. Somehow, by some stupid chance, Wayne had managed to be your roommate until senior year. And sure, you could ask to be transferred to a different room but it’s about the principal. If you ask to be moved then he won. And he wasn’t about to win against you— at anything. Which is why you always wake up at five in the morning. Thirty minutes before he does. It used to be later in the day, but he started waking up earlier just to spite you. 

And you’re too prideful to let that happen. 

“Same,” Showing him your paper, he grabs it and flips through both of them. You watch, trying to find the question the two of you had gotten wrong. Apparently, it was the same question. It makes you feel a little better, knowing it was probably an advanced question meant to trick students. 

He hands you the test back and you stand up. 

“Won’t happen again, though.” You say as you slip the paper into your bag. He watches and cringes— don’t you have a folder for fucks sake?

“Because I’ll get better marks than you, yes.” He adds and you suck your teeth, looking up at him. 

“Just worry about making sure your pretty face doesn’t get wrinkles, Wayne.” You tease and catch up to Frankie and Jaime at the door. They actually still lived on the same floor as the two of you, so you hung out whenever you weren’t studying. Which, admittedly, was less these days. Sometime during finals freshman year, you’d overworked yourself to the point of almost developing hypertension. 

Frankie greets you first, offering you one of the donuts he’d stolen from his job. Jaime waves, his mouth too filled with his own donut to say anything. 

“Some of us are heading to that secret tunnel under the south side of campus,” Frankie explains as the three of you walk to the courtyard for your hour-long gap. Wayne has a class, though. So he doesn’t join— not that he ever would, but sometimes Jaime offers. “Caddie, that Kappa Alpha Theta girl who’s majoring in political science—“

“Your ex-girlfriend,” You add and he huffs. 

“That too. She managed to get access to that tunnel and is planning a party. Booze provided. Friday night.”

“I dunno,” You frown, using your jacket as a blanket to lay your head on. “I got a pretty shit grade for the last test in Jenkins class and I gotta study.” The two sigh loudly and you roll your eyes. 

“You gotta study every single day!” Frankie reminds you, holding his phone above your face so you can see Caddie’s Instagram story. “One little party won’t hurt.” Looking at Jaime, you see

him pleading and let out a grumbled “Fine.” that the boys cheered at. 

“What did you get anyway?” Jaime asks once they stop cheering. 

“Lemme guess,” Frankie grins. “You finally got a 60?” You’d actually kill yourself. 

“No,” Rolling your eyes, you stare at a cloud that’s shaped oddly like a dog shitting. “I got a 90.”

“I fucking hate you.”

—

Friday rolls around and Frankie all but breaks your door down as you’re getting some last-minute work done. Nothing major, just some homework you’d been putting off and finally got to it with your downtime. 

“Does your incessant knocking ever work?” Wayne asks when he opens the door after two minutes of the knocking. He doesn’t say anything but it reminds him of his brothers. He’d been doing the same, but you recognized his work as some work you’d completed the week prior. What a slacker. 

“Not really,” He laughs, shuts your notebook, and tosses it to your bed. “Let’s go! Jaime has the car.” 

“You’re going to that party in the run-down tunnel?” Wayne raises an eyebrow as you rise from your chair, twisting your back to get out any cracks. He’d noticed your outfit from your normal loungewear but didn’t think anything of it. “Yeah, wanna come?” Frankie grins and checks the time. “We got time to wait for you, if you want.” While you hope he doesn’t, you sort of want him to. Maybe it’s so you both will lose time that could’ve been spent doing work, maybe it’s so you can have someone you know won’t do anything stupid at the party there. Maybe you just enjoy being around him. But Wayne looks between the two of you before he rolls his eyes and gets off the bed. 

“I’ll be ready in five.” 

And he was. 

The theme was Rave in a Cave, or whatever that meant. So you were inclined to wear neon clothes or something flashy. But you didn’t have anything of the sort. As such, a pair of shorts and a sweater will do. Wayne opts for a white T-shirt and black pants. 

“I won’t drink,” You offer as the four of you get into Frankie’s car. “You three can.” 

“I don’t partake in drinking,” Wayne adds as he puts on his seatbelt making you feel compelled to put yours on as well. “Especially in these settings.” He almost physically turns his nose up at the idea of drinking booze provided by people he doesn’t know, let alone trust. 

“Respect that, totally,” Frankie pulls out of his parking spot while Jaime plays some music on the speakers. He glances at the two of you but you’re busy on your phone and Wayne is making note of where the car goes to notice. Jaime smacks his arm and makes a motion that makes Frankie laugh. 

It’s not a long drive to the tunnel— but it does take a minute to find parking. 

“Why don’t you drink, if I might ask?” Wayne asks as the two of you trail behind Frankie and Jaime. They’re recording some videos and taking pictures that they’ll occasionally make the two of you join in. 

“I hate the taste,” You shrug. “And addiction isn’t something I’d want to fall into. You?” He moves to the side as a couple runs down the pavement wearing bright clothes and clearly already tipsy. 

“I’d prefer to be sober when I’m away from home.” He returns to his spot and his eyes flicker to the entrance of the tunnel. “So my actions aren’t due to an inebriated state of mind.” Humming, the four of you are allowed inside and there are a lot of people. 

Half of the student body must be inside the tunnel. It stretches for a couple of miles but gets blocked off by a wire gate. The walls are chipped and almost rotten looking with graffiti and posters messily placed along. There are color lights strung up along the walls and if they went out the place would be pitch black. 

The DJ is one of the music majors, you recognize him from one of the random people who followed you when your high school posted the school you were going to. He’s playing some loud ass music with extra bass that makes you cringe. 

“Here,” Wayne hands you one of the glow sticks turned into a necklace and you thank him, slipping it over your neck. He has one but it’s around his wrist instead. Frankie and Jaime went separate ways almost immediately— they asked first and you just nodded and went to a corner. 

How the fuck do you even act at parties. 

“Hi-hi!” A woman stands in front of you, dressed for a rave with a lot of Kandi bracelets running up her arms and those weed glasses. She’s in one of your classes. 

“Hey,” You offer a smile. 

“Saw you’re nervous! Rave virginity!!!” She laughs and looks along her arms. “Here, this is called a Kandi trade— but you don’t give anything.” She starts to pull off a large red and black cuff and motions for you to grab her hand. Against your better judgment, you do and she does some hand movements before she transfers the cuff to your arm. 

“That’s cool! Thank you!” She laughs again and nods, leaving you in the corner to do more trades. 

An hour or so passes and Wayne spots you in the sea of people. He sees you have a lot more jewelry on than when you first came and you’re enjoying yourself. Dancing and singing along to the music, jumping with others, and such. But he’s been keeping a close eye and knows you haven’t drunk anything. Not even the water bottle that was offered to you some time ago. 

He feels at ease with that and his eyes linger on Jaime. He’s impressed that… bug is keeping cool at the party and he sees Frankie laughing with some of the chem majors by the DJ, requesting songs. 

He’s been stuck to a wall for the entirety of the party, he didn’t even want to go in the first place. But he figured it would be best if he did, something in him told him that. And he understood why when he saw your face go from joyful to sour. 

His eyes scan the people around you and he sees something yelling at you. Their face was red from the alcohol and the anger they were feeling. He pushes himself from the wall and makes his way over to you. 

“Is there an issue?” He asks you, completely ignoring the loud guy. You give him a thank you look and shake your head. 

“Just some drunk idiot thinking I’m trying to hit on their date,” You snicker and he raises an eyebrow, seeing the drunk person now tongue-deep with their date. He looks away, almost embarrassed for them. 

“How fun,” He smiles and you laugh. He thinks that’s the first time he’s actually made you laugh from something that wasn’t you beating him. 

“Wayne, you dance?” You ask as the song changes to something made to move to. He shakes his head, unable to look away from you. “Me neither! But we should!” 

He agrees, forgetting his home training and dancing along with you. He’s sure at some point someone will hurt their ankle from the jumping and the very uncoordinated movements but he doesn’t care. Anything to relish in this moment. 

At some point the song changes and you're out of breath, dragging him to a wall to sit against. He wants to protest but he sees you’re sitting on fabric and not the ground directly and joins you. The little area is tucked into a divet in the wall, your backs to a cold, metal service door. So no one could step on either one of you. 

“Hey, Wayne.” You call and he looks over. His eyes trace over your face as you’re not smiling as hard but the excitement in your eyes hasn’t died out. Your forehead is covered in sweat and he has to stop himself from wiping it off. “I didn’t know you’d be such a nice party partner. We outta do this more often.” You look at him and admire his eyes. In truth, you’ve never given him a real look before. 

Sure, you know his eyes are green. But you never noticed how green, or how in this light you can see the rings of blue in them. Or how there’s tiny little white scars on the exposed skin of his neck. Or the scar above his right eyebrow. 

“We should,” He agrees and wow, you’re really close. You can feel his breath ghost over your lips. Tentatively, you look down at his lips as he licks them then back to his eyes. 

“Should we?” You grin, swiping your tongue over your lips. 

“Yes.” He nods and closes the gap. His hand holds your neck and you hold his collar. At that moment, as the butterflies are alive and well in your stomach, as his lips press to yours, as his grip pulls you tighter, you’re so glad he agreed to go to the party. Even happier than this action— that kissing him was a completely sober choice made by the both of you. 

This will either be the best or the worst decision of your life. 

—

A year after the party, Damian enters the dorm after finishing up his last class for the day. You’d been on your phone, checking up on your internship application before setting it down when he walked in. 

“I got a hundred on the fake final.” You grin, reaching over to pull him down onto your bed. He lets you, stopping his fall by planting his hands on either side of your head. He shifts his legs so one is between yours and the other is locking your left leg between his. You’ll never understand his upper body strength, but you’d definitely never complain about it. 

“Me too.” He smirks and kisses the corner of your mouth. You frown and grab his face, pulling him in for a proper kiss. He adjusts himself on the bed by moving one arm to slide underneath you and you love that feeling. Your hands slide from the sides of his face to his shoulders, pinching the fabric to try and get it off. 

“Lock the door next time,” Jaime groans as he walks into the room. Damian pulls away and glares at him. You roll your head to see him and not very discreetly try and wave him away. “Aye, I’m just here for your charger. Mine broke and you’re rich.” He holds his hands up, showing Damian’s charger and the two of you watch him leave. 

“I’m getting the higher score on the final,” You tell him once the door shuts. He looks at you, an eyebrow raised before he gets up to lock the door. 

“Doubtful,” He grins, returning to his previous spot on top of you. His eyes scanned all over your face and his hand traced along your hairline. “I’m still on top.” His eyes flicker to yours and you scoff. 

“Pretty sure you bottom,” 

“Just this once.”

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, the morning after, awkwardness, Lucifer being awkward, fluff, romance isn’t dead, Lucifer has no chill when he decides what he wants, pancakes, angst, Lucifers past relationship with Lilith.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

Waking up next to you is like a dream come true. 

Lucifer had been confused at first, the odd weight across his legs and shoulders so unfamiliar that he thought for a moment that he had conjured extra pillows in his sleep in an attempt to fill the empty gap not just in his bed but also in his heart. He had been left feeling a little heartbroken and hollow by that thought, his loneliness getting the better of him for just a second but then he had opened his eyes and come face to face with your sleeping form and it was like all the air had been knocked out of him. The confusion doubles momentarily, especially when Lucifer realises you’re both naked and it’s just his wings covering the two of you but then everything from the night before comes rushing back to the forefront of his mind and Lucifer has a completely different problem. 

Lucifer can feel his soft member stirring in interest at the memories of your night together, and very quickly he becomes aware of how closely the two of you are, bodies intertwined like even in your sleep you couldn’t bare to be parted from one another. His half hard member twitches, pressing against the thigh you had pressed between his legs and sending a shard zing of pleasure down his spine. He only just manages to stop himself from crying out like a startled babe, instead making a weird high pitched squeaking noise like a mouse that had just been trodden on. How he didn’t wake you up was beyond him but by some miracle you remained asleep, the only indication that Lucifer had disturbed you a gentle huff as you snuggled closer to him.

Lucifer lays as still as he can, hands hovering awkwardly above you as he waits for you to settle back down. He uses those precious seconds to calm himself down, thinking about that tacky deer demon to get his growing erection under control. It works surprisingly well and by the time your sleeping soundly again Lucifer has softened enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s about to start humping your leg at the slightest movement. He’s left with another problem though, Lucifer not quite sure what he should be doing now that he was awake and you weren’t.

It had been decades since the last time he had woken up with someone else in his bed and though he had done this for eons before that Lucifers mind comes up blank when he tries to recall the proper etiquette for the morning after. Is he supposed to leave? Untangle himself from your warm and comforting embrace and sneak out the room without waking you? Should he stay? Indulge in this closeness that he had been missing for so long? Or should he wake you? Placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin he could reach until tour eyes fluttered open, and he was blessed with your sleepy smile? It was too many options with too many possibilities of what could happen if he got it wrong and he very much did not want to get it wrong with you.

It had been easy with Lilith, her hight and more dominant nature meaning Lucifer was always the little spoon, his ex-wife curling round his back and holding him as close as he could get. He’s not used to being held any other way and though he’s not the big spoon in this situation he’s also not the little one either, the two of you wrapped around one another in a way that left the whole spoon analogy completely unusable. That’s not to say it’s unpleasant, far from it. It’s just, Lucifer doesn’t know where he’s supposed to put his hands or if his legs are in the completely wrong place or if his wings are to heavy where they are still draped across you. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable but unless he wakes you up he’s not going to know if that’s the case or not, and he is most definitely not disturbing you when you look so peaceful, snuggled up against him under his wings and looking way to much like a slice of paradise that Lucifer had thought he would never het to experience again.

Uncertain if he was doing the right thing or not Lucifer had gently let his arms settle back around you, his body still incredibly stiff as he waited for a reaction of some kind to his sudden movement. When nothing happened Lucifer let himself relax, sighing contently as he tightened his hold and pulled you just that little bit closer so the two of you are pressed together everywhere you could be. His dick stirs slightly at the sudden contact with you but its not as urgent, Lucifer able to dismiss it as he pressed his face into your hair, his hold on you tightening just a fraction like he was afraid you would disappear in he let you go. Like a dream fading from his mind as consciousness called him back to the land of the living.

He had forgotten how nice it was to have another body pressed against his. To be held in someone’s arms and wake up feeling cared for and loved. Lucifer had missed this, more than he had realised and getting to have it with you, oh it was a delight like no other. Well almost like no other but they were two very different things and couldn’t be compared. He wants to stay like this forever, happy and content to just exist within the safety of your arms. It feels like Heaven, like paradise made flesh and Lucifer can’t remember the last time he had felt so beatific.

He’s so full of joy and happiness that Lucifer desperately wants to wake you up to share in it. He wants to lay a hundred, no a thousand kisses upon you, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. He wants to see you smile at him, all sleepy and content as you wake up to the feel of his lips on your ankle. He wants to hear you laugh when his hair tickles the back of your knee, to be treated to the delight of your sweet sighs as he found a home between your thighs. Oh, how he wanted but you looked ever so sweet in your slumber, all soft and at peace. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to ruin such a heavenly sight. 

He had moved as slowly as he could, taking great pains to make sure he didn’t disturb you as he got out of bed. A task that was easier said than done considering the two of you were practically wrapped around the other. It took a gate deal of effort and careful manoeuvring not to wake you and there were a couple of moments where he froze, looking very much like a deer in headlights as you moved, grumbling something under your breath that sounded suspiciously like his name before settling back down again. When he finally managed to free himself from you, Lucifer made sure to conjure a blanket as soft as his wings to drape over you before pulling on his new sleep pants and slipping his hooves into the duck slippers. Then he was out the door, pulling it to because he didn’t wanting to risk the sound of it closing waking you up and ruin all his hard work to make sure that didn’t happen. 

The candles and flower petals are still all over the floor, though the candles are now more like hard pools of wax on the floor, having burned themselves out somewhen whilst the two of you had slept. Lucifer is too happy to care about the potential fire hazard that had flickered and burned whilst he had been preoccupied, humming away to himself as he makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Pancakes. That’s what would make this morning even better than it already was. Lucifer would make a stack of them, laden a try full of the things as well as tea, juice, fruit and whatever else he could think of before surprising you with breakfast in bed. It was a perfect romantic follow up to what you had done for him last night and sure to have you smiling at him as brightly as the dawn on a summers day.

Maybe if he was lucky, after he had wowed you with his cooking skills, Lucifer would be able to tempt you to spend the rest of the day in bed with him, the two of you intertwined and finding sweet bliss in the other’s arms. There was so much he wanted to do with you, to you, for you, his mind racing with the possibilities and leaving him half hard in the confines of his trousers. There were months worth of silenced fantasies and bitten off desires that he now got to indulge in, a whole plethora of sin just waiting to be shared and he could hardly wait to have you again, in any way you would allow him.

But first, breakfast.

With a plan in mind and the gentle hum of arousal under his skin Lucifer had descended upon the kitchen, noisily pulling together everything he would need to make you the best breakfast you had ever had. He spent the whole time humming and singing to himself about how he had a “lovely little lady in my bed, she’s the cutest little sleepy head. I’m making her pancakes because I appreciate my sweet little cheesecake. Cheesecake? That was terrible. Does she even like cheesecake? Do I like cheesecake? What even is a cheesecake?” He didn’t care that he got flower in his hair and that there was at least one cracked egg on the floor, to happy to be bothered by the mess he was making. 

Lucifer loved you, he was certain of it and having you here with him, not just in his bed but in his home seemed so right that it was hard to believe he had gone all these months without it. Physical desire aside, Lucifer really did want you to stay and not just for the day. His home always seemed so empty after you returned to the hotel, Lucifer always longing for the next moment he would be with you as soon as you had gone from sight but what if you didn’t go back to the hotel? What if you stayed here with him? It had only been a handful of months and the two of you had only just consummated your relationship, but Lucifer desperately wanted to move in with you, be that here or at the hotel. Here would be preferable, the house affording you a level of privacy that the hotel wouldn’t. Plus, if you moved in here Lucifer could make love to you in every single room, even the hall closet and there wouldn’t be anyone around to ruin it or to be quiet for. Not that regular sex was the only reason Lucifer wanted you to move in, it was just a happy by-product of you being here. He wanted the companionship more than anything, to know that there was someone to come home to who loved and cared for him just as he was and not for what people wanted him to be. 

He wanted to make a home with you, wanted to fill every room with your personality and things. He wanted to walk through the door and see your coat hung up next to his, your shoes tucked away in the closet next to his boots. He wanted to walk into the parlour and find your books on the table and blankets thrown over the sofa. He wanted to see all your little knickknacks mixed in with his, wanted photos of the two of you to be hung up on walls or sat on shelves. He wanted to open his closet and find half the space taken up by your clothes, to have your toiletries mixed in with his in the bathroom and smell your perfume in the pillows on the bed. Lucifer wanted to share his life with you in every way imaginable and he didn’t want to wait any longer than he already had. He would ask you before the day was out, imagining himself whispering it in between kisses as he made love to you once more but knowing he would probably blurt it out like a madman before you had even taken your first bite of breakfast. Either way he would get the question out there and hopefully you would say yes, Lucifer personally moving your things into the house as soon as had finished celebrating with you.

A glint of gold caught his eye as he flipped a pancake in the frying pan, his eyes dropping down to the gold band on his finger. The happiness that he had been feeling since waking up to you waned, his smile falling as he stared at the surprisingly heavy reminder of his past. Honestly Lucifer had almost forgotten about it, wearing it more out of habit at this point than any sense of longing or devotion to his ex-wife. You had never mentioned it, not once and now he was actually thinking about it Lucifer didn’t think he had even caught you looking at it before but surely you must know it was there? You had to have been able to feel it the night before, the cold metal pressing against your heated skin as his hands explored your body. That realisation makes him feel sick, the thought that as he had been making love to you that you would be thinking he was anything but devoted to you, that you weren’t the sole focus of his attention and affections. Yes, Lilith was his first love, his first everything actually and a part of him would always care for her but that part of his life was over, ancient history even and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he was using you as some sort of stand in. 

He should take it off. Should have taken it off years ago and thrown it into the deepest toxic waist pool he could find down in Greed. He should do those things, so why hadn’t he? You made him happy, incredible so and one day he wanted to have your ring on his finger, but he couldn’t do that if he still had his old one on. That was just disrespectful, to you and to Lilith. His fingers twitched, the pancake he had been sliding onto the growing stack next to him almost ending up on the floor at the sudden movement. He should take it off, he needed to take it off if he wanted to move on with his relationship with you but he just, couldn’t. He had worn it for so long now that it was a part of him, the metal having worn down and smoothed the skin underneath. Taking it off felt like being asked to cut off a part of him, something small and unimportant, like a kidney. Yes, he could function without one, but it would still be better if he had two. 

Putting the last pancake on the sizeable stack he had made Lucifer felt a lot less happy than he had been when he started cooking. He’s being ridiculous, more so than normal. You hadn’t even asked him to take it off and Lucifer honestly didn’t think you would, not any time soon anyway. That didn’t change the fact that he felt like an asshole for still having it on. What must you think of him? Lucifer making all these declarations of love and devotion whilst still wearing his wedding ring from his earlier marriage. You must hate him, well maybe not hate him but surely you were upset by it and a little disgusted even. Lucifer was, the band almost feeling like it was burning as his mind raced with all the possible ways, he could be hurting you without even realising.

Taking a deep breath Lucifer tries to still the slight shaking in his hands. What he needed to do is talk to you. Charlie was always telling him that “communication makes or breaks a relationship. How can you expect someone to trust if you’re not honest with them.” Admittedly she had been talking about her little group of weirdo friends at the hotel, but she wasn’t wrong. A lack of communication had almost been your undoing already. If the two of you had just spoken to one another like most well adjusted adults did then you could have avoided a lot of stress and worry. He had to be honest with you, tell you that he wasn’t still wearing the ring because he was still in love with Lilith but because he had worn it for eons now, the familiar weight and feel of it a grounding point when he was at his worst and the thought of taking it of scared him more than he would ever like to admit. Like he might fall apart without it there to keep him together.

Lucifer was sure you would understand. Or if you didn’t you would at least be able to grant him the time to work past his fears and insecurities. Time that he would use to show you that he was all in, 1001% dedicated to you and this relationship. Lucifer was going to knock your socks off with how committed he was. He would be an amazing husband. Would wait on you hand and hoof every hour of every day, would worship the very ground you walked on and tell you often how amazing you were and how madly he was in love with you. He would cook every day, any dish that you desired would be yours within an instant. Even if he had no clue what it was you were after he would find out and deliver it to you with a flourish of love and devotion. You would never lift a finger, Lucifer even taking care of all the cleaning. Admittedly not himself but he would conjure an imp or two to do it for him so surely that would count, right? The point was that Lucifer would take care of you and treasure you like the rare jewel you were, determined to show you his devotion to you by making you the centre of his world.  

Feeling a little less like a lying, cheating scum bag and more confident with his ability to continue wooing you Lucifer carried on getting breakfast ready, back to singing softly to himself about his plans to continue courting you as he pulled together extra little bits that he was sure you would like whilst somehow trying to fit it all on the try he had conjured up. He just managed to fit the vase of flowers on the tray with some careful balancing when there came a knock on the door, three loud evenly spaced taps that echoed down the hall and to the kitchen. Lucifer didn’t think nothing of it, mind happily occupied with thoughts of you and the delighted look on your face when he presented you with the breakfast he had made you. It didn’t occur to him that he didn’t get visitors to his home other than you and Charlie. You were already upstairs, and Charlie wouldn’t just drop by unannounced, a firm believer of calling ahead to make sure she didn’t upset any plans that had already been made. He didn’t stop to consider how he must look, shirtless with rubber duck covered sleep trousers on and covered in flour, not to mention the large yellow duck slippers on his feet. Without a care in the world Lucifer flung open the door, wide smile stretching almost painfully across his face as he greeted his unexpected guest with a cheerful “hel-lo-ooo!”

Lucifers smile fell instantly, a heavy ball of dread building in his stomach. Slowly he dragged his eyes up over satin covered curves, the purple fabric so dark it was almost black. Up over pail lilac skin and past golden blonde hair so long it practically touched the floor. Up past smirking magenta lips and all the way to violet eyes that he had been convinced he would never see again. He stumbled back slightly, hand gripping at the edge of the door to keep himself from falling to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after seven years of nothing. No calls or texts, not even a letter. This couldn’t be real, had to be something sort of hallucination or something because this couldn’t be happening, not now. Not when he was finally moving on and finding some form of happiness again. 

Lucifer can feel himself spiralling, a whole host of emotions taking root and making him feel sick. Panic, confusion, hurt, anger. All of them and more though disbelief is the strongest to start with followed by a fear so fierce that it has him rooted to the spot, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly, his sharp nails digging into the wood of the door. He watches as those magenta lips curled up into a smile that would have thousands falling at her feet, a shiver running down his spine as sharp calculating violet eyes raked over his form. That feeling of inadequacy that had clung to him the last few decades came back tenfold, Lucifer wanting to cower under the scrutiny. Just like that he was back in this very hallway eight years prior, watching helplessly as the women he had loved since the dawn of humanity walked out the door, long golden blonde hair swishing behind her as she disappeared without even a glance back at what she was leaving behind. 

Her softly spoken “Hello Lucifer,” cut through the looming darkness that was pressing in around him, his entire existence shrinking down to here and now as the weight of all his past mistakes pressed down on him, making him feel ten times smaller than he already was. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat Lucifer said the one name that hadn’t graced his lips in almost five years, the syllables familiar and yet feeling like thorns in his mouth. 

His voice was nothing but a whisper, the sound of the city beyond threatening to drown it out but still she heard him, her smile widening and leaving Lucifer feeling very much like a bird about to be torn apart by a cat. He had used to like that feeling, relished in her pursuit of him and willingly giving himself over to be devoured. Now he felt like prey, trapped within her gaze with no means of escape. He got the uneasy feeling that was exactly where she wanted him. 

“Lilith”

@viannasthings @loquacious-libra @misfitgirlwrites

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Dead dove: do not eat, Sexual Harrassment, Drunk König, rowdy 141, Soap being a bad influence, Intoxication, Ghost being a creep, Groping, TW: Date rape vibes, Predatory behavior

Author's Note: Ghost's creepiness levels sharply increase in this chapter. So, again, enter with caution.

Reader POV:

"Mind if I join you?" Ghost said, setting the drink down in front of you.

"I'd rather cut my arm off with a spoon."

Though that's what you wanted to say, you held your tongue. You knew finally having the assignment behind you was entirely up to you now. He’d successfully thrown the ball into your court and it was your move. And with Price sitting right there, watching both of you expectantly, the only option you had was to say yes. So, with a sigh, you scooted further into the bench and gave Ghost ample space to sit down without any actual contact with you. But as he settled into the bench, he didn't stop his approach until you could feel his thigh firmly pressed against your own. So much for trying.

"The bartender told me what you'd ordered earlier.” Ghost said, looking over at you. “I figured I owed you an apology after how I acted during sparring this morning. So, I hope this drink can make amends."

He was being nice. Too nice. His performance was a good one, but the crafty spark in his eyes confirmed to you that all of this was just for show. It made you wary and uncomfortable. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw Price’s eyes had shifted to you now as he waited for your response.

"Fine. You wanna play games? I can play games too."

"I'm sorry too," you said, putting on a bashful display of repentance. "I shouldn't have taken your mask like that. I just wanted revenge for how scared I was the night before."

Ghost's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. You weren't really going to announce the truth of your first unpleasant encounter in front of everyone. Admittedly, you were still too scared to really tell anyone at this point. But he didn't know that, and it was so satisfying to make him squirm.

"Your move, asshole."

Across the table, Price was completely unaware of the silent battle that raged on across the table. In his ignorance, he beamed with pride.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, do you think you two could turn a new leaf and keep things friendly?”

“I don’t see why not,” Ghost said, giving you a “friendly” pat on your leg under the table. And to your horror, he didn't remove his hand. Instead, it continued to lay there on your thigh, his fingers beginning to toy with the hem of your dress as he turned to you. “What about you, Y/n? Think you could give me a chance? You won’t be disappointed.”

The double meaning didn't miss you as you plastered a smile on your face, grinding out your response through gritted teeth.

“Sounds just great to me.”

“Wonderful,” Price said, standing and stretching a bit. “On that note, consider your assignment complete. Ain’t nothing a little teamwork can’t fix!”

Against your better judgment, you reached for the large glass Ghost had brought you as a much needed distraction. The first one you'd bought had been so good. Just one more couldn't hurt and maybe it would calm your nerves a bit too. Or give you the courage to alert Price to his actions. Either way, you took a generous sip.

But you immediately regretted it. You swallowed and grimaced as the sharp taste of alcohol flooded your taste buds, coughing as it made your stomach warm. It was nothing like the first one. It had been mixed so strong, he might as well have brought you your own personal bottle of vodka!

"Jesus Christ," you said between coughs, frantically reaching for your water and taking a long drink. "What the hell did you put in this?"

"Aw, what's wrong?" Ghost asked innocently, his hand now having slipped just beneath the fabric, kneading the delicate skin where your thigh and stomach met. "I told him to make it just like your first one. Come on, you're a big girl. Give it another try?"

Your blood ran cold as the realization hit you. He was trying to get you drunk! He wanted you to be dazed and disoriented. He wanted your defenses dropped far lower than you'd let them get otherwise.

You shook your head, hurriedly pushing the beverage away. The moment gave you an excuse to shift in your seat and attempt to dislodge his wandering hand. But he simply refused to back off.

"No, I'm good." You smiled, eyes darting to Price in a silent plea. "But thanks anyway."

But Price wasn't looking in your direction at the moment, becoming increasingly distracted by the antics of the neighboring table. And glancing back at Ghost, his burning stare confirmed your original suspicion. He was definitely up to something nefarious.

Though the music still played on and the night was relatively young. But you'd made up your mind. It was time to go home. And you wouldn't feel entirely at ease until you were safe in your room at the barracks with the door locked behind you.

You scooted towards Ghost, nudging him firmly to signal that you wanted to get up. But he didn't budge, content with keeping you trapped on the bench beside him. It wasn't until you verbally announced a desire to get up loud enough for Price to overhear that he withdrew his hand and moved out of your way.

As soon as you were on your feet, you made a beeline for König. You knew if you told him you felt uncomfortable and asked him to take you home, he'd personally whisk you away without hesitation. But when you spotted him among the others at his table, it was clear his condition had worsened significantly since your dance. He was shouting excitedly with the rest of his rowdy group as the drinking game raged on, cheering for Soap as he chugged yet another strong drink. His speech was habitually morphing into slurred German, and he’d occasionally flop back against his seat in fits of drunken giggles. He was piss drunk and unaware of little else.

“Soap,” you yelled as the man slammed his empty glass down on the table, reveling in the resulting cheers from his mates. “How much did you make him drink?”

“I don’t know,” he giggled, struggling to tally up the mess of empty glasses that lay strewn their table. “I kinda lost track after round three.”

“Shit,” you leaned over, waving to get König’s attention. “Babe, are you okay?”

His gaze floated over to you and a stream of words started pouring out of him excitedly. “Maus! Wann bist du hier angekommen? Willst du mit mir tanzen?”

“König, you’re speaking German. I can’t understand you.”

His head hung heavily as he slumped back against the cushion, laughing at nothing in particular. His eyelids were heavy as he giggled, his eyes dazed and a little too gleeful. He was utterly wasted!

Soap was about to start yet another round of tomfoolery, too. But as he raised another drink above his head, drumming up excitement for his next act, Price quickly leaned in and plucked it from his grasp.

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I think you’ve had more than enough for a night.”

Soap pouted, reaching out to snatch it back, but not succeeding as Price held it well out of his reach.

“Aw, come on, Johnny boy! Don’t be a spoil sport.”

But Price was not changing his mind, having finally reached his limit. He jumped into the fray, dragging man after man out of the booth and onto their feet. A chorus of complaints arose, but their protest fell on deaf ears as Price put a swift end to the game and decided it was as good a time as any to end the night.

“I think it's high time I got these boys home before they start causing trouble,” he said, helping a stumbling subordinate back to balance. “Some sleep and a good morning run should get this out of their systems, too.”

Price crossed his arms as the soldiers let out a collective groan at the idea. The few of them who were still sober groaned the loudest, but they all obediently began to file out of the building and into the parking lot. As König weakly dragged himself to the edge of the bench, Price moved to help him up as well. You rushed over to assist, eyes full of concern. The captain slung one of his arms around his shoulder to keep him from falling over. And from the way König wobbled every other step, he likely would have. You clung to his side as extra support, walking in step with Price as he headed towards the front door.

"It's probably not best for a little thing like you to be crammed into a car with this lot," Price warned you. “I don’t want you getting hurt if things get rowdy. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

After rummaging through König’s pockets for a moment to find his keys, Price produced Ghost’s keys from his own pocket and tossed them at him. He had thought this whole thing through, making doubly sure Ghost wouldn’t run back to base as soon as he looked the other way. But as Ghost caught his keys and smirked down at you, you suddenly wished Price hadn’t been so thorough after all.

"Ghost,” Price said, arms tightening around König as he began to go limp. “You think you can look after her?"

Ghost chuckled, a little too pleased with the proposition. "I'll take good care of her, don't you worry."

“Good. I’m going to make sure everyone gets home safely.” Price said, taking a deep breath and straightening up a bit. If anyone continued their antics between now and their return to base, heaven help them. Because Price looked like a tired parent just a few minutes away from snapping. But he gave Ghost a quick nod. “You make sure she gets home safe too, okay? But take the time you need. If you two wanted to stay a while longer and start getting to know each other as friends, that’s fine by me.”

With that, Price departed with a very giggly König in tow and left you all on your own with Ghost. No longer having to play his part for their audience, Ghost’s expression fell right back to his usual fiery stare. There was something in his eyes that made your skin crawl. Something dangerous and predatory. Something that made you want to defy Price’s orders and run after him anyway.

“Well then,” Ghost said in a gruff rumble. “How about we get to know each other a little better?”

You blushed a deep red, eyes frantically scanning the area for any viable escape route. “In what way, exactly?”

Ghost approached, his hand trailing down your side. “I have a few ideas in mind I think you’d enjoy.”

“Um,” you shrank back, eyes landing on the bathrooms across the room. “Um, I have to use the bathroom. But after that, we can just go home. I’m pretty tired, actually.”

Pulling away and out of his reach, you began a speedy walk towards the woman’s bathroom. You could stall for time in there. And then, once you found a good opening, you’d lose him in the crowd and make a mad dash for the front door. You glanced over your shoulder at him but were disturbed to see him following right behind you.

“It’s okay, I know the way,” you offered with a nervous laugh. “It’s not like I’ll get lost.”

“No, I told Price I’d keep an eye on you,” he said, stubbornly remaining right behind you the whole way. His voice lowered to a threatening whisper. “Besides, you never know who might try to take advantage of a pretty girl like you, all alone in a place like this.”

“Fuck!”

You panicked, increasing your pace and not stopping until you were safely behind the bathroom door. You whirled around and immediately sank to the floor, pressing your back against the door. You doubted he’d actually follow you inside. But with how bold he’d been before, you honestly didn’t know what he was capable of right now. All you knew was that you refused to play along with whatever sick plans he clearly had in store for you now that he had you to himself. You just had to think of a way to escape and get back to base. And you had to do it fast.

I know this story includes some pretty dark themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story can be dark and uncomfortable at times. But it is always intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.

[lace-coffin]

Hi, I hope you're doing well, but can I request a headcanon where Bubba had a bad day and was a little sad and S/O starts giving him kisses and hugs to make him feel better. I like your blog so much!

Thank you so much for your sweet words! I’m glad your enjoying my stuff < 3

Reader comforting Bubba on a bad day

Gn!Reader x Bubba Sawyer

Requests are open!

You can see it in the way her shoulders sag like the weight of the world is being held on them, more out of it than usual and despondent. Even people as upbeat as bubba have bad days.

Unsurprisingly being the main bread (or meat lmao) winner for the family can be a big job, mentally and physically. He knows he’s doing it for his family, they need to eat, it’s not optional with the limited resources they have but..sometimes it’s so hard to disconnect from the people they kill. despite only being meat to the sawyer’s, bubba knows that they’re a loved to someone else, a sister, a mother, a new dad maybe.

They understand the weight of loosing a loved one, the entire family essentially falling apart at the seams when nubbins passed. It makes her sick knowing she’s responsible for the same heartache she’s experienced first hand. But is it truly her fault? Without him providing food his family will starve and he can’t bare to loose anyone else.

On days like these it’s best to keep her distracted, play games with the family if you can convince Drayton to begrudgingly join in. (He’ll do it for bubba but won’t admit it) preparing meals for him is a good idea, she’s unable to even look at the meat knowing the origin of it when she’s feeling like this. Try to make dinner more vegetable based on these days, you can even harvest the vegetables from the garden as an activity to take her mind off it. Don’t let chop help though unless you want to watch him throw dirt at his little sibling. He’ll clear off if you threaten to put an earthworm in his plate lol.

Insist on helping them with the dishes in the evening, dancing stupidly to music on the old crackly radio as you scrub. Thank him for his help and place little kisses on his cheeks, basking in his warmth like you’re the only two people in the world. safe in the sanctuary of the kitchen.

This regularly leads to clumsily slow dancing to unfitting music on whatever station you found first. Neither of you actually know how to slow dance, more just leaning into eachother and waddling side to side but you don’t care enough to learn, just happy to be held.

Eventually it’s time for bed, both of you exhausted, you from doing the brunt of the housework and bubba carrying that post depression exhaustion. Undoing the mask comes next, it’s not an easy feat. Bubba isn’t sure whether she feels more or less herself in the mask, unable to express herself without but bound to one expression in.

Gently pry the mask off and sit in front of the mirror with them, walk them through your favourite parts. Trace the bump of his nose, slightly crooked from a tussle with a victim, never quite healing right. Cup his warm full cheeks and dust them with kisses and praise. Tease your thumb over her plump lips, tell her they remind you of a cherub, sent from heaven just for you.

If you can love bubba than there must be something worth loving about himself, he thinks.

Being the big spoon is a good idea in these moments, let them feel small and protected under you, tracing over their curves and freckles gently, making them whine and shiver. She’ll never completely forgive herself for the things she’s done but it helps that you see beauty in her, the love, the compassion, the emotion. She just wishes she could see those things in herself on hard days.

For now this is enough, the coziness of your body blending into his until it’s unidentifiable where you begin and bubba ends. In some ways it already feels like you’re becoming part of eachother the longer you bond and the deeper you fall. You fall asleep after whispering a hushed “I love you” into their hair and receiving bubba’s sleepy equivalent of the same. Today was tiresome but the sun will rise again over the homestead, bathing the two of you in warm light and readying you for another day in eachother arms.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 3.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

W o e, more OC content be upon ye

In this one, Jean meets Greg and the Crystal Gems. (There's a bit of Greg POV at the beginning, just to mix things up.) I had so much indulgent fun writing it, and hope anyone who checks it out enjoys.

Enjoy! <3

__

Absentmindedly humming a few bars of a commercial jingle he must’ve overheard on TV the other day, Greg finishes stirring up some instant oatmeal he just took out of the microwave. It’s a bit of a late breakfast for his tastes given the clock is nearing 10:45, but hey- anything’s better than nothing. Better to eat now than to find oneself running on low energy by lunchtime.

He licks his lips in anticipation, and carries the bowl over to the beach house’s living room couch.

Stars, what’s on his docket today beyond breakfast, anyways?

Groceries, for one. He’s running low on milk, butter, parmesan cheese, spaghetti sauce, and a number of vegetables. If he really wants to think ahead, now would also be a great time to stock up on bagels to toss in the freezer for later. No matter how many of those he buys, he always seems to be running out of ‘em. It’s also one of Steven’s days off from work, thus a good opportunity to try a video call. His son doesn’t always answer immediately, but that’s okay. He’s a grown adult now, a soul yearning to forge his own identity separate from the people and place he called home back in childhood. He needs his own space, and sometimes that just means ignoring your clingy ol’ man until you feel ready to chat.

And then, of course there’s his ongoing music project he can work on— a concept album of sorts, chronicling the tale of an optimistic, yet lonely young musician and his lover from beyond the stars. For nearly two decades her death silenced his work, but… seeing her framed face on the nightstand next to him every morning when he wakes up… living so close to the crystalline stage he knelt on when he sung his first romantic ballad to her… it must’ve stirred some aching desire that he hasn’t entertained in a very long while. He’s written about half of this album in the span of the last two months, and hopes to complete it by the end of the year. Beyond that he’s not sure where this project will take him… whether he’ll keep these songs close to his chest or email his old industry contact Sunshine Justice and see if she can hook him up with a decent recording studio for ‘em. Only time will tell, in the end. He’s got options.

But before he can get more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal under his belt and reliably plan out his day, his musings are interrupted by a timid knock rapping against the front door.

Greg sighs, setting the bowl aside on the coffee table as he gets up to check who’s here.

If he had to guess, it’s most likely a recently arrived Gem— spellbound and confused— desperately trying to locate Little Homeschool after seeing one his son’s many adverts about it. That’s the most common visitor they see at the house entrance these days, beyond the rare training visit from Connie to refresh her sword fighting skills with Pearl. He’s not sure who else would go to all the trouble of hiking across the beach to reach this place. And anyways, if he’s visiting human friends in town, he always walks to their houses.

Which is why he’s surprised to open the door and see just… what seems to be a human stranger standing there, hands stuffed in pockets and expression filled with palpable apprehension.

The stranger is young— easily Steven’s age or younger— with a shock of short, wavy brown hair and teal tinted glasses, clad in overalls and a pair of ratty old tennis shoes.

He waves a quick greeting, a potent dose of curiosity painting his tone.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

__

“Should I even be doing this?” Jean mutters to themself as they trudge down the far side of the beach, following the directions the cute pizza shop girl gave them last night.

But the closer they creep towards their destination, the sillier this whole stupid trip starts to feel. So they expect to… what? Simply drop in uninvited to the home of four of the most influential beings in the whole galaxy, and say “hey, guess what, you never knew I existed but I’m actually a half-Gem too?” Ughh. Oh, geeze. This was such a bad idea. Why did Dad even agree to bring them here? And what do they even want from this? To train? To harness whatever hypothetical powers they might have resting dormant within their gemstone? To… to just go on one of those zany, magical adventures they always dreamed about as a kid? To be freely invited into their little school for Gems? (Even though they’re not a Gem… not in all the ways that matter, at least.) Are they hoping to uproot their entire life and outright live here one day? Or are they literally only here because they’re craving closure to the questions they’ve been asking their entire life— who was Mother? Who am I? Is there any place in this vast universe for people like me?

What do I actually want to do with my life?

Heaving a long, exhausted sigh, they trek onwards anyways. After such a long road trip to reach this place, it’d be unthinkable to back down now.

A set of crumbled but monolithic stone arms come into view a few dozen paces further, a mere taster of the majestic vista awaiting them on the furthest point of the peninsula. Jean’s seen plenty of pictures of Beach City’s infamous temple statue online, sure— images of a regal, curly haired figure boasting enough limbs to rival a goddess— but nothing can prepare them for the sheer level of spellbinding awe that courses through their soul as they break around the edge of the cliff and finally gape upon it with their own two eyes. As melodramatic as the sentiment may sound, seeing this temple for themself is like tasting air for the first time, like waking up from a decade long fantasy to a world more vivid and colorful than they could’ve ever dreamed. Surely not a single photographer alive could capture the true scale of this ancient carving. A watery smile stretches across their cheeks while they drink in the sight. The cliffside is mossier than they expected. The earthy greens make for such lovely contrast against the colder browns and grays. Then, their gaze drops towards the statue’s navel… to the humble beach house nestled there within a set of stone arms.

Here it is. This is the place. There’s no turning back now, not unless they want to return to their motel room a coward.

Their hands fidget restlessly at their side as they climb up the sandy stairs leading to the porch. When they reach the top, they cross towards the front door and— heart pounding— rap their knuckles against the frame as politely as they can muster.

Beat.

Jean can hear the shuffling of feet from inside. They shove their hands in their pockets as the footfalls grow closer and closer, before—

The door swings open. Their expression narrows in bemusement. The person they’re greeted by isn’t one of the famed Crystal Gems, but rather… a human. A somewhat plain looking human, if they’re frank. (Which— in this situation— is a good thing, because it finally disarms the sheer spine tingling anxiety that was racing up and down through their veins prior.) The portly individual looks to be somewhere around their father’s age, with greying shoulder-length hair and a full beard. He’s sporting shorts and what looks to be a band t-shirt.

The man flashes a quick wave, and then speaks.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

Jean scrunches their nose— a nervous twitch they’re unfortunately hyper-conscious of in high pressure situations like these— before working to piece together a halfway coherent sentence.

“I, um— y-you don’t know me, but my name is Jean. Jean Maverick, and I’m… well, I’m kinda hoping to—”

Before they can even reveal the crux of their mission, they feel this person’s full attention fixate upon the upper facets of their pale gemstone, just visible over the neckline of their shirt. His eyes widen.

“O-oh, yes,” they interrupt their own introduction, cheeks reddening. “That. Y’see, I may not look it, but I’m actually part Gem, like all the Gems who live here in town, a-and—”

He shakes his head, giving a laugh tinged with a bit of what they can only describe as sheer disbelief. “No, no, trust me— I more than understand this kinda stuff. I’m Greg Universe,” he says, extending his hand in greeting. “My, uh… my son’s like you.”

It’s Jean’s turn for their eyes to blow wide open with shock.

“You- you’re Steven’s dad,” they breathe, reaching out for his offered shake.

“Yup, guilty as charged. Now, what can I do for ‘ya? You looking for Steven? The Gems?”

“Well, I was hoping to talk with the Crystal Gems, b-but…” They pause, their brow wrinkling inwards as the ticking cogs of their mind consider the possible implications of their fellow hybrid’s father being present. “Steven’s not here now, is he? I heard he left town a while back…”

“Nah, he did. He’s out living on the west coast right now. The Gems, however… now that I can help you with.”

Introductory small-talk concluded, Mr. Universe invites them inside to wait for the Gems, grabbing his phone from his pocket to— they can only assume— shoot a quick text to one of ‘em.

Jean glances around the interior of the house with ample curiosity, admiring the dense collection of old CDs and cassette tapes that fills much of the shelf space behind the couch. It looks like mostly classic rock and a bit of R&B, many of them artists they don’t recognize. (Though the name Kerry Moonbeam leaps out at them— they remember jamming to a few of his top hits while on the road with Dad, like “Midnight Spectacle” and “Life on Venus.”) On the top shelf there’s an intricately detailed pink sword on display, shattered just beyond the hilt. And on the far wall midway up the stairs they spot a colorful canvas portrait, featuring what looks like a grinning, teenaged Steven sitting at the front and Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl poised behind.

All in all, it’s a very cozy, lived-in space… enough so to almost distract them from the crystalline cavern connected directly to the living area. Their interest immediately piqued, they give a sharp exhale and advance a few steps closer. Is that…? Why, yes it is! It’s a warp pad, just like the ones they’ve seen pictures of online. (And one in person, thanks to a tip from a local.) From all their research it seems that there’s a whole network of these low, crystal platforms stretching across the surface of the Earth. And as rumors go, Gems can use them to travel from one point to another near instantaneously. Jean has no idea if this ability is one that translates to half-Gems, though. They had no luck with the one they visited years back.

Their mouth scrunches into a little frown upon that musing. There’s still so, so much about Gems they don’t know, isn’t there?

“So, Jean,” Mr. Universe says, finishing up with his phone. “Where’d you say you were from, again?”

“Prudence, Calizona?” And when his expression merely wrinkles in unawareness, they add: “It’s, um… a small university town out in the middle of the desert, so I’m not surprised you aven’t heard of it way out here.”

“And you traveled all the way to Beach City just to meet with the Gems? Wow, that’s… a pretty big journey for someone your age. This must be real important to you.”

“Well, there’s no Gems out there,” they explain with a shrug. “I’ve always known I was different, but— I never got to learn anything about that part of my heritage, y’know? So that’s why I’m here, I guess. For answers.”

“Well, I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Jean’s gaze drifts down towards the gem inlaid in their chest. “Yeah,” they say, resting their palm over the central facet. “So do I.”

A tiny frown blooms across the man’s face as he observes them further. They rock back and forth upon their heels as they attempt to dodge his frustratingly intuitive gaze, unsure of what else to say or ask. Such lingering attention makes them feel twitchy.

“Here, why don’t you have a seat,” he offers then, gesturing towards the flat cushioned sofa against the far wall of the living area. “They should be inbound any minute now. Can’t imagine them dawdling on news like this, heh. And hey, uh… while you wait, d’ya want anything to drink, or snack on, or—?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” they say, sitting themself down on the far edge of the couch and noting the soggy bowl of oatmeal left half uneaten on the coffee table right in front. It’s bad enough that they’re crashing this man’s morning routine, the last thing they want to do is completely put him out. Not to mention, he probably doesn't have much they could safely digest, anyways.

True to his word though, the famed Crystal Gems arrive on the warp pad with not a second to waste, ringed in by a beam of dazzling cyan light and the platform’s resonant chime. Heart pounding a coward’s thrall, Jean averts their gaze low to keep from downright staring at the trio.

Holy fucking shit.

“We came as soon as we could,” the pale, lithe one— Pearl— says to Mr. Universe, crossing straight into the living room like a soul on a mission with the other two hot on her heels.

It’s them. It’s actually them. The Gems they’ve dreamt of meeting ever since they were just a starry-eyed preteen researching a small town mystery in the vicious trenches of obscure conspiracy theory message boards. Their jaw falls entirely ajar in the shock of it all. Oh stars, be cool, be cool, be cool—!

“—is our mystery visitor?” Pearl continues with a quick gesture towards them, the first half of her sentence consigned to auditory oblivion with how damn rapid fire Jean’s thoughts are blasting around their head.

Mr. Universe nods.

“Yeah, I was grabbin’ some breakfast, and she—” (they don’t bother to suppress that instinctive cringe. Hoo boy, they really need to step in and complete their introduction ASAP, huh)— “just showed up at the door, askin’ after you.”

“They,” Jean blurts out, mouth entirely dry with anxiety at this point.

“Huh?”

“It’s… they, actually. They/them. Sorry, I- I kinda forgot to mention.”

His brows shoot up in understanding. “Ahh, gotcha. My apologies for not asking. Anyways, these are the Gems! Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl… though I get the sense you’ve already done your research, huh?”

They nod, still working to shake that hazy, star-stricken sensation out of their system.

“So then, mysterious stranger,” the shorter, purple Gem— Amethyst— says, sliding right across the living room towards them. “What’s your whole deal? Gimme all those good deets!”

“I, uh… well, I’m Jean,” they stammer, clasping their hands together behind their back. “Jean Maverick. I’m eighteen, I use they/them pronouns as I just mentioned, and… my mother… was a Gem.”

They tug down the scooped neckline of their shirt ever so slight, revealing the full cut of their pale lavender gemstone to the room. Pearl lets out an audible gasp. The other two simply gape in stunned silence, not uttering a single word at all.

“And now you probably understand why I called you over,” Mr. Universe comments, gesturing towards them.

“Another hybrid?” Amethyst says, her brow furrowing as she glances up at Garnet, the tallest of the bunch. “Like Steven? Is that even possible?”

“It is now,” Garnet replies with an almost mystified tone, crossing her arms as she leans back against the counter.

“But for a Gem to shapeshift human reproductive organs for that long,” Pearl muses, hand balled at her chin as she paces back and forth across the wooden slats. “Stars, for anyone but a diamond, that should be unachievable!”

The purple quartz simply waves the notion away. “Pshh, nah, that part’s easy, P- you just poof, and then reform with those organs! I do it with a stomach like, all the time. Mainly, I’m just surprised that another Gem would come up with the idea to have a baby in the first place.”

“Or that another Gem was living on Earth uncorrupted all this time, and we never knew,” Garnet comments, expression uncertain.

They swallow hard. Normally they consider themself pretty skilled at overanalyzing people’s emotions— an unexpected perk of living with generalized anxiety— but Garnet in particular is dauntingly hard for them to read right now. Pearl’s an easy one… she’s invested in the mystery of their arrival here today, too busy sorting the potential puzzle pieces in her mind to give anything else surrounding her much notice. Amethyst seems equally as puzzled by their presence, although out of the three of them it’s her who’s been the most accommodating of their awkwardness, so far. (Jean thinks back to how Amethyst leapt in amidst that weird conversational lull to give them a chance to officially introduce themself, and finds it rather perceptive of her.) Garnet, though—? Is her tense yet closed-off body language signaling confusion? (At how they could exist?) Vexation? (That they exist?) Distrust, even?? (That they’re here, now?) Or is she chewing over something else entirely, something they couldn’t ever hope to guess with their extremely limited outsider’s context?

And why do they care so much about how the three of them feel in the first place? Chill, Jean. Geeze.

“Well, if it helps,” they shrug, “my dad said he met my mother out in the wilderness of Calizona, while on a backpacking trip.”

“Calizona, eh…” Amethyst says, squinting as she thinks. “Hey, wait— the Beta Kindergarten’s out that way, yeah?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Pearl asks, her eyes lighting up with clear intrigue.

“I’m saying… isn’t it possible that Jean’s mom just emerged late… like me? It would explain how she avoided the corruption. And their gem does look pretty quartz-like.”

“Sounds like a more sound theory than I could ever come up with,” Mr. Universe pipes up all of a sudden with a broad shrug.

“In any case, all our broad theorizations can wait,” Garnet waves them all off. Inhaling deep, her gaze levels straight on them. “I know you came here with a purpose,” she says.

A blunt observation, not a question.

Jean shuffles upon their feet, feeling as exposed as a budding nerve under the sheer magnitude of their scrutiny. The half of them that’s merely a tangled ball of anxiety masquerading as a person craves nothing more than to spin on their heels and bolt away— too scared of potential rejection, too scared of all the unknowns bleeding through at the very edges of their future’s canvas— but then… this is what they drove hundreds of miles for, yes? Plus, they don’t want to disappoint Dad— he knows how much they’ve dreamed of this moment, and they’re sure it’d break his heart if they backed down right at the cusp of achieving said dream.

It’s now or never.

Deep breath. Hold your spine straight. Brave heart, Jean.

What do you really want?

“I… heard about your school,” they begin, weathering that treacherous unknown to make direct eye contact with each and every one of them in turn. “And I know the technical purpose of it is to teach Gems about humanity, but… I was wondering if maybe… you’d also be willing to teach a half-human how to be a Gem.”

“Hmm,” Pearl hums, leaning back against the counter at Garnet’s side. “Well, I suppose we already have a sort of human exchange program at Little Homeschool. Anyone who’s curious about the work we do there is allowed to spend a day on campus and attend whatever classes they wish, provided they give our students a quick informal lecture on a topic that interests them. Perhaps we could discuss developing a program like this that’s more long-term in nature, and customized to your needs as a half-Gem.”

Their mind reels in giddy circles at the very notion. Them? An official student of Little Homeschool?? It’s an alluring prospect, to be sure.

“Hey, y’all?” Amethyst cuts in before they can move to respond, upper lip curling into a half-grimace. “Not to like, totally derail, but I just checked the time and we’re gonna be late for the fusion seminar if we don’t start heading on back now.”

The tall, ivory Gem winces. “Oh stars, you’re right.” Then, glancing across the living space towards Mr. Universe with a somewhat apologetic expression: “Sorry, Greg— you caught us at a bit of a busy time. Do you mind entertaining our guest a little while longer as we finish up today’s classes?”

“Why don’t you just take them with you?” he suggests. “Seems they’re interested in what goes on there anyways.”

“Bismuth or Peridot may have time to give a tour,” Garnet voices, breaking her little understood silence. (Oh, a penny for her thoughts right now…)

Jean beams at the idea, a joyous little burst of energy soaring through their system upon realizing they’re one step closer to realizing that shining desire they set their eyes on the day the ocean’s disappearance kickstarted their research into their Gem heritage in the first place— to actually nurture and embrace this part of themself. “I’d love a chance to look around, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The three Crystal Gems ultimately approve, beckoning for them to join them on the warp pad. It takes every single scrap of self restraint within their soul to not do the cringiest little happy jig as they scuttle across the floorboards and step up onto the crystalline platform. Getting to experience a trip on one of these suckers is honestly a dream come true all on its own. They’ve seen one in person before— back during their forum-surfing research days, they managed to convince Dad to drive them all the way out to a lone warp pad a local enthusiast posted the coordinates of— but couldn’t manage to activate it on their own. Now, though? With the possibility of joining Little Homeschool officially on the table, there’s no telling what they may one day learn to achieve.  

Jean waves farewell to Mr. Universe as the warp activates, whisking the four of them away. It was super kind of him to take time out of his morning routine to help them contact the Gems— they’ll have to think of some meaningful gesture to thank him with later.

Pushing themself out of their comfort zone just to reach this point proved to be a bit of a challenge, but beyond the thorny confines of all their social anxieties, their future suddenly feels very bright.

[glitch-after-dark]

Dratchrod headcanons challenge

Who says I love you first?

Who makes their energon?

Who is the early bird/who is the night owl?

Who is the big spoon/Who is the little spoon?

Who loves to cuddle?

Who hogs the blanket?

Who wakes the other one up with kisses?

Who usually has nightmares?

Who likes sweets?

Who likes horror movies/who likes romance movies?

Who is small/who is tall?

Who is considered the scaredy cat?

Who is the most affectionate?

Nicknames?

Who is most likely to carry the other?

Who asks for money/Who has money?

Who proposes?

Who is top/Who is bottom?

Who is most ticklish?

Who brings an animal they found home?

Who wants to stay in bed just a bit longer?

Who cooks best?

Who needs reassurance?

Who comms inappropriate things to the other during inappropriate times?

Who cries during certain films?

Who tells their friends/family about the relationship first?

Gosh there are just so many questions here. I feel like this is from an ask meme where it's supposed to be a couple at a time. 🤣

This took a bit. And I am putting it under a cut.

Who says I love you first?

It was technically Rodimus to Drift, but in a noncommittal "I love you bro" kind of way that he was trying to play off as casual. He danced around it but never fully committed to it. When Drift left from the Lost Light, Rodimus couldn't say it again more seriously, though it haunted him for two years until they reunited at which point Dratchet had happened, and he shut that down. Ratchet had also teasingly told Ratchet he knows he loves him and similar joking back, but wasn't interested in him yet beyond respecting him and caring about him and distant kind of note that Ratchet was attractive.

Ratchet actually said I love you to Drift first because he left determined to be emotionally honest for once. Drift actually took longer to say it back, which upset Drift–Ratchet understood that Drift showed love–but once he got over the hump kept saying it whenever he got the chance.

Rodimus and Drift dance around it for ages, and it is pulling teeth to get them to verbalize it due to the twice burned issue and not wanting to destabilize things. Rodimus actually says it by accident because he's been socializing with Ratchet to try and force himself to "get over his feelings" by metaphorically pressing the bruise over and over by shoving Dratchet's relationship in his face as much as possible and reminding himself that Ratchet is clearly the better option by getting to know him more. Ratchet similarly wants to get to know Rodimus more as well given his importance in their lives and Ratchet's newfound determination to do better in all his relationships. These two end up spending more time together as Drift is getting interrupted, leaving it just them and finding out they both like fishing. Though Ratchet kind of is maliciously petty about it because he's determined to not be outsmarted by a fish while Rodimus finds it relaxing and Ratchet hilarious. Drift tries it and theoretically he thought it would appeal to him but he finds it mind numbingly boring.

Ratchet and Rodimus are doing this and acting a bit silly together now that they are really friends and Ratchet laughs at Rodimus's joke which makes Rodimus light up inside in a way he recognizes and just blurts out "Damn Ratch you beautiful." And them it clicks, and he mouth vomits. "Oh shit. I'm in love with both of you."

Due to the soap opera drama of the LL Drift of course overhears this.

It takes a while for Rodimus to actually say it intentionally and a lot of chaos for all three of them to assure Ratchet he wabts him too. But he does beat Ratchet to it. Drift, meanwhile, finally takes the step with Rodimus, and instead of saying it aloud does it through hand while they are alone together during the "working things out phase". So he says it openly first.

Who makes their Energon?

The all take turns getting Energon for each other. None of them are particularly interested in cooking or experimenting. So it's mostly straight cubes with some add ins for flavor that they get pre-made or at Swerve's.

Rodimus does like tasting experiments though and Dratchet brings him back food-food from Swerve's.

It's common for Driftrod to pop in and bring Ratchet Energon. Ratchet in turn often brings them snacks when he knows they are having long "game sessions" which Rodimus really enjoys and Drift thinks is fun but doesn't often seek out himself.

Who is the early bird/who is the night owl?

Against conventional wisdom, I say that Rodimus is the early bird. Why waste life sleeping? He is also the night owl along with Ratchet. He does not sleep enough.

Ratchet is much easier to convince to sleep in and only gets up early when scheduled. He also is prone to staying up late.

Drift has a regular schedule and is an absolute disaster in the morning if woken early which no one believes but that's because he gets all his pissed off "I am awake and it is everyone's problem" energy out before he leaves the room.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

No set pattern. All three take turns.

Who loves to cuddle?

Rodimus does after sex. It is an absolute necessity, and any other exercise that wears his energy out leads to cuddling. He relished it then and the ability to just linger and enjoy. If he has energy, though, he can only stay for so long.

Drift is initially a bit more standoffish at first but enjoys it more over time. He loves using Rodimus as a space heater or wrapping himself over Ratchet.

Ratchet, though, is the biggest proponent of it, and once he's comfortable, he loves doing it anytime, anywhere. He has absolutely no problem cuddling Rodimus in the Captain's Chair while doing paperwork or having either of them perched on his lap while at Swerve's or curling up into each other. He loves lazy morning sleep ins cuddled together.

Who hogs the blanket?

Drift. Definitely Drift. Rodimus overheats easily so often ends up kicking them off, and Ratchet can sleep without them. Drift has issues with temperature regulation, though, and finds wrapping up comforting.

Who wakes the other one up with kisses?

All three have.

Who usually has nightmares?

All of them, though, at different frequencies and triggers. Life left scars, and they all need different comfort following one.

Who likes sweets?

Ratchet and Drift.

Ratchet because he has a sweet tooth. He can it the most closing disgustingly sweet monstrosity with a straight face and genuinely enjoy it.

Drift actually can't taste sweetness, but he likes the energy burst that comes with them. He keeps them on him for assurance and to snack on in between fueling.

Rodimus actually can't stand sweetness. The fuel he grew up on was mixed with a very saccharine chemical filler to dilute it and it makes his fuel tank upset now. A little he can handle but it has to be balanced out.

Who likes horror movies/who likes romance?

Ratchet and Rodimus eat up horror and are the kind of people who talk the entire way through criticizing or joking about the ways the deaths go. Drift is white knuckling and veey invested in survival.

Drift likes romance of all kinds. He enjoys the guarantee happy ending in pure romance genre. Rodimus enjoys romantic comedies and is actually very into period romances with complex social rules and melodrama. Ratchet usually falls asleep during them.

Who is small/tall?

They are all about the same height?

Who is considered the scaredy cat?

I'd say none of them. Rodimus likes being jump scared because he laughs and thinks it's fun but Drift has a more hair trigger reaction to it. None of them are "scared cats" though.

Who is the most affectionate?

Hard to say because they each show affection in their own way. Drift is probably the most "traditionally" demonstrative of his affection, though Ratchet and Rodimus also get plenty of PDA complaints.

Nicknames?

"Ratty" - "Kid" | Dratchet

"Rodders" | Driftrod

"Roddy" - "Ratch" | Rarer Ratchrod

Who is most likely to carry the other?

Ratchet. He enjoys it too as Driftrod are always delighted when he shows off his strength.

Who asks for money/has money?

I think we all know the answer to that. The funny part, though, is when Ratchet realizes he's become a sugar baby. Rodimus has no qualms once Drift and he work things out.

Who proposes?

Ratchet. Both times. Mostly because Drift got tongue tied.

Who is top/bottom?

They switch.

Who is most ticklish?

Rodimus. And Drift will take shameless advantage of this.

Who brings an animal they found home?

Rodimus or Drift, but Ratchet is the one firmly in the "didn't want the cat but loves it the most" category.

Who wants to stay in bed a bit longer?

Drift and Ratchet as mentioned previously.

Who cooks the best?

Ratchet if he ever does it is actually a very good cook. He learned as a method of flirting but hasn't had the time since he left college.

Who needs reassurance?

All of them at different points. Rodimus, especially in the beginning but less as time goes on. Drift during rougher patches. Ratchet as well though he is the worst for asking about it. Rodimus actually ends up being the best at pegging when he needs it and is the most comfortable asking.

Who comms inappropriate things to each other at inappropriate times?

It's Ratchet and Rodimus. They start it out because they are both trying to one up each other and Drift is stuck in between their sexy war in the shared group chat having to look Perceptor in the face while Ratchet left a sexy voice mail about how he's going to eat out Rodimus later. He puts an ends it eventually because Rodimus may be shameless and Ratchet has a great poker face but Drift cannot handle this constant bombardment.

Who cries during certain films?

Drift and Rodimus. Ratchet is is a harder nut to crack, though.

Who tells their friends/family about it first?

Ratchet. Mostly because his best friend pegs it the moment they make eye contact.

They all three make a joint statement later about their new relationship.

[ikeromantic]

The Old Switcheroo, part 1

Arthur and MC (Haruko) are cursed and end up in each other's bodies. Part 1 of 3. Approx words. 2400 Spicy. TW for gender dysphoric descriptions.

Arthur was doing his best not to raise his voice. He reminded himself that he understood why the love of his life *might* be questioning his commitment. After all, he’d crawled in to the mansion around three am and then stayed at his typewriter until breakfast. 

“I can’t believe you stayed out again all night! All night! I was worried!” Her lips were pressed to a thin, pale line, and she looked more angry than anxious.

“Luv, I told you. I got home at three. I just didn’t come to bed.” 

“Three? You think that’s better?” She turned away, refusing to look at him. “Every week, we go through this. Every week I sit home at night, wondering what kind of idiot I am to be dating you, while you’re out drinking and partying with - with who even knows!”

He snorted. “Drinking? Partying? Are you serious luv? I was out with Theo. He needed to de-stress. I am sorry we stayed out so late.”

She crossed her arms, still not making eye contact. “Theo got home at midnight. I know, because he stopped by to see if I was alright. Which you didn’t do when you came in three hours later.”

“I checked in on some friends, ok? Can you please just trust me? Please?” 

“I’m really trying.” She finally met his gaze and he realized there were tears in her eyes. He’d made her cry. Again. “I just wish, for once, you’d think about me when you’re out and about. Try a weekend in my shoes. Sitting through lonely nights. Worrying. Waiting.”

“And I wish you’d look at things through my eyes once in awhile! I damn well love you and there isn’t a tart on this earth that could turn my head, no matter how late I get home.” He held out a hand to her but she slapped it away.

“Whatever. I - I have to go help Sebas with supper. I’m sure you have things to do too.” 

Arthur watched her leave, a sinking feeling in his gut. He mucked it up again. But honestly, he felt like he couldn’t win. If she went out with him, she got jealous - either because some pretty skirt made eyes at him or they ran into one of his former bedwarmers - and if he left her home, he got this. What did she want? For him to stay here? No more tavern, no more whiskey? No more sweet scent of tobacco and dirty jokes and winking at pretty waitresses? 

Well, that was probably exactly what she wanted but he couldn’t give it to her. He had no intention of changing - she’d fallen for him as he was and she’d have to accept it one way or another. Arthur did his best to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind that tried to remind him she had other options. The soft voice that remembered how awfully lonely his long life was before she’d come into it. 

***

“Sebastian, I’m serious! Three am! And do you know what he told me?” 

Sebas sighed and looked up from the cutting board. “I’ve no idea.”

“He said I should trust him! That he was just checking in on some friends! Honestly . . .” She set down the spoon and poured the sauce from the pan to the bowl. “I just don’t know sometimes. I feel like I’m the biggest fool.” Her heart ached with uncertainty. 

Surely Arthur cared for her. And she enjoyed the time they spent together, of course. He was sweet. A conscientious lover. He was funny and smart . . . but she couldn’t ignore the way his eyes wandered or the vast history he had with what felt like every damn beddable woman in Paris. They couldn’t even go out for a coffee without running into someone he’d fucked. Or tried to. 

“Look. I know you’re upset. Maybe the two of you should just talk it out. If he could see where you’re coming from, he might be a little more sympathetic.” Sebastian shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

“Pffft. I wish he could see things from my side. But he just thinks I’m crazy jealous.”

Sebas grinned. “Well you are, aren’t you? Just a bit.”

She laughed. “Ok, fine. Maybe a little. But with reason!”

“Mhmm. So sit down with him and tell him what makes you jealous and why.”

A few hours and a bottle of wine later . . .

“So what you mean to say is -hic- you’re worried one of those other skirts has something you don’t? Or - or - you think I’d get bored?” Arthur squinted at his beloved, her face swimming in the dim-lit night air. They’d chosen to talk in the garden where there was less chance of being interrupted. 

She nodded, chewing at her lip. “I mean, I guess? I just . . . I wish there was something I had of you that no one else got to try out first.” 

“You do. I didn’t love any of them. Only you. Gods, luv. I - I can’t say it any clearer.” Arthur felt helpless in this conversation. All his naughty proclivities splayed out in ugly detail. The sadness in her eyes was a mirror for his own regret. 

He wished she could understand that he’d never thought to find love. He was just trying to pass the time. Enjoyably. To distract himself. If he’d known she was out there, waiting for him . . . if he’d known it would bother her so much . . . “I wish you’d walk a day in my shoes before you judge me,” he sighed.

“Well I wish the same! You could see what it feels like to know every tramp in Paris has more than their eyes on your man.” She looked away and wiped at her face.

A falling star blazed briefly in the night sky above them, trailing a crimson ribbon behind it before it disappeared from sight.

***

Arthur woke the next day with the mother of all hangovers. His head felt like it was being split in two. His body felt weak and soft and he really just wanted to burrow into the sheets and sleep until it sorted itself out. But he needed to get up.

He needed to go find his little bird and apologize. They hadn’t parted on good terms last night. She was probably still angry, and it was definitely his fault. He sat up and pushed the hair back from his face. 

The room spun as he stumbled from bed. Everything looked off at the angles so he stared at the floor. He didn’t remember falling asleep in his lover’s room, but there he was. And in her nightgown too. Odd. But he was too tired and his head hurt too much to think about it right now. 

Arthur walked to the hallway bathroom and stopped in front of the toilet. He hoisted the hem of the gown - not his first time to wear women’s clothes, nor likely to be his last - and reached for his cock. The familiar feel of his sturdy morning wood, the release of the inaugural piss. 

His hand found empty air where the flagpole ought to have been. 

This pulled him to full wakefulness as nothing else could. His cock was gone. More than gone. It was . . . it was . . . his hands fumbled at the thatch of hair, the pubic rise.

He wasn’t a stupid man and this was familiar territory, even when discovered in such a shockingly wrong space. It was so strange that he felt numb, as if he were dreaming. Maybe he was and only imagined he was awake. The thought made him smile.

He still needed to piss, so he sat. It bothered him in ways he hadn’t expected it to. Sitting to pee. And you couldn’t just shake the thing off either! Arthur fumbled at the bidet and then wiped. Washed his hands. 

His eyes met his own gaze in the mirror and he screamed. 

He was her. That was her face. Her body under the frilly pink fabric of her nightgown. Her hands fumbling at the face in the mirror. He pinched himself - or herself rather - and it hurt. This was no dream. 

The door to the bathroom slammed open and Arthur stood in the doorway. Or, his body did anyhow. 

“What did you do?”

“Me?” Arthur gaped. He was looking at himself. Hearing himself. “What about you?”

She stormed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, closing them in the small space. “Are you in here . . . touching things?”

Arthur drew back, hurt and surprised. “Touching things? As I recall, you rather like it when I touch . . . things.” He frowned. “Besides. I just came in here to piss and - and everything was, well, like this.”

After a moment, she nodded, a calm expression crossing her - his - face. “It’s ok. I - I had almost the same thing happen. I woke up and - and -” 

He watched his own skin blush brightly, a shade it had never held when it was his body. “You don’t need to say another word. I understand.” And he did. She must have woken up with a little surprise in more ways than one. 

She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Right. Right. Ok so what do we do?” 

Arthus sighed. “We can’t stay like this. Either of us.” 

They shared a look and said together, “Le Comte!”

***

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Waking in Arthur’s body had been . . . a shock. And now seeing herself - like this - it was overwhelming. The smell of her skin, so familiar, now aroused a hunger in her that she couldn’t have anticipated. A tightness in chest and groin, a thirst that stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Was this what he felt every time he saw her? 

It wasn’t the kind of question she could ask. And besides, they had more pressing concerns. Like how thin that night gown was! She shoved a robe into Arthur’s hands. “Put this on. I’m not letting you parade me around the halls like that.”

Though it was her face, the expression was all Arthur. Mischievous and sensual. “What’s that luv? Worried I might flash the count?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you seriously teasing me right now about using my body to cheat on yourself and me with le Comte?”

It took Arthur a moment to consider the implications. He shrugged into the robe. 

Le Comte listened to them explain their situation and recount the night’s events. His calm expression betrayed only mild amusement as they told him what happened to them. When they fell to a stuttering stop, unsure what to say next, he shrugged. “I have never come across this before.”

“What?” Arthur’s question flew from Haruko’s mouth. 

“I have heard of it,” le Comte continued, making a calming gesture, “but this is my first time to come into contact with this precise . . . phenomena.”

“So . . . what do we do,” she asked in Arthur’s voice. It still startled her.

“Well, most curses have some sort of trigger. A mechanism which causes the curse and which can be leveraged to undo the effects. We must simply figure this one out.” The pure blood’s golden eyes gleamed. 

Arthur lifted a hand to his chin, rubbing the smooth skin there. “I see. Yes. We said something about walking in the other’s shoes.”

Le Comte nodded.

“Wait, wait.” Haruko frowned. “Are you saying we have to stay like this?”

“For awhile, yes. Until you’ve experienced whatever it was you wanted each other to experience as you.” Le Comte smiled at Arthur, able to see Haruko in their depths. “I’d recommend telling no one what has happened. Go about your usual day and hopefully . . .”

Arthur and Haruko groaned simultaneously. 

Haruko’s high pitched voice made the first complaint. “So I have to . . . what? Follow Sebas around and dust the shelves? I have writing to do!”

“Oh ho, I guess that means I get a vacation and you get to do real work for the first time in your life,” Haruko spat back, wearing Arthur’s trademark smirk.

“Writing is work!”

“Please. You sit at a typewriter and eat chocolate all day while people bring you coffee.”

“Children, please. This argument is not going to help you lift the curse. Now go on about your day as normal and try to understand what you wanted to tell each other.” Le Comte stood and motioned them toward the door. 

Haruko sighed. It looked like there was no choice. She stood a little awkwardly, unused to Arthur’s heavier frame, and left. Arthur followed in her body, scowling.

“I suppose I’ll head to your - my - room and get to writing. Hurry up with my breakfast, hm?” She sauntered off, laughing at the shocked expression Arthur wore. 

She settled at Arthur’s desk and loaded up the typewriter. Checked the keys. Stared at the blank sheet of paper. All she needed to do was write a story. Anything, really. A line to start? 

The blank page mocked her. How did one begin this sort of thing? Once upon a time . . . It was a dark and stormy night . . . 

***

Arthur watched his own fine ass sachet down the hall. So it was like that, was it? Well. He’d show her. Being a maid was easy work. Simple. He could finish twice what she did in half the time. 

He got dressed and headed down to the kitchen. “Morning, Seba - ow!” His cheery greeting was met by a hard flick to the forehead. 

“Breakfast does not make itself, Haruko. I expected you here an hour ago.” Sebastian’s expression was severe. 

“I - sorry, old chap. It won’t happen again.” Arthur rubbed his head. “So what’s the plan?”

Sebas shoved a tray into his hands. “Carry this to the dining room and then head over to the laundry. You’ll need to strip the sheets for washing, and take the curtains down to be aired and pressed. When you finish that, bring up the potatoes and flour from the basement for lunch prep. I think eight bags of each should be enough. Then we can start lunch prep. And . . .”

Arthur’s brain refused to hear anymore chores. All of that had to be done this morning? “But what about my breakfast?”

“You? If you wanted to eat this morning, you should have been up an hour ago.” Sebas’ frown softened. “I did leave a muffin aside for you. You can grab it after the residents are served. Oh. And don’t forget to wake Napoleon.”

Arthur felt his shoulders slump. It was going to be a very long day. At least, he thought wryly, I’ll get a kiss out of it.

Next: Part 2

[hargrove-mayfields]

New Hellcheergroveton Au ~~ Short Chapter Fic Coming Soon!

Premise: In a Post-Vecna world, Billy recently started using a cane to help with his developing mobility issues, while Steve, his boyfriend with partial vision loss, chronic migraines, and a TBI that affects his speech, has thought of a plan to help Billy feel more comfortable using it. That plan happens to involve Chrissy, who is blind, and Eddie, who is hard of hearing and uses mobility aids as well (a decked out, fully customized rollator or a wheelchair of the same punkness usually) to manage his fibromyalgia. Secretly they’re all definitely crushing on each other.

Small Preview of Chapter 1 below the cut:

His solution comes in the form of one Chrissy Cunningham.

Ever since she barely survived Vecna crumpling her like a paper ball, her vision never came back. They pinned together her bones and wired her jaw until it healed, but they can’t exactly get her new eyes that aren’t bloodshot and clouded milky-white. So she walks with a cane. It has a little round circle on the end to roll and feel more accurately where she’s going. She likes it better than the hard-ended tapping cane they gave her first.

And that’s a whole revelation.

A cane. Billy can use a cane.

He asks Eddie to arrange a ride for him, and the next day they’re at the pharmacy (thanks to Wayne. Billy loves that guy) buying him an adjustable, pretty cheap cane. There’s a choice between a harsh, eye-burning blue color that reminds him just a little too much of his old junked car, or a plain black one. It’s a pretty easy choice.

He’s just a little bummed that the one he gets is so… boring.

Billy’s second revelation comes in the form of Eddie Munson.

Why it didn’t come to him sooner, he isn’t sure. Eddie was literally there with him the day he got the damn cane. In his wheelchair. Totally decked out in patches and spikes and stickers.

Customized mobility aids. Billy didn’t even know that was a thing!

Well, obviously he did, but he didn’t think that was an option for him. Eddie Munson is so much cooler than him. They both went through hell, but only one of them had come out the other side passionately fighting against the systems that would make it impossible to pay for their meds and their aids were it not for the liability payouts they were owed by the assholes who made the monsters that tried to kill them. Billy admires the social reform shit Eddie gets up to in his free time, when the spoon drawer isn’t empty.

He calls it Cripple Punk. It’s a whole thing. Billy doesn’t like that word so much, but he likes Eddie a lot, and he likes what he stands for too. And honestly, he kinda likes the idea of having spikes on his cane like Eddie has on the back of his chair.

Just the idea makes Billy feel badass too and not so much like somebody’s old granny.

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare ch 10

Hello friends, chapter ten is here. Just to be clear this whole chapter is a nightmare sequence. Um... enjoy

Previous chapters

"I'm better than him," Bowser insisted yet again as he held you closer, a big finger gently wiping the tears off your cheeks but careful of your black eye. You didn't stop him despite the fact your cheeks still stung. "I'd never hit ya like that. Or play those fucking mind games. Yeah, I got a temper, but I promise I'd never burn you… er, both physically and mentally. I mean, after all this time letting you cry on my shoulder about that idiot…"

You forced yourself to draw in a breath and slowly let it out in hopes of preventing more tears. Although you leaned into his touch, you were just tired of crying, and tried to distract yourself by running your fingers along the smooth under scales on his chest, starting up near where his clavicle would be.

It wasn't the first time the king had put this idea to you, but something held you back the few times he'd brought it up. But, to his credit, he never complained or withheld his help from you even after numerous rejections.

"There's a few complications, Bows… you know that," you muttered. Your fingers pressed into one of his pecs gently; although the scales were thick, they still moved with his skin, and you could tell he felt it by the way his muscles twitched at your touch.

In response, his big hands gripped you around your waist and turned you around like you didn't weigh anything (which to him you didn't), a quiet growl escaping him. "Awfully touchy for someone who don't wanna get with me like that," he grumbled as he tucked your hips right back against his own in a proper spooning position.

Your heart jumped into your throat as a confusing wave of feelings swept through you like the onset of a flash blizzard. First and foremost you felt disappointed when you didn't feel anything… extra. Confusion and shame quickly shoved the disappointment aside, though - after all the abuse you'd been through, it seemed you were still feeling sexually frustrated, and you absolutely hated knowing that.

"Can you blame me?" you mumbled, hugging a large hand to your chest.

"It wouldn't have to mean anything, you know." Bowser's voice was low and right in your ear, his breath warm against your cool skin. The fingers against your chest flexed a little, lightly pressing into you. "I can smell how frustrated you are… it won't change anything if you don't want it to. And I'm not gonna pressure you, got it? Just lettin' you know the option's there."

"B-Bowser…" you breathed, unable to suppress a shiver. But suddenly, you couldn't stop shivering. You shivered hard, violently, to the point your teeth were chattering and you could barely even hug yourself. Instead of hugging you closer, though, Bowser was suddenly over you on his hands and knees, a snarl ripping from his maw. The hand that had been on your chest was now pinning you to the bed.

"Toadstool did this to you," he hissed, baring his fangs. "He left you here like this, at my mercy, after abusing and abandoning you! Don't you hate him?! This proves no one cares about you!"

"I-I thought you did!" It was a struggle to get the words out, but fear was a powerful motivator.

Bowser scoffed and sneered; your heart sank into your stomach even as it pounded relentlessly against your ribs. Then he started to laugh. Low and slow at first, but it slowly began to build until he was nearly guffawing right in your face, those sharp fangs mere inches from your skin.

After a painful moment, he finally calmed enough to get some words out: "Stupid handmaid thought I cared! I only care about two things: Peaches, and getting my hands on a power star! No one cares about you!" he reiterated between giggles.

"No!" you cried. You had no idea what spurred the sudden aggression and hatred yet you knew you had to put distance between the two of you, so you started to struggle beneath him, desperate to get away as lava began to slowly fill the room. The familiar smell of smoke and stone debris filled your nose - you could even feel the grit of dust between your teeth. Your face and hands stung worse from the heat but still you couldn't stop shivering, even as Bowser pinned you. He didn't even flinch as you tried to push his head away.

"He left you to DIE!" Bowser roared in your face; you had to yank your hands back as he snapped at them. His breath stunk like that brimstone he'd used to wake you when you nearly died; you tried to turn away, gagging, but he yanked your face back to look at him, claws scratching your face.

But you didn't see him anymore. Instead, you saw Wendy and Dryden clinging to each other as they cowered on a table floating amidst the lava lake. The table was unstable, tilting first one way, then another, the kids swaying in their attempt not to fall in.

"Help! Missy, help us!" Dryden sobbed hard as he and Wendy struggled not to tip over.

You scrambled to the edge of the bed, but you had no way to reach them - they were all the way across the room. "D-don't panic! Stay still and you won't fall!" you tried to yell. Your voice sounded faraway, but still you did your best to guide them.

"Maidie-!"

Before Wendy could get another word out, the head of a massive lava lizard appeared from the lava. For a moment, it just sat there, then in a split second it morphed into the head of the very man that had sent you fleeing from your former life. Too stunned to move, you could only watch as the horrid creature surged forward and swallowed the two kids into its horrible, gaping mouth, before sinking back below the bubbling surface.

You screamed as you watched, but even that was cut short when two hands roughly grabbed you from behind. You struggled violently against them, sobbing hysterically even as they held you out over the lava. Whether they belonged to Bowser or him , it didn't matter: the searing heat was unbearable. It seemed to claw at your legs, tearing through your pants and right into your flesh, heedless of your begging sobs. You kicked, screamed, struggled, failed your arms, but nothing worked.

How could this happen? First left to die back home, then again when you were just starting to find your new life? Were you just not meant to live? Maybe… maybe it would be better to step into the lava willingly. No one would know. No one would care, except maybe Bowser because he wouldn't get his prize from Toadstool. Dryden and Wendy both would probably just think you left.

Slowly, the hands pulled you back as your struggling lessened. You stared down at your shredded pants and mangled legs, on the verge of total resignation.

"Give up already," a voice whispered.

Just like that, your body shuddered and sagged; the hands dropped you, sending you plummeting toward a stone floor, the two kids' screams of terror still echoing in your ears. Even though the falling sensation made your stomach twist, your mind was blank as you accepted your imminent death - you hadn't even been able to help Wendy and Dryden. What kind of person deserved to live after that? Not you. You didn't scream or cry out, or even try to grab something to slow your descent during the eternal descent. You just closed your eyes and tried to embrace the feeling of falling while you waited for that inevitable hit that would mercifully end all of your unwarranted suffering.

[stranger224]

Kinky Caption: Tabby Time

Tabby Time

“This was too much” Tabitha thought as she saw the giant plush bear her boyfriend, Matt had sent her as a present, the note on the bow said “For you to snuggle with when I’m out of town”. Tabitha rolled her eyes. Her boyfriend had a habit of sending her gifts that were childish, coloring books, plushies and tea sets with bright colors. He said he wanted her to be able to relax and not have to be a ‘serious whiskey drinking lawyer’ all the time and the gifts were to help her get in touch with her softer feminine side. Tabitha thought he was undermining her and if he wanted a childish doe eye piece of fluff to take care of he should find some bimbo to suck his cock and take his money.

Lacking any better option she dragged the bear into her apartment placing it on the left side of her bed, before getting into bed on the other side placing the bear’s arm under her head she quickly fell asleep. 

The next morning Tabitha woke up feeling refreshed and strong. Rolling onto her back she found that sometime during the night she had begun cuddling and spooning the oversized bear getting dressed and ready for work Tabitha found she was so energized she almost didn't need any coffee to get her day going and went out the door with a pep in her step.

“Work is hell” Tabitha thought as she kicked off her heel and poured herself a drink. Walking into her bedroom to change she saw the bear still in her bed where she had left it. She got into bed and pulled the bear around her. It was heavy but the weight wasn't suffocating as she had imagined it would be. Instead it was soothing protective even she decided this bear could stay at least until her boyfriend got back from Hong Kong next week.

As the week went by Tabitha found she was looking forward to bedtime more and more the giant teddy bear becoming the perfect sleeping companion thought it seemed to be bending her to her boyfriend way of thinking on Wednesday she found herself watching cartoons something she had not done in years and on friday she even took out one of the coloring books he had gotten her as she listened to music and drank a glass of wine saturday morning came with some bad news her boyfriend was going to be overseas another two weeks  “But daddy” she whined “i miss you” Tabitha’s eyes went wide “Daddy?” she thought he smiled at her “I see you got my gift” 

“What are you talking about” she said 

The bear: it has a prototype of a speaker I've been working on to plant subliminal messages like this: it's Tabby Time '' At his words a wave of calm washed over Tabitha she could feel her body visabley relax there was nothing to worry about Daddy would take care of everything. She could just color in her book an watch Tv something happy and simple but she had to get changed first she looked at her body these were Tabitha clothes and she wasnt Tabitha she was Tabby she took off the professional blouse make up and pants swapping for a pair of Short shorts and a babydoll tshirt that was almost a crop top on her and spent the rest of the day indulging her every whim she even masturbated twice that made her miss Daddy she wanted him to play with her and to fuck her. That night she went to bed cuddling Mr Bear. He was so soft and comfy and made her feel so yummy. The next morning her phone rang. It was Daddy! She picked it up with glee “Good MOrning Daddy she sang”

“Good Morning Princess Im sorry to do this but Tabitha it's time for work”

Tabitha’s Eyes widened as the hypnotic spell was lifted from her mind anger coursed through her body “What did you do to me you bastard! She yelled. 

“Wait just listen to me a second he protested How do you feel”

“Pissed at you beyond words”

“Fair. but how did you sleep last night”

That gave her pause she slept great in fact she cant remember being more relaxed

“I'm sorry for not telling you but I knew you would never agree otherwise and I just wanted you to have a space that was fully relaxed and have no worries a place for your body to heal itself when you need it most.”

 “Fine but did you have to make it so childish?”

“I didn't do that part. That was all you, I guess you feel most relaxed as a Little.

“A what?” 

“I'll explain more when I get home. You need to get to work, and I need to go to bed but I'll call you Friday.”

The following Sunday Matt entered his apartment and found it a mess. In fact it looked liked a child had been on a rampage for a full two days without supervision. Crayons and cereal were strewn everywhere, the tv was playing some childish Saturday morning cartoon. “Maybe leaving Tabby in charge over the weekend when he wasn't home to supervise had been a bad idea” Matt thought, as he entered the bedroom he found his girlfriend decked out in full childish bimbo wear. A pink bra and a pair of tight pj bottoms with cartoons on them she looked up from the large bear that sat on his side of the bed “Daddy your home” she exclaimed, “Are you ready for Tabby time?” .   

[twistedhxart]

‘✩’ //i know we haven't been rping dev/lian but i miss them

Who is more likely to raise their voice? - I think neither of them would. They both seem to be so very very calm Who threatens to leave but never actually does? - I can't see how either of them would have an argument like this. And if it came to leaving, they would have to talk about it first Who actually keeps their word and leaves? - See above Who trashes the house? - I think they're both very clean and tidy up everything together. If it came to Lian unleashing the demon inside, it would probably be him lol Do either of them get physical? - Never. At least not intentionally How often do they argue/disagree? - I can't see them arguing tbh. At least not now. Maybe it comes to some arguments in the future? Who is the first to apologise? - Lian! Oh no, Devlin! Damn Idk haha

Sex:

Who is on top? - Devlin Who is on the bottom? - Obviously Lian then Who has the strangest desires? - I don't know if you could call it "strange" but maybe Devlin sometimes has some... kinky desires? Any kinks? - That remains to be seen ;) Who’s dominant in bed? - I think this would be Devlin, although I'm not sure if he's THAT dominant Is head ever in the equation? - Sure If so, who is better at performing it? - Maybe Devlin bc he's... older and therefore more experienced? Ever had sex in public? - No Who moans the most? - Lian haha Who leaves the most marks? - Devlin possibly? Who screams the loudest? - So far, no one has made the other one scream, but that remains to be seen ;D Who is the more experienced of the two? - Devlin I guess? Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? - Make love! Rough or soft? - Soft, soft, soft How long do they usually last? - I have the feeling that they are taking their time, savoring everything ♥ Is protection used? - Not that I know of. Does it ever get boring? - Don't think so Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?  - No strange places tried yet ;)

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? - No If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Who is the favorite parent? Who is the authoritative parent? Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Who changes the diapers? Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Who spends the most time with the children? Who packs their lunch boxes? Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Who cleans up after the kids? Who worries the most? Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? - BOTH Who is the little spoon? - They can take turns, but I think Lian would prefer to be the little spoon ♥ Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They're both certainly very good at holding back, but still, I see that tendency more in Devlin than Lian Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? - / How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? - They have a loooooong cuddle span Who gives the most kisses? - Lian What is their favourite non-sexual activity? - I see them still going to the gym and working out together. Devlin can show Lian more new tricks and moves or Lian can rest by sitting on Devlin's back while Devlin does push-ups haha Where is their favourite place to cuddle? - On the couch while watching some stuff on TV ♥ Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? - Devlin haha How often do they get time to themselves? - They try to spend as much time together as possible. But sometimes they both have to work, so their only option is to spend the evening together

Sleeping:

Who snores? - Lian doesn't, but does Devlin? :D If both do, who snores the loudest? - / Do they share a bed or sleep separately? - Sharing is caring! ♥ If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? - Of course they are not laying far apart, helloooo?? Who talks in their sleep? - I think they both sometimes do What do they wear to bed? - Lian usually wears a shirt and long or short pajama pants. Maybe Devlin only wears pants? Or maybe nothing at all? :D Are either of your muses insomniacs? - Lian isn't, I'm not sure about Devlin Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? - Not on Lian's side of the bed Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? - If they are extra cuddly limbs are involved :3 Who wakes up with bed hair? - Definitely Lian. He just has the longest of hairs haha Who wakes up first? - Lian usually wakes up early but can definitely sleep a little longer when he's not alone. So maybe Devlin? Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? - Devlin ♥ What is their favourite sleeping position? - Face to face right close to each another or Lian sleeps on Devlin's chest being hold tight aww Who hogs the sheets? - They share :3 Do they set an alarm each night? - It depends on whether and how early they have to get up the next morning. If they have to go to work, they set an alarm in any case Can a television be found in their bedroom? - No Who has nightmares? - I think both have ;-; Who has ridiculous dreams? - Everyone has ridiculous dreams from time to time, right? Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? - Devlin maybe? He's big boy :D Who makes the bed? - Both! What time is bed time? - Again, it depends on whether they have to get up early the next day. But I don't think either of them go to bed too late Any routines/rituals before bed? - None that I know of (atm) Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? - Lian isn't but maybe Devlin? :D

Work:

Who is the busiest? - I think they are both busy so I don't see one of them being busier than the other Who rakes in the highest income? - Devlin probably Are any of your muses unemployed? - No Who takes the most sick days? - I have the feeling that they hardly ever get sick or take sick days just like that. I even think they would still go to work sick <_< Who is more likely to turn up late to work? - Probably both when they got too involved in each other? *smirky smirk face* Who sucks up to their boss? - Neither of them does What are their jobs? Lian is working in a coffee shop and I think Devlin's a paid warrior and does have different clients? :D Who stresses the most? - Lian probably since working in a coffee shop can be v stressful? Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? - Lian does it mostly for the mon mon and Devlin kinda enjoys what he is doing I think? Are your muses financially stable? - I think they are

Home:

Who does the washing? - Devlin Who takes out the trash? - Lian Who does the ironing? - WHO IRONS THESE DAYS?? Who does the cooking? - Lian Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? - Lian can cook very well but I'm not sure about Devlin haha Who is messier? - / Who leaves the toilet roll empty? - Lian when he's lost in thought Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? - Devlin? Bc he does the washing and therefore can just pick up his clothes when it's time to do so? Who forgets to flush the toilet? - / Who is the prankster around the house? - / Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? - Devlin? Bc Lian can't drive haha Who mows the lawn? - Devlin Who answers the telephone? - Devlin Who does the vacuuming? - Lian Who does the groceries? - Both! Who takes the longest to shower? - They both take long when they decide to go shower together ;) Who spends the most time in the bathroom? - They are both v quick when it comes to cleaning themselves and stuff

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? - No How many cars do they own? - One? If Devlin owns a car Do they own their home or do they rent? - They haven't decided yet :D Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? - It depends on what Devlin prefers. Lian is rather the countryside type of guy Do they live in the city or in the country? - If they can manage somehow they live in the country Do they enjoy their surroundings? - Yesssss What’s their song? - OH! I haven't thought about a song for them yet but let me think about it! What do they do when they’re away from each other? - Texting each other even tho Lian's not very skilled when it comes to smartphones Where did they first meet? - In Lian's house when it was about to crash lol How did they first meet? - Devlin saved him from his crashed apartment and told him that he is his assigned advisor ♥ Who spends the most money when out shopping? - Probably Devlin... for Lian aww. He's the kind of guy who likes to give gifts to his loved ones Who’s more likely to flash their assets? - I think they're both very modest, so I can't imagine it with either of them Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? - THEY WILL IMMEDIATELY RUNS FOR THE OTHERS RESCUE AND WORRY IF THEY HURT THEMSELVES ;-; Any mental issues? - They both definitely have mental issues ;/ Who’s terrified of bugs? - / Who kills the spiders around the house? - They don't kill, they set them outside bc they're kind hoomans Their favourite place? - Probably at home and somewhere in nature. Together ♥ Who pays the bills? - Devlin? Bc he has the higher income? But while Devlin pays the rent, for example, Lian pays for the groceries Do they have any fears for their future? - I think so, because nobody knows what will happen when Lian one day regains access to the world where he actually belongs and where his family lives. But they don't think too much about it and try to live in the moment Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? - Devlin with a fancy dinner out in a restaurant and Lian with a fancy dinner at home ♥ Who uses up all of the hot water? - / Who’s the tallest? - Devlin I guess Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? - Devlin haha Who wanders around in their underwear? - Also Dev! Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? - Does Devlin sing? Bc Lian usually doesn't haha What do they tease each other about? - / Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? - / Do they have mutual friends? - Not that I know of Who crushed first? - I think they both had a v BIG crush on each other! Any alcohol or substance related problems? - No Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? - / Who swears the most? - /

[greatwyrmgold]

Seeing as how like, Katana Man’s grandfather was basically Denji’s boss, I honestly think a rather interesting au would be if he actually knew Denji as a Teenager when Denji first got the debt laid on him and gradually started warming up to him, seeing him as a younger brother or something despite what his grandfather is doing, and things drastically take a turn during the Zombie Devil thing. Idk, this idea just came to me, it’s probably not a good one but I figured I’d share.

Not sure why you wanted to share it on my blog, but yeah, that does sound like a cool AU idea!

It's a shame that we don't know what he was like before his grandfather's death. But that just means the writer has lots of freedom in plotting the hypothetical fanfic. And it's not like we know nothing about pre-Katana-Devil Katana Man.

(It would be nice if we knew his name...I'll call him Ken, which means "sword" in Japanese, and also sounds like an amusingly Western name for such a yakuza's yakuza.)

Ken isn't just any yakuza goon, and he's not just the oyabun's* grandson. He's internalized the yakuza's ideology and accepted its violence, to the point that he idolizes his grandpa for only killing a few women and children. Not for limiting violence in general, or even a consistent code against killing the "innocent," but just not killing them as much as he could have.

*We don't actually know the old man's rank, but it felt weird just calling him a yakuza boss. It would be like calling Vito Corleone a Mafia kuromaku. Or at least it feels that way.

Ken also has a strong sense of right and wrong. He knows that killing is wrong, even if he accepts the yakuza's justifications for it; he feels this so strongly that he feels guilt over killing zombies. If Chainsaw Man was instead Katana Man, Ken (or whatever his actual name is) might have a character arc where his guilt over killing people lead to him questioning some of his other principles. His blind trust in authority, for instance, which fits well with a certain devil (whose involvement is a big spoiler for anime-onlies, let's not name it).

But at the same time, Ken probably inherited a certain privileged mindset. He doesn't get much of a chance to talk about his beliefs, but it's hard to see him tell off Denji for killing his grandpa in self-defense and not conclude that Ken thinks some lives are more valuable than others.

Beyond that...it's a really obvious conflict between young Denji and young Ken, isn't it? Ken was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, especially compared to Denji. Denji inherited his dad's accounts payable, Ken stands to inherit his grandpa's accounts receivable. (Better than calling both of them "debt".)

Anyways. Ken respects Denji's hard work and obedience., but he doesn't understand Denji. Denji doesn't have a choice. Ken is obedient because he believes in his grandfather and wants to work for him; Denji is obedient because the other option is death. When he turns on the yakuza, it's at least in part because not turning on them is deadlier than doing so. (Also because the yakuza abused him and Denji's a petty dick sometimes.)

So we have two youths who assume they have a lot in common, only to realize that beneath the surface they're nothing alike. Denji would probably catch on first, both because this kind of thing is more visible from below and because Denji's specific circumstances mean he needs to act like the kind of person Ken thinks he is. Ken might not realize Denji is anything but another loyal soldier (just a private instead of a lieutenant) until he starts killing ex-yakuza and bails. (Or however the Zombie Devil incident goes.)

Anyways, I've rambled on long enough. There's another Chainsaw Man fanfic I'm halfway started on writing, I'm not going to pick up this prompt. Hopefully someone else does, though!

[john-smiths-jawline]

Association

Summary: Greg Lestrade is coming home when he is kidnapped and taken to a parking garage where a (very attractive) man wants to have a word with him about Sherlock Holmes. Will a dinner change Greg’s feelings about him?

Association

Dealing with Sherlock Holmes was a pain in the ass to the most patient people. Greg Lestrade was not the most patient person. He had almost yelled at Sherlock, the genius junkie playing at being a detective. He had yelled at Anderson, the new forensic, for being annoying. He didn’t care if Anderson and Donovan hooked up. What he did care about was getting home and having a strong aspirin and some steak he ordered. So, when he noticed a sleek black car tailing him, he sighed and rubbed his forehead, his fingers subtly reaching towards the gun in his pocket. He stopped, and so did the car. Someone got out (most likely a butler) and opened the door. 

“Look, mate, I’ve had a really bad day, whatever you want, can it not wait until—” his phone rang. A blocked number. Damn. Seeing no other option, he answered.

“Detective Inspector.” The voice on the end of the line answered. If he didn’t know better, he would say it sounded like Sherlock. Now he really was pissed.

“Whoever the hell you think you are—”

“Get into the car, Gregory.”

“Or what?”

“Just get in the damned car, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.”

“Fine.” Greg sighed and slid into the posh-looking car that was even more posh on the inside. If that was even possible. ——— Greg got out of the car in an abandoned parking garage. No-one-can-hear-you-scream type. His hand grasped his gun a little tighter. There was no mistaking who called. There was only one person there. Wearing a fancy, spotless pinstripe suit, leaning on an umbrella like he was God-damn Mary Poppins. He half wondered if the man was going to offer him a spoonful of sugar. The thought made him snort.

“Something funny on your mind, Gregory?”

“Yeah. Who the HELL do you think you are?” the man sighed, running a hand through his hair. Greg had to admit, the man was attractive. More so than his ex-wife. The thought made him think about the bi flag he had pinned to the inside of his jacket.

“That’s not funny, nor was it on your mind.” Both true. Who was this man, Sherlock’s brother?

“Correct.”

“What?”

“You were wondering if I was Sherlock’s brother. And you are correct. I am Mycroft Holmes.” Well, at least the strange names were consistent.

“What can Sherlock’s brother possibly want with me?”

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?”

“Why do you care?” Mycroft smiled. At the surface, it looked cold and calculating, but Greg thought he saw a hint of true warmth.

“If you do continue to…call my little brother in, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis.” Now Greg was suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you’re not a rich man, Detective Inspector.” That may have been true, but he certainly was not poor either. But this was certainly not offering anything for free. Although some might argue that having to deal with Sherlock on the regular would-be price enough, but Greg thought the man had something else in mind.

“In exchange for what?” the man smiled his cold-warm smile again.

“Information. Nothing indiscreet, nothing you’d feel uncomfortable with. Just ... tell me what he’s up to.”

“Why?” Mycroft Holmes did not strike Greg as someone who cared a great deal.

“I worry about him. Constantly.” Now that was a surprise.

“That’s nice of you.” It might have come off as suspicious, but Greg was going for genuine. And judging by the slight flicker of surprise–and something else? — in Mycroft’s face, he succeeded.

“But I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern went ...unmentioned. We have what you might call, a difficult relationship.” Greg could believe it. If what Mycroft said about worrying was true, Sherlock being frosty, even to his older brother, was not hard to imagine. But still, no matter how powerful this man is, no matter how attractive he is, he thought with a small blush and another glance at handsome-big-brother, he would never sell Sherlock out. He looked into the man’s eyes. Blue, grey, and green swirled together in a mixture of color that had Greg wetting his lips. They were Sherlock’s eyes. But different, because when Greg looked into Sherlock’s eyes, he never felt he was at risk from drowning in their depths.

“No.” Not that Greg could say no to… other things.

“I haven’t mentioned a figure.” As tempting as it was, Greg knew what the answer had to be.

“Don’t bother.”

“You’re very loyal, very quickly.” This made Greg think of his ex-wife and how young they married, causing him to shift uncomfortably. But loyalty isn’t a bad thing.

“Thanks.”

“Anthea?” Mycroft called, and a young girl opened the car door, somehow still texting. Mycroft moved to get in. he paused then he saw Greg still standing stock-still in the middle of the garage.

“Get in, Gregory.” Now that threw Greg for a loop. Get in? Why? But he shrugged anyway and got in the car with Mycroft and Anthea.

“So, Mycroft, where are we going?” Mycroft squints his eyes slightly and roves them all over Greg’s body. Greg knew it was just Mycroft deducing him, but it still made him blush and straighten his tie. It was officially the straightest part of him.

“You have steak waiting for you at home,” Mycroft interrupted his musings.

“Hmm?”

“But it’s second rate. Cheap. Barely worth eating.” He turned to the driver. “Michael, the best steak in London, please.”

“As you wish, boss.” As if this evening couldn’t get any stranger.

“You know, you really don’t have to—” he was cut off.

“I know.” Was Mycroft’s cryptic response. ——— The restaurant was screaming expensive as Greg and Mycroft walked in. One of the waiters walked up to them.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes. Back again, I see?” she steered them over to a table. “Do you have an order?”

“Two orders of steak, please.” The waiter scurried off to prepare the meal.

“Tell me about your work, Gregory.”

“Can’t you just deduce?” Greg asked with a smile.

“Of course. But tell me anyway.” This time, he offered a soft, and entirely genuine, smile, before Greg started ranting about how much he was going to murder Anderson and damn the consequences. Mycroft’s soft smile never left his face until the food came, and they enjoyed a nice dinner of steak and wine. The swirling blue and green and grey eyes never left his, which normally would have been creepy, but it just filled Greg with a warm happiness that swelled inside him, helped with the wine. By the time they walked to the car, Greg was quite sleepy (a combination of the wine and the late hour) and he barely noticed the arm Mycroft slipped around his waist to support him. He didn’t remember when someone told Mycroft that they made a cute couple. He didn’t remember Mycroft’s lack of denial, or the small smile that graced his features. All he remembers is being helped into the car, and his head falling into the British Government’s lap as the car started to move. He was out a couple seconds after he feels Mycroft’s hands carding through his brown and grey hair. He smiled softly and leaned into the touch. And then he was gone. ——— He awoke in his bed, with little idea how he got there before the memories start to flood back. A small sigh ruffled his hair and he turned around to see the British Government, Mycroft Holmes, sound asleep, arms wrapped around Greg’s chest, ginger-brown hair splayed on the pillow and still in his pinstriped suit. Sensing Greg’s movement, Mycroft hugged Greg to his chest and hummed contentedly. Greg, for some reason turned around and inserted his legs around Mycroft’s, and he couldn’t help but notice how they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there. Even though he probably shouldn’t, he fell asleep again, comforted by Mycroft’s arms wrapped around him, shielding him from harm. ——— He woke up again when Mycroft shifted, removing his arms and the soft, safe warmth that came with him. He grabbed Mycroft’s hand and pulled him back to bed as he opened his eyes. He saw him blinking (probably much needed) sleep from his eyes and running a hand through his wavy red-brown locks. Greg gave a sleepy smile as he remembers Mycroft’s hands in his own hair.

“I apologize, Gregory. I suppose I must have fallen asleep after putting you to bed.”

“It’s fine, Mycroft,” Greg said, and meant it. In fact, it was more than fine.

“Should I be going, or…” he seemed to trail off in a rare moment of uncertainty.

“You can stay.” He assured Mycroft.

“Good.” Greg looked at the clock. Shoot. He was going to be late for work. Mycroft seemed to read his mind.

“Do not worry about work, Gregory. I have called the police station and informed them that you will not be coming in to work today. It takes you approximately 47 minutes and 16 seconds to get ready, leave, and arrive at work. When that time passed, you were still asleep and I did not wish to disturb you, because you had not slept for 39 hours. I am told a that is a large amount of time.” Well, that was… nice of him.

“Don’t you have a war to stop or something?” he asked. Mycroft seemed at war with himself for a few seconds before sitting back down on the bed. He smiled, but it was different then the soft, sweet one in the restaurant, or the cold, icy one in the parking garage. This was coy. Flirty. Inviting, if you will.

“They can wait.”

“So, what do you plan to do with your day off?” Greg asked. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Mycroft to lean in.

“This.” And when they kissed, hair still rumpled from sleep, Mycroft in a wrinkled pinstripe suit and Greg in the clothes he wore the day before, he swore it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Gregory?” Mycroft asked when they finally break apart.

“Yes, Mycroft?”

“Do you plan to continue your association with me?” This made Greg laugh, remembering their conversation not 24 hours earlier.

“Yes, Mycroft.”

here’s the ao3:

[kumeko]

For risquetendencies, for the FE Three houses Spring exchange!

Prompt: For, Dorothea marrying someone else (maybe Hanneman bc the fact that they have a paired ending with kids blew my mind) because it was the best option at the time. She and Linhardt were mutually pining while at the academy but he lazed around too much then instead of shooting his shot and missed the chance to say anything. Years later, they cross paths again and old feelings are rekindled.

A/N: I absolutely love the idea of a reunion like this! Immediately it ate my brain and I had to write it. I was tempted to have her married to Manuela/Ferdinand, I think that would be a fun ot3, but I wanted this to be a more tempered piece and Hanneman fits a lot better than “whirlwind romance of 3 divas”. I also find Hanneman’s ending with her funny, I wonder how many years it took before she said “Yep, those are my kids and my husband.”

…

…

…

…

Dorothea.

A woman Linhardt hadn’t thought about in over a decade. A woman he hadn’t seen in even longer. Yet, despite the time that had passed, he knew the woman standing in front of him was her all the same. Her face had matured over the years, soft cheeks giving way to more defined cheekbones. Where before her hair had been loose and free, her wavy locks were pinned up, giving her an elegant look. And her clothing…

True to her wishes, she had clearly moved up in the world, swathed in silks and satin as she was.

Her green eyes widened as she caught sight of him. Despite her surprise, she recovered faster than he did, her ruby red lips curving into a provocative smile. “Linhardt. It’s been a while.”

Even now, her voice had a musical lilt. Tongue-tied, all Linhardt could reply with was, “Yes, it has.”

-x-

The Crimson Flower was a small but fancy coffee shop. Despite his passing knowledge, he could tell with a single glance that the red velvet seats and the intricately carved wooden paneling were of the highest quality. The last time he had entered such a refined establishment, he had still numbered amongst Fódlan’s nobility.

Now, as a mere researcher, it cost more than a year’s salary for a single meal here.

A problem Dorothea didn’t have, with the familiarity she perused the menu. A red fingernail traced the fine stock paper listing a variety of deserts. Her lips pursed as she tapped one before sighing and setting down the menu. At his curious glance, she smiled wryly and explained, “Tragically, now that I have a show in production, I have to maintain my figure.”

 Even in his relative hermitage, Linhardt had heard passing tales of her performances. “Your fans wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s sweet.” Dorothea bit her cheek before signalling a waiter and ordering the smallest slice of cheesecake. “I suppose it can’t hurt to have just one. It is a special occasion.”

Special. Throughout their school days or the war, they hadn’t been the most intimate. Just two acquaintances who’d bump into each other every now and then in the quiet corners of their school. His most vivid memory was of her sitting beside him in an alcove, her crossed ankles grazing his, her chin propped on her hand as she idly looked out the window.

Of her green eyes filled with silent mirth whenever she noticed his stare, her lips mouthing, “Like what you see?”

And now here she was, sitting across from him, more than a table between them.

“You look good,” Linhardt finally said after their coffees arrived. He hadn’t been keen on the drink until Hubert had all but foisted it on him. Now he could hardly handle a day without one.

Dorothea chuckled. “You? Giving Pleasantries? Since when did you care for social norms?”

His fingers curled around his hot mug. “I’ve had to adapt. It’s hard to get research grants otherwise.”

“Hmm, so I’ve heard.” Dorothea stirred her coffee twice. “I suppose time really does change everything. Even you.” She tapped her spoon on the rim as she studied him. “I wish I could say the same, but you look terrible. Have you been sleeping?”

He resisted the urge to turn to the window. Without looking, he knew what he’d see: dark bags under his eyes, pale skin, messy strands of hair escaping his ribbon. It had been a while since he’d last groomed. Suddenly, he wished he had. “Exhausted,” he explained. “The problem with research, I suppose.”

Dorothea frowned. “Ah, yes. Research. My bane.”

Linhardt paused. She’d never seemed to hate her studies in the past.

“What are you researching?” Dorothea asked before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Crests.” Was there an easy way to tell her? He usually talked to fellow academics; it had been a while since he had to translate to the layman. “To be precise, the variations of Crest strengths, especially on those that have diverged from other Crests over the centuries.” Cutting himself off before he could ramble, Linhardt looked away. “It’s hard to explain simply.”

Despite his fears, Dorothea didn’t look confused in the least. Her fingers rapped the table as she considered his words. “Is it just about the skills connected to the Crests or also about power levels?”

“The former.” Linhardt blinked, surprised. “I wouldn’t have pegged this as an interest of yours.”

“I know enough,” Dorothea said with a delicate shrug. “A passing knowledge, though far more than I desire.”

There was a story there that she wasn’t telling. Linhardt sipped his sugary-sweet coffee. “You’re in a lot of shows now.”

“Dozens each year,” Dorothea confirmed with a confident smirk. There was that fire in her eyes, the one he’d seen whenever she’d marched past any of her detractors, the one that he couldn’t help but follow even if he was across the room. “I doubt you can pass a corner without a poster—though, then again,” she tapped her eyes. “you’re not going out, are you?”

He couldn’t deny that. “Research takes up too much time.”

“Research and napping, right?” Dorothea asked with a wink. She giggled when he reluctantly nodded. “Still lost in your own world. I’m glad that much hasn’t changed.”

The fondness in her voice almost took his breath away. It was strange. They hadn’t met in years and yet, it was all too easy to talk to her, to slip into old patterns. He’d asked her to dinner once, but they’d never gone—he’d kept putting it off. The war, the rebuilding, the research; there was always something else to do.

Would it be too late to do so now?

“Dorothea—” Sunlight through the window hit her and something glinted around her neck. It was a golden chain looped through a small, simple golden band.

Noticing his stare, Dorothea glanced down and softly gasped. “Oops.” Sheepishly, she pulled out the chain, her hand curling delicately around the ring at the end. Her expression softened. “My little secret. I can’t let my adoring audience know about this just yet.”

“You got married,” Linhardt replied automatically, putting two and two together.

She gently dropped the ring under her dress’s collar. “Yes.”

This time, his breath did get knocked out of him.

“I didn’t think I would, after…everything. Especially when Ingrid…” Dorothea’s eyes darkened as her voice trembled. Even after all these years, their former friends’ deaths still hit hard. “When they all died. It was hard to want that anymore. Though I…” She peeked up, her eyes meeting his, her gaze lingering as she continued, “I did have second thoughts. I waited…though I’m not sure for what.”

He could hear the unsaid words, the pointed barbs that led back to that delayed dinner, to that chance that he’d never taken.

To that chance he could now never take.

She broke eye contact first. “Anyways, I thought I’d just throw myself into work. Become the second Manuela, so to speak. It was hard at first, but I started to get bigger and bigger roles in the local opera troupes.” Dorothea sipped her coffee. “I didn’t have too many fans at first, but…well, I had one consistent one. Hanneman made sure to come to every single opening. Sometimes with Manuela, sometimes alone…”

Her gaze grew tender. “He’d promised I’d always know kindness, and despite my doubts, he proved it.”

Linhardt stared down at his coffee, at the murky darkness. He’d heard about her shows, from Hubert, from Bernetta, from Hanneman himself, the times they’d collaborated on Crestology. Once, just once, he’d bought a ticket, but he’d never been able to bring himself to go.

“One time, he’d missed the show. It felt so wrong—even after the curtains fell, I didn’t feel right until he came running as everyone was leaving, flowers in his hand.” Dorothea giggled, shaking her head. “The silly man apologized. He was so flustered—it was adorable.”

Now she looked up, locking eyes with him once more. “I remembered what you said. I’m not the kind of girl to wait—I do what I want, with my head held up high. So I asked him out.”

“Oh.”

“And then I had to ask him out a few more times because he thought I was just teasing.” Dorothea clicked her tongue. “As though I would take courtship lightly. He ruined all of my plans of nobility and marry rich.” Her hand rested on her chest, tapping the hidden ring. “But I can’t say I regret any of it.”

He couldn’t say the same. Linhardt curled his fingers. “Are you happy?”

“Very much so. It isn’t the whirlwind romance I’d imagined as a girl, or the quiet practicality I’d accepted as a teen but…” Dorothea smiled softly. “Love is a more complicated thing than that. It’s not the life I pictured but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She sets down her spoon. Just when had she finished her meal? His own coffee had grown cold.

“No, I suppose that is a lie.” Dorothea reached forward, her warm hand covering his. Despite the passing years, remembrances of the war didn’t fade easily and he could feel her scars and callouses. She squeezed his hand, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “I do have one regret.”

Linhardt turned his hand and squeezed back before she could escape. “Me too.”

She closed her eyes. Her smile turned bittersweet as she stood up, her hand slipping out of his grasp. “It was good seeing you, Linhardt.”

He could only watch as she left, as her figure appeared outside the window and she stepped into a waiting carriage. The seat across from him was empty, only a lipstick stained cup and some cheesecake crumbs proving that Dorothea had been there, had been so close and yet so far at the same time.

The coffee was cold. Linhardt picked it up anyways, turning slightly to stare out the window. Across the street, a giant poster for Dorothea’s latest opera was plastered on a wall, her enigmatic smile dominating the paper.

He took a sip but all the sugar in the world couldn’t stop the bitterness filling him now.

Let’s have a proper dinner, she’d asked him once. Not in the dining hall, but out. The two of us.

He should have taken her then.

[phas3d]

can i request something where the reader is sick and she doesn’t eat cause she’s scared to puke so they try to make her eat until they slowly can

this is optional

((but then she feels like a “burden” on her stomach? idk how to explain it ahahah))

You're Sick || Slytherin Boys

type :: comfort

tw/cw :: puking/vomiting (all)

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: how they help you when you're sick! i hope the requester isn't sick cause I just got better from a fever and omfg i wanted to cry - 🐍 :: masterlist!

DRACO MALFOY

He cares deeply for you but he HATES being sick

When you text him that you're sick, he's sad but he won't say that

"Finally a day away from you" but then he'll instantly text you that he misses you

Sends you soup and any snack that you're hungry for

But he won't go near you

He'll enter your room but he won't get super close to you

He's scared to get sick since he literally despises it

Last time he was sick, he stayed sick for almost 2 weeks straight

His immune system is weak asf and can't handle germs that much

He loves you, but he's gonna send you kisses from 6 feet away

But when you get super sick, to the point where you can't eat or even breathe properly, he gets worried

He does his best to be there for you for everything

When you vomit, he's mortified but he holds back your hair and looks the other way

He'll help feed you, but he'll definitely be wearing protection of some kind

Like a mask, gloves, goggles, and more

It's a bit dramatic (Very fucking dramatic) but you don't mind

He helps feeds you slowly spoon by spoon

TOM RIDDLE

I think that he has a strong immune system so he doesn't understand how being sick can affect you so much

But he comforts you in his own ways

Such as, being in the same room as you, making sure all of his devices are muted, sneaking in headache pills in your food, etc

Brings you food from the banquet and feeds it to you spoon by spoon

But sometimes, he pretends he's going to feed you but then feeds himself

You tell him to not do that since you're sick and ate off the same spoon

But he doesn't care and kisses your cheek as extra evidence

When you refuse to eat, he doesn't care and continues to spoon feed you

Even if you deny it, he just rams the spoon on your face, making the soup fall on your clothes

So either you eat the soup or you get covered in it

When you say you're scared to vomit, he groans

He thinks you're being a big baby LMAO since he thinks puking is completely normal

But when you get really upset and start to tear up due to your fear of puking, he panics and sees you're being fr

He goes to the school medics and ask them how to help you

They give him a special vial that allows you to eat and not vomit, which is super perfect for you

He helps you throughout it all and makes sure to care for you :)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

He has a strong immune system too so he doesn't care about being near you

He'll lay in the same bed as you and kiss you, he doesn't care

Probably makes fun of you for being sick and teases you

"You would have never gotten THIS sick if you just ate dirt as a kid"

Promotes the worst health advice you've ever seen

Probably tries to convince you to go jogging or do some weight lifting

Do NOT do that, don't listen to this man

But he is really sweet with you, just in his own way

When you do anything, he's so proud of you cause he knows how hard it is for you

Like when you finally get up to go pee

"WOOOOO GOOD JOB!!! LETS GO!" He shouts, as if he's watching you take your first ever steps

Will spoon-feed you but definitely adds sound effects

Train noises, bird noises, airplane, fucking everything that moves

Definitely teases you still by pretending he's going to feed you, but the eats it himself

But when you don't want to eat it, he genuinely doesn't understand

"If you want to get better, you have to eat. That's how it works"

But if you keep denying, he'll try to make little promises for you

"If you just eat half of this soup, then when you're feeling better, I'll take you on a shopping spree!"

Will coax you into it and eventually you'll give in

But if you throw up, he feels really bad and guilty

Definitely runs to the school nurses to get medicine for you and everything possible

He holds your hair back and rubs your back reassuringly :)

THEODORE NOTT

Despite smoking a shit ton and drinking a lot, his immune system is actually pretty good

He’ll give you small pecks and cuddle but he won’t kiss your lips directly

Gives you a ton of tissues and hugs you all the time

He skips class to spend time with you and make sure you're okay

Doesn't care that he's missing an assignment or two because he's smart enough to just learn the material on his own

My headcanon for him is that he's secretly kinda nerdy and has the best grades out of the Slytherin boys

So when you're napping, he does all of your missing assignments for the day

He's such a good caretake it's crazy

Fluffs your pillows, tucks you in, plays your favorite movies, makes sure you always have water and that the temperature of the room is perfect for you

Goes to the dining hall to get you some food and soup

And if they're not serving soup for the night, then he'll buy some himself

I also headcanon that he's pretty good at cooking :) So he might just make you some

But if you deny the food, he'll reassure you and comfort you that you won't throw up

He spoon feeds you and talks about his day

He makes sure you're not eating too fast or too big of bites to make sure you can avoid puking as much as possible

Such a good boyfriend :))

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Has an okay immune system but it's pretty weak at times, always has allergies

But even though he knows he's gonna get sick from you, he's still gonna skip all his classes to be with you

Loves this because he has an excuse to skip and spend all day with you!!!

Definitely cuddles with you all day and doesn't care

Takes naps with you and rests besides you

If you struggle to take your liquid medicine, then he'll pour himself a little spoon of it as well

Even though he's perfectly healthy, he'll take it just to make you feel better :)

Does this with pills as well

Brings you food from stores instead of the school's banquet

Buys you fancy and nice dishes that are hot so you can get the best quality possible

When you're scared to eat because you're worried you might puke, he's super fast to reassure you

"It's okay! You need to eat or else you won't get better, love."

Does his best to coax you into trying at least a few spoons of it

And makes sure to tell you that it's from the finest places in town

If you don't like it, he'll just buy you more and more dishes until you finally like one

Anything you want, he'll get for you :)

He will 100000% be sick after you get better, but it was all worth it to him in the end

thank you for the support ! 🐍 :: masterlist!