#they didn't even think they'd done anything wrong)

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.

[grimrester]

i am really so sorry to continue harping on about the watcher entertainment streaming service. but this kind of stuff (internet content as a business & marketing it as such) is truly my obsession, and i think i will implode if i don't talk about some of the takes i'm seeing.

i'd like to emphasize again i don't have strong feelings about watcher either way. i like ghost files, i watch mystery files sometimes, i watched worth it back in the buzzfeed days. i don't watch any of their shows religiously.

anyway, here's the main things i keep seeing crop up and my thoughts on each:

"watcher has 25 employees they have to pay, and employing people in this economy is good, so we should be banding together to pay them."

employing people is good if you currently have the capacity to pay them. i checked watcher's linkedin page, and many of their employees were hired within the last year or two. if they hired people they cannot pay with the business model they had before, something is seriously wrong with their internal bookkeeping/decision making. it means they either didn't know they couldn't pay these people long term, or they did know and were content with risking newly hired employees' livelihoods on a huge content pivot in the next year.

of note is that none of their employees' titles have anything to do with managing the finances of the company. they are the size of a small business but have no one aside from the figureheads of the company in charge of their finances.

this is the kind of company decision making that leads to downsizing and layoffs, which can be devastating. but you know what's worse than laying off a portion of your staff? laying off everyone because your business is going under.

"not everyone can afford the subscription, but those who can should pay it to support the watcher team."

no. $6/month for a couple hours of content (depending on what shows you actively watch and the natural fluctuation of their release schedule) is a fundamentally bad value. i can pay that much for a few movies on amazon. i can pay that much for dropout, if i want to support a smaller business instead.

and to be totally frank, even if people do sign up, i don't think they'd get enough to compete with the amount they get through patreon/sponsorships. and the fact that they didn't know how many of their subscribers would realistically sign up is a bad sign.

a pretty good conversion rate of free to paid subscribers of a service or content is 3% (usually accomplished through a free trial). given the very poor reception of the announcement, let's say about 1% of their 3 mil youtube subs pay for their service. that's 30k people paying for their new platform. that's $180k a month in their pocket.

(they currently only have 12k subs on patreon so we are being generous here.)

a sponsorship deal (based on my googling, i have less direct experience with this) is anywhere from $10-50 per 1000 views. they've gotten about 1 mil views on their last few videos. 3 mil subs is nothing to shake a stick at, but let's say they're on the lower end of the payscale at $25 per 1000 views. that's $25k a video, $100k a month if they release 1 video a week. their lowest patreon tier is 5 bucks, so even if all their subs are at that tier, that's another $60k, so $160k total. it's entirely likely they're bringing in much more than that when you factor in merch, adsence, etc.

did anyone on their team crunch numbers on how many people would need to sub to make the switch worth it? did anyone do market research on how many people they could convert to paid users? because if not, if they really didn't have a game plan for this, the subscription service was always doomed to fail.

"this was their only option to continue making the content they want to make, with the production value they want."

i watched their announcement video. a key point in that video is that they have done sponsored videos and that's what used to pay for their content, but they did not like the amount of creative control the sponsor had over the content.

look, i get that's no fun. we'd all love creatives to be able to make whatever they want. but when you are a small business with a team of employees relying on you, you have to think about making money, sometimes at the cost of creative liberties.

and they had so many other options to make money for the projects they want to make without jumping to a subscription platform.

they could have started actually promoting their patreon, and maybe done some restructuring of the tiers. why not a highly produced, special series just for patreon members? or a special high-budget episode of each series, while the main series is lower budget?

bite the bullet and continue taking sponsorship deals on some less-produced shows, while axing sponsorships from the ones the crew feels more passionate about.

schedule larger, blowout-production shows only when they can be afforded. this is what Notorious Amongus Guy streamer jerma does. he saves up for big productions like his baseball or dollhouse streams, so he can really get creative with them.

they had other options and they've tried very little, especially when you compare them to other content house business at similar scales. try guys and good mythical morning both put out significant content with significant staff, and have had to diversify their income streams with auxiliary products, shows with widely varied levels of production, etc. but it seems to be working for them. watcher has merch and that's about it, and seems to only want to increase the production quality of ALL their shows.

really, all this just boils down to a terrible business decision. it's hard to say if the watcher team is working with a consultant or anyone outside of their team, but they certainly don't have anyone internally who is experienced with running a business like this. to me, it seems very much like they got in a room together and did some extremely optimistic income ballparking with no research behind it.

and that might have been fine for three dudes running a channel alone, but if they're a business, they have to start making decisions like one.

[sugurufic]

Co-Parenting with Suguru

AU where Geto didn't kill the entire village but adopted Nanako and Mimiko (I love mommy geto)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Geto is able to adopt Mimiko and Nanako with your help, and how the girls with Gojo set you two up. Acquaintances to lovers, idiots who care for each other. (pure fluff, and i've tried to avoid using y/n)

You wouldn't say you and Geto were good friends, but when you were asked to testify on his behalf in front of the higher ups, you readily agreed. You were tasked to look after the twin girls he had brought back from the village and they were the sweetest little girls you had ever met. Even if Geto had killed those villagers, you couldn't blame him - they were torturing two innocent souls on problems caused by their own vices. 

Shoko and Gojo couldn't testify to Geto's character - everyone knew they were practically joint at the hip - the three of them are always together. You were closer to Utahime  your senpai, known to not like Gojo and Geto very much. With whatever casual conversations you had had with Geto, you hadn't really found a reason to dislike him. And hearing Nanako and Mimiko call him “Geto-Sama” in their sweet little voices only helped in solidifying your high opinion of him.

You heard their narration of the night and how Geto with his incredible bangs and magic powers stopped the evil people hurting them and took him away and dropped them into your arms.

“Do you really think any of those could be trusted with kids?” Geto asked. You snorted in response and gladly accepted to take care of the two lovely little girls.

“Your Geto-Sama will be right back with you,” you promised the girls while closing the buttons of your uniform. “I will be back in a bit. I've got dolls for the both of you,”

“Thank you,” they tell you, adding “sama” to your name. You blush but don't say anything, having already told them to not address you as such multiple times over the couple of days.

“I don't believe that Geto-San could have gone out of his way to hurt those people. In fights with curses, collateral damage is always there, and Geto had two little sorcerers to take care of. I think we can excuse him this time.” You said when you were asked to speak.

“I don't see anything wrong with letting Geto-San take care of the two girls. They clearly trust him much more than anyone else, after how horribly they were treated by the village. I pitch on his behalf, that he would take utmost care of the two sorcerers under his care.” You said when the question for their custody arose.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Geto said bowing in front of you once the elders were done with the hearing. They had dismissed everyone else to discuss the matter.

“You've got some lovely girls to parent now, Geto-san,” you say, returning his charming smile. “Are you sure you are ready to be a parent?”

“Not really, no,” He admits. “I will try my best though,” 

“Oh they are such lovely girls, I have half a heart to keep them for myself,” You fawn, feeling suspiciously giddy. “If you ever need a babysitter-”

“I will definitely call you,” Geto nods with a smile on his beautiful face. He has always been beautiful, but today with his hair half-up, half-down, he looks especially charming. He rushes away on hearing footsteps and you walk the short distance to the dormitories. 

“Hello girls!” You excitedly enter your room, holding out a bunch of cookies in your hands, thanks to Utahime. “The final decision of the higher ups will come later today, but Geto should be free to see you,” You give them the stack of cookies and then seeing the styled dolls add, “Do you girls like dressing up?”

You smile with the way their eyes widen with excitement and open your humble wardrobe in the dormitory, giving them access to everything they'd need to get dressed up. They decide to dress you up instead, and the three of you are full of giggles as they take your makeup and freely draw on your face - and be surprisingly good at it. You play some of your favourite music, which the girls seem to enjoy and then they paint your nails. They dress you in your best clothes and you love the way they've styled you.

There's still a long time left before the higher ups will announce the decision, so you take the girls out shopping to distract them. Fortunately, your income as a sorcerer allows you to have the freedom to spoil your girls - and you love it to an alarming extent. Mimiko and Nanako have got excellent taste, you'll credit them that - they pick out the cutest dresses for each other and coloured lip balms that compliments each other's hair well. You encourage them to change into their new clothes in the mall itself  and take so many pictures of them and with them - and you are almost sad at the thought of letting Geto have them, but that's something you will be sad for later.

You've lost track of time at the mall, and when you get back it's already twilight. The girls had a lovely day, and they are still buzzing with excitement when you enter. 

Geto is sitting on your bed, in a semi-clear spot with almost all of your stuff on it - from the whirlwind that dressed you earlier. 

“Geto-Sama!” The girls scream with delight and kneel down in front of him with bows, showing how grateful they were to him - he motions them to get up and hugs them both simultaneously, but his foxy eyes hold your gaze as he says, “Mimiko and Nanako can live with me, from now.”

Your body reacts to the news faster than your mind, and you've already planted a kiss on his cheek and have your arms wrapped around him before you realise what you have done. A crimson blush colours his face along with your lipstick as he thanks you, his voice softer and breather than usual.

Your whole body heats up when you see the colour of your lipstick on his cheek  and the way he makes no attempt to wipe it off his flushed cheeks as Mimiko and Nanako look up at him with glittering eyes. 

You hear your name from Nanako’s mouth, noting the “sama” she had added yet again. Geto's eyes are affectionate as he hears them gush to him about you, about the fun they had with you. 

While Mimiko is in Geto's arms, Nanako makes her way into yours and you feel silly for tearing up. You hug her close to your chest, feeling her little arms around your shoulders. “Thank you for bringing back Geto-Sama,” Nanako whispers to you. You pat her head and plant a gentle kiss on her cheek, now mindful of the transferring lipstick.

The sound of a camera clicking snaps the four of you out of the trance, and you find the Gojo Satoru standing at the threshold of your room, clicking pictures of the four of you. “Suguru, you get a girlfriend and daughters and you forget all about your best friend,” He tuts, dramatically putting a hand over his chest, his icy blue eyes peeking from behind his sunglasses.

Gojo gasps on seeing the lipstick mark on Suguru’s cheek and takes out his phone to snap even more pictures of a blushing Suguru. “You forgot to mention things were this serious!” He says, mock offended.

“Gojo/Satoru, shut up!” You and Geto speak simultaneously.

“You're even saying the same things now,” Gojo sighs like an old man. Mimiko and Nanako burst out into a fit of giggles. “You agree with your godfather, Satoru, right girls?”

“Godfather? Where did that come from?” You ask, scrunching up your nose.

“Well it was gonna be Suguru as mother and myself as the father but now you've taken in as their mother and Suguru as their father so I've got to take the next best thing-!”

You hit him upside his white-haired head, veins on your forehead popping out with irritation at his words. Gojo rubs the top of his head muttering something under his breath. “This is why I always stay with Utahime Senpai,” you say, making Suguru and the twins laugh.

“Get him, girl!” Geto cheers you on.

“I won't give you Nanako and Mimiko if you continue to be roommates with him,” you declare, narrowing your eyes at Geto.

“I'm renting a place outside Jujutsu Tech,” Geto confesses with a sigh.

“WHAT-?” You and Gojo both yell in shock.

“It's for the best,” He says.

“You’re taking my girls away from me!” You complain, hand on your chest. “This is so unfair, Geto-kun. How will I see them now?”

.

It's been a couple of weeks, and the twins have adjusted well to Tokyo. You've adjusted too, opting to spend your time with them rather than with anyone else. Gojo keeps teasing you relentlessly, not even bothering to stop when the teachers are around. You've grown closer to Suguru as well, spending most of your off-time with him. Shoko has become your refuge now, with Utahime leaving for Kyoto.

It's one of your lazy Sundays, and you wake from your and the twins afternoon nap. They are snuggled to either side of you, and it’s unbearably hot but you don't dare move; admiring their serene, sleeping faces. Your left eye twitched at the thought of the torture your girls were subjected to by those foolish villagers, blood boiling once again.

You reach for your phone instead, going through some old photos. You've scrolled down to when the girls were living with you, a picture of the three of you with matching white bows in your hair when the door quietly opens, and Suguru quietly enters with a pitcher of water and some glasses. He chuckles at your grateful face, pouring out some water for you. You gulp down the water, your overheated body giving out a sigh of relief when the cold water hits your stomach. 

“It's time to wake them up,” He whispers, leaning down to your laying form.

“I don't really want to,” you whisper to him, pleading, not looking away from his pretty dark eyes. “Five more minutes?”

“Okay,” He relented with a sigh, sitting beside Nanako. You think of how different he is now, different from when he is exorcising curses and when he is with Gojo. You also find yourself liking this side of him, that only his girls got to see. And you, one of his girls. 

“Have you thought about their schooling?” You ask, voice quieter than a mouse. Geto lays down, facing you.

“I’ll have them homeschooled,” He replies just as quietly, frowning.

“That’s boring,” You say. “How will they adjust to the outside world? We can’t always be with them.”

“I’m terrified of the curses getting -”

“Teach them to defend themselves, just a little.” You suggest. “You know they can’t rely on others, they will need to learn to keep each other safe.”

Nanako stirs between the two of you, mumbling a hushed “papa,” under her breath as she snuggles into Geto. You fawn all over this, his pretty eyes wide and looking at you, seeking assurance. A gentle smile graces his beautiful face as he caresses the girl’s caramel hair and you have to resist the urge to pull his silky hair out of the bun and run your fingers through them. You opt to lightly pat Mimiko’s dark head instead, and she snuggles into you mumbling, “mama,”

Admittedly, you’ve teared up a little and you excitedly turn to Geto, who is giving you his prettiest smile that you’ve ever seen. In this little moment, you can pretend to be a happy family, living in a rose-coloured dream.

.

Suguru loves spending time with his girls, and it’s even more delightful when you join in. He especially loves it now that you’ve practically moved in - the guest room slowly filling up with your scent and trinkets. He enjoys taking all of you out to different spots in the city - the parks, the malls, cute cafes and even back to Jujutsu Tech, occasionally. 

Suguru wonders if the two of you could even be friends if not for Mimiko and Nanako - just adding to a long list of things that he was grateful for from that night. Your easy smile and sparkling eyes and the way you shower his girls with your love and care just keeps on adding to all the things he admires about you. He half wishes Satoru’s mindless teasing to become a reality, but he lacks the courage.

Currently, he’s sitting on the floor with Nanako behind him, brushing his hair out and Mimiko sitting beside her twin, acting as her inventory. He’s in pure bliss, and the only thing that can make this better is your presence.

Soon enough there is a knock on the door, and Suguru feels bad for hoping it’s you. Of course, he enjoys your company, but you deserve a chance to live freely and not spend every waking hour with him. Satoru and Shoko are there instead, with amazing takeout for Friday evening.

Satoru spoils his self-proclaimed goddaughters (Suguru wouldn’t trust anyone else, either) with the best of everything. Shoko loves teaching them new things, reading, maths, curses, the human body - everything watered down to suit their tender young age.

The four of them play board games while Suguru does the laundry, putting the clothes on the drying line. Usually, you would be here helping him with the clothes, words flowing easily between the two of you. 

He's distracted from laundry when he hears Satoru call your name followed by a whistle, then yelling, “I can't really blame Suguru, you look so hot!” He hears your grumble something, and then Mimiko and Nanako’s excited cheers on your appearance. “You had a date?!” Satoru says again, his voice loud and surprised.

Suguru’s heart feels heavy, and he makes his way to the rest leaving half of the clothes in the dryer. 

“It wasn't really a date honestly.” You complain. “That guy had no manners! Chewing with his mouth open and not even using the napkins properly! And he barely asked me anything, kept on boasting about himself - it was boring.”

Suguru feels half guilty for the way his chest relaxes, but his breath is taken away as soon as he sees you - you are always beautiful, but you look especially pretty with your brown leather skirt and black jumper. Your jewellery compliments your complexion, and your hair looks perfect. And he has to agree with Satoru- you look hot.

“Where's Suguru?” You ask, looking around.

“Right here,” He says, coming to stand beside you.

He loves the way your eyes sparkle - the lids decorated to match the outfit and a delighted glimmer in your eyes.

“So, I was at the mall and this reminded me of you,” you say, picking up the paper bag on the floor beside you. “The only good thing that came from today, to be honest.”

“You were thinking of me while out with another guy?” He teases.

You get flustered, but respond “Do you want this present or not?” You try to sound stern, but you hand him the bag regardless.

The bag feels heavier than he had expected, and glances in to see the professional camera he had been eyeing for a long time but didn't buy in favour of getting Mimiko and Nanako some limited edition dolls. His pretty eyes widened with delight. “How did you know?” He asks, unable to hold back his excited smirk.

“I am not blind, you know.” You retort, happy that he loved the gift.

“What is it?” Shoko asks. Satoru snaps the bag towards himself, taking out the box of camera and different lenses. “That is one expensive investment,” she remarks.

You chose to ignore her comment, distracting everyone with the little cake you had bought. “And I've got cake!”

“Is today someone's birthday?” Mimiko asks.

“No, baby.” You say, “It's okay to have cake without any reason,”

The little girls are delighted to see the half sky and half forest cake. Neither Suguru, you or his girls have any idea as to when the exact birthday is, so you have them cut the cake together, pretending it to be their birthday. When Suguru takes the cake to the kitchen to cut it up, you follow him, leaving the twins with Shoko and Satoru.

“Suguru, you should get dressed up fancy too,” You say. “Let’s take some good pictures with our girls. I’ll cut the cake up.”

“Okay,” He agrees.

Suguru decides to match you, consciously picking pieces that compliment your outfit well. He is inappropriately fancy dressed up for this photo session. He is thrilled to use the camera you’ve gifted him, and there is no better scene to be his first than his girls(you included) and his friends. He’s brushing his hair out, putting it up in a half updo before giving himself a once-over then leaving.

He’s surprised to see Mimiko and Nanako dressed up too, sitting on either side of Satoru as Shoko and you clicked pictures on the phones. His camera is sitting on the table, still in its box. He has a child-like excitement as he opens the box and checks the lenses with it - the excitement of setting up the camera is unmatched. Even though he enjoys spoiling his girls, he cannot deny that being spoiled is a nice feeling.

Once his camera is ready, he snaps a picture of the scene - you sit between your girls now as Satoru and Shoko click pictures. The flash from the camera distracts everyone, and his eyes find yours sparkling, looking at him with the sweetest smile on your face. He cannot help but wonder how your lips would taste. Suguru smiles at you instead as you wave him over, Mimiko and Nanako between the two of you. Satoru and Shoko give him a knowing once over, the deliberate matching not missing his best friend’s six eyes.

Your hand touches his - neither of you attempting to move as Satoru clicks a picture of the four of you in Suguru’s new camera. Satoru is grinning like an idiot seeing Suguru’s blushing face, motioning Shoko to click some pictures of their idiot friend in love with his daughters’ mother. It is stupid, Gojo thinks, the way that the two of you act like an old married couple but are too terrified to confess your feelings for one another.

“Mimiko, Nanako, come here for a moment, dears,” Gojo calls them. “Suguru, Y/N, please stand closer. You aren’t rivals.”

Suguru narrows his eyes at Satoru, but doesn’t comment on it, too happy when you’ve pressed yourself at his side, your arm wrapped around his waist. He swings his arm over your shoulder and leans his head towards yours. His face burns with the soft warmth of your body pressed against him - but he holds his smile steadily, looking at the camera. He looks at your beautiful face for a moment, the serene smile on your face and he forgets all about the jerk who had taken you out.

He just prays that he gets the courage to ask you for a dinner date - perhaps before someone else snatches you out of this perfect life of his.

.

Satoru is at Suguru’s flat, spending time with the sweet little girls. Both you and Suguru had some unavoidable business to attend to - you with some curses and him with his parents - and he finally got the chance to babysit them. Satoru is currently sitting on the floor of the twin’s bedroom, with pink bows in his white hair and getting his nails painted in a pale blue colour by Mimiko and Nanako.

It's not his favourite thing for amusement, but he lets it pass. He does get why Suguru lets his girls do these things to him - they look just so precious with the little forehead creased in concentration. His mind is cooking up a scheme - a scheme which can only be fulfilled with the little one's help. It’s only with him that they address you and Suguru as mama and papa- feeling too shy to address the two of you as such face-to-face.

“Dears, do you think your papa and mama love each other?” He asks the little angels painting his nails.

The girls share a secret look with a smirk that tells Gojo everything that he needs to know. “I’ve seen papa look at mama the way Nanako looks at crepes, Gojo-sama!” Mimiko snickers. “He always has a big smile when mama is home.”

“Mama is also the same, Gojo-sama!” Nanako says. “She looks at papa the way Mimiko looks at ice-cream!”

Gojo laughs at their childish description of the two, wondering how blind you guys must be to not see that the feelings are shared.

“Gojo-sama!” Nanako jumps, excited, as she remembers something else, her caramel bob shaking. “One evening, when mama fell asleep on the sofa, papa carried her to her room. We brought her blankets and he tucked her in, but she held his hands in her sleep.”

“Yes!” Mimiko jumps up too, brown eyes gleaming with giggles. “Papa had turned so pink when Mama did that. He could barely speak.”

“That sounds familiar,” Gojo giggles with them. “Do you want to help me set-”

“Yes!” the twins shriek before he even finishes the question.

Once the three of them are done with the set up, Gojo calls Geto to let him know that he has some urgent clan business to attend to, while Mimiko calls you to tell you that Nanako had a bad dream and she misses you terribly. Both of you rush to return while Gojo and his goddaughters leave for the evening. Gojo leaves a little post-it-note on the fridge, with a brief message.

Geto has been running for 10 minutes straight, red faced and out of breath as he reaches the door of the flat. The elevator dings open and you step out, looking just as out of breath. “Did Mimiko call you too?” you ask, panting.

“No, Gojo told me he has some clan business - ” He says, taking a moment to completely process your question. “Why did Mimiko call you?”

“Nanako had a nightmare, she was asking for me only, apparently.” You say, standing beside him now. The enticing smell of your perfume fills his senses and he is grateful that his girls have you to comfort them. He too finds comfort in your presence - albeit it’s for different reasons than his girls.

When no one opens the door for a couple of minutes, you put your ear to the door and try to hear something. The house is quiet, devoid of any movements.

“I think they’ve fallen asleep.” you comment.

Geto then opens then closes the door as quietly as he can, trying not to disturb the girl’s sleep. He bumps into you standing in the hallway after taking off his shoes - only to gasp as he sees the immaculate set up in the living room. A sheer white canopy covered in fairy lights and seemingly all of the pillows and some mattresses of the house thrown in the tent - and some of his and your favourite snacks. There’s a movie paused at the beginning and red roses and candles and mild incense decorating the room. Geto blushes when he realises that it’s a set up for a date, heart pounding against his ribs in part-annoyance and part-excitement as he sees your shy face. He’s half mad at Gojo, but he can see the traces of Mimiko and Nanako as well - with the way the pillows are laid out and the flowers are placed.

Geto’s phone rings, breaking the tense silence. It’s Gojo. “Suguru! Put me on speaker!” Gojo’s excited voice says from the other end. He can hear his girls giggling in the background. 

“Fine,” Geto sighs.

“Oh hey!” you turn around on hearing Gojo call your name, face hot and worrying your lip between your teeth. “Your little girls, they thought we should let you guys have an evening to yourself - relax and watch a movie. How did you like that set up?”

“You didn’t really have to-” You start to speak as Geto rolls his eyes, fully knowing it was Gojo’s plan. He knew Gojo well.

“Nonsense, you won’t let your daughters down by saying that,” Gojo says, and Mimiko and Nanako giggle louder. “Alright, bye! Enjoy yourselves. There’s wine in the fridge, Suguru.” He says before handing up.

“I’ll get the wine,” Suguru offers. You smile at him before sitting down in the fairy-light canopy, looking much like the woman of his dreams, like a princess waiting for her prince. His heart aches, for he can’t call you his, not outside of his mind. He smiles too, pretending that it’s date-night for you.

There’s a note on the fridge in Satoru’s messy scrawl which gets his attention first. Suguru, take one for the team and ask her !!! Your daughters and friends are rooting for you. She likes you, you blind idiot. A blush colours his face as he crumples the note and throws it in the bin.

His favourite wine is in the fridge, and Suguru is half surprised at Satoru’s thoughtfulness. He pours out two glasses and brings them to you, the bottle left back in the fridge. “Wine for you, ma’am,” he says, and you get the cutest blush on your face as you accept the glass, humming in delight at the taste. He follows your stead and lazily relaxes against the mountain of pillows under the canopy.

“What’s this movie?” You ask, fidgeting with the remote.

“I have no idea,” He says, praying that Satoru doesn’t embarrass him.

The movie begins with the main character, the girl getting ready to go work. It seemed like a cheesy hollywood christmas movie at the beginning, where the girl would be frustrated with her job and go to her small town and never return. That would have been better, in hindsight. Because as the movie progresses, and the love interest comes in - a single father, who had to send his daughter into foster care because he was wrongfully accused of embezzlement - the foster parent being the main character. The girl testifies for him in court while she lives with a new normal - caring for the love interest’s daughter as her own.

Suguru's face burns with how similar the movie is to you and him - he can barely even look at the screen. While the movie played, he subconsciously reached towards you, your warm cheek now resting against his shoulder. It’s hard for him to ignore it now that he realises that this movie was a deliberate selection, and the comment in the note about him being blind. 

Suguru steals a quick glance at you, finding you looking at the screen with a little smile, cuddling one of the bigger pillows. You seem totally unaffected by the movie. “It’s so cute,” you murmur. 

“Hm?” he prompts.

“The story,” you say, glancing up at him then back at the screen. 

“Would it be cute if it were real?” he asks, heart pounding against his ribcage.

“Even cuter,” you nod, cheek moving against his shoulder.

His heart threatens to crawl out of his throat at the admission. He eyes the two hands, one his and the other yours - so close but not touching, afraid to cross that invisible boundary which has built over time. He dares now, for once to cross that boundary, to test the waters and puts his pinky finger over yours, interlocking them. He can feel your smile get wider as his heart nearly makes a hole in his ribs.

You take it a step further and intertwine your hands with his.

“I love the way your hand fits in mine,” he says after a long tense silence, sounding breathier than usual.

“You have nice hands,” you shyly say.

It brings him confidence, the way you say it. Emboldened, he turns to face you and wraps his free arm over your waist, pulling you closer. His nose touches your forehead and he inhales the smell of your shampoo, never tired of smelling it in the pillowcases of your room. He lowers himself to your eye level, stroking your cheekbone. “Would let me kiss you?” he whispers to your lips.

“Always,” you whisper, parting your lips to welcome him.

The kiss is everything he could have imagined and more. It’s pure bliss, the way your mouth slots against his and the way to taste better than he could have possibly imagined. Of course, you have always been pretty, but he found you the most beautiful in this moment, in his arms, with your soft tongue fighting against his. His brain has short circuited and he fears that he might get addicted to your taste. He chases your mouth when you pull away to catch your breath, letting go of the intertwined hands that had sweat in the heat of the moment.

Suguru misses your lips instantly, scanning your face for any signs of regret or discomfort. You place one of your hands on his neck, reach the back of it and caress the delicate spot where his hair ends, and a gasp leaves his mouth at the sensation. You put your other hand on his collar and pull him close, his face dragging against the soft pillows and you kiss him. This kiss is much more desperate than the first one, with your teeth occasionally crashing and tongues exploring, the movie long forgotten still playing on the screen.

When you’re both out of breath, you pull back, still breathing the same air and noses touching.

“It was the best fucking kiss of my life,” Suguru confesses, sounding out of breath.

“Mine too,” you say.

He doesn’t want you to think that it was a spur of the moment thing, so he puts on his serious face and says, “Would you like to go out for dinner with me? As more than co-parents?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” you reply with a giggle.

“Dress fancy,” He says. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” you ask.

“Why wait ?” he shrugs.

“I don’t have - ”

“You do,” he says, shy. “I had got something for you a while back, but never mustered up the courage to give it to you.”

You sit up, looking down at him with an excited gleam in your eyes. “You’ve gotten me an outfit for our first gate, it seems like you were prepared.”

“I swear to you that I wasn’t.” He says. “Just try it once.”

The dress Suguru brought compliments your figure and complexion well, and you’re surprised to see that it fits perfectly. You uber to a fancy place, and with the man on your side, this is the most perfect first date ever. The maroon dress hugs your figure in the right places, and you feel giddy knowing that Suguru had bought this lovely dress with you in mind. 

He looks even prettier today, sitting in front of you as your date, dressed in an equally fancy maroon suit. You take plenty of pictures with him, distracted by his long silky hair in a half-up, half-down look. You can barely process the food, distracted by the beautiful man in front of you taking in the way he talks. The way he says your name, almost purring, has you wanting to throw your feet and giggle like a little girl.

Suguru isn’t better off himself. Of course, he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, but right now dressed in the dress he bought for you, sitting in front of him with flushed cheeks, the delicate smile never leaving your face as you speak has his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. He finally has you with him the way he had been wanting for years, finding you pretty even when you were both mere acquaintances. 

He cannot wait to call you his, but he supposes he’ll save that question for the next date - for you to give this relationship a name. In his head, he is already yours - heart, mind and soul - the only question bugging him is whether you want to be his. That’s a worry for later, he thinks, as he plants a delicate kiss on your lips as the long evening comes to an end.

[theminecraftbee]

"What do you think happens after we die?"

Cleo glances up from where she'd been sorting through all their weaponry for the day to come. She looks at Etho, who looks just as confused as her, and then she looks to Grian.

"Uh, you're sort of asking the wrong people," Etho says slowly.

"I didn't know you were a philosopher, Grian," agrees Cleo.

"No, I mean--listen, this is important," Grian says. "What do you think happens after we die?"

Cleo stares at Grian. He has an extremely intent expression on his face. Twisted. Almost concerned. They... don't like it, actually. The question about being a philosopher had been sarcastic, sure, but true. Grian doesn't normally dwell on questions like this.

"Alright, then," they say. "If you have to know, I don't think there's anything."

"Wait, really?" says Etho.

"I mean, yeah. There's probably--or, well, whatever there is, it's not worth worrying about. Why do you think I'm undead and not just dead? Or, well, normally undead, I guess? I'm not undead right now, whatever happened that made me all alive and stuff happened, but like... The point is that I still have things to do. Then, when I'm done doing my things, I think there's nothing, at least not until the next one of these stupid games they raise me from the dead for."

Etho blinks. "Huh. You know, I always thought that if anyone could give us an answer, it'd be you, so--nothing?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Grian coughs. Cleo looks at him again. He's pale. Very, very pale. Like he's seen a ghost, or is very sick. She frowns, but before she can ask, he's saying: "You really think there's nothing?"

"I didn't think you'd both be so upset by it," Cleo says.

"I'm not really upset," Etho says slowly. "I don't know. I sort of hoped there was something, but it's not worth relying on, right? There's not a second chance out there for us. Not except for the next game. I think I just hoped that maybe, some people got something... nicer?"

"Don't you think we'd remember if there was?" Cleo says.

"I mean--you're the undead one. I thought that if anyone would know--"

"You really think there's nothing," Grian says, and he sounds so horrified that Cleo and Etho stop arguing immediately.

"Grian?" Cleo says.

"You think there's nothing. Gods, you think there's nothing," Grian says. "And Timmy said--Timmy said the thing they get is to Watch."

Cleo frowns. "Jimmy? When'd he say that to you?"

"An hour ago," Grian says.

"What?" Cleo says.

"I was--no wonder you wouldn't have guessed. No wonder he was also so--you think there's nothing. Why do you think there's nothing?" Grian says, horrified and pale-faced and trembling.

"Uh, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but Jimmy's been dead for days. He couldn't have been talking to you."

"He's spectating!" Grian says, throwing his hands up.

"He's a ghost?" Etho asks.

"I mean, yeah, but that's not even what I mean. I mean--what do you think comes between the games?"

"I told you, right?" Cleo says, and Etho shrugs.

Grian sits down on the ground, hard. "Oh," he says.

"If it helps I also didn't know there were ghosts until you just told me," Cleo says hesitantly. "That's--kind of strange, isn't it? That there are ghosts? Guess it checks out, given all of our unfinished business, but you'd think I'd have known that. Would remember something proper of it, right?"

"Yeah, I really thought you would have," Grian whispers.

"Was, uh--being contacted from beyond the grave fun?" Etho asks.

"Etho," Cleo says.

"What!" Etho says.

"I have made a grave mistake," Grian says.

"...Grian?" Cleo asks, but he doesn't elaborate, and refuses to. He sits there, pale on the ground, until Etho and Cleo sit next to him and start arguing over his head about who they'd haunt as ghosts. To tell the truth, Cleo's heart isn't really in it. They probably wouldn't do much haunting, is the thing. If they were a ghost, they'd probably just try to reunite with these two again. Yeah, reuniting with family--that seems like the kind of thing Cleo would do as a ghost.

They wonder if Jimmy was trying to do that too, and that's why Grian's so upset.

They also wonder if it's something else, but for the life of them, they cannot begin to guess what.

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[sanemisstalker]

Some Douma nsfw about his boobs- because I dumped my boyfriend and then shaved off my brows and idk how to feel about it yet.

Update: not feeling too hot, but you know who is? Douma.

CW/ fem reader with afab genitalia/ Douma is a gaslighter, and a whiny bitch / dub-con (recieving and commiting) / Sadomasochism / Gore (you get Douma so excited he accidentally breaks his own haw.)

- Douma isn't a very... giving lover. It's always take take take with him, but he always disguises it as giving, so it's very hard to notice-

-the problem only occurred to you when you realized just how unwilling he was to let you touch him. It was the fifth time in a row that you'd reached over just to give him a little shoulder rub, and after multiple careful shrugs and evasion, Douma simply turned and smiled.

-'You're not allowed to do that.' His face was all smiles, per usual, but the words were icy.

-'why not?'

-'I don't want you to.'

-'You do things I don't want all the time.' Douma squinted, smile still intact. 'What's wrong with me wanting to make you feel good?'

-'Am I not good enough at making you feel good? Why are you trying to self satisfy?' He'd taunt.

-'You know that's not what I mean.' You'd snap. 'I want to please you... You're always giving me head and fingering me and- you just won't let me do anything back. I don't feel like I'm giving you enough... sexually.'

-'You give me plenty sexually.' Douma assured. It wasn't a lie, but Douma understood perfectly that you didn't quite grasp just what he was getting out of those situations.

-You were an awfully pretty crier, but Douma wasn't going to let you know that. He didn't need you to know that, because you were very stubborn, and probably wouldn't take that as you should-

-Point being, Douma lived and breathed to humiliate you. Even if you were cumming time and time again, Douma was getting off on the disgusted, envious looks of his subjects as they'd been more or less forced to watch you cream on his fingers.

- He only liked to eat you out when he knew he could bite at your clit, and grip the muscles around your upper thigh so hard that you'd be all but paralyzed for the days to come- letting him have his way with you time and time again-

-blatantly speaking, Douma's an exhibitionist, and a voyeur. After all is said and done, and the night has crawled upon you, he's likely jerking off in bed thinking about the events of the day-

-because Douma's sensitive, but you don't need to know all that. You don't need to see how every orgasm shatters him. Or how he just has to put a couple of fingers in his mouth, tugging down on his jaw so he cam fight back the screams that would out him as a complete masochist-

-'Where's this sudden interest in me coming from, hm?' Douma would pry, trying to lead off the conversation, but his hm began to drag on as your hand latched around the rim of his shirt.

-Douma reached down to grab your wrist, but you lunged, shocking him slightly. You burrowed under his shirt. Douma could only look down at you, perplexed and somewhat annoyed- You were stretching his shirt-

-Douma's eyes snapped open as he felt your thumb land on his left nipple.

-'Y/N?' He'd laugh, but without any of the things that made a laugh warm and... goodwilled. 'You're on very thin ic-'

-His words dropped in his throat as you barely began to graze his nipple with the pad of your thumb- barely. The light stimulation, much to Douma's chagrin, rushed right down to his cock-

-You hummed as you felt it twitch through his pants, and up against your stomach.

-Douma would pull up his collar, peering down at you. You'd look up at him with pleading eyes, and all too gentle thumbs. Douma would drop his collar, and let his head lul back, annoyed at your little scene you seemed so desperate to make.

-Douma's heart dropped as he felt something slightly wet graze his nipple, before latching on and delivering the smallest, most hard-on-inducing lick, and then moving back.

-Douma slid a hand over his mouth as covertly as he could. His claws all but pierced his jaw in an attempt the keep it shut. His lashes fluttered as the cold hit his wet nipple, driving it to a hard bud beneath your leering eyes.

-With his reprimands dying down, and his cock rising up, you toyed with Douma's chest rather cruelly. You'd swirl your fingers in a circle around the areola, and then wait before harshly attacking the nipple. You'd feel Douma's body tense up in anticipation each time, awaiting the assault.

-Douma was going to collapse. You'd drive his nerves insane, and then leave them be- His dick ached beneath you, presumably swelling so bad it'd formed a wet patch in his pants that would be humiliating to have cleaned-

-and then he felt a harsh nip. Pain and then relief shot through his body, and Douma's fingers broke through his jaw. Puncturing through the skin and snapping through the bone and the tooth, Douma choked down a moan. The crack was deafening, and your head shot up, but a moment of weakness forced Douma to open his mouth.

-'Don't- Back. Go back.' He'd slur past his own fingers. His other hand would gracefully find your head, nudging you back down, and you'd oblige with glee, wrapping your lips around the bud and delivering the most mind numbing sensation Douma had ever experienced.

-'You're shaking.' You'd say in between breathes. 'Do you feel good?' Douma wanted to take off your head then and there, what a needlessly humiliating question-

-You pinched his nipple between your two fingers, tugging. Douma flinched. His body begged him to play along- to your whims. Anything for more of your abuse.

-'It-It feels fine.' He'd struggle to stabilize his voice... and to keep his orgasm at bay. Your skill was mind numbing- He could feel his climax ebbing-

-When you pulled away entirely.

-Douma looked at you like you'd shot his dog, if he could even care for a dog. You hadn't seen his fingers in his jaw, but you saw the after math, blood running thick down his neck and lips-

-'Guess I'll stop. I'm sorry I wasn't any good.' You went to go sit back down, Douma's eyes wide. It was an unusual expression, almost creepy in a way.

-'Are you serious?' Douma laughed, though this one had more life... more desperation.

-'Yes?'

-it was a beautiful look to finally see Douma pained- longing- in desperate need of relief he just wasn't going to get-

-His eyes darted around in question, back slumping as his dick sat up with the most ease He'd ever experienced...

-You smiled kindly as Douma raised up with shirt. It caught at his collar bone, scrunched up just beneath his neck. He bore his chest to you, nipples pink, puffy, and very irritated.

-Christ, you were gonna cum. You were going to fucking cum- he looked pathetic. The power surge that ripped through your body at the sight of him all but verbally begging was intoxicating.

-Christ.

-'It felt good, continue?' He was trying his damndest to keep even a semblance of control, but that look in your eye told him He'd have you work much harder-

-'It felt really good.' Douma slowly spread his legs, displaying just how hard He'd really gotten- His cock was straining through his pants. 'Keep going- I need to cum.'

-The word you wanted was 'please' but the sight of him struggling not to touch his own chest, fingers fluttering around the rim of his shirt, drove you back to his boobs with no hesitation-

-Douma let out a guttural noise- not a moan or a groan, but more of a wail-

-When Douma finally came- perhaps only a moment after you went back, it was because you'd nearly bitten his nipple clean off. The pain shot right to his dick, and Douma came- in his pants- head back against his array of pillows- jaw tight around his shirt that had slipped between his fanged bite.

-He even felt something a kin to a tear threaten his eye. How impossible.

-You weren't allowed near him for a week. Remember your place, slut 😤😒

[works-of-fanfiction]

Kiss and Make Up || Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: With the couple on a break, it’s hard for Daniel to see Y/N, especially when she’s looking so good in his favourite dress.

Song: Kiss and Make Up - Dua Lipa & BLACKPINK

Warnings: 18+ oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. A little bit of swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: I think (???) I’m getting a little better at writing smut. one day I swear I will write one without giggling after every sentence. enjoy!

Daniel's blood boils as he watches her, watches his girl at the centre of attention of his fellow drivers. He wants to be angry at her for entertaining them in the first place, but he's angrier at his so-called friends for gawking at her and passing off their obvious flirting as 'just being nice'. It's annoying because she knows she looks good - incredible, in fact - an emerald green satin dress hanging perfectly on her body, displaying just enough leg to be considered dangerous. It bothered him even more that he chose that particular dress, and now she was parading around in it for everyone to see; for everyone to stare and drool over her. He didn't like it one bit, but he didn't have a choice. 

It was his fault that they were on a break. He'd lashed out, said horrible things. Tension had been brewing between them for a couple of weeks and she could sense he was about to burst. She hadn't done anything wrong; he could see that now. He'd had more than enough time to sit with his thoughts and come to regret everything he'd said, but she hadn't been interested in hearing his apology. At first, in his anger, he'd blamed her friends. He was convinced their influence had led her to her decision, that they'd been whispering in her ear and plotting against him for some time. However, deep down he knew it was nobody's fault but his own. 

The 'will he, won't he' situation at Alpha Tauri had gotten the best of him. His overwhelming desire to race took up all of his attention, leaving Y/N completely on the sidelines. She'd understood, of course she had. Racing was Daniel's dream and she knew how important it was for him to find a seat and get back out on the track, but when things seemed to get difficult and look uncertain, Daniel directed his frustrations towards her. 

"You're a fucking coward, d'you know that? Who are you to stand here and speak to me like that?" 

"Oh, drop the bigger person act, Y/N. It wasn't too long ago that you were going through a rough time and - " 

"Don't you fucking dare. You know that doesn't compare to the way you've been behaving. It is completely different." 

"You know how important this is to me. Sorry, but I think I'm allowed to be a little stressed." He held his hands up in mock surrender which only irritated her further.

"A little stressed, yes. A total asshole? No." 

"Where are you going?" He asked, watching her scoop up her phone and keys from the counter and stuff them into her pocket.

"Anywhere you are not. I can't be around you when you're like this, Daniel." Her voice cracked as she turned away, but she didn't allow him to see her cry. He may not have approved of her being the bigger person, but it's what she had to do. A text a couple of hours later confirmed her need for space, and after spending thirty straight minutes trying to type a response, Daniel realised he had to respect her wishes.

“Here.” Max interrupts, sliding a drink into Daniel’s hand.

“What’s this?”

“I couldn’t stand and watch you stare at her any longer. At least with a drink in your hand you actually look like you’re at this party and not just a creepy stalker.” He chuckles into his glass, the joke going over Daniel’s head, not even bringing the slightest smirk to his lips.

Max gulps, wincing a little at the strength of his drink. “Just go talk to her.” He says, eyes flicking between his friend and Y/N.

“I can’t. She wants space and I have to respect that.”

“Yeah, but anyone can see you’re not okay with that…”

Daniel knew Max had a point. As much as he wanted to give Y/N the space she needed and do everything he could to fix their relationship, he hated being away from her. He hated sitting across the room whilst she pretended he wasn’t there. She hadn’t looked at him once throughout the entire evening and it was starting to aggravate him. He needed to talk to her, even if it was just to find out how she was doing. He didn’t even know if that was a question he had the right to ask, but he wanted to anyway.

Plus, the way she was strutting around in those heels and playfully fixing her hair every few minutes was driving him insane. His eyes couldn’t resist following the trail from her feet, up her legs and to her hips. If she so much as leaned over the bar or stretched to grab something, he’d see beneath the thin green satin and hopefully find out she was wearing tiny, or perhaps no underwear.

He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, setting his glass down on the table before his knuckles turn white from gripping it so tightly. As Y/N takes Carlos’ hand and twirls beneath his arm, Daniel jumps up from the stool, holding onto the table to steady his feet. “Hey, come on. You know they’re good friends.” Max warns, holding an arm out to try and stop him.

“Make your mind up, Max. You told me to go and talk to her.” He doesn’t even look at Max as he speaks, as his gaze remains fixed on Y/N whilst she dances with the Ferrari driver. There’s nothing suggestive between their dance, and it’s not the first time Daniel has seen them together like this, but he’s suddenly not as comfortable with it as he usually is.

“I think you should calm down a bit first.” Max tries to be stern with the older driver, but he knows his words are going through one ear and straight out the other side. Daniel glances at the Dutchman and gives only a second of thought to his words, then chooses to ignore them entirely.

Stepping past Max’s arm, he makes his way into the crowd and closer to Y/N. Mid-conversation, Charles and Pierre’s heads turn to the Australian as he weaves around clumsy partygoers, almost parting the room in two to get through. The two of them shuffle closer to the bar to get a better view as he reaches Carlos and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Can I cut in?” He asks, once again not bothering to look at who he’s speaking to. Instead he looks down at Y/N, who glares up at him with cold, unblinking eyes.

“Sure.” Carlos mutters, stepping aside, failing to notice Y/N tightening her grip on his hand to try and stop him. Daniel takes his place, his hands awkwardly hovering near her waist.

“Are you going to wrap your arms around me, or just stand there?” She asks abruptly, her tone coming out a lot more aggressively than she’d intended.

Daniel’s hands find her waist and pull her closer, making sure no one else can hear their conversation. Her hands are pressed against his chest awkwardly, all attention concentrating on her feet so she doesn’t fall.

“What do you want, Daniel?” She sighs, exasperation and downright exhaustion evident in her voice. This makes Daniel’s stomach turn and part of him wants to fall to the ground and beg for her forgiveness. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d be the one to make her feel like this. She was disappointed in him, and he was kicking himself for ever uttering a bad word to her.

“I need to apologise - “

“No, you just needed to get me on my own away from the guys.”

Her icy tone catches him off guard, but he feels he deserves it. As much as he’s desperate to finally apologise, he can’t deny that seeing her spending her night with everyone but him was making him jealous. He’d watched her friendships with the drivers blossom over time, especially Carlos and Lance, yet seeing their arms around her and smiles aimed in her direction tonight drove him crazy.

“Am I wrong?” She mocks, reluctantly wrapping her arms around his neck for the sake of her own comfort.

Daniel chooses not to answer, which is an answer in itself. She sniggers, looking off to the side to see the group all engaged in conversation with one another. She knows they’re all putting on an act and pretending not to eavesdrop. Those drivers love a gossip just as much as the next person.

“I don’t like seeing you with them.” Daniel finally admits, his voice low. He doesn’t intend for the entire grid to know his business.

“It’s never bothered you before.”

“Well this time is different.”

“How?”

“Because you’re not speaking to me.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Silence falls between the couple, Y/N’s hold around Daniel’s neck loosening. He reaches up and grabs her hands, readjusting them and holding her wrists tightly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She asks, glaring up at him, a devious smile poking at her lips.

“Don’t try to walk away from me.” He lets go of her arms, letting them float down to her sides as he leans in close, lips pressed against her ear. “Especially not when you’re dressed like that.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at his words. A poor and sorry attempt at winning her back, yet completely expected from Daniel. “You think sex is going to fix this?”

“Who said anything about sex?” He plays dumb but she sees straight through him. That had always been a thing in their relationship; they were both terrible liars, or rather couldn’t lie to each other as the other could always spot it.

Stepping back, she calls over to Kika who’s stood between Pierre and Charles, tracing circles around the rim of her glass. “Bathroom.” She smiles and Kika nods, slipping away from the table.

Daniel sees this and steps forward, blocking Kika’s path. “Actually, she doesn’t need you to go with her.”

“Daniel - “ Y/N snaps, cut off by his arm linking with hers and pulling her in the direction of the bathrooms.

“Come on.” He barges through the doors, squeezing the two of them into the first stall and turning the lock.

“I can’t believe you just spoke to Kika like that.” She whispers angrily, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

“She’ll get over it.”

“Pierre won’t.”

Y/N folds her arms over her chest, leaning against the flimsy cubicle as Daniel’s eyes wander around the small space. She sighs, heels scraping against the ground as she stands back up straight. “Well you got me here. What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“Actually, I don’t. Did you bring me in here to apologise… or was there something else?” There’s a shift in her tone and a look in her eye that Daniel instantly recognises. He knows she’s still angry at him, but sees there’s a part of her that wants him just as much as he wants her.

Sparing her a proper response, he slips a knee between her legs and pushes her against the wall. It shakes a little, encouraging a small smile to appear on her face. “You disappoint me, Ricciardo.” She purrs, running a perfectly manicured finger across his jaw.

“Something tells me you’re not so disappointed.” He grinds his knee upwards, pressing it against her clothed pussy. She groans, body slumping forward in pleasure. He catches her with his chest, pushing her back up, keeping her upright against the wall. “Does that sound like the moans of a disappointed woman?”

“Shut up.” She hisses, delicate fingers wrapping around his throat to pull him in for a kiss. Daniel moans, the sound strangled as her nails dig into his neck. The kiss is entirely in her control as she holds him in place, squeezing his throat just enough to make his breath hitch. She draws back, sucking his tongue between her lips and letting it go with a quiet popping sound.

“If we do this, it doesn’t magically fix anything.” She breathes, releasing her grip on him to rest her hand on his chest.

Daniel is smart enough to know better, and knows that hasty sex in a bathroom stall isn’t going to mend all of their problems, but he’s too turned on and fuelled by liquid courage to care. Running his hand over the top of hers, he links their fingers and flips her around to face the wall, pressing her palm flat against the cold wood. She yelps in surprise as he uses his free hand to hike her dress up. He’s delighted to see the black lace that’s barely covering her, and he hooks his forefinger through the waistband to pull her ass towards him. “Planned on getting lucky tonight, huh?” He taunts, his fingers tracing the patterns in the lace.

“I was hoping one of the guys would take me home.” She quips sarcastically, bending over more and grinding her ass against his hand. Daniel groans, letting go of her hand so he can use both freely. He grabs her ass and spreads her legs, his mouth falling open at the sight of her pussy peeking through her underwear.

Wasting no time, he drops to his knees and pushes the thin string to the side, giving him full access to the part of her he needs the most. Feeling his hot breath against her exposed cunt, she gasps, parting her legs even further. “That’s it.” Daniel hums, taking his middle finger and running it slowly through her folds. Y/N’s legs quiver as he touches her, barely inserting a finger as he concentrates on circling her pussy and feeling just how soaked she is. His finger eventually finds its way to her clit, flicking gently against the swollen bud, making her whole body twitch with arousal.

She moans his name, the word elongated on her tongue. He stops for a second, lying his hand flat against her core. “Shh… You don’t want people hearing us now, do you?” He whispers.

Squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip to suppress any further sounds, Y/N nudges Daniel with her leg, urging him to continue. Instead, he grabs her thighs and pulls her closer to him, her feet sliding along the slippery tiled floor. “Let me taste you, baby.” The sound of his voice disappears between her legs, her thighs almost cupping his cheeks as he finds her clit with his tongue. The tip of his tongue swipes across her clit, slowly then repetitively in a rhythm. His hands hold onto her thighs tightly, his fingers leaving indentations in the supple skin.

Y/N sinks her teeth into the back of her hand, trying her best to stay quiet. Saliva and bite marks cover the spot just above her wrist whilst Daniel buries his head further and laps up her pussy like a starving animal. His nose pokes between her folds, and the newfound friction elicits a heavy exhale from deep within her chest.

Desperate to keep that nose she loves so much as close to her as possible, she reaches behind to grab Daniel’s head and guide him to the perfect spot. Fingers tangling in his hair and clutching at the roots, she rides his face, relishing in the feeling of his tongue flat against her clit, and the tip of his nose pressing into her. Daniel holds his breath as she ruts her hips against his face, gripping her thighs until it hurts. She winces, tensing the muscles as she rests her forehead against the wall, teeth still gnawing on her hand. He grunts, the sound sending a vibration to her clit and throughout her entire body, making her knees buckle beneath her. He catches her, supporting her body with his hands alone as he delves his face deeper to suck her clit into his mouth.

Losing all sense of caring, Y/N lets her hand fall free from her lips, releasing a stifled moan that echoes around the bathroom stall. Her thighs squeeze together involuntarily as she comes, and Daniel has to prize them open to set himself free. He stands, hands fumbling with his jeans as he sloppily lays kisses on the back of her shoulder, his chin still slick with moisture, so much so that Y/N can smell her own scent filling the air.

“What did I tell you about staying quiet?” Daniel whispers, his lips barely touching the back of her ear.

“I’m sort of sick of you telling me what to do.” She retorts, attempting to hide the shakiness in her voice. Daniel rolls his eyes, trying to ignore her words as he pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs, leaving them bunched around his ankles. He knows she’s not just talking about the present, but he’s too desperate to feel her wrapped around his cock to let it bother him. He hasn’t been able to touch her for weeks, and seeing her spread wide for him like this is enough to almost push him to the edge already.

Hands gripping her dress around her waist, he pulls her towards him, sliding his cock inside her effortlessly. Mutual gasps of pleasure and hissed curse words slip off of their tongues as he bottoms out inside of her, his clammy hands losing grip of the satin. Reaching round to grab her arms, he crosses her wrists and holds them behind her back, forcing her cheek against the wall to support her upper body. There’s an aggression to his actions, one hand holding her wrists and another snaking its way into her hair. Tugging her head back, he leans forward, his face beside hers. She looks at him through her peripheral vision, a smug smile on her face as she notices his slack jaw and half-lidded eyes. Daniel was never truly in control when it came to Y/N. The effect she had on him was dangerous and made him want to do things unimaginable. All she had to do was look at him a certain way and he’d literally and figuratively drop to his knees for her.

Daniel’s slow thrusts tell her that he doesn’t plan on lasting very long. Despite his tight hold on her and rough fingers in her hair, his hips roll in leisurely circles, the tip of his cock stroking her g-spot in a deliciously torturous rhythm. The restroom door creaks, a collection of footsteps clattering along the floor outside. With shadows passing the stall and voices filling the space, Daniel drops his hand from Y/N’s hair, instead using it to cover her mouth and keep her quiet. She tilts her head, sucking his forefinger into her mouth, her tongue wet and warm and making Daniel’s cock twinge inside of her. He moans, trying to swallow the sound so nobody will hear.

Daniel’s wet finger trails out of her mouth and down her neck, drawing a line of her own saliva along her throat. Wrapping his arm across her upper body, he holds her close as he fucks her, the heat between them making his shirt stick to his chest. Beads of sweat run down the back of Y/N’s neck and under her dress. Even beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, her skin glistens and looks good enough for Daniel to taste, to lick clean.

Voices gather at the sinks, water running and paper towels unravelling from the holders. Daniel silently prays for them to hurry up and leave, the feeling of Y/N’s pussy clenching around his dick becoming too much to bear. The muffled sounds of the music outside briefly fill the room, before disappearing behind the door. He releases his breath with a long groan, his body slumping against hers. “Finally.” He hisses, stepping back and pulling her ass with him, bending her into a perfect L-shape.

Relieved to be alone again, their pants and moans circle around the stall as Daniel drives his hips back and forth, quickening the pace. His firm grip on her ass cheeks leaves little white outlines around his fingers as he coaxes himself to climax. Hearing the sweet sounds coming from her mouth sends him over the edge, his thighs stiffening as he comes inside her, his body jolting forward in ecstasy. She straightens, resting her body against the wall with Daniel pressed against her back, his sweaty forehead slumped onto her shoulder. He pulls out with a huff, his cock leaking with cum and legs feeling sore.

Y/N readjusts and pulls her dress down, smirking to herself as she feels cum drip out of her and pool inside her underwear. She runs her hands through her hair, hoping she looks presentable as she turns to face Daniel. He zips his jeans and smiles at her, but doesn’t earn a smile back. “I told you, this doesn’t change anything.” She states flatly, reaching for the lock. He stops her, taking her hand in his.

“Come home with me.” He pleads, running his thumb softly over her knuckles, a stark contrast to the way he’d touched her just a few minutes prior.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Daniel’s expression remains serious. He opens his mouth to repeat himself, but she cuts him off with a defeated sigh. “Fine. But we leave now. I don’t need to be dealing with questions.”

“Deal.” He smiles, earning an eye roll from her as she unlocks the door and heads out, her heels clicking against the tile. He follows close behind, the satisfied grin never leaving his face.

[bunnyreaper]

kinktober 2 - roleplay, titfucking

dom!simon x dom!johnny x sub!reader

(18+/mdni, bimboificiation/objectification, degrading comments)

you'd felt utterly humiliated when the boys had told you what fantasy they wanted to act out next, but the thought had made you shiver and drip all the same. it was so humiliating, so far from who you really were and who the boys knew you to be, but that's probably what made you so into it.

a capable soldier--reduced, debased, objectified.

they'd told you to keep up the act with them for an entire day, promising you'd be fucked brainless and really put in your place in the evening. so you had, you pranced around base in a tight sports bra and even tighter leggings--showing off your body to anyone who might look. you'd even done makeup for the day, with nice thick lashes and painted lips. put on the fakest smile and practiced an airy little laugh.

today you were johnny and simon's bimbo. nothing more.

the ditzy act didn't come too easy, until the boys were there to enforce it, and enforce it they did.

as soon as they set eyes on you, the taunting and teasing begins.

"did yer forget to get dressed today, doll?" johnny is all smirks. simon only addresses your chest.

"tits look so fucking good, love. giving everyone on base a look?"

you kept 'forgetting' directions throughout the day, needing the boys to escort you around the base as you clung to their beefy arms and listened to them condescend about where the gym was, again. listened to them explain how the equipment worked and how they were so certain that weight was just too much for you.

during shooting practice later in the day, when it was just the three of you, you'd suddenly 'forgotten' how to shoot and needed a reminder, needed the tutelage of your men. they weren't satisfied until one of them was pressed up against you, teaching you how to aim all over again, showing you just how wrong you were.

"steamin' jesus, they let little girls like you use guns. danger to the whole base, lt, don't ya think?"

"you're right johnny, don't even think we should bother finishing. this one should be on desk duty."

they 'force' you into dealing with your paperwork in simon's office, but you all know no real paperwork will be getting done. simon makes you sit in his lap, as he mansplains every term on the form in the most sickening tone, and he chuckles as you sit in his lap and squirm under his words--then he mocks you for enjoying it.

"fuck, is that even english, love? have you lost the ability to write? do it again."

"such a dumb little thing, how did she even make sergeant? same rank as me? that's some bullshit, ghost."

"maybe a demotion is in order for this little airhead, huh?"

simon pulls you from the paperwork and pushes you in between his legs, and you think he's going to put your mouth to use and watch your lips wrap around his fat cock. instead he forces you forward so he can stick his cock between your tits, spits onto them to lube them up as he slides between them, making a sloppy mess of you as his precum smears over them too. slick sounds fill the room as simon fucks your tits with fervor.

"hold them together for me, yeah? gotta use these bimbo tits for what they were made for."

you feel like a fucking bimbo right now, a mere object to be used in a way that gives you no physical stimulation--you just have to look pretty and hold your tits together like a good little ditz, and watch as simon's cock peeks out through your flesh.

johnny makes his way over to join you both, and the sound of his zipper makes you drool. he braces himself over simon, leaning in to stuff himself between your lips, once more cementing your status as they use you entirely for their own pleasure.

"open yer mouth, better sucking my cock than saying anything stupid, bonnie."

[the-modern-typewriter]

As a long time lover of vampires, I have recently stumbled upon your wee blog and your vampire writings have me feral and unhinged. You truly capture the alluring and terrifying predator that the vampire should be. They are just so *chef's kiss* amazing! Superb!! Thank you for the undead food!!!

"Do you ever get an answer?"

The protagonist startled, head snapping up. The boy was standing only a metre away, in the aisle, smoky and soft in the candlelight. His eyes seemed to burn, pinprick red and gorgeous, with the fire's reflection. He was...well. He was beautiful.

The protagonist quickly looked away. It was wrong to think such things.

"To your prayers," the boy added, with a smile. "Do you ever get an answer? You're here a lot. I've seen you."

The protagonist swallowed. It would be wrong to lie, and a confession of something to say no. Never. It wasn't something they could say to their parents. What if the silence simply meant that they'd done something wrong? Their parents always seemed so sure.

"I've never heard anything back either," he said, in a confiding tone of voice. "I'm always curious if it's just me."

"He has his reasons, I'm sure. I mean, that's what everyone says."

"Well, if everyone says it."

When they looked up again, the boy was closer than before, in the row in front of them, hands resting lightly on the pew separating them. He had nice hands. Elegant. They were nothing like the protagonist's; calloused, nail-bitten, rough. They would probably be very soft to hold.

They realised they were still on their knees and quickly hastened to stand, cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean to interrupt you," they said. "It's not - people aren't normally here at night."

"No," the boy agreed.

"But you are?"

"Insomnia. I don't sleep much."

"The priests don't mind?"

His smile curled up like kindling catching; just as bright. "They think it's dangerous to be out at night in these parts, but it's yet to stop me."

"My parents don't like it either."

"But here you are."

The protagonist shrugged. "We don't live far from the church. And they - well - they like that I come here."

"And nothing bad can happen on hallowed ground, of course."

"Right."

His eyes really were astonishing. Further away from the light of the candles, the protagonist had expected them to grow shadowed like the rest of his face, but they still seemed so bright. Intent, in a way that nobody had ever looked at them, but which sent a delicious shiver down their spine.

The protagonist realised, with a sharp stab of embarrassment, that they'd leaned in.

"It's okay," the boy said. "I think you're real pretty too."

"It's a sin to lie in church." Their face burned, though. Never mind that they should have protested so many other things about the statement.

The boy laughed and that really was pretty. He leaned in a little in turn. Up close he smelled like...like...the protagonist wasn't exactly sure what it reminded them of. Roses wasn't quite right. Neither was the first snow of winter. Yet it was both of those things, and water on stone, and the church itself a little. Something fleeting. Something that had been there forever.

His finger ghosted beneath the protagonist's chin, a caress, a whisper.

"I - I should go," the protagonist said.

"You don't want to though. You want to kiss me."

Was it so embarrassingly obvious, that forbidden thing?

It was true, but the protagonist would never have said it, never have done it, never have even dreamed of something so bold as to kiss a total stranger in the middle of the night. It was so...the priests would surely not approve. It was difficult to think about the priests, about anything else, when he leaned in the rest of the way.

It wasn't a proper kiss. It was another whisper. A yearning.

Hunger.

It sprung inside the protagonist so hard and fast that they were almost winded by it. To kiss this boy. To be held in the hand of something ancient. To lose themselves in something beyond human.

The protagonist blinked. They shook their head, trying to clear it.

The boy kissed them. It was sweet and heady. For a second, his lips were so cold that the protagonist gasped.

In an instant, or maybe it was a long time, the boy had moved. He had taken the protagonist's hand. He had led them to the altar, glittering a dark gold in the night. Time was honey and melted wax. Time was that his lips were still against theirs, and it was all surely wrong, but their first proper kiss didn't feel wrong at all. It felt like the answer to a question they had been screaming for a while.

They were both on their knees, then, somehow. His fingers carded through the protagonist's hair, so gently, so tenderly. His lips trailed a song against the protagonist's throat, a comet path. Hot. Scattering molten stars through their body.

"Pray," he whispered against their ear. "Tell me if you get a fucking answer this time."

Then he sank his fangs into the protagonist's throat.

[octoberclidan]

Holding Tight

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Request: can you write a fic with dean where he just craves physical attention but not by verbally asking for it? like when dean wakes up from a nightmare he crawls into y/n’s bed and they both just know what to do, like they’ve done it a million times. or after a bad hunt, y/n just hugs dean while he processes his emotions in his own way.

Masterlist

Story:

The car ride back to the motel was quiet. Dean drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, Sam stared out the window watching the rain, and [Y/N] sat in the back, her head resting against the back seat, exhausted. No music played, no one spoke, no one wanted to discuss the hunt they had just finished up with. It had been one of [Y/N]'s least favourite monsters; a wendigo. The trio had arrived in a small town full of disappearances a week ago, and it had taken them five days to track down the wendigo's lair. Five days of continuous disappearances, knowing that each day that passed meant finding survivors less and less likely. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. One they found the creature, Sam had been knocked out almost immediately. Dean's gun jammed, and [Y/N]'s lighter wouldn't light when she'd had the chance to set the thing on fire.

When they eventually killed it and went looking for the missing people, only one was still alive, and only barely. They'd gotten the survivor to hospital, but the doctors were sceptical they'd ever recover. Between the week preceding and the week during the Winchesters and [Y/N] being in the town, eighteen people had gone missing. Seventeen people had died on their watch, and the remaining survivor would most likely add to the count within the next couple of days. They were all miserable, but Dean took it the hardest. He always did. To him, if Sam or [Y/N] didn't manage to save someone, then it wasn't their fault. No one can save everyone all of the time. When he couldn't save someone however, it was because he wasn't good enough. He didn't train hard enough, he wasn't fast enough, he wasn't smart enough, he just wasn't enough. [Y/N] looked at the back of his head from her position in the back of the Impala, he was thinking these thoughts so loud she swore she could hear them. It was taking everything in her to not try and tell him it wasn't his fault, but she knew he would shrug her off and only fall deeper into self destruction, so she stayed quiet.

It was one of the rare instances where the motel had a room with three separate beds, usually they'd have to book two rooms, or [Y/N] would have to take the couch, or one of the brothers would end up on the floor. Tonight all three of them were thankful that they'd have each other in the room, even if they weren't talking, and all three were looking forward to the day ending and getting into bed. [Y/N] showered first, trying to be quick and not use up all the hot water while also getting all of the blood and dirt out of her hair and off her body. She tucked herself into her bed straight after while Sam took his turn. She rolled onto her side to face Dean, who was sitting at a little table in the motel room, staring out the window at the rain just as Sam had in the car. She sighed quietly, wishing more than anything that she knew what to say to calm his mind and take the guilt away from him, but she knew he would come to her when he was ready, he always did.

Dean went for his shower as soon as Sam came out. The moment Sam's head hit his pillow, he was out, softly snoring having not even bothered to get under the covers. [Y/N] listened to the sound of the water running in the shower, feeling sad knowing that Dean was in there beating himself up like usual. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, the guilt of not saving everyone also weighing on her own shoulders. In some sad toxic thought process that they all shared, it made them all feel worse that they themselves hadn't sustained any major injuries. Sam had been knocked out but given the all clear by the paramedics, and [Y/N] and Dean only had a few scratches and bruises between them. She closed her eyes when she heard the shower turn off, holding her breath in anticipation to find out if Dean was ready to seek comfort in her or if he would choose his own bed and wallow in self pity.

The bathroom door opened, and she heard Dean's footsteps walk to the side of her bed. She opened her eyes and turned her head to the side to look up at him, only just able to make out his features in the low light. He looked broken, his eyes were red having obviously cried in the shower, his shoulders were slumped, and he looked tired. She pulled back the covers and opened her arms in a silent invitation, and he crawled onto the bed, his knees either side of her legs and his hands either side of her shoulders, before he let himself down, lying on top of her. He was shirtless, and his warm body covered hers, his arms snaked around her waist and his head lay on her chest, tucked under her chin. She breathed in, the scent of shampoo in his damp hair just beneath her nose. She felt him sigh and relax on top of her, and she brought her hand up and around to his back, scratching lightly. One of her hands wandered up his spine, along his neck, and into his hair, lightly scratching the top of his head while her other hand drew circles on his back. He tightened his grip around her, as if he was trying to get as close as possible. Her movements slowed as she grew tired, and when she heard his slow and deep breathing she finally let herself drift off to sleep. She knew that in the morning she would wake up in his arms, rather than Dean still be in hers, his masculinity having got the better of him at some stage during the night, so she let herself enjoy holding him while it lasted. She needed this too, being able to hold someone, comfort someone, make them feel safe, it comforted her.

***

Several weeks later, and they had returned to the bunker after another unsuccessful hunt. The two successful hunts they'd had in between didn't seem to matter, only the hunts with less than ideal outcomes stuck in their heads. Sam had gone off to his room as soon as they'd arrived back. Dean had a pretty bad cut on his shoulder and [Y/N] had offered to clean and stitch it up for him, but he'd waved her off, grumbling about how he could do it instead, and disappeared into his room. [Y/N] stared after him as he walked down the corridor, sighing as she knew he was yet again probably stuck in his head, repeating the events of the hunt over and over again, thinking about anything that could possibly be considered a mistake.

She got herself a glass of water from the kitchen, and sat down at the table for a moment, staring into space. As bad as she felt for Dean, she felt emotionally drained too. She'd held someone while they died from a werewolf attack, too far gone to help. Dean had been thrown against a large rock, leading to the gash in his shoulder, and [Y/N] hadn't been able to help. Sam was the one who eventually killed the wolf, and although she knew it couldn't hurt anyone else, it still felt like a failure. When she finished her drink, she washed the glass and began to walk to her room. She passed Dean's room on the way, and stood outside the closed door for a moment, wondering what was going through his head. She sighed, and knocked on the door. In the absence of an answer, she decided to crack it open. Peeking inside, she saw Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, cleaning supplies sitting beside him untouched.

She quietly opened the door farther and stepped inside before closing in gently behind her. She knelt down in front of Dean, who hadn't acknowledged her presence, and she hooked her finger under his chin, pulling him up to look at her. They locked eyes for a moment before he shook his head and looked away. She took his decision to stay seated as an invitation, and she took the bottle of alcohol and an antiseptic wipe from beside Dean, and got to work. He didn't flinch when she poured the alcohol on his shoulder, and he didn't flinch when she began to sew up the wound either. He just sat there, his face turned away from her. She finished by taping a bandage to his shoulder and closing up the supply kit. She sat down beside him and sighed. "Dean". She whispered.

Dean looked to her and he broke, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap so she was straddling him. He leaned his forehead against hers and she felt a tear drip down onto her face. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. She leaned up and kissed his forehead, watching his eyes flutter closed before she dipped her head down, snuggling into his chest. They sat like that in silence for a long time, holding each other tight, before Dean lay back, bringing her down with him. She lay her head on his chest and this time it was Dean who traced circles on [Y/N]'s back, the act of soothing her also soothing himself. The pair fell asleep in each other's arms, sharing the sadness between them lessening the effect on their minds.

***

It was only two nights later when [Y/N] was woken up by the sound of her bedroom door creaking open. Glancing at her clock, it was just after 3am. She didn't need to look around to know that it was Dean who'd just let himself into her room and closed the door. Dean often checked in on [Y/N] during the night, sometimes just quickly glancing in to check that she was breathing before leaving again, sometimes walking over and pulling her covers up, or pulling her shoes off after a long day when she hadn't intended to fall asleep fully clothed. Sometimes he just came in to replace the glass of water she always kept on her bedside table, and sometimes he only came in to gently kiss her forehead, and appreciate how grateful he was to have her in his life.

This night however, Dean needed more than just a quick check or a forehead kiss. She heard him walk over to her bed, and she felt her covers pull back and her bed dip down behind her. Dean pressed his chest against her back and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. He tangled his legs with hers, and rested his chin on the top of her head. She heard him sigh in contentment, and she reached up to stroke her fingers along the hand and arm he had around her waist. He snuggled in closer when he realised that she was awake, holding her as tight as possible without hurting her. He kissed the top of her head and listened as her breathing became slower and deeper. Whether he was holding her tightly or being held by her tightly, he needed it. He needed her and she needed him, they would always know and give each other what they needed.

The end

[sl-ut]

sweet dreams

ended up having a baby dream during my nap and thought it would be a v cute burb concept for my sweet cliches series

set in this universe!

abby noticed that something was wrong with her girlfriend almost immediately after she returned from her morning run. she had, of course, left quite early and had been very careful not to wake her cranky pants gf up, but started questioning what she might have done to piss her off already when they hadn't even truly spoken a word.

y/n was in the kitchen when she got back, mixing herself an iced coffee and barely even responding to abby as she came over to kiss her good morning. abby shrugged it off, thinking she was still too tired, but when she rejected her invite to join her in the shower????? that's when she knew something was up.

she spent fifteen minutes in the shower, taking the extra time under the piping hot water to think it over. she knew it wasn't about her leaving a mess before she left; abby was the neat freak in the relationship, so it was usually her getting annoyed by clutter, not the other way around. they'd been on good terms last night, they had even found time in both of their busy schedules that allowed them some spare time to get it on...was it not good? abby thought she'd seen the telltale signs- the whimpers, the heaving chest, the swelling nail marks on her back... she'd never seen y/n fake it before, so she wasn't sure what she wasn't picking up on. unless... what if she had only ever seen her fake it???

then abby goes into panic mode. she finishes her routine as quick as she can (under ten minutes, our low maintenance queen!) and rushes out to find her girl curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, not even glancing her at abby as she took up the space next to her.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours? and don't say nothing."

the girl frowned before she stubbornly responded, "nothing."

"did i do something wrong?"

"no."

"then what's the matter? i don't like to see you so down."

"it's stupid."

abby scooted closer, pulling her girl onto her lap, "i could never think that anything to do with you is stupid. please tell me."

"fine, but you have to promise you won't laugh."

abby rolled her pretty blue eyes, "on my own life, i promise i won't laugh."

the girl let out a deep sigh before she mumbled something under her breath.

"gonna need you to speak up for me there, baby."

"i had a dream that i was pregnant and then i had our baby, and we lived in a cute little house with a dog and we were so happy..." she sniffled, "and then i woke up and none of it was real."

abby was silent for a moment before a small smile and chuckle began to crack through her forced serious expression.

"abby!" y/n slapped her arm when she finally broke out in full laughter, "you promised!"

"i'm sorry baby," she held her tighter to her chest to keep her from moving away and began to rock her, "i'm sorry. that was just so cute, if i didn't laugh i was gonna cry."

"i miss our baby."

abby was in her last year of med school, and thanks to her big beautiful brain (and her trust fund), she was remotely debt free. the two had already discussed their plans to start looking for a house in a nice neighbourhood as soon as abby graduated and got a permanent placement somewhere, but the discussion of kids had sort of been sidelined up until now.

the blonde shook her head, "i can't wait to meet our baby. just give me a year, and then we'll start making that dream come true."

y/n beamed with happiness, curling into her girlfriend's beefy arms, "i can't wait to carry your baby."

"trust me," abby chuckled, "i can't wait to put a baby in you. i bet i'll get it to stick first try, but i'm all about consistency. i'm thinking five nights a week minimum."

both girls giggled at abby's joke, snuggling closer together in a peaceful silence before y/n finally spoke up once more.

"abs... you know you can't actually get me pregnant, right? i mean, you're in medical school for god's sake."

[futurecorps3]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Masterlist<3

Summary: Sirius and reader plan a romantic dinner for a very tired Remus Pairing: Poly!wolfstar x reader Warnings: mentions of sex and that’s all, I think! It's fluff and post!war where absolutely nothing went wrong because Reggie was a spy for the Order just like in canon duh Word Count: 1.4K Requested: No

Sirius leaned against the kitchen counter, a playful twinkle in his eyes, and said, "You know, love, if our cooking skills don't impress Moony tonight, at least our charm will do the trick." Y/N laughed, adding a bit more salt to the pasta they had been working on for about an hour now.

"Bet your pretty smile and my dazzling gaze will be fit enough… I really hope he likes it though," she mumbled that last part, feeling a pair of arms round her from the back. "I'm sure he'll love it," Sirius whispered, kissing his girl's cheek and moving on to whisk the eggs for the brownies they were baking for dessert.

It was Remus' first year as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He had started the charge right after the war ended, and the trio had settled into a lovely flat on Eaton Square—a two-story building bought with Black family money. ("One thing my mum and dad will be good for!" Sirius had said back when he bought it.) They were slowly transforming it into a home. During the war, they realized they had the power to turn even a cavern into a warm place, as long as the three of them were together.

For the past week, Remus had come home absolutely drained. When he jumped into bed or the couch with them, he'd fall asleep right away and still wake up tired. Sirius and Y/N were aware that he was struggling to adapt to new routines; going from spending all his time with the people he almost lost to teaching six classes a day with minimal breaks was becoming challenging for him.

He'd adjust eventually and would be back to his old self, but for now, their boy was tired, and all they wanted was to treat him with every ounce of love and care he deserved. So, when Remus told them that he'd be coming home earlier that Friday, they decided to go all out with a romantic home-cooked dinner.

"Can you try this? I-I think it's a bit insipid," she said, stirring the cream-based sauce that was ready to serve, pouring a bit onto the back of her hand for Sirius to lick. His tongue gathered the liquid, and his eyes opened in shock. "That's amazing! D-don't change anything; it's perfect, baby," he smiled, grabbing the spoon from his girlfriend and taking more of it into his mouth, directly from the spoon to then place it back inside the boiling pot.

He either didn't mind or didn't think about it; knowing him, it was probably the latter. "Sirius, no!" she half-scolded while laughing, slapping his shoulder playfully. "Wouldn't be the first time my saliva is in either yours or Moony's mou- oi!" he snickered as the girl assaulted him again, all tiny hands against his broad figure. "You're disgusting," Y/N smiled, walking over to the dining table where a white tablecloth was set.

While the noodles cooked and her boyfriend danced to Queen while baking their last course planned for the night, she set the table. Y/N knew her boys to perfection, and Remus had always appreciated neat and aesthetically pleasing settings for their dates, and while this was not exactly one, she wanted it all to be perfect. Before coming home from a job interview that day, she stopped by and bought some candles and a nice bottle of wine; red. He loved red wine.

As she picked the bottle, she wondered how many bottles they'd collect as time passed and their flat became truly theirs. She smiled.

"Love, the water's doing it again…" she heard Sirius warn in a quiet panic and almost giggled. "Just stir them for a bit and turn off the stove; they're almost done," the girl reassured as she placed the brand-new silverware Regulus and James had gotten them when they first moved in neatly over the tablecloth, right next to the plates and careful that no wax could reach them when the candles eventually melted.

When all places were set and ready to be occupied—a bouquet of red roses and baby's breath in Remus', courtesy of their boyfriend—she returned to the kitchen. Her pasta was done, and brownies were in the oven. She found Sirius cleaning his rings, which he hadn't bothered to take off and were now covered in flour, delicate fingers gently scrubbing off the white powder.

Y/N took in the sight of him. He was going on about something that happened to him on the way home, about how he fought a lady for Moony's bouquet or something. She really didn't care when he looked like that. His long, black hair was tied in a messy bun with his wand, with a few strands falling out, a Rolling Stones t-shirt he turned into a crop top let a glimpse of his v-line show, as if it was purposely teasing his girlfriend, jeans hanging low and covered in flour.

Fuck. She scored. "… and so I told he- what are you doing?" he questioned when approached. Y/N stepped between the sink and his body, looking up at him while biting her lip. He felt her fingers hook on the empty belt loops of his pants, making him press flush against her body. "You're too pretty for this world; did you know that? Who gave you permission, Sirius? Do you think it's okay to be this perfect and just… exist like you're not this gorgeous?" she asked in all seriousness, making him blush and snicker at her flirting.

They were always like that with each other. Always flirting. Always trying to make each other blush. That, until Remus stepped in and made them both blush, fluster, and giggle like twelve-year-olds who just pecked someone else's lips for the first time.

"Careful. My brownies are still in the oven, and Moony won't take long in getting home," he warned, his eyes darkening a bit. "And?" she teased, scratching the bit of stomach exposed he displayed. "And if I bend you over-the-counter right now, dessert will be ruined, Remus will get too distracted in punishing us, and dinner will never happen. Just be patient," he groaned, stroking her face and kissing the corner of her lips, turning to clean his hands once again.

She ran her hands through his chest and screamed into his back in frustration, making his chest bubble with laughter. Right after, keys jingled in the front door, and they were both quickly at the door, smiling at each other like they held some secret intel Remus could never know about, and in some sense, they did.

Their boyfriend walked through the door, looking at them like they had grown two heads as he discarded his coat and boots by the door. "Well, hello," he smirked, walking over them and kissing their lips gently. "Are you baking something? I thought we'd do that on Saturday when Harry came over," he asked, trying to peek over their heads before Y/N pulled his head down with both her hands on his cheeks.

"We've got a surprise. Go change into something more comfortable and meet us in the dining hall." She smiled. "Dining hall?" Remus laughed, shaking his head as he felt electricity running through him with the information. Sirius remained serious as he nodded at their girlfriend's statement. "Yes, the dining hall, dear. Now go, c'mon," he encouraged, patting his shoulders as he walked away.

They used the time he took in putting some joggers and a shirt on to serve the pasta and place it on the table. Pads took care of the wine and looked up giddily at their boy paddling through the floor in disbelief. "Come sit." Y/N smiled gently, having changed the record to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars; Remus' favorite. "Oh, I absolutely despise you both," he said, running a scarred hand through his curls as he approached the table with a soft smile playing on his lips.

Remus eyed the food, the table, and the soft music playing in the background, somehow managing to keep it together. Until he saw the flowers. He picked them up and looked at his partners with utter adoration in his eyes. "Fuck you," he laughed as tears prickled his eyes, making his boyfriend and girlfriend walk over to him to engulf him in a tight hug.

He felt safe and protected, even when he was very clearly towering over both of them. "We know you've been having a hard time coping with change, so we wanted to do something special for you," Y/N mumbled against his chest, stroking his back comfortingly. "The things I cooked might be shit… know I made them with a lot of love though," Sirius joked, kissing Remus' cheeks, which left a salty taste in his mouth. Moony laughed airily.

Surrounded by the warmth of his partners, Remus felt a surge of emotion. It wasn't just relief; it was a profound sense of belonging. Y/N's lips pressed against his cheek, leaving a lingering warmth, while Sirius's hand ruffled his hair in a gesture that felt both affectionate and familiar. "Come on, or it'll get cold."

They sat at the table, humming to the tunes playing in the background as they rambled about their day, sharing minutes of comfortable silence accompanied by loving glances out of nowhere. After the war ended, this is what they longed for. The trio would never forget how they fantasized about simpler times while laying on icy surfaces or in the woods, praying to whoever was willing to listen for a crumb of grace and a bit of luck to find solace after all that was done with.

As their eyes locked, there was an unspoken promise of enjoying the one thing they dreamed of a few years ago lingering in the air. They were giving themselves and each other a gentler life, a kinder environment, and a safe haven they could always go to. A safe haven with great pasta.

"Shit, dove… this is amazing! Where's the recipe from?" Remus exclaimed, resisting the urge to lick the plate and limiting himself to only gathering the leftover sauce with his fork like a civilized person. "I called Effie.” "Bless her soul," Sirius groaned in a solemn tone, licking the plate. Moony chuckled and drank the last bit of his wine as Y/N playfully scolded him. How he loved them, he thought.

Y/N slipped off her shoes and started prancing around to the music with a glass of wine on her way to serve dessert, a pair of warm smiles beaming at her going unnoticed as she was too lost in the beats. She paid attention to the plating, so she grabbed the small plates they had with tiny flowers on them and sprinkled some powdered sugar on top of the brownies her boyfriend baked.

"Here you go." She smiled, kissing both Sirius' and Remus' cheeks as she put the plates in front of them after putting hers on the place, sitting back down the next second. They bit into the pastry at the same time Padfoot waited for their verdict. "So? How'd I do?" He asks, in a concerned state his partners found hilarious, seeing how seriously he was taking the whole situation.

Y/N's expression turned into a disgusted frown as she chewed but quickly replaced it with a smile, making the change obvious to Sirius. "What was that!?" the black-haired boy said with wide eyes, taking a bite off the dessert himself and frowning when he actually found it good. "Come on love, it can't be that bad," Remus said, biting into his piece and closing his eyes in disgust in a very exaggerated manner.

"The-they're good, baby." She smiles, leaving the large piece untouched in her plate as she looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I tried them; I did a bloody great job, so don't co-". His partners erupted in laughter. Moony almost cried, and Y/N's tummy hurt as Sirius shook his head with an upset pout.

"You're so mean. I hate you both. I'll never bake for you again!" "No, love, come on! We're sorry I-I just saw where Y/N was going and played along," Remus laughed, reaching over to engulf him in a hug, but his boyfriend pulled away, back facing his smiling face. He couldn't avoid the love for too long, cornered between his girlfriend who also reached out to embrace him.

"They're really good, Sirius! Come here; I-I'm sorry." "Why do you keep laughing!?" He whined with a little smirk playing at his lips he tried hard to contain when he found himself sandwiched between his loves. "No, ge-get off!" he playfully fought in-between giggles, trying to squirm out of Moony's arms, failing miserably. Y/N jumped over to them and kissed Sirius' face repeatedly.

"I-I'm leaving this house! Stop, Y/N, there's no changing my mind." He laughed. "We won't let you go; hate to break it to ya'." "Yup, I'm kissing you until you forgive us." They collapsed in giggles with sore bellies, letting go and going back to their spots to finish their desserts. "You did a splendid job, darling." Remus smiles, biting happily into his brownie. "Yes, they're amazing." Y/N assured and presses one last kiss to Sirius' cheek.

After several stories, laughs, warm smiles, and kisses were shared, they all decided to call it a night. Y/N grabbed one of Padfoot's shirts and a pair of Moony's socks, throwing them on before brushing her teeth and washing her face as her boyfriends got ready as well.

They jumped into the two queen beds they had joined and covered only with a soft silk sheet Sirius had insisted on getting since it was spring; They liked to cuddle, and if for some reason they covered more, they'd be kicking away in their sleep so they could be fresher.

Usually, Y/N would sleep between them, but today Remus took her spot and they were all comfortable with that. He wrapped his arms around his partners and kissed both of their heads, feeling exhaustion wash over him as their limbs pressed against all of his body; engulfed by love and warmth he craved his whole life before they came into the picture. "Thank you," he sighed, "for everything."

"Anything for our Moony," was heard in a soft whisper in the dark room, and with that, they drifted off to sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Marauders taglist (DM or answer to be added): @kquil

Oh I had so much fun writing this one!!! Hope you lovelies like<3 SIDE NOTE I JUST REALIZED I SAID NO WARNINGS BUT I LITERALLY HAVE A LINE WHERE SIRIUS MENTIONS BENDING R OVER THE COUNTER HELP 💀

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! I love your writing, especially the cult of the lamb stuff lately (I’m absolutely obsessed with the game) and was wondering if you could do something for Lamb with a follower! Reader that’s cynical but devoted to the cult because the lamb saved them, and how their relationship with the reader would evolve into something romantic?

Awh thank you!! This game is still an ever-present obsession ghshghs

.........

"Another gift? What's the meaning of this, Leader? Is there a reason for-?"

"Calm yourself, [y/n]. I only wanted to show my most devoted follower some appreciation."

"........."

"You can open it." Awkwardly shuffling their hooves, Lamb stood there as they watched you slowly unwrap the gift they had given you.

You wouldn't say it was "generous", considering how such an exchange is usually preceded by a favor ranging from assistance with a ritual to being forcibly converted into a demon.

It's not how most of your fellow followers would think, as they'd praise their leader for giving them presents and swear undying loyalty to them.

You're a little bit different.

After seeing that Lamb's gift was a golden plushie made in their likeness, you just frowned slightly. "It's...cute." Then you stuffed it into the pocket of your robe. "But don't think you can just woo me over with trinkets like these. If you're trying to turn me soft like the rest of your-"

"There is no ulterior motive behind my nice gesture, I can assure you. And this cult isn't making anyone "soft"." They scowled back, nearly baring their sharp teeth, but managing to hold back.

"...sure. Now may I be dismissed?"

"Yes. You may go back to whatever you're doing."

Huffing, you left for your sheltered home, leaving Lamb to reflect on why your attitude was so....foul today. But then again, they remembered a very important trait of yours that a few followers shared with you:

Cynicism.

Right from the start, your faith in this cult was low. And your loyalties weren't so easily boosted by gifts, confessions, decorations, and sermons...and yet despite your pessimistic ways of thinking, you've yet to actually dissent.

Dissenters usually began with the most cynical of followers, but you never acted like you hated Lamb themselves nor the way they run things here.

In fact, it's true you're the most devoted. You've gone to every sermon, assisted with rituals when needed, and even guided the young on the ways of this cult and aided the elderly.

You were everything Lamb wanted...

The only issue was your attitude towards their kindness.

But after a little bit of mindreading, they were aware that you've been in a different cult long before this one.

Your former leader had also done nice things for you, providing the basic necessities you've craved....all to make you gullible and willing to follow their every word.

Then they betrayed you to the Bishops of the Old Faith without a warning. You've done no wrong and never spoke out against anything they've done.

You never mattered to them. You were just a means to an end. A tool to help strengthen their cult and appease those "gods".

So even after Lamb saved you from the sacrificial altar, that bitterness and fear lingered. You were hesitant to let your guard down....especially when you became showered in gifts as thanks for your devotion.

In the back of your mind, you anticipated when they'd betray you when you least expected it--or perhaps they'd listen to the ludicrous idea of sacrificing or jailing you as some sick "prank" by another follower just to entertain them.

Surely, you were all just tools and entertainment to this sheep, right?

Yet there was a big part of you that didn't want to believe that..

You wanted to believe they were genuine in their gestures.

..........

"The Lamb has abandoned you all!! They are no hero!! They will fall to Bishop Shamura!!!"

"...really? It's too early for this crap.."

After going to bed feeling somewhat content, you woke up feeling groggy and annoyed as you heard some dissenter shouting nonsense outside. You drew back your shelter's curtain to see Hauras stationing himself near the shrine, holding a megaphone made of twigs.

Normally, the elders would be doing their morning prayers at the center, but with the scorpion being an absolute nuisance and a danger...they had no choice but to pray elsewhere.

It's no surprise that he was gonna be sour over his defeat and subsequent indoctrination for a long time, as he was the last of Shamura's keepers.

Speaking of whom, Lamb was still on their long crusade to finally kill the last standing bishop for good.

Even so, that pest thought demoralizing the cult's faith in them would be effective. But you weren't going to listen to this all damn morning.

And besides, your leader has tasked you with collecting lumbar as some new trees have recently sprouted. You've chopped them all down.....except for the one Hauras was standing right beside.

Lucky you.

Rolling your eyes, you just went ahead to make yourself breakfast, eating as you watched the other followers closely. A few of the overzealous ones shrugged off his words and continued on with their day, although some of the newer members looked confused and even anxious, thinking he was right about Lamb.

At that point, he began drawing a small crowd, but as you finally approached with an axe, they dispersed.

Hauras sneered, eyes literally seething red. "What do you want?"

"I wish you would take your little tirade elsewhere so our elders to pray here. Plus I need to chop down the-."

"You're [y/n], aren't you? The one who always second-guesses Lamb's "kindness"?" He chittered with a small smirk. "I've seen how you've acted around them...you hate them, don't you?"

"I don't hate them." You scowled. "They saved-"

"Sure, they saved you...but only because you're a means to an end." He taunted. "You don't have to lie around me. You think they're selfish..greedy..and no different from the Bishops of the Old Faith. They seek to replace them, but they won't replace Lord Shamura. I may have failed, but I know they-"

Fed up, you swiped the megaphone from his pinchers, throwing it towards a nearby boulder and smashing it to pieces.

He gasped. "How DARE YOU-?!!" After trying to whip his tail at you in retaliation, you dodged and managed to trip him, causing him to hit the ground hard as he laid on his back, groaning.

Then you stomped on his tail, hearing his pained yell that attracted the attention of other nearby followers. You, however, paid no mind to them. "You talk too much."

"R-Release me!!"

"I can....but first tell me one thing, Hauras."

"...what?"

"How badly do you need this stinger?"

His eyes widened with terror as he saw the blade of your axe glistening in the morning sunlight, hovering dangerously close to where his stinger connected to the tip of his tail.

"N-No.." He shuddered. "You wouldn't dare.."

"Then maybe I ought to tell Lamb you're singing praises about Shamura...and we'll see if it's more than just your stinger that you lose." You had a menacing glint in your eyes.

"Please..they would never-!!"

"[Y/n]. Hauras."

You both froze and looked to see Lamb suddenly standing there, their expression full of bewilderment at what was happening before them.

The moment you took your foot off of Hauras' tail, he scrambled to his feet and ran over to them. "Great Leader! They threatened to rip out my stinger!" He kneeled down, feigning tears. "You must punish them! They are-!"

"I've heard everything, Hauras." They cut him off, giving him a stern glare. "You're dissenting again, threatening our elders, and I'm honestly getting quite sick of it. But don't worry about defending Shamura anymore...for I've claimed their heart."

From the pockets of their cloak, they revealed the purplish thorn-wrapped organ, surprising both of you.

The scorpion, however, got up and scurried away to vomit somewhere, utterly repulsed by the sight and smell of blood.

It's clear to say he wasn't going to dissent anymore.

You scoffed. "That was one of Shamura's finest warriors, capable of melting his enemies from the inside out....and he gets disgusted by that?"

"It surprised me, too." Lamb glanced at you, smiling a little as they put the heart away. "I appreciate you defending me in my absence-"

"He was trying to put words in my mouth, and I didn't like that." You quickly spoke, trying to hide your flustered expression. "Like all scorpions, he was being a little pest...and this cult has no time for that."

"...that is true. The One Who Waits wishes to speak with me after I've broken all the chains, but for now..allow me to help you cut down this tree." The Red Crown flew off their head, turning into a gleaming axe in their hands. "It's pretty sturdy-looking. Should give us enough lumbar to improve the shelters."

"....alright. Thanks for the assist, Leader." Was all you said before heading over to the tree, while they hung back for a moment to process what you said to them.

A simple thank you.

That was all they've been wanting to hear from you for a long time, and you said it! To them!

It made their smile grow tenfold, before they quickened their pace in following you, ignoring the calls of their other followers. They could feel their own tail wagging with delight.

Were you finally warming up to them?

............

"Come dance with me, [y/n]!"

"...I don't dance."

"In this cult, we do. Now c'monnn.." Lamb tugged on your hands, pouting much like a needy child as you rolled your eyes.

Who would have thought someone with such a sweet face would change the lands of the Old Faith forever?

At last, they usurped the One Who Wait--or Narinder, as he was called--proving themselves worthy of the crown that many, yourself included, believed they didn't deserve.

Although you were still shaken up after being kidnapped and almost sacrificed to him (alongside the entire cult)...you saw that terrified look upon your leader's face, and realized there's no way they could have known..

Narinder had tricked all of you, and Lamb fought back not just for their own life, but for everyone's as well.

Especially yours.

That's what ultimately restored your faith in them.

Once everything was said and done, a huge celebration commenced--and lasted for three whole days.

Tonight, for the grand finale, Lamb wished to have a dance around the bonfire. You and your followers worked hard to gather as much wood as possible, before they ignited it at sundown.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing the red flames flickering and the smoke rising high into the night sky, lighting up the cult grounds and golden decor. And seeing the followers cheer, dance, sing, and play music was a lovely thing to witness.

You, however, felt content with just observing the scene..

Or at least, until a certain sheep approached and offered you a dance.

So maybe they did find a way into your heart after all, but you insisted on entertaining them with only one short dance. Just so they stopped pestering you.

Yet it lasted longer than you thought.

Together you two shuffled, twirled, and swayed..all while some other followers took inspiration and danced with their significant others and crushes.

Yet all you could focus on was Lamb and their surprisingly elegant motions.

Nothing else.

Eventually, you both settled into a slow and gentle sway, embracing each other with them burying their face into your chest, listening to your heartbeat. The blush on your cheeks was nearly as red as your robe at this point.

But you took in this peaceful and intimate moment, your hand gingerly stroking the back of their wooly head. The Red Crown was absent, instead being on the ground beside your feet, looking up at you.

For a brief second, you gazed at it, your blush worsening as it gave you a single wink. 'Huh..they're comfortable enough to leave it off in my presence..? They trust me this much?'

"Is it wise to leave your precious crown where any fool can just steal it, Lamb?"

"Why? You fancy stealing it yourself, hm?" They looked up at you with a teasing smile. "You're the most precious thing to me..the crown is just a tool at the end of the day."

"Like all the followers you work to th...."

You stopped.

It suddenly just occurred to you that they called you "precious". But why?

Were they infatuated with you?

Were you infatuated with them?

Lamb tilted their head. "What's wrong, [y/n]?"

You only gazed back at them, at first completely tongue-tied as you saw the curious glint in their eyes, alongside the red fire that reflected off of them.

It made your heart beat fast. Heat rose to your cheeks again...and it wasn't because of the flames.

That's all it took for the final wall to crumble.

You sighed quietly, relaxing your shoulders as you offered them a tiny smile. "Nothing, my dear leader. For the first time since you've saved me, I feel...at peace being here with you. This place, and you, make me feel....safe."

Lamb nearly teared up at your words. "I'm glad. Would you like to be-?"

"Yes."

Their ears perked up with surprise. Now it was their turn to blush as scarlet covered their gray cheeks. "You...knew what I was going to say?"

"You're not the only mind-reader around here, Lamb." You chuckled at their cuteness. "If it's alright, I'd rather...take it slow. No rush to do a marriage ritual."

That took a big weight off their shoulders.

You understood what they wanted the most. You've always understood them better than anyone. Even Narinder himself.

They were so elated they couldn't help but pull you into a kiss, not minding all the followers gasping and cooing at the intimate display.

None of them mattered, though.

Only you two.

[xoxo-sarah]

more angst with daryl yelling at or arguing with fem reader for literally anything, ( ex. talking his ear off, being overly clingy, kissing him to much ) like him being so overwhelmed with everything going on in the world that he thinks she’s the problem he’s so angry and stressed out thinking this relationship thing isn’t for him but soon realizes she’s not after she begins crying and tells him she’ll stop doing whatever he was yelling at her for😋 ending with him being very apologetic and holding her and crying saying stuff like “ i dun deserve you “ “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry..” and she holds him and tell him it’s okay😁

Distracted

↝a/n: went a little off request but I kinda like this. Thank you for requesting-- sorry for it taking me ages. I'm not really used to writing for Daryl.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝ Warning: twd, zombies, sprained ankle, grumpy Daryl, sad reader, not proofread, low-key rushed even if it's been half done for months

↝⎙ 8.30.23

You weren't sure how or when you got separated from Daryl on your little trip, but you did.

A herd of walkers came out of nowhere. Sure you mind wasn't really clear, but you should've heard them. Just like now, you couldn't wrap you head around why you didn't. Your thoughts were solemnly on why. So much so that you didn't hear the one coming up behind you.

As soon as you felt a grip on your arm, you swung around, expecting 2 things. A walker or Daryl. The snarling and nipping towards you had any relief or hope disappearing in the wind.

Grunting, you pushed it off of you, reaching to grip your knife. Your foot moved the wrong way and a jolt of pain went through it and up your leg.

As soon as you had the knife gripped comfortably, a twig snapped behind you and more snarling blended in.

Turning with the walker held by its shoulder, you quickly plunged the knife into its rotten skull, pushing the limp body into the one that was slowly moving towards you.

Quickly glancing down at your hurt foot, you put more weight onto the other one. Although the pain was excruciating, so would be getting eaten alive.

The walker swayed when the body came in contact, but continued as the body fell down onto the ground. You waited until it came to you instead of putting extra strain on the foot, and plunged the knife into its head. It fell with a thud, as you fell onto your ass, taking your shoe off to see your foot. It was already bruising, a slight hue and swelling was beginning around your ankle. The side foot was angled slightly down, as if you rolled your ankle. Straightening it, you silently cursed.

Hearing something walking up behind you, you quickly turned your head, gripped your knife. Your hand loosened when Daryl came stumbling over leaves and twigs. He acknowledged you, stopping for a second before continuing to walk towards you. He stood in front of you, looking at the two bodies in front of you and back to you. By now, you had put your shoe back on, hiding what was causing you so much pain.

"Wha're you doin'?"

"Sitting down."

He stared at you for a second or two, before flinging his crossbow over his should and putting a hand out. "C'mon. Don't have time for this."

It was getting dark and you were supposed to be back at Alexandria before nightfall. And here you were going to show up empty handed with a rolled ankle and frowns on your face. Well, it was normal for Daryl but they'd know as soon as you walked in with a sour expression that the run didn't go as planned. You were supposed to go out hunting and bring plenty back, to feed the hungry mouth of the old and children.

Preparing yourself, you tried not to physically let him know the pain that shot through your body when you landed.

The last thing you needed was him lecturing you about being more careful. He was already protective of you as is, and with him being extra grumpy, it wouldn't end well.

Arguments weren't not normal. When you two would argue about something, he'd just grunt (mostly when you make a good point) and walk off. When he had cooled down, he'd come back but he'd give you the silent treatment, but still give you attention at the same time. He holds grudges for a very, very long time. Maybe with you it's not as bad, but that's only because he cant stay mad at you forever.

"Keeping that from me was stupid."

"You weren't really in the best mood. You would've just went on and on, I don't really need your lecturing right now."

He grunting, pulled you closer to his body, his hand holding your arm over his shoulder as he helped you limp through the woods.

Hearing more rustling, Daryl stopped walking, turning in the direction the sound came from. Without a second thought, he leaned you against the nearest tree and grabbed his cross bow, aiming all within a few seconds.

The tree didn't seem to be a good choice when you went to lean more of your weight on it and a big piece of the bark fell off, making a loud sound in the quiet trees.

The arrow flew through the air and missed just slightly as the beautiful deer went galloping away from you.

"Damn it!" Daryl threw his hands up, not even looking back at you. He was probably going to say something he'd regret. It wasn't your fault, the tree was atleast 100 years old. Life was just being a bitch today.

Still not looking at you, he moved to grip your arm again, and continued to make your way back home.

It was silent most of the way. An awkward silence, if you will.

A little after what you guessed was 8, Daryl had stopped to fix up a little camp.

The cold nipped at your skin, making you shudder. Daryl saw, but didn't feel like acknowledge anything but his own thoughts.

You hand slipped into his, "I'm sor-"

"Forget it." He took his hand back, picking up a twig from the ground.

You stared at him.

Was he being for real? Choosing to bite your tongue, you simply stared at the fire.

After a moment, you braced yourself for the struggle to stand. "I gotta piss." Maybe that was TMI but you didn't care at this point. If he was going to be cold to you, you could be just as cold.

He grunted, fiddling with the twig in his hand.

Secretly rolling your eyes, you turned to limp your way behind a tree.

"Jesus-fuck!" Could it possibly get any worse? Was the world out to get you right now? It sure felt like it.

Making your way behind a big tree, you didn't see the hole in the ground, mostly because it was dark.

"Y/n?" Leaves crunched under Daryl's boots as he rushed to follow you. Hearing something fall and your curses had his heart drop, his feet led him right to you.

You sat just like you did earlier. You looked done at this point.

You were walking out of these woods with a broken leg if mother nature had anything to say in the matter.

"Be careful." He crouched, just looking at you. You looked back at him, tears burning behind your eyes. "Why're you bein' so clumsy?"

That was a stupid question. A loaded one at that.

You were being a little distracted by your own thoughts today, but he didn't have to be all rude and point it out. Alexandria has been in a bad spot and the pressure to bring food was laying on your chest like an anvil. You were going to come home empty handed. You couldn't stand the picture of disappoinment on the kids faces you'd be met with.

The tears finally fell.

Daryl saw them shine in the dark. His brows furrowed.

"Hey, don't cry."

Sucking in a deep breath, you looked up into the leaves. "You're not really in a good spot to tell me not to cry."

Maybe he was being a little hard on you.

Daryl reached forward, grabbing your hands to help you up. But you were stubborn. He'd argue with anyone that you were more stubborn than him.

You yanked your hands back, digging into the ground behind you and lifting up. When you lifted your body up enough, he wrapped his arms around your middle and lifted you up the rest of the way, ignoring your protests. After he stood you up, you two just stared at each other. It seemed the two of you have done more staring than talking all throughout this trip. There was this tension ever since you walked out of the gate. Maybe it was the fear of letting everyone down. Either way, you two were being too much and not enough at the same time.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." He rasped, his eyes softening.

If Merle were to see him now, he'd definitely call him a 'pussy'. Daryl will admit you've made him soft since you've been together. Or maybe he'd blame that on Judith and RJ. Either way, he had become soft and let you see parts of him he'd promised his teen self he'd never let anyone see. But things have changed. He truly would never purposely make you shed a tear.

"I know." You grumbled, emotions all out of wack. "Today has just been too much."

Before long, you were back at the camp, Daryl's arms around you and his pancho wrapped around you body, fighting against the cold of the night.

" 'm sorry"

Looking up at you, you couldn't help the playful smile making its way onto your face. "You've already apologized."

"Half-assed. Could've lost you today."

The world was in chaos - walkers roaming the streets, scarcity of resources, and constant fear. The stress was taking its toll on everyone's mental health, including Daryl's. It seemed like he was becoming more irritable and short-tempered with each passing day. But he'd still find time to let you know he loved you. When he'd walk out mid argument, he'd always come back, crawling into bed.

It would always be you two. Against everyone and everything. Always.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And he meant it, every word. He always would.

"I'm sorry too. My head hasn't been clear these last few days."

He nodded in agreement and understanding.

It will be better tomorrow.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

[steddieas-shegoes]

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Eddie was bleeding.

He was on the floor and he was bleeding.

Steve was standing in the doorway, shocked into silence, watching Eddie try to put pressure on a wound that should have mostly scarred over by now.

His last checkup had been good, they'd even said the stitches could come out on his next visit, and he could officially start physical therapy.

So why was he fucking bleeding?

"Dammit. Can you grab a wrap from my room?" Eddie asked him, tone entirely too calm.

"Shouldn't I take you to the hospital?" Steve managed to ask.

Eddie's head turned to him, eyes widening as he seemed to realized what was happening.

"No, I- this is kinda normal? It's happened a couple times," he tried to smile, shrug it off.

"A couple of times?! Eds, this isn't normal. They gotta stitch you up better or something, c'mon I can take you," Steve leaned in and tugged on the arm he was using to hold himself up, ready to take his weight and help him out the door.

"No!" Eddie sighed. "We can't."

"I can call Wayne, then, and he can come get you-"

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Steve froze.

How long had Eddie been hiding how bad this was?

"You haven't even told Wayne? Eds, you should be mostly healed. You were mostly healed at your last visit! What's happening?" Steve was doing his best to stay calm, but calm went out the window when he thought about Eddie being taken from them long after the threat was gone.

"I ripped a stitch a few days ago, so I've just tried to be careful, but sometimes I move wrong. It'll stop bleeding in a minute. It looks worse than it is," his eyes were pleading for Steve to just drop it, let him handle it on his own.

But Steve was not about to let something go wrong, not when it came to Eddie.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. I'm calling Wayne. You can hate me if you want, but I'd rather that than have to tell Dustin that you bled out on your fuckin' bathroom floor." Steve put his hand over Eddie's on his side, applying more pressure. "Can't believe you ripped your stitches and didn't tell anyone."

"I was handling it!"

"Poorly. Handling it poorly."

Eddie huffed, but surprisingly didn't argue further.

He actually stayed quiet for most of the ride to the ER, even kept his gaze lowered when Wayne walked into the room he was being stitched back up in.

He remained silent on the ride home, preferring to ride with Steve while Wayne followed behind in his truck.

He didn't wait for either of them before making his way to his bedroom.

"Thanks for callin'," Wayne said to Steve as he watched Eddie close the front door behind him. "You can head out, I'll stay with him until the kids come by tomorrow."

"If it's alright, I think I'd like to stay," Steve hesitantly replied. "I'll take the couch. Just don't wanna be too far."

Wayne looked him up and down, much like he'd done the first night Steve refused to leave Eddie's side in the hospital.

Whatever he found, he seemed to accept, smiling at Steve.

"Might as well stay in his bed. Gotta keep a close eye on that one," Wayne winked and walked inside without an answer from Steve.

A close eye was really all Steve had intended, but of course, when they woke up tangled together the next morning, his intentions started to shift.

They shifted more when Eddie, half-asleep and on some minor pain meds, pressed a soft kiss to Steve's chest before falling back asleep.

——————————————————————

I could have done anything with this line and I chose dramatics. Happy Tuesday.

ATTENTION: I reached 5! This is 1/5 and the rest will probably be posted throughout today.

[lnfours]

"there you go. that's more like it." has been living rent free in my head at all times lately. he's so gorgeous and especially when he smiles/laughs 🥺 what about lando finding you beating yourself up after some kind of failure (plus points if it's an academic one) and cheers you up + the "there you go. that's more like it." when he successfully does so?

this clip has also been living in my head rent free, like i need him in so many different ways it's actually insane.

cleaning out my inbox

you knew you hadn't done well on the test when you had sat down to take it. no matter how much you had studied, nothing was sticking. it was like the topics on the page were going in one ear and out the other.

you tried not to let grades define you, tried your hardest to tell yourself that it was just one test, you'd be fine. everything was okay, it wasn't the end of the world.

he had noticed you were upset early on into the morning when he left to go train. you had sat on the couch under a blanket all day, switching between scrolling on your phone and watching your favorite movies, something you did when you were trying to cheer yourself up.

he had stopped at the flower shop on his way home, picking up the best bouquet they had and stopping at the corner store to grab your favorite snacks. he was determined to brighten your day, even if he didn't know the reason why you were so down, he didn't like seeing you upset. not in the slightest.

you heard the front door close, followed by his voice, "'m home!"

"in the kitchen!" you called back, standing at the pan on the stove. he walked into the room, hands behind his back to try to conceal his gifts. he walked up behind you, placing a kiss on your cheek, "whatcha making?"

"well, it was supposed to be stir fry," you said, poking around the ingredients in the pan, "but i don't think it's turned out."

he grabbed the spoon from your hands, lifting it to his mouth and blowing on it before eating it. you watched him, searching his facial features for an answer. when he scrunched his nose, you sighed heavily.

"damn it!" you were frustrated. why couldn't things go right? just for once?

he placed the spoon down, turning the burner off under the pan, "hey, hey," he said, watching you lean on the counter with your head in your hands, "it's okay, it's fine, it's salvageable."

he placed a hand on your back as you tried your hardest to fight off the tears welling up in your eyes. he placed a hand on your back comfortingly, "hey, pretty girl," he said, rubbing your back softly, "can you look at me?"

you sat up, turning around to face him as your back pressed into the counter. you bit down on your lower lip as he wiped the tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, "what's wrong, honey?"

"i just can't do anything right," you said shakily, "i failed my test the other day, i can't make stir fry. i feel so dumb, like what else can't i do?"

"that doesn't mean you aren't capable of doing something," he said, "we all fail, but we get back up, don't we? it's part of learning, part of growing."

he was right and you knew it, but you still had to resist the urge to feel like you were a complete and utter failure.

"you're the smartest person i've ever met," he said, "no matter what you always continue to amaze me. don't ever doubt, not even for a second, that you're something you're not."

you nodded at him, leaning into his touch on your cheek, "'m sorry,"

"don't apologize," he said, "we all need to hear it again once in a while."

you smiled, eyes traveling down to where his arm was still hidden behind his back, "what've you got there?"

he smirked, "you only get to see if you say you're smart."

you huffed with a smile, laughing softly, "i'm smart."

"there you go, that's more like it," he said, holding the bouquet and bag of snacks between the two of you, "saw these and thought they'd make your day better."

you smiled up at your boyfriend, your heart clenching in your chest. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. he kissed you back sweetly, the kiss turning hungry when he placed the flowers and bag on the counter, hands finding your hips instead. he lifted you up on the counter, standing between your legs, lips brushing against yours as he spoke, "i love you."