#this time it happened in a slightly but not very dimly lit room in which I was sitting at the front table with a laptop

[e-the-village-cryptid]

if I had a nickel for every time someone walked within 4 feet of me sitting incredibly obviously in plain view and did not notice me there until I made them aware of my presence at which point they were hugely startled I would have almost a dollar now which is pretty fucken weird guys what is going on

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[notjustjavierpena]

I have recently watched scenes from a marriage with oscar isaac and my mind which connects everything with hubby javi immediately went to this:

imagine wife’s and javi’s friends are going through a divorce, there’s cheating m, miscommunication etc and just a very hard time.

I feel like Javi and Wife would have a conversation about this due to the proximity of it happening to their friends. One about trust and if they’re happy. It’s not about insecurity or anything just them both communicating effectively and giving the other reassurance that this is not on the cards for them.

I just value their relationship so much.

Reassess

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked your request slightly to fit my version of hubby and wife. Enjoy ❤️ Thanks so much for proofreading, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !!!

Summary: You and Javier’s friends are going through a divorce, and it suddenly makes you wonder about your own marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, talk about divorce, talk about cheating, brief descriptions of piv sex with creampie, hurt/comfort, love!, mention of pregnancy and pregnant reader, cuddling, kisses, Javier is a great husband and you are anxious

Word count: 1.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54352768

Reassess

Jonathan and Mira are getting a divorce. The news had been announced to you by Javier when he entered the dimly lit living room on a Thursday night, looking paler than a ghost after what you had wrongly assumed to be a same-as-always phone conversation about football, work and going out for a beer in the near future. 

“No!” You had instinctively covered your mouth with your hand to suppress an animated gasp. Apparently, Mira had come clean about seeing another man a few days earlier and it only took shy of two days for their whole marriage to crumble. The thought was and is terrifying. 

It seems to dampen the mood between you and your husband significantly. There are more pregnant silences, longer stares, more hurried kisses, and worried faces in the middle of your daily routines that become opportunities for reflection when doing something mundane as folding laundry. However, the elephant in the room becomes most unbearable when Javier rolls off of you after making love to you a week after the news hit. 

He stares up at the ceiling and pants as he tries coming down from his high, reaching up to run his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. You shift on your side of the bed to turn your body towards him, and gently lay a hand on his chest, “That was really good.”

“Hm? What?” He replies, “Oh right, yeah.”

“Honey,” you furrow your brow, “I don’t think I particularly like having sex with you if you’re not here with me.” 

“Lo siento (I’m sorry),” his eyes find yours, his voice is genuine, “I can’t stop thinking about Jon and Mira.”

Your eyes soften at that. It is nice to know that he is as shaken by this happening as you are, and in such close proximity to your own marriage too even if it technically has nothing to do with you. It suddenly hits why it has been so hard to start up a conversation about it. 

“Me either,” you sigh and scratch his chest gently with your nails and lay your head on his shoulder. He takes hold of your wrist and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in soothing circles, “I can’t believe they ended up like that, who would have thought?”

“And Ava?” Javier sounds devastated and turns his head toward yours so he can rest his lips in your hair. 

“She must be so confused,” you mumble back, lost in thought. Ava is Mira and Jonathan’s daughter who sometimes has play dates with Inés, and to think that she has to deal with her parents not being able to work as a couple, especially since Mira apparently had to go sleep with someone else, is a scenario that you find nauseating when your brain automatically starts imagining your own children in the same scenario. You don’t think Lucas would ever forgive you if you caused that much hurt to his father, “I don’t know what Mira was thinking. Ava has to deal with her mom having hurt her dad. Why would she put her through that?”

“Jonathan said she’s in love with this new guy,” Javier argues. 

“I suppose sometimes you just fall in love with someone else,” you say without any emotion in your voice except for maybe a hint of disgust. 

“Are you happy? With me?” The question has been looming over the both of you since the news hit. It was only a matter of time before one of you would start reassessing your own marriage. 

You lift your head up to look Javier straight in the eyes, and even if you knew it was coming, you still feel taken aback by how much it makes your guts turn to even be told to consider it. The answer is so clear, “What? I—“

“That’s not an immediate yes,” he furrows his brow in concern. 

“Don’t be absurd,” you say back, “I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“But do you ever worry about us?” He continues. 

“This is the part where you say you love me too,” you joke without much humor in your voice. 

“Are you kidding? I’m nothing without you,” he lifts the hand you still have on his chest to kiss your palm, “Te amo tanto (I love you so much) but I need you to answer the question.”

“I don’t ever worry about us, no,” you answer truthfully and Javier visibly relaxes, “I know you. I trust you. It doesn’t even occur to me that I could have anything different in my life, you know? It feels like I would always have found you somewhere else if not here.”

“Perhaps they looked for something else when things became routine,” he suggests, resting your hand against his cheek.

“It’s never routine for me to tell you I love you,” you tell him with a little smile, “There’s no going back to the way things were before you.” 

“The idea of having anything else but this,” he trails off for a second, weighing his words and reaching out for you with his free hand. He cups the back of your knee to pull your leg over his naked body, “It’s just not in the cards for me. I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you.”

“Is this code for you’re stuck with me?” You crawl closer to kiss him on the mouth and tighten the leg around him, “Hm?”

“Sí (yes), you’re stuck with me, baby,” he says against your lips. 

“Do you promise that?” You whisper after pulling back a little, smiling softly as you look down at his mouth. He initiates another kiss after nodding. 

You kiss for a while without rushing it, deeply until you share each breath in your intense embrace. Despite just having had sex with him fifteen minutes ago, you want him again in a way that has him as hard as when you first got together. He fucks you open slowly with you on your back, makes you come on his cock with an almost pained tone in your whimper. He is everywhere on you, soaking you in love. The way he gasps along with you as he comes inside of you has your heart pounding in your chest. 

“No quiero a nadie más que a ti (I don’t want anyone else other than you),” he says when basking in the afterglow. However, you have already gotten out of bed to get cleaned up in the bathroom. In contrast to your husband, your afterglow is replaced by anxiety that you have just promised isn’t there. 

“I don’t want to end up like that,” you say while peeing with the door open. Javier moves on the bed to be able to look at you. 

“We won’t, te lo prometo (I promise you that),” he is quick to answer. You try to give him a smile but he notices the way you falter, “Anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?"

“They used to be so happy,” you sigh deeply and get up after finishing your business. You move to the sink and start washing your hands, your back suddenly towards him, “Makes me wonder if we're strong enough to weather anything.”

You hear the weight of him shift on the mattress and a second later, the soft pads of his feet across the tiled bathroom floor. He is behind you, looking at you in the mirror. You feel grateful for the sincerity in his eyes.

“Baby,” he tuts, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. One of his hands goes down to lay on your stomach right below your belly button. You have just started to show, and the both of you have already talked about how early it is that your belly has started protruding but none of you have any clue why yet as you haven’t had your first scan. 

Javier kisses your bare shoulder, “This is my life, and I love it, and I would never hurt you… I trust you not to hurt me too.”

You silently turn off the tap to dry your hands but Javier doesn’t let you move. He lifts your chin so he can stare at you in the mirror, “I need you to trust me when I say that ten years with you have only made me want ten, twenty, thirty more. I love you. I choose you every day. Jonathan and Mira didn’t choose each other. We’re not them.”

“I love you too,” you shake your hands dry instead and then turn in your husband’s arms. You hug him close and he walks you out of the bathroom whilst still holding you tightly. 

“Three kids so far,” he reminds you whilst guiding you back to bed, “A decade down the line. We must be doing something right.”

“But what if—“

“You worry too much, mi vida (my life),” he says and smacks your ass as you crawl back into your bed. You glare back at him but he just snickers while crawling in too, “Get comfortable and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you say truthfully.

“Of course, you can,” Javier joins you under the covers. He lays down close to you and without saying a word, reaches out to gently and repeatedly stroke his hand over your hair. The warmth of his palm soothes your worry, each caress easing away the weight in your chest. 

You wonder if Mira left because Jonathan didn’t do this sort of thing anymore. Javier has done it for ten years. This fact makes sleep find you easily.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[captain-hawks]

SOMEDAY WAS ALWAYS JUST RIGHT HERE.

hajime iwaizumi x f!reader

wc: 3.4k tags: 18+ only, friends to lovers, pining, feels, smut, grinding, fingering, unprotected p in v, praise kink, protective iwa -> requested

“I hate this place,” Iwaizumi grumbles when your group slows to a stop on the sidewalk, the neon purple sign above the entrance of the club washing his face in a vivid hue that only serves to further highlight his displeasure.

“Well, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa elbows him in the ribs, “when it’s your birthday, we’ll all stand in a room looking annoyed with our arms crossed watching paint dry or something.” 

He pats him on the shoulder before striding ahead, following Makki and Mattsun inside. 

It’s been almost six months since the five of you have all gotten together, thanks to the demands of full-time jobs in different cities. 

You missed this. 

You missed them. 

Iwaizumi turns to you, like you’ll be his saving grace with some off-the-cuff excuse to get the hell out of Dodge before the other three notice you’re gone. 

(But you missed him the most, this you know for certain.)

“Oh no,” you tell him. “I spent too much time getting ready to bail now.”

(Though the idea of fucking off with Iwa to some dimly-lit diner with sticky, decades-old menus and watered down soda like you used to when you were teenagers is wholly tempting—)

He sighs but follows you in all the same, albeit the slightly begrudging drag of his feet as he mutters, “I feel like I should have started drinking before we got here.”

Truth be told, if it wasn’t Makki’s birthday, you also wouldn’t really want to spend your only night in town here of all places. But without much of a choice in the matter, and with Oikawa’s none-too-subtle encouragement regarding a certain something last week, you’ve decided to make the most of it—although you’re still not going to get your hopes up. 

—

Oikawa: sooo Oikawa: you said you were going shopping today for something to wear this weekend Oikawa: did you find anything

>>>: [image sent] >>>: Pick a color. I’ve been to ten stores. I’m over it.

Oikawa: well i’m partial to blue  Oikawa: but iwa-chan will loooove the black dress ;)

>>>: TOORU

Oikawa: :)

>>>: You swore yourself to secrecy >>>: Please don’t say anything

Oikawa: i’m just saying Oikawa: maybe show him what he’s been missing out on~ Oikawa: absence makes the dick grow harder!

>>>: I’m blocking your number

—

You’ve been friends with the boys since your days at Aoba Johsai, and you’ve maintained an impressively solid track record at keeping your feelings for Iwaizumi buried under lock and key for just as long. 

That is—until you made the horrid mistake of drunkenly bemoaning your unrequited pining to Oikawa last time you saw them all for a reunion party at Mattsun’s place. A party which happened to include Iwaizumi’s on-again off-again girlfriend. 

(They’re now very much off, permanently. As of the last two months, intel courtesy of the nosey brunette who has now decided to make your mockery of a love life his latest charity case.)

Now, Oikawa falls into step beside you, Iwaizumi shooting him a suspicious glance before he shoos him off toward where Makki and Mattsun are already leaning over the bartop to order drinks. 

“I told you black was the way to go,” Oikawa murmurs under his breath in a singsong voice, appraising your outfit with a satisfied smirk. 

“And I still don’t think dressing nice is suddenly going to make him decide he’s in love with me,” you whisper back in annoyance.

“First of all, he’s been in love with you since high school. Second, he hasn’t stopped looking at you since we picked you up.”

You blink at him several times, chest swelling with warmth and dumbfounded confusion, but any chance of a retort dies on your lips when Iwaizumi returns to your side. 

“You said you didn’t wanna drink tonight, right?” he asks, holding up a glass of what appears to be soda. 

He’s always had a habit of listening to you. 

Oikawa looks infuriatingly smug when he throws a glance back at you from behind him, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“Thanks,” you smile, fingertips incidentally brushing against his when he hands you the cup.

He nods, something soft flickering across his face for a brief moment, though it disappears when Oikawa starts shouting your names from afar like a scorned lover. 

You try not to overthink the way his hand gently hovers against your lower back when the two of you make your way through the throng of people to find the table your friends have claimed, or the way his thigh briefly presses up against yours when you slide into the booth.

–

“This feels counterproductive,” you yell over the music to Oikawa as he drags you out onto the dance floor twenty minutes later, a few paces behind a very loud and equally inebriated Makki. Mattsun’s off getting more drinks. “Iwa will die before he comes over here.”

Oikawa’s hands hover over your hips, though there’s nothing suggestive about the touch as he casually urges you to follow the rhythm he’s already moving to. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You huff in annoyance, letting your limbs loosen up as you sway. “He’s not into me, Tooru. I don’t know what you think you’ve been seeing, but you’re wrong.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but Makki sidles up beside you with a flushed face and a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses on his head that he definitely didn’t walk in with, hands grabbing both of your arms as he pulls you deeper into the crowd. 

A tall man eventually edges his way between where you’re dancing beside Oikawa, an uninvited hand falling against your hip as he leans into your space and says loud enough for you to hear over the music, “That dress looks gorgeous on you, but it would look even better on the floor.”

You blink at him, body cringing with discomfort at the sleazy look on his face and the way his hand has begun to slip lower toward your backside. While you’re not opposed to dancing with strangers to get your mind off of the man who’s probably still sullenly scrolling through his phone at the table, something about this guy’s presumptuous touch sends you reeling with discomfort. 

Intending to catch Oikawa or Makki’s attention, you quickly turn, only to bump right into Iwaizumi.

His jaw is firmly set, eyes brimming with something dark as he pulls you against him, and the knot of anxiety in your chest immediately loosens at the feeling of his body heat sinking into yours.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, unconsciously pressing even closer to him, and he tightens the arm that’s wrapped around you a fraction. 

“What the hell, man?” The guy glares at Iwaizumi, like he’s ruined his chances with you. 

“You wanna dance with this guy?” The question is a warm huff of air against the shell of your ear. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him, eyeing the creep warily.

“She’s not interested, man,” Iwaizumi replies. 

“What, you her boyfriend or something?” The guy sneers, clearly attempting to save face now. “Wouldn’t have known any better with all the guys she’s over here dancing with.”

Iwaizumi shifts forward, fist clenched. “What the fu—“

“Oooookay, time to fuck off now!” Oikawa interrupts, smoothly stepping in between the two men. 

The man looks like he wants to argue more, but Matsukawa moves to stand next to Oikawa, arms crossed, and it quickly becomes a moot point as he sulks off in defeat. 

Iwaizumi lets you go, though his shoulder remains pressed against yours. 

“Iwa-chan, how nice of you to join us,” Oikawa coos, ruffling his hair for good measure. 

Iwaizumi slaps his hand away, glaring. “Well since none of you know how to spot creeps before they become a problem.”

Oikawa offers him a patronizing smile, “We’re not all equipped to be the definition of scary dog privilege like you are.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Iwaizumi grumbles something under his breath before putting his arm around your shoulder and steering you away from the other three. 

“Thanks, Hajime, but I do still want to dan—“

“I know,” he replies, coming to a stop and turning you to face him. 

“So what are you—”

Your words die a spectacular death at the shallow bridge between your tongue and your teeth as Iwaizumi lifts your arms and places them around his neck, moving his own hands to your waist. 

And this time, when the vivid overhead lights wash over him, his expression is soft. 

“We’re dancing,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Like his fingers aren’t a burning hot brand against the curve of your hips. 

“You hate dancing,” you reply dumbly. 

The corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth tilts upward a little. “Yeah, I do.”

The crowd around you moves with vigor, laughing and grinding and shouting over the thrumming, pulsing music. But Iwaizumi’s hand just gently slides to your wrist, and he slowly guides you outward into a full-body spin, his eyes sweeping down your form. 

When you find yourself back in your original position, albeit a bit closer than before, he adds, “But I can be convinced.”

Your heart swells. 

You’ve always been attracted to Iwaizumi, endlessly fond of his dark, messy brown hair and perpetual scowl. But the years have been more than kind to him, his boyish teenage features of days long past now cut into something solid and achingly handsome in a way that leaves your gut churning with heat every time you look at him. He’s taller, and broader—though you try not to let yourself dwell on the second point much for the sake of your own sanity. 

And now he’s looking at you expectantly with his stupidly attractive face, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he waits for you to move. 

So you do. 

For a partner that claims to hate this, Iwaizumi doesn’t miss a beat when you start to move, falling into sync with the rhythm of your body. And all you can think is how the way he holds you, the steady pressure of his hands on your waist—it’s nothing like how it was with Oikawa. 

It’s borderline possessive.

Almost.

It’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to let your hand slide to the nape of his neck, to card your fingers through the soft, shorter hair at the back of his head. 

Your insides feel raw, flammable. 

Doused in years worth of longing and desire that have soaked you to the bone, left you shivering with want, pliant and porous with need.

And the audible hitch in Iwaizumi’s breath as you spin and place your back to his front is the match. 

The space between your bodies closes as you lean back into him, as he pulls you in. The aftershocks of his touch spiderweb across your nervous system without mercy. 

You press back into him, harder. The beat of the music overheard is lost to you, drowned out by the blood that rushes in your ears as his grip on you tightens.

“You gonna move?” he teases, voice a little rough. “‘Cause I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Your legs bend at the knee as you drop your body down just enough, ass brushing his thighs, before rolling back up against him. His fingers flex, and he curses hoarsely under his breath.

So you do it again.

Iwaizumi’s mouth is hot when it lands just behind your earlobe, less of a kiss and more of a labored exhale. You shudder at the sensation all the same, and he turns just enough to drag his nose down the side of your neck.

“Hajime,” you gasp.

He lets out a sound that sounds like a broken off laugh, low and abrupt and a little incredulous.

Turning your head, your lips nearly meet, the layer of saliva coating yours prickling against the warmth of his breath that breaches the gap. 

Iwaizumi, as it turns out, is a quick study.

He drags your hips in a rolling motion, rocking forward into you, mouth finding purchase where your neck and shoulder meet. And he does kiss you this time, a hot, slick brand against your skin, your neck, one that sinks in deeper as you breathe out his name again with need punctuating each syllable. 

You’re dizzy on your feet.

And he’s ridiculously hard against you.

Giving in to an urge that spans years beyond this moment, you reach back, dragging your fingers through his hair from the front. You can feel the way he shudders against you. 

“I think I’m done dancing,” you breathe out. 

He doesn’t misunderstand your meaning.

You text Oikawa to let him know you’re heading out, both to save time and to avoid being on the receiving end of what you can only assume will be his most smug look yet.

The taxi ride back to Iwaizumi’s apartment is quiet, but his pinky rests against yours in the middle of the leather backseat. 

He helps you out of your heels as you step through the doorway, his fingers lingering against your ankles as he slips open the buckles.

And you’re sixteen again, biting the inside of your cheek as Iwaizumi kneels in front of you at the run-down local roller rink and tightens the laces on your skates.

He gets you a cold glass of water.

You’re nineteen again, hiccuping and sobbing at two o’clock in the morning on the ugly orange couch at Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s place as the latter mumbles choice words about your ex-boyfriend under his breath. He grabs your wrist to steady the cup of water you’ve nearly spilled twice.

He leads you into his bedroom.

You’re twenty four and you’re hundreds of miles away in a one-bedroom apartment that still doesn’t feel like home. And Iwaizumi’s rolling his eyes fondly on the other side of the phone screen as he takes you for a tour of his new place, making a dramatic grand gesture to show you exactly where he put the omamori you’d sent him via post—on his nightstand beside the bed. 

It’s still there now, nestled beside a pair of reading glasses and tube of chapstick.

And when he settles down on the edge of the bed and looks at you with his palms flat on either side of him and face tilted with a smile—

—your face feels hot, and you choke out a sob that feels equal parts pathetic and cathartic as you stand there before him.

Iwaizumi pulls you into his arms, and his voice is strained as he says, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

It suddenly makes sense now, the subtle, distant change in him after you received your scholarship letter what feels like a lifetime ago.

“And if I said I want to stay this time?”

You hate your job. 

Your lease is nearly up.

He cups your face in both of his hands, his low, rough tone betraying his steady gaze. “Do you?”

You smile, and his thumb strokes away the next tear that trails down your cheek.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

The shape of his lips mirrors your own. “I miss you all the time.”

And when his mouth finally finds yours, when he cups the back of your head and parts the seam of your lips with his tongue while you straddle his lap, as you both go tumbling backward against the mattress—this feels like home. 

–

“Is it too late for me to tell you how good you looked in this tonight?” Iwaizumi says from where he’s lying beneath you as you tug off your dress, his hands finding a home against your bare sides.

You shiver at the sensation, tossing the black material to join his shirt and pants on the floor. 

He watches it fall. “...I guess it does look better there tho—”

“Don’t you dare.”

He grins, surging up to kiss you, hands deftly flicking open the hinge of your bra as his mouth slots against yours. You nip at his bottom lip, taking it between your teeth, and he groans, drawing an equally needy whine out of you as he cups your bare breast and drags his thumb over your pebbled nipple. 

A little embarrassed by the desperation in your tone, you inhale sharply, and he presses an open mouthed kiss to the corner of your lips as he rasps, “No, I wanna hear you.”

He dips his head down, mouth closing over one of your nipples, and your body arches into his as pleasure dances down your spine. You moan.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth from your sternum to your collarbone before hotly kissing his way up the side of your neck.

You’re helpless to stop the whimper that leaves you at his whispered praise, and he knows it—you feel him smile against the curve of your jaw. 

When he slides off your underwear, and as you hook a finger in his boxers in turn, you nearly expect him to crawl forward, to lay you flat on your back. But he pulls you back into his lap instead, groaning softly over how wet you are as he slides two fingers through your slick, dripping folds. 

It’s so intimate—rocking back down onto the length of his fingers as he stretches you open, as his chest rises and falls while he watches you tremble. He kisses you hard, the sounds of your moans echoing in the back of his throat as his tongue scrapes against your teeth, fingers slipping and plunging against your plush inner walls. 

And for all that he’s rendered you hopelessly drunk on his touch, he’s equally as affected, his forehead dropping against your shoulder when you finally wrap your hands around his shaft. Iwaizumi lets out a shuddering breath, taking your skin between his teeth.  There’s a breathless conversation that passes between the two of you, his eyes briefly darting toward his nightstand in question, but the matter is settled on other terms.

Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into yours as he grasps your hips and eases you down onto his thick cock, fingers digging in when you keen at the stretch. Your cunt spasms, slick walls eagerly taking each inch until he’s bottomed out inside of you, his mouth pressed to yours as he rasps again, even softer this time, “Good girl.”

You find yourself worried for a moment that in this position, your trembling legs won’t find purchase in this molten sea of pleasure, but the firm pressure of Iwaizumi’s hands on your hips is a stark reminder of how very observant he is. He guides your body upward, enough that the head of his cock rubs against your aching entrance, and then rolls his hips as he drags you back down. 

“Hajime,” you whimper, rocking your throbbing clit against him once he’s buried to the hilt.

“Keep saying my name like that, and I’m not gonna last,” he groans, voice like gravel, cock now thrusting in and out of you repeatedly. 

Reaching up, you card your fingers through his hair and pull, bringing your mouth to his as you exhale against his lips, “Hajime.”

He cups the back of your head, licking his way into your mouth and deepening the kiss before reaching down to drag his thumb over your swollen clit. The coil in your abdomen trembles with the need for release as you feel yourself start to go up in flames faster than you ever could have anticipated.

“Let me hear you come,” he breathes out, eyes locked on yours.

The pleasure cresting inside of you explodes.

You cry out, every muscle in your body going taut as your climax stretches you open wide. And Iwaizumi kisses you hard, fucking you through it until you’re whimpering from overstimulation. He pulls out of you, the base of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit and soaking wet folds as he rapidly strokes himself, gasping when you replace his hand with your own. Hot ropes of cum splatter between your bodies as his hips jerk upward into your touch, his mouth halfway slotted against yours as he breathes hard and fast. 

You don’t bother going back to your hotel that night.

(You’ll take the afternoon train back.)

–

Months later, home is tangled up in these sheets that smell like his body wash and your shampoo.

It’s quiet mornings on the couch and laughter in the kitchen.

It’s slow dancing in the living room and kissing under the string lights on the tiny balcony. 

Home is here, with Hajime, the reassuring warmth of his fingers threaded into yours.

[notakugelblitz]

DELORES PART 1 • Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

something sweet to soothe your anger dearest brellies 🥰 takes place during season 4 episode 1, no warning all safe. enjoy !

Y/N had worked with Five at the Commission. She was with him on the day of JFK's assassination, and when he mentioned the possibility of escaping the company, she thought, why not? The Handler still hadn't given her the promotion she'd been promised 15 years ago, and the health insurance was worthless by then ...

Y/N followed Five through three apocalypses, becoming a teenager again. At least she no longer had the beginnings of arthritis, which she was more grateful for than her colleague. The Hargreeves quickly took Y/N under their wing, appreciating her a lot, especially since she had the gift of shutting Five up.

Y/N and Five became very good friends. Once the umbrella Academy lost their powers in this new timeline, Y/N chose to open a bookstore, while Five became a CIA agent. They met from time to time, enjoying each other's company over a black coffee on a terrace. In six years, nothing ambiguous had happened between them. Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted it to or not—it was a strange feeling. But now, with her new life started, she had time. If Five was interested, he would make a move; if not, so be it. But this was the calm before the storm...

Five entered the secret meeting set in an apartment with a classy, dimly lit atmosphere. The place was spacious, hosting about thirty people. Five smoothed his mustache, grabbed a glass of champagne from the buffet, and scanned the room. Just as he thought he recognized Lila, another young woman caught his attention. She was leaning against the balcony, her face hidden as she stood with her back to him. She had long, straight auburn hair, styled with a yellow beret. She was wearing a white shirt with black polka dots, neatly tucked into her pencil skirt.

Five felt a drop of sweat trickle down his temple and took a deep breath before joining her. He also leaned on the balcony, just like she did, barely daring to look at her.

"Beautiful night, isn’t it?" Y/N murmured, a simple smile on her lips.

She didn’t meet his gaze either, which slightly irritated Five. He finally turned his head and recognized Y/N.

"What the hell are you doing ..."

The words escaped his mouth when he noticed the name on her nametag : Delores. Five almost choked on his champagne.

"Yeah, the champagne is disgusting, I agree. But the hors d'oeuvres are delicious though. You should try them!" "What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re part of this ridiculous support group ..."

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head.

"Oh no, no ... I came with "Nancy" so Diego wouldn’t ask too many questions. But this wig is seriously itching. It's awful." Y/N explained, amused, scratching her scalp.

She then turned her attention to Five and looked at his nametag.

"Jerome? That doesn’t suit you very well. I wonder where you got that name..." "It wasn’t my choice. And where did you get yours?" he retorted, frowning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden cold and somewhat aggressive tone.

"I like that name." Y/N simply said. "And that shirt—do you like it too? It’s hideous." "I found it in a thrift shop—it seemed nice... hey! What’s gotten into you?" Y/N finally exclaimed. "Bullshit." "Five what the hell!"

Y/N seemed sincere. She had no idea what her cover name meant to him. After all these years, he had never told her about Delores. Instead of apologizing, he downed his glass of champagne.

"So, those hors d'oeuvres?" Five asked.

Y/N laughed lightly, understanding it was his awkward way of apologizing. Just as she was about to praise the treats, Jean and Gene appeared, announcing the start of the meeting.

What followed was a very eventful evening. The Umbrella Effect, interacting with Jean and Gene, dining with Lila and Five, Viktor's kidnapping... it felt like the old days! And throughout it all, Five kept giving Y/N odd looks. Why had fate embedded the love of his life so clearly in his friend and colleague? Five didn’t believe in coincidences; he never had.

Y/N had noticed those supposedly discreet glances, which intrigued her a lot. Especially since she could feel her cheeks flush like a 16-year-old girl.

Despite everything, the Hargreeves ended their evening at an Asian restaurant to debrief. Having retrieved the Marigold thanks to Sy, most of them decided not to take it. This surprised Y/N a lot. Powers... that was the dream, wasn’t it?

While Ben was in the bathroom, Y/N leaned toward Five.

"Imagine what you could do for the CIA with your teleportation..." she whispered. "Shut up, Y/N." Five murmured. "No, but seriously! I don’t know what I’d give to be special like you guys were! If it were up to me, I’d drink that jar dry!"

Five chuckled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"If you think this is one of those stupid Marvel movies, think again. Having powers comes with great responsibilities, sure—the responsibility to control them and not cause an apocalypse." "Killjoy..." Y/N sighed. "And for your information..." Five hesitated before continuing in a lower voice, leaning a bit closer to her. "You don’t need that to be... special."

Coming from his mouth, it sounded weird. Reaching her ears, it sounded weird. Y/N sat up straight and silently thanked some higher force when Ben arrived with a tray of eight shots. While everyone found an excuse to leave, Ben convinced them to drink. "For old time's sake," he said.

Everyone gave in, and when Y/N realized she didn’t have a glass, she felt disheartened.

"Can’t I celebrate our reunion?" she asked. "You're not part of the family." Ben snapped. "Wow, Ben, that’s rude!" Luther exclaimed. "Y/N is more family than you ever were." Five groaned, pointing a threatening finger at him. "No, it's fine, let it go, Five." Y/N sighed, though Five’s words had touched her.

She stepped aside, letting them toast. Just as everyone raised their glasses to their lips, Klaus nudged Y/N and handed her his glass.

"OnJanuary 15th, it'll be 3 years that I am sober. Tonight’s not the night I’ll mess that up, and certainly not for old time's sake." Klaus whispered. "I can’t accept that ..." Y/N politely refused. "Oh, come on, down it or I’ll tell everyone you slept with Five at Luther’s wedding."

Y/N gasped, grabbed the glass, drank it down in record time, and handed it back to Klaus. No one seemed to notice the trick, and that was just as well.

Y/N still had that awful taste in her mouth. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that glass. After all, Klaus was lying. Wasn’t he? It was true she had a total blackout that night, but... her and Five? No... right?

Once outside, everyone said their goodbyes. As Y/N tried to figure out where Klaus had gone so she could question him, a car pulled up next to her. The passenger window rolled down, and she bent down to see the driver. It was Five.

"I’ll give you a ride." "No, it’s okay, I’m not far..." "That wasn’t a question," Five said, leaning over to open the passenger door.

Y/N sighed but couldn’t help smiling. She got in, buckled up, and Five started the car.

"Be honest with me, Y/N." he said seriously, focusing on the road. "Mmh?" "Why Delores? And why that damn polka dot shirt?"

Y/N widened her eyes.

"You're still hung up on that!" she exclaimed. "I’ve changed since then..." "Stop it right now, Y/N. This isn’t funny," he growled. "Look, Five, I don’t understand! You’re completely crazy!" "Why Delores?" "I don’t know, okay?" she yelled back. "I don’t know."

She repeated the sentence silently to herself.

"The name just came to me, and the shirt was the cheapest... I swear, Five, I’ve never been more honest with you..."

Five finally looked at her and realized she was telling the truth. When they arrived at the bookstore, he parked on the side of the road.

"I’m sorry, Y/N... it’s just that... I knew a Delores a long time ago, and... she looked just like you."

Y/N, surprised, met his gaze and tilted her head to the side.

"I never thought the famous Five Hargreeves had a romance," she breathed.

Five nodded , locking eyes with her sparkling ones. He had always loved that color, though he would never admit it. He looked away, eyes fixed on the steering-wheel. Fortunately Y/N didn't know Delores was a mannequin. Five kept silent, thinking about this damn coincidence and its probable meaning.

Y/N didn’t know what to say so she got out of the car, feeling unsettled. As she headed towards the bookstore, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and walked back to the car, leaning against the window on Five’s side.

“Be honest with me, Five.” she said seriously.

Five chuckled softly, amused by this ongoing joke, and nodded, signaling her to continue.

“What happened at Luther’s wedding?” she asked suddenly.

Five frowned. Why was she asking about that now?

“They got married,” he said simply. “Haha, very funny. No, seriously, between us... did something happen?”

Five discreetly swallowed and started the car.

“You should go home, it’s getting late.”

Y/N groaned and walked around the front of the car again so that he couldn't leave, suddenly opening the passenger door and sitting down.

“What are you doing…?” “You agreed to be honest with me. And you’re not. So I won’t move until…” “Fine.” "Oh, that was quick."

Five immediately started driving and continued in silence.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” “No.” “So, is this a kidnapping?” “Call it whatever you want. You learned how to jump out of a moving car at the Commission, so if your ass is still in that seat, it means you don’t really want to leave.”

Point for him. The silence was fine at the beginning, but it grew heavier and heavier minutes after minutes. Y/N was relieved when she recognized the streets as they were arriving at the parking lot of Five's apartment. He turned off the car and slumped further into his seat. Y/N could tell he was hiding something.

“So. Did we sleep together that night?” she asked bluntly.

Five’s eyes widened.

“What! Who told you that nonsense?” he exclaimed with an amused tone. “Klaus… he…” “You know Klaus always exaggerates, Y/N…”

Y/N lowered her eyes, embarrassed for having believed it so easily. Five noticed her distress and sighed. He rummaged through an inner pocket of his jacket, hesitating before pulling out a Polaroid photo. He handed it to Y/N nonchalantly. She looked at him, then at the photo, which she took with apprehension. It was taken at Luther’s wedding. Y/N and Five were on stage. A microphone stand separated them, only a few centimeters from each other's face. They looked completely drunk, which explained why they were singing so close and why Y/N had no memory of it.

“Just imagine eyes like moon rise, a voice like music, lips like wine.” Five muttered, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/N looked up at him. Those were the lyrics to a love song by Frank Sinatra, yet it sounded oddly different coming from his mouth.

“Please, tell me…” she whispered.

Five sighed, knowing full well he had reached a point of no return.

“We overdid it on the alcohol that night. And with the apocalypse looming... it makes you do things you wouldn’t normally be capable of.”

He paused, but Y/N smiled, encouraging him to continue.

“You seemed different that night. You had no filter. You never had one when it came to annoying me, but for saying nice things, well... and you were really beautiful. And without thinking, I grabbed that mic and sang that stupid Sinatra song. And you looked at me with those eyes. They sparkled like… like the Kugelblitz. Almost more. And you joined me, and we made quite the duo, I must say. I can't fucking remember the name of the song as we were only babbling incomprehensible lyrics.”

Y/N was speechless.

“So…” “No sex. Pure fluff, even though it’s a disgusting word to say.”

Y/N chuckled.

“And you kissed me,” Five finally said, emotionless.

Everything seemed so unreal, yet he looked sincere.

“Why didn’t you tell me for six years?” she asked, shocked. “I… I chickened out. You didn’t remember, so it gave you the chance to start fresh.”

Suddenly, Y/N slapped him across the face, the sound of the slap echoing through Dallas. Five didn't blink, feeling like it was deserved somehow.

“You’re such an idiot.” “I know.”

They remained silent for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. If any member of the Umbrella Academy had the power to read minds, they would’ve run away, given the turmoil that stirred within them.

Y/N thought back to all those moments spent with Five, and of course, they had a different flavor than those shared with an actual colleague. Despite their constant teasing, Five had always been there for Y/N, and vice versa. They understood each other, given their age and experience. Everything suddenly became clear.

And then, in perfect synchronization, they kissed passionately, Y/N placing her hands on Five’s cheeks while he firmly gripped her waist. It was a fiery kiss, making up for all the lost time due to misplaced pride. Out of breath, Y/N pulled back slightly to look at him, a smirk on her lips.

“What? Don’t make me regret what just happened…” Five chuckled. “Firsy things first, secretly keeping a picture of me is weird. Secondly, the song by Sinatra ... It is named Dolores. Just saying…” Y/N laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear that had fallen over his bright eyes.

"Shut it." he groaned, pecking your lips to make you silent. But then , he approaches his lips to your ear, whispering.

“It seems that no matter the timeline, I’m destined to have a Delores getting in my way.”

Y/N burst out laughing, and Five couldn’t help but smile sincerely. It felt good to come out of his shell, especially for Y/N. Five invited Y/N to spend the night at his place. This sudden happiness seemed surreal, yet it was very real. The idea of a normal life together seemed so pleasant. If only they knew ...

here it is, i really hope you liked it ! sorry if you spotted some mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

would you be interested in a part 2 now that Y/N swallowed up a shot of marigold ? just sayin’ … 😏

[vanteguccir]

Hey, can you please do a chratt blurb or fic where they aren’t just fucking you. Maybe one where they just act like your boyfriends and just take you out to eat or shop or something! You could add some drama to that too. Thanks!

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb where you get your period while chris and matt are out, which makes you grumpy and anxious for their return

　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 & 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The sun had long set by the time Chris and Matt finally returned home. Their day had been a whirlwind of meetings and filming videos with Nick, each task pulling them further away from the comforting confines of their shared home. The brothers were exhausted, their shoulders heavy with the weight of the day's demands, yet an underlying excitement to see Y/N fueled their steps as they entered the house.

Matt tossed his keys onto the kitchen table, the metallic clink echoing through the quiet hallway. Nick followed suit, setting down the camera bag and their other equipment before going straight to his own room while Chris locked the front door.

Matt and Chris moved in synchrony, a silent agreement to wrap up their post-work routine quickly. Shoes were kicked off, jackets were hung, and phones were set to silent. The familiar ritual usually brought a sense of closure to their hectic days, but tonight, an unusual stillness in the house kept them on edge.

"Where do you think she is?" Chris asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced around.

"Probably in my room." Matt replied, a furrow forming between his brows, knowing how much comfort she found on his bed. "She was feeling off this morning."

Chris nodded, the concern in Matt's voice mirroring his own worries. They made their way through the dimly lit small hallway, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound accompanying their footsteps. The door to Matt's room was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway.

Pushing the door open gently, they found Y/N fast asleep on Matt's bed. Her form was curled into a tight ball, hands clutching Mr. Wrinkleton and pressing it against her stomach, a pronounced pout very visible on her plump and pink-ish lips accompanied with a slightly frown on her pretty eyebrows. The sight tugged at their hearts, a stark reminder of how much they'd missed throughout the day.

Matt moved closer, his steps cautious.

"She looks like she's in pain." He murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Chris followed, standing beside him, their gazes fixed on Y/N's peaceful yet troubled expression.

"Did she texted you during the day?" Chris asked in a whisper, his eyes scanning her face for any clues before catching the shake of Matt's head. "What could've happened?"

"I don't know." Matt replied, shrugging, his voice laced with concern as his eyes searched around the room momentarily. "She didn't mention anything this morning, too."

Chris suddenly stiffened, his eyes widening as a thought struck him.

"Matt, what day is it today?"

Matt glanced at him, confused.

"It's the fourth, why?"

Chris's eyes softened with realization.

"It's her period day."

Understanding dawned on Matt's face, and he sighed softly.

"Of course. Fuck, no wonder she's like this." Matt shook his head, his right hand messing up his hair in a nervous movement. "Should we wait for her to wake up?"

Their whispers seemed to reach Y/N in her sleep. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering before they opened, revealing her tired eyes. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light and the sight of her two boyfriends watching over her, her hands curling more firmly around the stuffed pug, bringing it closer.

"Hey." She murmured, her voice groggy with sleep.

"Hey, petal." Chris replied softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, the tip of his nose caressing her skin gently. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N's pout deepened, and she shifted slightly, wincing as she did, a new wave of pain crashing over her body.

"Been better." She admitted. "I don't feel very good..."

Matt reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his tumb caressing her ear softly.

"Oh yeah? What doesn't feel good, sweetheart?" He asked gently, watching her closely.

"I had my fucking period today and..." Her bottom lip trembled slightly with the new wave of unwelcomed emotions. "I didn't had any of you with me to keep me company or help with the pain as you guys always do." She hated how vulnerable and dramatic she sounded, but it was the pure truth.

"Why didn't you call us? We would have come home earlier, some of the videos are going to be posted only next week." Matt whispered softly, furrowing his eyebrows in worry at her reactions.

"I didn't want to bother you." She replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes going from one of her boys to the other. "You guys were busy."

Chris shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You could never bother us, baby. We hate that you've been alone all day feeling like this."

Y/N's eyes softened at their concern, a wave of emotion washing over her.

"I just... missed you guys today." She confessed.

Matt leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, his right hand going to her cheek, caressing her soft skin.

"We missed you too, you know?" He said against her lips before pulling back slightly. "We always do."

Chris shifted, lying down beside her and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close, his palm pressing down softly against her stomach.

"We're here now." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And we're not going anywhere, okay?"

Y/N sighed contentedly, the warmth of their bodies providing a soothing contrast to the dull ache in her abdomen. Matt lay down on her other side, his hand finding hers and intertwining their fingers.

They lay there in a comfortable silence, the world outside fading away. Chris's hand gently rubbed soothing circles on her stomach and pelvic area, while Matt's thumb stroked the back of her hand. The simple gestures, filled with love and care, slowly eased the tension from her body.

"Did you eat anything?" Matt asked softly after a while, searching for her eyes.

Y/N shook her head.

"Wasn't really hungry... and didn't felt like standing up at all."

Chris frowned, exchanging looks with Matt momentarily before going back to Y/N.

"You need to eat, petal. How about we order you something light? Some chicken soup? And then we can watch some movie, yeah?" Chris proposed, his free hand reaching for his hoodie pocket, fishing out his phone.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"That sounds nice."

And that's how the day went on, Y/N's food arrived a little under an hour later which lead the boys do rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to get the food downstairs. Matt ended up being the loser one, and while he was gone, Chris took the chance to pull Y/N closer to his body, her back now pressed against his chest, feeling his heart beating against her skin with the proximity that his strong arms around her middle created.

Her ears were able to pick the small "I love you's" that Chris whispered after each soft kiss that he planted against her head, shoulders and neck, his lips and nose caressing all of her softly, creating a permanent smile on Y/N's face, the pain fading slowly.

"Food is here!"

I could only thought about this scenario since I had my period yesterday 🤧 I hope yall like it!! 🩷

[officialundertakersmoocher]

may i pls request a scenario with violet and afab reader where he’s drawing them nude and then smut ensues?

An Artistic Craving

yall i am so sorry for the extended break, and I hope this meets your expectations 😭

Warnings: NSFW, Nudity, +18, Slightly OOC

• • •

"Stay still, okay?"

"But, Vi, it's so embarrassing..." You attempt to cover your assets which have been shamefully exposed to his eyes in the dimly lit study room.

"Don't think of it that way... It's just a study." You tried not to ask many questions, after all, he was more versed in the arts than you were.

It was lucky that you two happened to catch this moment alone, unchaperoned. Vi, actually very uncharacteristically, was the one to insist that he needed you as a model to finish this study to complete a project he was working on for his upcoming art exam.

After all, you two had been seeing each other for a long time now and were not only comfortable enough to do such a thing, but you also just happened to owe him a favor.

This is how you ended up in such a position for your lover, spewn on a dark purple couch in a private study room near the Purple House dorms. You knew that Gregory was too shy to say so, but there are many books on campus filled with similar references free for his use. He just wanted to spend time with you in an intimate setting such as this one.

You caught him stealing glances at you every once in a while, and he could sense your growing discomfort from staying still for so long.

He left his sketchbook behind momentarily to kneel down beside you and suddenly the room felt more quiet. Your eyes locked as he gently adjusts the position of your hand, placing it under your head in a graceful fashion.

He tilts his head and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face as if to get a better view.

He tried to back away to retreat to his seat, but was caught by your hand pulling him back. He sat confused for a moment but could tell your eyes were asking him to stay.

You move yourself upwards to face him and pull him into a kiss. His lips are soft and welcoming and he eventually moves to grab your waist.

You slowly move him onto the couch with you, straddling his waist. He begins to become shy from this now suddenly risqué moment and pulls away from your lips.

"Love, I don't know if we should..." You could feel the deep heat resonating from his cheeks, so you asked him softly, "Would you like me to stop...?"

"Please no..."

You just barely hear him mutter this, but his hot breath on your neck shows you how desperate he has become.

Before you know it, there are clothes being dragged away and thrown about the room, never finding the motivation to tear your lips apart from one another. You both are stuck in an agonizing dance, waiting for the moment that you both can be as close as you desire.

The room has reached a stillness as the dim candlelight bounces off of skin, and hot breath stills in the air. You are both frozen in time, taking in the moment for the first time now, and as you do, you notice that you've never really seen your lover in such a passionate way as this.

In this position, he's kneeling his body over yours and bowing his head in a shy manor. From the silence you hear him speak softly, asking, "Is this what you want, for sure?" And you have seemingly been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the lingering question prodding in-between your thighs. You suddenly feel a harsh flush invading your cheeks and a needy wetness in the very same place that he finds his attention.

You turn your head to avoid the embarrassment of facing him as you answer his looming question.

Your voice shakes more than you intended it to, more out of anticipation than anything else. "Yes, of course, p-please keep going, my love-"

However, he catches you off guard by lowing his head down to your thighs. His proximity meant you could feel his breath tickle your skin and it invigorated you.

He softly grazed your folds with his fingers, and slowly exploring your body until he reached the most sensitive parts of you. The moment he grazed your clit, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, which is exactly what pushed him to continue despite feeling his own uncertainty.

He follows the sounds of your sweet moans, touching you and exploring your body in ways that neither of you have experienced before. Before long you find yourself growing more in need of his touch, pulling his hands and guiding him to kiss you. You both are grasping for each others touch and cursing into the silence of this empty room when the tension reaches an all-time high. You find yourself guiding his cock lower as a sign that you are ready (or maybe as a sign that you can't wait much longer now).

He follows your lead, pushing himself slowly across your folds, letting out a sigh as he feels the warmth of your pussy against his skin. He has one hand behind your head as a comforting act as he slowly guides himself between your thighs. He watches your expression change to a grimace of pain, almost stopping himself, but instead he caresses your face in an attempt to sooth your pain. You start to adjust yourself and whisper for him to keep going, and after a few moments the pain starts to replace itself with great pleasure.

You can't help the moans that escape your lips as you grasp onto him, likely leaving scratch marks on his upper back.

However, he doesn't mind this one bit. He can only focus on this heavenly feeling that seemed to blur his vision and tingle at his senses. The pleasure became overwhelming before you could comprehend it and it feels like heaven.

The sounds that filled the room should have alerted the others of the acts you both were sharing tonight, and maybe, just maybe, you should have been more worried, but neither of you could have the gut to care. Not tonight, not when it just feels so good and your vision had started bleeding white as your bodies worked in tandem with one another. 

It felt like hours before you had found yourselves cuddling under a stray blanket, skin-to-skin and feeling on top of the world. There was peace settled in the air and you held each other and shared this perfect moment.

"Did you enjoy it?" Violet asked timidly while he stroked stray pieces of hair out of your face.

"Oh course, Darling. I've never felt closer to you than how we were tonight." You looked at him so softly and left a soft peck on his lips.

"Well, thats good, because... I didn't really get to finish my painting. We may have to do this again tomorrow night..." He wouldn't meet your eyes, but you knew that if you could see them, they would have a glint of excitement in them that you only see when he looks at you.

"Well, I suppose we would have to then- For your studies, of course."

• Epilogue • Tea Time •

"So, It couldn't have been just me who heard some oddly bizarre noises coming from the art studio on the west end last night..." Edgar mused to the other prefects as he took a mischievous sip.

"Oh, how I wonder what that could have possibly been coming from..." The sound of a breaking pencil could be heard only if he listened so intently.

"Oh, I heard it, alright." Greenhill pipped in, sounding more than mildly annoyed as he completed his afternoon stretch. "Some people really need to be more considerate of the fact that some of us need to study at such late hours."

"Well, maybe some people should consider that not everyone wants to hear the sound of your 2 hour long training routine at 12am either..." Bluewer rolled his eyes, obviously not knowing what the others were exactly referring to.

"Well, In just thinking that maybe when the professors discover a certain pair of undergarments left in said art studio on the west end, they may have to cancel class this morning. If you know what I mean..." Edgar takes an extended sip of his tea and watched as Gregory excuses himself, dropping his sketchbook and seemingly headed towards the west end.

"Well, that answers that." Edgar mutters with a smirk.

[dawnoftime22]

lullaby.

| T.S

Warnings: no talking from R, a very light nightmare, and panicked/fast heartrate

Summary: Taylor was doing her work in the middle of the night while you slept, until you had suddenly received a nightmare, leading to Taylor to help you fall asleep.

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

A/N: you guys...I hit 500 followers and I'm BEYOND in disbelief. I'm so so happy I wanna squeeze each and every one of you in a hug!! I loooove you all sm - I'm thinking of doing a special for it, although I would have to push myself a little and get my motivation back up. who knows, I'm hoping to maybe do a comfort week where I post comforting fics each day in a week for the times that anyone needs them :]

| Started on 28/06/2024, 2:26 AM |

| Finished on 28/06/2024, 8:30 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“My, my, your gentle voice, oh, to be softly soothed with as I fall asleep.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

You were asleep, laying on the bed with your breathing deep and soft. It was quiet, a peaceful atmosphere as the cats, too, were sleeping.

Taylor was still awake. But it wasn't without reasons, as she had emails and work to do before tomorrow arrives, and also a melody stuck in her head too.

She had told you to sleep before her earlier, just because she knows you've had a long, exhausting day as she did. Even though you tried to stay up to accompany her, it was obvious you weren't able to keep your eyes open, so, a few minutes of cuddling had you sleeping within seconds.

The laptop screen made her squint through the dimly lit room, reading the words of a document, or her notes she had to check for anything she's forgotten.

A yawn escapes her mouth, and as her fingers made the keyboard keys clack with her typing, she felt herself getting sleepy.

Her eyes travel to the clock. It was 2 am. The night was still young, really, for any nights she's ever wanted to stay up for. But she wouldn't deny some sleep for now, especially with you already in slumber.

Deciding she needed at least a break, she makes sure everything is saved and mostly done on her laptop before looking to the side to grab her phone.

The screen was unlocked after seeing a picture of you and her, with Meredith, Olivia, and Benjamin at the bottom. A smile raises upon her lips, her eyes going to your, thankfully, still sleeping figure.

She closes her laptop and set it aside before scooting closer to you slightly, then returning to her phone. The screen shows instagram loading up, and she uses her index finger to scroll, seeing posts and stories of her friends and other celebrities.

The gentle hum of her voice quietly sounds out, a smile still on her face, which raised up further at the sight of one of your posts; a photo of your hand, intertwined with hers, but a small cat paw joined in, atop the back of your hands.

She remembered when that happened. It was when you were sitting on the living room couch together, watching a movie. Taylor had reached your hand up to leave a soft kiss, and was about to settle it back down comfortably, when Benjamin's fluffy paw had come out of nowhere to touch your intertwined hands.

She scrolls a bit more, seeing Gracie's video of the fire in her kitchen. Again, Benjamin had come into the scene, but he was confuzzled with what he walked into. Taylor didn't even notice he was there when the situation was happening-- especially not when she was cursing at a fire extinguisher hoping her house wasn't going to burn down while Gracie was mindlessly holding up her phone.

She went to type a comment to the video, her thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard, but just as she did, she saw the smallest movement of your stirring in the corner of her vision.

Taylor senses the chance of your awakening, and her eyes lock onto your face with concern. But then, you had jolted out of your sleep with a sharp breath, your eyes snapping open.

Even with her surprise, she catches herself to gently wrap her arm around you, careful not to scare you further as she pulls you closer.

You look around panickly before you felt her hand moving in a soothing rhythm at your back. You find her blue eyes in the darkness, and she could see the vulnerability gleaming in yours.

Her face softens, and her hand moves up so she could gently make you lean against her forehead. "Shhh, it's alright." She whispers, letting go of her phone to wrap both her arms around you, making sure her phone was beside her instead of in between the both of you, just in case she accidentally moves atop it.

With a slow, gentle breath you let out, you snuggle close to her, your nose brushing against her neck, tickling the skin ever so slightly.

Although she was concerned, she could see it in your form; you were calm on the outside, but your rapid heart told otherwise. It was clear. You had a small nightmare, but thankfully not one enough to terrify all your being.

Taylor looks down, tilting her head to take a little peek at you. The tiredness and sleepiness was still in your eyes, the yawn that escapes your mouth told it further.

She smiles softly, turning to lay a soft kiss against the side of your head. Her hand was kept on your back, moving in a soothing motion still.

Minutes passed by, the white noise of the fan and A/C sounding through the room, and her own yawn coming from her mouth.

With a check on you again, she saw your eyes half open, but also not fully closed. The movement of your hand fiddling on her necklace also was a clear sign. You were having difficulty falling back asleep, and she knew you needed a small push.

With a gentle deep intake of breath that she releases slowly, she closes her eyes, leaning into you. A soft hum starts to quietly sound from her, a familiar melody that had your bleary eyes traveling up to her.

"I spy with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly..."

"A pebble that we picked up..."

"Last july..."

All that filled the space now was her whispered words, starting to lull you to sleep. Her hands lovingly run through your hair, in hopes that it will calm you. With the melting relaxation of your body, it indeed did.

"Down deep inside your pocket,"

She smiles softly, looking at you once more with a warm smile, even while she too, was sleepy, it almost made it even sweeter.

"...We almost forgot it..."

"Does it ever miss wicklow...sometimes?"

Your eyes had grown heavier, and she watches as they finally close. Your breaths dissolve into a steadier, slower rhythm, and her humming matches with the timing.

"Mm, mm..." She hums softly, continuing on with her lullaby, until she too starts to fall asleep herself, joining you in slumber.

They said the end is coming...

Everyone's up to something...

I find myself runnin' home to your...sweet nothings...

Outside, they're push and shoving...

You're in the kitchen, humming...

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

-----------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@dmenby3100 @wandsmxmff @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @escapereality4music @fawnedolly @justgayloringeverthrone @lovelyy-moonlight @stevecore @midastouch013 @liloandstitchstan @maleahoswick @raven-ss

[salstray]

Ghostface (Danny Johnson) x Gn! Reader? Oc? First person, but no name or description is given, so interoperate that as you please. Warnings: The General Warnings that come with writing for Any Ghostface - Knives, blood, indication of recent murders, carving names into people's skin (mentioned, talked about, remembered, though not actively done in this piece), memory of past abuse from Danny Words: 2.3k~

Note: I know Valentine's Day was yesterday, but I only had the idea for this when I woke up today, so... here ya go. Hope you enjoy!

---

Be Mine <3

---

        I knew something was wrong before I even stepped off the elevator. 

        The doors opened, creaking as they sluggishly pulled apart, revealing the dimly lit, dreary little hall that led to a row of wooden doors. Mine was at the very end. Tucked in the darkest corner furthest from the stairs.

        And it was open.

        Ever so slightly cracked. Just enough for me to see the odd angle of it as I pushed myself off the back wall of the little metal box with a sigh. Very slowly, I approached, half expecting it to fly the rest of the way open, for a hand to suddenly wrap around my wrist and yank me inside, never to be seen again. But that didn't happen.

        Instead I pressed my palm against the scratched surface, hesitantly pushing it open to reveal more inky black shadows. The distant light of the hall barely managed to filter past the threshold and I held my breath as I inched forward, slipping my shaking fingers along the wall to find the light switch. 

        I flinched when it worked and the light above my head flared to life with a quiet click.

        I figured he would have unscrewed the bulb. He’d done it before… However, the mess that trailed across my floor made it clear that he wanted me to be able to see the path he’d taken.

        Footprints. Boot prints. The indents of heavy, worn treads across my floor, printed perfectly in sticky, browning blood. Framed with half crushed rose petals and bent stems. Like he’d been doing the whole they love me, they love me not thing as he stalked his way through my apartment. The tracks started at the window to my left, the one nestled in the corner of the walls. More blood was smeared across the glass, but it was in the messy shape of hands; hands he’d used to push up the frame and leave it there, letting in the cold, late winter breeze. 

        I sighed again as I set my bag and my keys on the counter to the right, carefully swinging the door shut behind me. The trail he’d left only started. It didn’t end which meant, almost certainly, that he was still here. 

        The blood started at the window, curved around my couch, then kept going straight until it reached the bend of the hall, which led to one room. My bedroom. Slowly, I followed it, doing my best to avoid every piece of evidence he’d left in his wake. When I reached the corner of the hall, I rounded it, then stopped dead at the new sight that had been unveiled to me.

        My bedroom door was closed. Blood was twisted around the handle in the very clear shape of the hand that had opened it. On its surface was more blood. Painted into the shape of a heart that framed the gorey knife that was stabbed into its surface. 

        This wasn’t the first time I’d found it like this. Covered in someone’s blood, piercing some surface in my home. Last time it had been the dining table. Before that it had been the wall next to the front door. 

        I knew he wouldn’t be unarmed, the only time he’d ever be free of some sort of blade was when they were taken off of his corpse, but I knew that if he didn’t have this one then I didn’t have to worry about him using it on me.

        That was his sign. He’d established that very early on: If I don’t have the big knife, you don’t have to worry, sweet-cheeks. This is the only one you gotta care about, okay?

        Words that were seared into my mind. The same way his name was scarred into the flesh of my hip.

        I took a deep breath and tip-toed closer, hesitating for a few long seconds before I resigned myself to my fate and took hold of the brass knob in front of me. The blood was tacky and thick. He’d been waiting for a while, then, and it would only be smart to make sure he didn’t wait any longer before he changed his mind and pulled the blade above my head from the door for more games. 

        The second it swung open, I was met with the sight of him.

Ghostface.

        “Hi, lovey,” He called from his spot on the floor. He was sitting with his back against my bed, one leg straight out in front of him, the other bent up near his chest with his forearm resting on it. He was done up in all his black leathers, but I could tell from here, even without the blood surrounding him on the floor, that it had been recently soaked. 

        With a trembling hand, I reached over to flip the switch, powering on the outlet in the corner next to my bed and causing soft, golden light to pour out from under the shade of the lamp I had standing beside my nightstand. 

        More blood shined in the glow. 

        Another heart was smeared into the floor around him, surrounded by flowers. All roses. Some ruined and crushed, with petals plucked and tossed carelessly away. A few were full and intact, however. Blooming beautifully… if not for the scene they were a part of. 

        He tilted his head, the gaping maw of his mask twisting up towards me. 

        “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said sweetly.

        “How long have you been here?” I whispered, the hand I’d used to open the door hanging tensely at my side, my fingers splayed and palm flat so no more blood would touch me of my own free will. 

        “Hmm… not that long…,” he mused, turning his head away as he thought it over. “Maybe… fourtyish minutes? I dunno. Finished working around 8; came here right after… haven’t checked the time since.” he finished with a shrug, then grunted as he leaned forward, smoothly pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over the mess he’d made without a care. Crushing more of the roses beneath his boots. 

A fitting metaphor, I thought grimly, watching him with wide eyes as he approached. 

        My head bowed as he stepped up in front of me, my eyes now locking on the buckled straps that slid out from under his cowl and vanished under his arm. He didn’t let me stay like that for long. He’d told me before that he loved how I looked when I was oh so scared of him, so it was no surprise whatsoever when his hand raised and he used the second knuckle of his index finger to raise my chin. It was a bit of a surprise that he was so gentle with it… usually he’d take me by the hair and force my head back or wrap his whole hand around my jaw and yank me towards him, laughing when I yelped or started to cry. 

        “Missed you, you know,” he muttered. I almost didn’t hear him through the mask, but he was so close that it was hard to miss, even with the layers that separated his face from mine. “Woke up today and wanted nothing else but to just spend it all with you, but… ya know… duty calls.” I tried not to grimace when he chuckled and kept my eyes level with his when his hand fell away, painfully aware of the wet feeling that he left on the underside of my chin. “Did you think about me today?” he asked softly. 

        Knowing better than to lie, I nodded stiffly. 

        I thought about him everyday. It was kinda hard to let go of the knowledge that you were a serial killer’s plaything, believe it or not. That kind of thing took up a permanent spot right at the forefront of one's mind, usually, and I was no exception. 

        He hummed, his head tilting again as he stared at me. From here, with the bright lights flooding in from the hall behind me, I could just barely see the shine of his eyes through the dark mesh that hid them. I couldn’t see the color. I couldn’t see the whites of them. Just the way the light reflected and the way it flickered as his gaze moved back and forth between my own. 

        “Close your eyes,” he commanded. 

        I did as I was told in an instant, my urge to resist having been all but cut clean out of my body. The sound of rustling fabric vibrated in my ears. The gentle slide of leather against cloth. Then his voice again, clearer than I’d ever heard it before. 

        “Keep them closed, lovey. Or you’ll regret it,” he murmured, the feel of his breath against my cheeks almost making me flinch. 

        “I will,” I whispered. Barely able to get the words out as the air got caught in my chest. “I promise.” 

        “Good.”

        His hands appeared on my cheeks, covered in his gloves, which were in turn covered in more blood. His fingers squelched unpleasantly as they pressed into my flesh and I instinctively started to pull away moments before he pulled me in. 

        I squeaked in surprise when his lips slotted against mine. 

        I expected him to be aggressive when he kissed. Insistent and eager and hungry. Just like he was every single time he pressed me up against the nearest flat surface, tearing at my clothes. Yet, he wasn’t. The hold he had on my face was firm, wet, but firm and gentle. The pads of his gloves pressed into my cheeks, squishing the flesh up against them, but it didn’t hurt like it usually did. 

        In the end, it was soft. Sweet. Shorter than I’d expected and when he pulled away, I had to remind myself to keep my eyes closed, fighting the urge to open my eyes and gape at him.

        “Turn around,” he breathed, his hands falling from my face as I did as he said. “Open your eyes.” Again, I did. “Grab the knife from the door.” Panic shot through me instantly and I tensed, freezing in place, only moving to jerk in surprise when he laughed. “Relax, baby. I won’t be the one using it today.” The panic was replaced with confusion and he sighed quietly as his hands settled on my hips, the one on the left curling up until he had his palm against the place where Ghostface was permanently carved under my clothes. “I already marked you… now it's your turn to mark me.” 

        I blinked rapidly as what he said settled in my mind. 

        A vague memory suddenly surfaced from the haze of my thoughts. The night he’d done that to me in the first place. I remembered being tied tight to my bed, trying my best to thrash and buck as sobs tore at my throat from the otherside of the gag. Distantly, I’d heard his voice as he’d held my legs down with the bulk of his body, the burn of the knife sliding across my skin with a practiced ease. 

Look at that, baby… God, isn’t that fucking gorgeous… fuck, I’ll have to let you do this one day. See what its like, cause God damn… it would be a fucking crime to keep this feeling to myself… 

        I’d had my own twisted thoughts of him and his many crimes at the time. Thoughts that almost made a hysteric laugh burst out of me as he nudged at my spine in the present. 

        “Go on, lovey. I’ll put the mask back on, so don’t worry about turning around once you got it.” 

        When I took my single step forward, I considered running. The absolute last thing I wanted to do was to grab that knife, to do to him what he’d done to me, to carve my name into his skin. To be a part of him for the rest of his life… yet if I ran, he’d be mad at me. I’d tried to run before and it had ended with a very harsh punishment. Cuts, bruises, and more than a few days lost to his torments in the pitch black basement of some warehouse on the outskirts of town. 

        I’d promised him I’d never do it again. Told myself that it wasn’t worth it, whatever it was that would get me there wouldn’t be worth it… but would this?

        His hands appeared on my hips again and I flinched… again.

        “What are you waiting for?” he whispered, the hard form of his mask pressing against the shell of my ear. His voice was mean. Mocking. Unhappy with my hesitation. 

        “I don’t wanna hurt you,” I whispered back. “I don’t… I don’t like hurting people.” 

        “You won’t hurt me, lovey. Not in any way I won’t enjoy. Now… Get. The. Knife.” The next nudge was more of a shove and I stumbled another few steps forward, my hands curling up towards my chest as I started to shake all over. 

        Fittingly, the hand I wrapped around the handle of the knife was the one I’d used to open the door. The one that was decorated with blood. Blood of a stranger. Blood that belonged to someone who’s name I’d learn when I walked into work tomorrow, all the red heart decorations being taken down with teary eyes and fearful whispers following them back into the boxes. 

        It took a few wiggling tugs to pull it free and I kept my eyes on the ground when I turned to face him again, the knife tucked against my chest with my trembling fists. 

        When he moved, my eyes raised and I watched, tears welling up, as he crooked a single finger at me. Beckoning me forward. 

        I took another deep breath, stealing myself for what was going to come next. My fingers tightened around the hilt as I shuffled closer to him and the first tear fell as he took me by the hips once more. After a few seconds of studying me, one of his hands raised and he brushed his thumb across the trail it had taken down my cheek, shaking his head as he did.

        “Save these, baby,” he stated, his voice low and dark. Familiar, at least. “You’ll need them later… now c’mon. We have a lot of celebrating to do.” 

---

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 11)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

A few days later…

A few days later, and following an array of arguments between Danielle and Cillian, Danielle decided to investigate matters further after her husband had gone to bed early that day. After all, she couldn't trust anything he said anymore, especially when it concerned other women.

As quiet footsteps echoed across the cold wooden floors, Danielle tip-toed cautiously into Cillian's bedroom as, just recently, they decided to sleep separately. Despite being aware of the risk involved, her need for confirmation trumped her common sense.

Slowly, opening the door slightly, she peered into the dimly lit space. Her eyes darted quickly, trying to locate his cell phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Her senses heightened, anticipating danger.

As quietly as she could manage, she tiptoed toward the object of her search, which was plugged into a wall charger. She undid the latch on Cillian's phone case swiftly but silently. As she lifted the device from its perch, her heart thundered in her ears, nearly drowning out the faint ringing noise emanating from within.

Careful not to drop the expensive piece of technology, she slinked back to her room, closing the door behind her softly. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a few calming breaths, grateful to still be unnoticed. Opening her eyes again, she glanced at the clock - it was almost midnight.

She punched in his passcode, which was still the same, and then she went straight to his text-message folder. Scrolling past the ones from friends and acquaintances, she stopped abruptly at something that seemed odd, referring to a person simply by their initials, followed by a heart emoji.

Intrigued, she opened the conversation thread and, just as she did, her chin dropped.

The entirety of the text exchange revolved around explicit content that made her question whether she wanted to delve any deeper. In shock, she read on and also saw pictures as well as short videos attached, each showing several intimate moments.

One of the pictures showed a woman's intimate parts exposed to the camera, her nipple hardened and covered in ejaculate and another photo revealed what appeared to be a closeup of her husband's erection, ejaculating onto the woman's body.

In a very short video clip, she witnessed her husband penetrating the unknown woman vigorously, and the audio even captured their moans.

It was evident that they had performed multiple sexual acts together, in which he did not even bother to wear protection, suggesting carelessness and recklessness. Danielle felt physically sickened at the thought of such practices happening behind her back.

In his text messages to the female stranger, she discovered that not only were their exchanges filled with dirty talk, but he also told her that he missed her and wanted to see her again.

His last message, in particular, went as far as to invite this woman to his home on Tuesday afternoon, telling her that he really needed to talk to her, and Danielle wondered what this last message could possibly have been about.

It certainly suggested some level of premeditation for their secret encounters, which intensified her rage further. The texts indicated his desire to take things beyond mere sexual interactions and she worried that the time had come when he would leave her.

In the end though, she knew that there was nothing she could do about this now and thus she decided to return his phone

to him, making certain no trace remained of her snooping. Before placing the phone back, she scrolled through the threads again looking for any additional evidence, finding none. It wouldn't change how betrayed she felt or alleviate her wrath, but she found solace in knowing she had answers to questions she had feared asking.

Feeling tired, worn out both emotionally and psychologically, she climbed back into bed fully clothed and let the darkness envelop her like a cloak, knowing that she had to patiently wait until Tuesday to confront Cillian face-to-face and hopefully catch him in the act.  

Tuesday Afternoon…

It was late Tuesday afternoon when you arrived at Cillian's house after school and, unlike usual, he did not greet you with a kiss even though no one else was around.

"How are you feeling today?" Cillian eventually asked casually, knowing that you had been feeling slightly off, while attempting to break the awkward silence that had taken root since you arrived at his home. 

Your head dropped low, focusing intently on his feet, "Just tired, and worried", you replied quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"Worried? Why?" Cillian questioned softly while gesturing for you to come inside and have a seat.

"Well, you wanted to see me because you needed to talk and I have a feeling about where this might be going," you spoke honestly, still struggling to maintain eye contact. "Plus, lately, you've seemed quite distant, so just make it quick, okay?" you told him, knowing very well that he would be ending your affair soon due to his guilt-ridden conscience.

Feelings of resignation flooded through you as you acknowledged that it was futile to try fighting fate anymore.

"Alright," Cillian agreed, finally meeting your gaze. "I need to put an end to this," he admitted, clearing his throat nervously, anticipating your reaction. 

Your heart dropped, but you maintained composure, unwilling to succumb to tears.

"Okay, but can you tell me why now?" you asked, sadness creeping into your voice.

Cillian shifted uncomfortably, visibly troubled by what he was about to say. "Because things are getting out of hand, and I am losing control. I want you more than I thought I would. I don't wish to cause you harm Y/N, but I can't carry on with both you and my wife," he explained apologetically.

"I understand. This was always going to be short-lived anyways," you stated, masking your feelings. 

"You know, you are more mature than I gave you credit for" Cillian said appreciatively, surprised by your understanding.

As if sensing your vulnerability, he moved to comfort you by placing his arms around your shoulders.

Emotionally distraught, you allowed yourself to lean against him briefly, taking solace in his warmth before pulling back, attempting to hide your turmoil behind stoicism.  

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself as your world began to spin out of control. Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze defiantly.

"I am just being realistic. You are more than twice my age and as much as I will miss the sex, I too need to move on eventually, right?"

Your statement held a mix of sorrow and determination and Cillian understood how difficult it must be for you to accept this reality, seeing that he was the first man you've ever slept with.

"For what it's worth, I had the best sex I ever I had in those last three or four weeks with you," he confided with a slight smile, running his fingers lightly along your cheekbone, eliciting a quiet moan from you.

In turn, you brushed your lips across his tenderly before moving in closer and whispering near his ear, "how about one last time?" 

The intensity in your eyes hinted at something more profound than simple desire, stirring an unexpected wave of longing within him. Unable to bear the painful yearning any longer, Cillian acquiesced reluctantly. "One last time," he confirmed solemnly, knowing that despite everything, he couldn't resist temptation.

"Good, then take me to your bedroom

," you suggested confidently, your resolve matching his own. As you walked together, Cillian admired your boldness, finding himself aroused once again at the mere prospect of indulging in forbidden pleasures with you.

Once you reached his room, you 

quickly undressed, casting aside your clothes without shame. Your body gleamed in the dim light of the room, every curve tantalising.

Naked, you approached him, pressing your lips hungrily against his neck as you traced its outline with your tongue, sending waves of pleasure through him. As your hands explored his chest, Cillian could not help but return the favor, teasing your breasts with his mouth. Each touch heightened the hunger building within you both.

"Take off your clothes," you told him

firmly, urgency lacing your tone. Your words were like a commandment, striking him directly to his core. Relinquishing all restraint, Cillian obeyed instantly, swiftly shedding his clothing until he stood nude before you.

Reaching out to stroke his erection gently, you took note of his impressively large member and smiled coyly. Glancing back up at him, you saw a mixture of relief and pride illuminating his face as he watched you handle him so expertly.

"I will miss this beautiful thick cock of yours,” you murmured seductively, wrapping your fingers around his length and stroking it lovingly. His body stiffened at your caress, a groan escaping him involuntarily.

"That feels incredible," he rasped huskily, unable to contain his desire any longer. With a gentle nudge, you encouraged him onto the bed, positioning yourself straddling him, allowing your wetness to slicken his rigid shaft.

Grabbing hold of his firm balls, you looked into his eyes with a playful glint, smiling devilishly.

“Do you want me to ride you and fill me up with your cum one last time?” you whispered suggestively, giving him enough time to contemplate his response.

“Fuck yes," he answered immediately, fully surrendering to your lead.

With a small giggle, you lowered yourself onto his cock, impaling yourself tightly. Both of you moaned simultaneously, your bodies melting together in perfect syncopation.

"I love how tight your pussy feels around my cock," Cillian growled, thrusting forcefully upward as he picked up pace. "Let me hear you scream my name one last time babe!" he demanded, and you complied.

"Oh God! Cillian!" you cried out, arching your back as a wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Come on baby, come for me," he demanded, driving you even further toward climax with each powerful plunge.

"Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, I'm coming! Unghh!" you screamed loudly, throwing your head back as your orgasm consumed you completely, knowing very well that this was just one of many to come within the next hour or so. 

Every muscle in your body contracted, sending shockwaves throughout Cillian's loins.

"Damn, baby girl, you are amazing," he praised you breathlessly as, all of a sudden, the door swung open, startling both of you immensely.

"What...the fuck? Y/N?" you heard Danielle's familiar voice, filled with fury. 

Tags:

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[ilovetheriddler]

The Enigma Of Love.

(Gotham) Edward Nygma x F!Reader.

Chapter Three.

Word Count: 1,360.

Contents: some more backstory, a rainy day, and another encounter with Edward.

Several days had gone by since the lost forgotten wallet fiasco, and it had been overall a fairly boring few days as that was pretty much the most exciting thing that happened to you recently. Mrs Jones had gotten over whatever flu she had and had returned to work, and thankfully, like Ashley had reassured you, she wasn't upset with you being late that one day. As a result of her being a fairly patient and kind woman, however, she did end up officially firing your other coworker Kevin. You felt kind of bad for the man, but also, he genuinely hardly ever showed up, so you wouldn't lose too much sleep over it, you did hope that he'd find a different job though that maybe he actually enjoyed at the very least.

Unfortunately, the cryptic dreams that you've been having lately still haven't stopped. If anything, they've gotten more frequent! It made you think back on your early childhood. Your grandmother was an interesting woman. She lived for a surprisingly long time, actually not passing away until the day after her 101st birthday. Some relatives liked to joke about how she was possibly immortal since she had managed to outlive quite a few family members who were younger than her. She had always been an extremely superstitious woman, with a bit of spiritual beliefs mixed in at times to what she was talking about.

It gave some relatives chills with what she would say. Others would entirely disregard what she said, writing it off as a result of her old age. Some took a bit more consideration into what she spoke often about. When she had been a young woman, she had started having these intensely realistic dreams, all of which always featured a gorgeous meadow, filled with sunflowers, the smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the air. She met your grandfather shortly after the dreams started. He was a young man who worked as a baker, who was nicknamed Sunny by everyone close to him because of his bright eyes and smile. Now, your grandmother would always swear up and down that those dreams were a prophecy of sorts, a premonition if you will, and couldn't be convinced otherwise her entire life.

Some relatives deeply believed her theory surrounding her dreams, while others were skeptical. It made you think about the dreams that you've been having. However, those weren't exactly romantic or pleasant in nature, more so cryptic and uneasy. A dimly lit room with the only light source being a few illuminated green question marks, the smell of Ceder wood in the air, and most importantly.... That same riddle every time... for a moment, it brought Edward Nygma to mind, but you quickly pushed that notion out of your mind, after all, if it was meant to be some type of premonition of romance than why would it be so utterly bizarre in comparison to the peaceful dreams that your grandmother had spoken of?

Once you had arrived at work and clocked in, you couldn't stop yourself from getting lost in your own thoughts while you sat at the front desk. Thoughts of worry over your mother's condition, which, despite how much the hospital tried, only seemed to worsen with time. The fact that she most likely didn't have much time left has been eating away at you ever since you received the news from the doctor, and her hospital bills just kept increasing as well. You were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn't notice a certain someone approach the front desk. At least until you glanced up and nearly fell over in your seat as you saw Edward standing there, slightly leaned over the desk as he stared at you in silence.

"G-good grief! M-Mr Nygma... you startled me, I um... I didn't see you standing there..."

"Oh, that's perfectly fine! I just came here to return the books that I checked out..."

"Alright then... Well, just hand them to me, and I'll update our system to list them as returned."

He pulled the books out of a bag that he had with him, setting them down on the desk in front of you. You immediately got to work inputing everything necessary into the system and then put them over in a crate for Ashley to return to the proper shelves later. He was still staring at you, clearly lost in his own thoughts, whatever they were about.

"Um... so... Did you like the books that you borrowed?"

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice, a smile crossing his face.

"Yes, I found them to be extremely enjoyable and to be quite fascinating!"

"That's good to hear... so is there anything else I can help you with? Or was that all?"

His face appeared to be somewhat flustered for a brief second before he cleared his throat.

"Um... N-no, that's all I needed... I'll be going now, I hope that you have a wonderful day!"

You watched as he walked away from the front desk. You couldn't help but wonder if he was just a nervous fellow in general or if there was something that made him particularly nervous. Ashley approached the desk and grabbed the crate, giving you a brief greeting as she walked off to put the returned books back on the shelves.

You could hear the light sound of what you assumed was rain hitting the roof of the library. The forecast did mention rain, luckily you remembered to bring an umbrella..... wait, oh damn it! You realized that it had slipped your mind to grab one on your way out of your apartment that morning, with how preoccupied your mind was. You let out a frustrated groan as you finished your shift. You already hated having to walk home so late in the evening, but in the rain as well?! It would be a nightmare. You reluctantly made your way outside, standing in the doorway of the library. The rain was coming down hard, and here you were, Umbrella less. great, just absolutely great..... you nearly fell down the front steps when you heard a voice behind you suddenly speak up.

"When the cloudy sky becomes dim, I come around. When it heats up, I evaporate, not to be found. What am i?"

"AH! O-oh! I-it's just you...."

There stood none other than Edward Nygma once again. Why was he still here at the library? You had no clue. He had his usual grin on his face as he moved his hand. You then noticed the umbrella being held above you.

"Rain, the answer is rain! A-anyway I noticed that you didn't have an umbrella with you earlier and since I didn't have anywhere that I needed to be, I figured that I'd wait for you so I could make sure that you didn't get soaked by the weather!"

"Oh, um... Thank you, I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to do that..."

"It's really no trouble at all... in fact, I insist..."

After a bit of back and forth, you eventually gave up and agreed to allow him to escort you home. The walk was quiet and a tad bit awkward as you both made your way through the streets of gotham. Once you couldn't handle the silence anymore, you spoke up.

"I really like your tie.... what is that on it? A question mark?"

His eyes lit up at your compliment, and he quickly adjusted his glasses.

"Why yes, it is! I'm so glad that you like it.... oh! Isn't this the address that told me earlier?"

You looked up, and sure enough, you had arrived at your apartment. You asked him if he wanted to come inside to sit down for a bit, but he declined and insisted that he needed to get back home.

"Um... Goodnight! I hope that you have pleasant dreams!"

"Goodnight, Mr Nygma...."

"P-please... just call me Edward or Ed... Mr Nygma is too formal."

After he left, you went about your nightly routine before laying down. Unbeknownst to the dreams that awaited you that night.

[jvnluvr]

author’s note: sooo, long time no see haha. i haven’t been able to write blue lock stuff lately n i’m sorry about that. hsr has kinda been in my mind lately, especially dan heng/imbibitor lunae for those of you who know. idk if many of my followers even know abt hsr but those who followed the tags, i hope u enjoy. mostly self indulgent btw, it’s very short and i wrote it on a whim at 2am.

ft. dan heng x f!reader

ever since you joined the express, you were able to see a side of dan heng nobody else was really able to crack. he was able to feel atleast somewhat vulnerable with you, and you both cherished your moments together when it came to trailblazing.

of course, you all sleep in separate rooms. but you both have shared with each other that sometimes you get nightmares. the type to where you can’t find yourself falling back asleep once you’ve been through the experience. usually when this happens for you, you tend to catch up on other things in the middle of the night.

but this particular night, you woke up in a cold sweat, a pang of fear hitting your stomach, and it continued to linger. trying to distract yourself was futile, so your body moved on it’s own. you slowly opened your door, walking a mere couple of steps as you found yourself slowly opening dan heng’s door, as knocking would have made too much noise.

he’s awake, to your surprise, casual clothing and in bed, reading a book with a tiny light source near him. however, his head strikes up as he hears his door open, but his tension is relieved when he sees it’s you. you’re rubbing your eyes as you close the door behind you, and you never really planned out what you were going to say to him, as you’ve never done this before.

“um.. ah..” you whisper out in the dimly lit room. “i can leave if you want but— just uh.. ‘had a nightmare and i don’t know why but i got up and here i was—” you let out a breath, exasperated just thinking about your nightmare from before. you look back at him and his eyes urge you to come closer and so you do.

you continue to walk until your sitting in front of him, and you explain properly what happened. he intently listens to you, secretly admiring you in the process though. his fingers slightly graze over yours, like a request, to which you invite him in, intertwining your fingers together as you unexpectedly wrap your arms around him, bringing him in for a hug.

at first, you don’t feel him reciprocate your action, to which you get scared. maybe you did step too far? you try and pull back quickly, but his arms instinctively wrap around your waist, keeping you in his lap as you breathe the same air.

“you can sleep here tonight, i don’t mind.” he whispers in your ear, not only rubbing small circles on your back, but also pressing a very delicate kiss against your cheek. you’re shocked to say the least, but maybe your sleepy mind is completely out of energy to even question why dan heng was acting like this. maybe he knew you wouldn’t ask.

it comes almost naturally to the two of you as he closes the light he was once using to read. he lies you both down, keeping his arms around you as your legs start to tangle together. you feel dizzy with love as you quickly drift off to sleep, feeling safe in his arms. however, dan heng stays awake a little longer, to look at you and quickly say a small “i love you.” before falling asleep beside you.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

I miss your writing😂 I need me some weems, now idk if you’ll consider writing age regression ? Bc I have another idea if you do.

So r is depressed bc they ran out of medication and forgot to refill it since they’ve become ill (me rn it’s horrid and messing with my head) no one’s seen or heard from r and weems has to do a welfare check. Here she finds a depressed and very sick reader. She knows of readers bad back ground (they are a shifter and was found hanging onto life after being abused in a facility like hydra for shifters) so when r becomes all clingy and very child like it confessed weems. R is so touch starved it’s insane, but with weems rn she’s like a child wanting and craving the affection just needing to be held. So naturally weems does that and that’s how she discovers the fever r has and that r ran out of her meds so weems nurses her better. Oh! Could also add r isn’t sleeping bc of nightmares due to their background?

Sorry for the long request and I’m not even sure it makes sense. I need my Damn pills lmao.

🕯️

A little sick

Pairings: Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: you're sick and regressed.

TW: agre? Sickness, depression, medicine (prescription),

A/n I’ve never written this kind of thing before so tell me if any of its wrong. Cute request tho :) let me know if you like it or want to see more of this kind of thing.

Part 2

Waking up and feeling like your bones were made of lead was not the way you wanted to start the day. It took all of your strength to pull yourself upright. Standing on shaky legs you wobble over to your dresser pulling out the pouch of pills that helped you with the aftermath of the facility and the depression it left. You knew firsthand how bad it could be to be a shapeshifter. Hunted and experimented on. You drew a deep breath pushing the thoughts away and exhaling slowly and shakily.

Unzipping the pouch, you frowned. All the blister packets were empty. You were out. You slouched dejectedly. It was going to be a long day. Yoko had already left for classes and to be honest you didn’t really think you could make it to the wardrobe to get changed let alone all the way to class. You sighed dejectedly and hobbled back to bed and laid down on your back staring at the roof. The feelings were getting harder to push away.

Your chest felt hollow, and you choked back a sob. The last time you were sick … was back there and to be honest you had no idea what would happen if someone found out here.

You zoned out feeling a familiar fuzzy feeling swallow your mind. You tried to push it away which only seemed to make you headache unbearable. The pain was what made you slip. Dropping hard, you felt your body shift. Soon the bed felt much bigger as you curled into a ball and cried. You were tired but scared to sleep, the nightmares seemed to be ever persistent.

You had no idea how long you had been crying, small sobs wracking the tiny body on the bed. Soon a knock sounded on the door.

Weems had had reports all day that you had been absent. Knowing your history with depression she knew it was imperative to do a welfare check as soon as she could. Looking at her calendar she swore. She had a copy if the nurses schedule for meds and prescription refills. Yours were out and it looked like nobody had picked up more for you.

She finally signed off the email she had spent the morning drafting to the mayor. Closing her laptop she toed on her heels, opting to take them off to give her feet a break when sitting and stood smoothing out her skirt. She hurried out the door and to your dorm. Hearing small noises inside she hesitated before knocking, she knew you were in there was was slightly terrified of what she would find inside the dorm.

Hearing the soft knock on the door you wiped a small fist over your eyes and sat up still silent tears running down your cheeks. You waited and heard the door open.

Weems peered into the dimly lit room; the windows still drawn. She saw a small lump on the bed and slowly walked over. The closer she got the more shocked she became. Why was there a toddler in the dorm and why did she look exactly like … y/n?

Small sad eyes looked up at her and sniffled. Weems stood awkwardly not really knowing what to do. She had a suspicion. She knew you were a shifter like herself. She looked down at you and it clicked. It made sense with the amount of trauma you had. You had regressed both physically and mentally to a child. Looking down at the sad child, you looked up at her and extended your arms.

“Up?” You asked with childlike innocence. Weems felt her heart melt. Gently she placed her hands under your arms and lifted you onto her hip. Almost straight away you buried your face in her neck, and she let out a soft gasp.

You were face too warm. Gently she peeled your face from her neck so she could look you in the eyes while she bounced you on her hip. You let out a soft whine at the loss of contact and weems shushed you as she placed a gentle hand against your cheek then forehead.

“Oh honey. Are you not feeling too good right now?” She asked. “Do you feel icky?” She said and you nodded and sniffled, the tears slowing.

“Alright. Well, we are going to get you some medicine then we are going to come back to my place for some sleep.” She said and you whined.

“No sleep.” You pouted and Weems frowned. “Cuddles?” You asked.

“Ok sweet girl you can have cuddles but why no sleep?” She asked.

“Mean dreams.” You pouted and she felt her heart break. Of course, you had bad dreams, that was almost assured with what you had been through. Why didn’t she think of that. Patting you back she used a hand to guide you back to her neck as you put your thumb in your mouth.

Weems winced knowing it probably wasn’t clean but there wasn’t much she could do about it right now and she preferred it to the crying. Holding you on her hip with one arm and the other on the back of your head she saw a small white fluffy thing under your blanket walking over and pulling out the stuffie you brightened as she tucked it between you and her chest as you wrapped you free arm around it.

“Alright honey let’s go get some medicine for you.” She said and left. She knew the school week enough to make sure nobody would see the two of you, God the rumours would be endless if students saw weems with a child. Careful to avoid any class windows Weems made it to the infirmary. As a shapeshifter herself she knew that the doses of medicine would need to match the physical size of the body. Balancing you on her hip she looked into your eyes.

“How old are you sweetheart?” She asked and you looked at her shyly holding up four fingers and puffing your chest out.

“Im four.” You grinned.

“Wow. Big girl huh?” She asked and you smiled wider.

Weems pulled out the bottle of medicine labeled 3-6 and any other supplies she would need. Carefully making her way back to her office she slipped back into her own quarters to take care of you.

You whined as she set you down on the couch but stopped as she lifted you back into her lap. You sure were clingy like this. Measuring out a dose of medicine Weems coaxed you into drinking it which made you stick your tongue out in disgust after.

“Yucky.” You said. Weems chuckled.

“Im sure it was sweet girl.” She said and stroked your hair. You buried your face in her chest and fisted your hands in her shirt.

“Alright bedtime. I think someone needs a nap huh?” She said and you whined.

“Nooo.” You said.

“Alright how about some cuddles instead?” Weems asked and you smiled.

“Cuddles?”

“Yes. Cuddles.”

“Yay cuddles.” You celebrated.

“Alright sweet thing lets go to my bedroom and we can cuddle.” She said knowing you would fall asleep in no time. Curling into her chest more and wrapping you small arms around Weems she felt her heart melt again as she ran her nails up and down your spine. You shivered and enjoyed the touch.

After a few minutes you seemed to be fighting sleep, eyes drooping before flying wide open again with a small whimper.

“Honey whats the matter? Why won’t you sleep love?” Weems asked softly.

“Bad dreams.” You whimpered softly and weems patted your back running her hands through your short hair. It was much shorter than normal probably from the shift.

“Honey, you need to sleep, I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave your side, ok? Do you think you could be a brave girl and get some sleep for me?” She asked softly.

Burrowing your face into her neck you nodded and shuffled around to get comfy. Weems knew either way based off how exhausted you seemed you would be asleep soon regards of what you wanted.

And as predicted after about five more minutes weems felt your breath even out against her chest and heard small snores coming from you. She smiled softly down at you and decided then and there she would never let anything hurt you again.

MASTERLIST

[anodeorain]

Thunderstorm night.

Alcina Dimitrescu x Y/N.

Notes: no TWs this time, just some cute fluff with Alcina x Y/N :)

Rain drops hit rhythmically against the window. You can hear distant thunder while lightnings flashed, illuminating the room. The room is dimly lit with few candles that stay on bookshelves nearby the vanity.

Alcina sits at her vanity, writing something down into her diary. It’s her habit by now to summarize the day like that. She sits quietly, puffing on her cigarette that she smokes without a cigarette holder, holding the cigarette between her slender pale fingers. Alcina smiles slightly, and closes her eyes for a second, taking a second to relax and stretch her neck.

“Mother!”

“Shhh!”

She hisses at Bela and frowns, wrapping her arms around you while you sit on her lap with your legs around her waist. You fell asleep like this, using one of her breasts as a pillow not so long ago. Alcina decided to let you stay.

She looks down at you, placing her hand on your head as she looks up at her daughter. She slightly tilts her head, nonverbally asking her daughter what’s happening. Bela turns into a swarm for a second, flying closer to her Mother. She bends down to her, whispering into her ear.

“Cassandra and Daniele got into a fight again… But they might be okay by now I guess.”

She says as quiet as she can and Alcina rolls her eyes back into her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her daughters always wrangle with each other mostly because of age differences. But all of them still act like silly teenagers.

Alcina sighs, becoming irritated. She waves her hand, gesturing Bela to leave as soon as possible. Bela nods silently, turning into a swarm and leaving Alcina with you all alone again. She lights up another cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the ceiling as she presses you closer to her body.

“Alcina?”

She hears you mumble and takes another puff of cigarette as she looks down at you, smiling slightly.

“Yes, Draga?”

“I�� I’m sorry for-“

“It’s alright. You can stay like this for a little longer.”

She coos in a sweet soft tone, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss as you blush and quickly cup Alcina’s face, making her lean closer to you. She smiles, not breaking the eye contact with you as she makes herself sit more comfortable.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

She purrs against your lips, not moving any closer as she smiles. You let out a quiet sigh before leaning forward, leaving a soft kiss on the corner of Alcina’s lips. She smirks at your cute actions, slightly turning her head and crashing your lips with hers.

Alcina, herself, is a very confident, self-sufficient woman that never allowed anyone to stay in her chamber for longer then one night. Mostly because she used to kill every other maid that tried to seduce her. She’s indeed a flirty person but it is simply her manner of speech.

Lady Dimitrescu never let anyone stay in her chamber… Until now. She fell in love with you as soon as she saw you in the doorway. Tiny, cold little mouse, as she used to call you, stood right before her. Lady Dimitrescu got a habit to watch you carefully every day form far, knowing she can’t be caught. Of course, her three daughters noticed the way their Mother stared at you. They always knew it. One day they pushed their Mother in the library that you were cleaning by that time and made Alcina talk to you first.

She had to have a serious conversation with her daughters about it later.

It turned out pretty well. She relaxed by your side, letting herself to open up a bit. You both stayed like that in the library for the night, reading and discussing some books and simply talking to each other. Lady Dimitrescu asked you about yourself and barely spoke herself. After some time Alcina brought and gave you her favorite wine that was strong enough to knock you out in few hours which made Alcina laugh. That was the first time she carried you bridal style to her chambers and let you sleep there.

Now, Alcina sits with you on her lap, kisses you softly, showing you all her love and affection by that small action. She keeps you close and steady by your lower back, looking directly into your eyes as she slightly pulls away from you.

“Would you like some cuddles, Alcina?”

You ask tiredly, yawning as you press your head against Alcina’s breast again. She smirks and slowly gets up, walking toward the bed with you sitting on her arm. Alcina gently places you down on her soft bed, carefully crawling to you. She lays down on her side, placing her arm under her head as she closely watches you through her long mascaraed lashes. You smile, looking into her golden eyes, getting completely lost in them. You admire her beauty. Every wrinkle, every scratch on her porcelain skin seem perfect to you. Alcina smiles warmly at you, leans closer again to kiss you softly on the tip of your nose before pulling you closer to her by your waist. She wraps her arm around you, keeping you warm and safe by her side. You immediately close your heavy eyes, burring your face into the crook of her neck. She smiles again, kissing the top of your head.

“Sleep well, Draga…”

She whispers.

“You too, love…”

[billk4ulitzsecretlvr]

Fic request botTOM! w DomBill! plz idc the situation or scenario I just love me some bottom Tom

A/N ☆ : sorry I have not ! Been very active at all recently / writing really short .. I got on here with a big burst of motivation and just do not have so much any more :[ . I wrote also this all in one sitting as a hopes that I will get back to writing more , hehe ..

Please make sure that when you guys are sending requests , there is at least some sort of plot I can grab on to . I know the main focus in this is that Tom is bottom and Bill is a Dom but including setting or even just backgrounds information helps me write better sometimes and makes me able to write longer too <3 .

☆ This fic contains : MLM , smut , oral play , bit of spit . ?? ( Always hehe .. ) , edging , sub ! Tom x Dom ! Bill ( 2009 / 10 ) ( which I am really excited to try . )

It had been a decently long day between the twins, they both agreed that it was a bit off the entire time. Not because they had argued or really just anything happened, but it felt that Tom was just extra clingy tonight which piqued Bill's interest just a bit.

They had just gotten in, Bill set his bag down on the dining room table whereas Tom let his own bag down on the couch. He moved a bit over to Bill in means of wrapping his arms around the boys slim waist and pecking eagerly at the exposed skin on his neck.

Bill was slightly thrown off, his arms raising in surprise for a couple seconds as he felt the older man coddle his waist.

He felt as Tom pushed in-between his lock extensions to leave small kisses, even on the tattoo on the back of Bills neck.

Bill sighed, pulling Tom off a bit as he side eyed the man, admiring his cornrows and the small black lip ring that snuggly fit against Tom's lower lip.

"You're so clingy lately." Bill noted, tilting his head slightly while crossing his arms.

Tom had a soft look in his eyes, a look that told Bill nearly everything he needed to know.. but still left him at a bit of a confusion.

Bill didn't really have an edge to his tone but it was obvious he understood what Tom was asking for and he was definitely going to play with it.

He walked himself over to the couch, heavy boots clacking against the floor with every movement. The sound of his necklaces and pocket chains contributed to the noise, not very loudly but it was definitely audible.

He heard simply as Tom followed, like some sort of lost puppy.

Bill sat on the couch, his leather jacket making slight friction with the matching black leather couch. It was quiet, the room was lit dimly by lazy lamps in the corners of the room.. something Tom and Bill made an effort to keep soft and subtle in their living area.

"I just miss you." Tom lied, looking down at Bill on the couch. It made the boy raise and eyebrow when the soft tone left Toms lips.

Bill didn't say anything, almost at a lost. Not that it was generally surprising that Tom was 'soft' at the moment, it was sheerly just.. throwing Bill off a bit from his normal 'tough guy' demeanor. Especially since he had his cornrows. ( Which Bill couldn't deny he was utterly in love with.)

"Yeah?" Bill asked after a couple seconds of awkward silence.

"Prove it to me, Tom." Bill said, uncrossing his legs and spreading his knees slightly as he slumped a bit on the couch. He nudged Tom's leg with his boot, rubbing it up and down until Tom had gotten the memo to get on his knees.

Once the man had complied and sat himself between Bills legs, the younger of the two chuckled, shaking his head.

"Like a damn dog.." Bill remarked.

He waited a couple seconds to see that Tom wasn't moving forward to anything, just looking a bit nervously up at Bill.

"Come on, we've done this before, yeah?" Bill asked, cupping Tom's cheek and rubbing it a bit before unzipping his own somewhat flared, black jeans.

He watched as Tom hesitantly pulled him through his boxers, taking Bill into his mouth with experience. The boys back arched only slightly, feeling the foreign turf of Toms warm..wet mouth against his length. Something he always enjoyed.

He put his slender fingers on the back of Toms head, rubbing the tight hairstyle as a bit of encouragement while Tom worked his mouth.

God, it always felt amazing. Tom seemed to known how to do everything. Bill bit his lower lip, looking down to watch as Tom's head lifted and lowered.

"Good boy," Bill whispered. Tom nearly melted under Bill at that point.

Praise as always Toms weakness.. and that meant from everybody, especially in the belittling voice Bill always used on him. He felt his knees dig into the ground with Bills knees pressed against his upper arms.

After some time, Bill lifted Toms chin to make eye contact, noticing the small bit of precum that gathered in the one corner of Toms mouth. He giggled, wiping it with his thumb as he held Toms face. He pressed his thumb up against Tom's lips, feeling as the man opened and closed it around Bills finger.

"Good boooyy ..." Bill dragged out again, sitting up as he looked down at Tom on the carpet.

He watched as Tom put his own hand over Bills wrist, rubbing slightly. The man looked at the boy with such a look of awe and desperation. Bill leaned forward just enough to pinpoint the outline of Tom's erection through the baggy fabric of his jeans.

"Already?" Bill asked, cocking an eyebrow. Tom hesitantly answered.

"I-I just- .." he started after he pulled off of Bills finger.

Bill smirked, looking down and nudging the bulge with his boot. He heard as Tom made a quiet noise, it had instantly clicked to Bill that he had most of the control at the moment.

Bill kept his boot over Toms groin, pressing down a bit just to see how Tom could react. Hearing small moans he'd earned from it just coined Bill all manipulation over the situation now. Tom wrapped his hand around Bills shin/calve.. which made Bill smirk.

He felt as Tom pushed himself slightly up against Bills boot, desperate for any sort of relief as soon as possible.

"Sit where I am sitting." Bill ordered, fixing himself in his jeans before buttoning them and standing up.

He watched as Tom took his place. He immediately joined, sitting right next to the man on the couch on his knees.

Bill leaned over and kissed Toms cheek, feeling his hand creep across Bills back to pull him a bit closer. Of course, Bill was not settling for Tom to authorize any of the interaction.

The younger boy pushed his feathery hair back over his locks, massaging Tom gently through his jeans. He felt as the older twins body moved against his hand, pushing up slightly.

"You're so.. interesting." Bill commented, quietly. He heard Tom's deeper voice retort back.

"Please, just get over this rubby stuff.. just touch me?" He offered in a way that was like he was telling Bill.. which he sort of was.

Bill ignored him before an idea struck.

He looked up at Tom, gauging a reaction as he continued to palm the man, seeing him move a bit under the touch in a means of desperately just wanting to get off by Bill. Of course, eventually it would happen.. but Bill wanted to have a bit of fun first.

"Mm.. tell me when you're close." Bill whispered, pushing his hand into Toms jeans and massaging through the thin material of his boxers.

By now, he has felt Tom slightly twitching in his grasp, feeling him throb a bit before Tom squeezed Bill's lower back. Which made Bill remove his hand all together. He watched the pleasure drain from Toms face, contorting more to a look of confusion. He arched his back only slightly as he felt his tip dribble a bit of cum.. but not a lot, easily mistaken as precum.

He raised his eyebrows at Bill, looking quite sad. Bill just bit his lower lip, smirking.

"Huh.." Bill commented, pushing his hand back into Tom's jeans.

He nipped the man's neck a bit as Tom's hands roamed his thin frame, tickling under his shirt.

Bill teased his tip through the fabric, feeling the sticky residue seeping through it slowly as Tom's head laid against the fabric.

"So hard." Bill purred, earning a groan from Tom.

Bill pumped his hand a little faster, feeling as Tom's body gave the cues he was close again.. which just lead him to stop touching as soon as he was about to cum. He watched as Tom's face showed an ounce of frustration..

He put his hands on Bills ribs, toying with the cloth that covered his lanky body.

"Stop doing that." He mumbled out, pushing his hips up a bit to rub against Bills hand.

Bill lifted his hand, raising an eyebrow at Tom.

"Talk to me like that again and I'll stop all together." Bill hissed, an attempt at asserting dominance.. which seemed to work a bit since Tom recoiled at his sharp tone, sulking back a bit and waiting for Bill to touch him.

He was so hard now, all the teasing and edging was really getting to him at this point and there was probably nothing more he wanted than to simply just get off. He wanted to do it himself.. But Bills long nails, his thin fingers.. his pace, god, it was all perfect. It all felt amazing.

Everytime Bill had jerked him off it felt like the first time all over again, something Tom remembered thoroughly enjoying for a long time. He was a fan of the familiarity and the new feeling of their.. bond. Tom kinda missed it a bit, everything between them being fresh and working to explore all their interests.

Of course, now was amazing too. They were definitely as comfortable as ever with each other and that was pretty freeing, but new things were always fun.

"Sorry." Was all Tom mumbled, feeling Bills hand actually touch him now, his hand dug into Toms boxers as he moved to kissing Tom's neck.

His lips touched confidently, the man's skin.. sucking and leaving marks like always, just not such long lasting ones this time.

His wrist moved a bit as he toyed with Toms length, rubbing his thumb over the sticky head as he pleasured Tom.

It didn't help a bit that Bill was sitting on his knee, something Tom was always fond of for a couple reasons. He squeezed Bill's waist softly as he felt himself come close, biting his lower lip. Tom attempted to stay permanently quiet, not wanting to give Bill an idea of how good this felt.. but it was impossible.

He was whimpering softly under Bills touch, thinking the other boy didn't catch on.. when really, it was all Bill could focus on.

He never heard such noises from Tom before.. especially at such a simple thing as a handjob? .. whatever, it was a bit cute to him.

Bill felt Tom twitch again, bringing his opposite hand up to cover Tom's mouth as he felt him release.. the younger boy felt as Tom breathed hotly against his hand, pushing his hips up a bit to ride out the orgasm.

Feeling the warm sensation run along his hand, he kept pumping just a bit longer to make sure Tom had cum to his full potential, causing Bill to smirk at his older brothers immediate look of exhaustion.

He watched Toms eyes relax, narrow a bit as Bill dropped his hand to Toms neck, leaving a hungry kiss on his lips.

"You're so not done." Bill hissed quietly in his ear...

[kaeddehara]

bringing you coffee the morning after <3

sfw drabbles with albedo, heizou, and kazuha <3

•

♱ warnings — slight suggestiveness, pure fluff!!

♱ notes — kinda rushed but thought it was a cute concept <3

albedo — before work <3

such a cold and groggy morning for the both of you. you’d been wrapped up in the sheets and blankets adjourning the bed. even though your side was warmed, you couldn’t help but feel albedos side to be rather cold and deserted. your eyes gently opening and adjusting to the dimly lit room which was still very dark because of the time of day. as if on cue to your awareness, a soft, pleasing voice could be heard asking a question.

“awake already? i’d expect you to sleep much longer than myself.”

it took you time to process those words as you were still gaining consciousness, but no matter what, you we relieved to hear albedos voice.

“bedo?”

he came into your view soon after, his body draped in a shirt and loose fitting pants. when he even got dressed was unknown to you, all these questions clouding your mind you didn’t even notice what was happening right in front of you.

he looked ethereal in a sense— his pretty blonde hair slightly messy and loose from being let down out of his usual half up half down braided look. his half lidded eyes only reminded you of the night before only, the look in them was completely different. instead of the look of passion and lust, they were now filled with a sympathetic kindness that you’d see often from him.

“here, take this.”

he gestured to the cup and plate in both of his hands he was holding out to you. the bitter smell from the hot cup was a nice breath of fresh air in a sense—so much better when it’s from your love too <3.

“i’ll join you in a moment just let me get dressed first alright?”

you gently took the plate and cup in your own hands, putting the rim up to your lips and taking a small sip.

“yes sir”

you teased at him while he was walking off to get ready for work. he stopped and turned to gaze at you, a serious deadpan you were all so used to when trying to humor him. smiling softly, you continued sipping at the morning coffee albedo made for you. awaiting his presence back so you both could enjoy it together <3.

heizou — lazy kitchen meetup

you rubbed the sleep in your eye gently, trying you best to make your way to the kitchen without being too noisy. peering around the corner, you saw heizou facing the stove, the kettle of hot water blowing steam up and creating a nice, warm feeling in the kitchen. heizou was quick to notice you, his observation skills were always so on point. he smiled to you giving a soft “good morning” while looking at you while a gentle gaze. heizou was wearing a sweatshirt he often wore to bed along with some loose fitting pants which always fit over him well. you walked up to him slowly, taking time and wrap your arms around his waist from behind and lay your head on his shoulder. “good morning zou” you said back with little enthusiasm as you were still waking up. heizou knew this and laughed to himself. not ignoring the feeling of your chest almost pressed up so warmly against his back.

“you’re not still tired are you? you can sleep as long as you’d like.”

you shook your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“just wanted to see you…”

he smiled to himself, knowing that whatever you said was final and didn’t want to interfere.

“keeping my shirt on too?”

you nodded against his back, enjoying his scent and warmth.

“you need any more cream or sugar? just let me know”

kazuha — prepared for you

you stirred abruptly at a unknown sound while your gaze became focused and unblurred. a figure in front of you quickly stopped and became silent. after focusing your eyes, it was clear it was kazuha getting dressed.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wake you”

he quickly apologized, his sweet voice rang through the rather silent room. you shook your head in response to his apology and did your best to wake yourself up. kazuha smiled at you once more till he left the room momentarily. you sighed in disappointment as kazuha wasn’t still in bed with you but excitedly watched him walk back in. his pretty white strands tied up messily as if he did it with little time to spare and in both his hands were cups of coffee. one for you of course and the other for him <3. he outstretched it to you and made sure you grabbed it where your hands wouldn’t get burned before he sat in front of you on the bed. for someone who most likely has nail markings all across his back from the night before, kazu kept his composure and was sweet as always.

“i hope it’s to your liking, i just mixed in what i thought you’d like”

he admitted and you laughed in return to his honesty.

“it’s perfect kazu, thank you”

it was perfect the way it was—although, he always had a way of doing things with ease that this was no shock. it was no surprise he made a cup of coffee just how you like <3.