#try not to let it fester in my mind and in my chest every time I see your name/icon here

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[sarawritestories]

Come Here, Sweetheart

Cassian X Fem Reader

CASSIAN WEEK DAY 7

Summary: You are suffering from burn out and having a meltdown. The General of the Night Court's Armies ensures you give him your best smile.

Content Warning: Feelings of burnout and worthlessness, anxiety and mental health decline as a whole. Exhaustion tears and Cassian being one hell of a mail. Not proofread.

@cassianappreciationweek

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

A/N I am so heartbroken that I couldn't bring much to Cassian week but I've been in a slump and a lot is happening in my life (Good things but stressful) but I wanted to provide something.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

You rubbed furiously at your chest. That familiar feeling that you were once able to tuck deep in the confines of your mind had reached a boiling point. The tightness in your chest constricted your ability to breathe properly. You barely made it to your bedroom when you collapsed to your knees.

The pressure of getting words on the page were becoming too much, Nesta's badgering of getting the next installment of your novel along with the constant fan mail asking for updates on the release made the feelings of inadequacy fester into a monster you couldn't ignore and definitely couldn't slay on your own.

You felt like you were failing your readers, though every time you sat with a blank page and fresh ink the words refused to come. As though they were mocking you as if to say you didn't deserve the success you had received.

Your mate who normally quieted the evil voices that would seep into your mind had been called away on a mission and so the cruel worlds morphed from a small dark spot into your mind into maelstrom of feelings worthlessness and as though you should give up your dreams all together.

Wrapped so deep in your thoughts, you barely registered the warmth of your tears running down your cheeks or the door of the bathroom opening revealing Cassian emerging. His gaze caught your crumpled form and he tried tugging on the bond only to find you had blocked him out.

Cassian in nothing but his sleep pants, his hair damp from bathing, and his wings tucked in tightly approached you. "Sweetheart," He whispered as he lowered to his knees giving you the distance to gauge the situation but close enough that his fingertips grazed the top of your hands that held your skirts in a vice grip.

You were a captive to your mind, the overwhelming anxiety gripping onto you tightly you couldn't even reach out to your mate. The words swirling trying to ingrain their lies.

You are not worthy.

You are pathetic.

You are talentless.

Give Up.

Cassian didn't need the bond to see what was occurring that the brilliant mind he adored so much was rendering you into a state of darkness. "Come Here, Sweetheart." Before you were able to register what was happening you were in his arms, the scent of Sandalwood and the lingering leather eased your breathing slightly.

He placed you on your feet and began to undress you. It was when he had you bare did he speak, "Shower, or bed?" His voice held no judgement only love and tenderness for you. Cassian's hands stroked your arms and the action alone caused the darkness to recede in your mind and you were able to come to the present.

"Bed." you whispered, voice dry from the crying.

Cassian kissed your shoulder, "Of course." He held out his hand and your favorite silk night dress appeared thanks to the House of Wind. "Arms up, My Love." You did as he asked and he got you dressed for bed. The cool material lowering the temperature of your overheated skin. Cassian gripped your head, "Come on, let's get you to bed."

You simply nodded your head as your mate led you to your side of the bed. Making sure as you began to get comfortable in bed that he was still touching you. He knew you needed his touch more than anything right now and went as far as crawling across you to his side of the bed to not break the contact. Once he adjusted his wings into a comfortable position he pulled you close to his chest. Your head pressed against his chest the steady beat of his heart, like a beacon of light blasted the dark thoughts and your breathing became easier as the voices quieted.

"We don't have to talk about it tonight." He whispered, his lips pressing against his forehead. "We will be talking about this in the morning along with planning a holiday away for a while."

Your lip trembled as he stroked your face with his thumb., "I love you. Thank you." Your eyes met his warm hazel ones, and you gave him a smile.

He returned your smile, "There's my girl." He placed his lips to yours pulling away lazily. "I love you, Sweetheart. Let's get some rest."

In a matter of seconds your eyes had fluttered shut and lulled by the heartbeat of your mate.

Cassian: General of the Night Court's Armies, The Lord of Bloodshed, but for you? He was your Knight in Shining Armor.

Always there to make sure the darkness never consumes you.

Your Hero.

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots

[cherubfae]

Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)

Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!

|| The Price of Love || Alastor x Reader x Lucifer

tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois

This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)

A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.

You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.

Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.

You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.

A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.

"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.

Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.

Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."

For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.

Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"

Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"

When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.

"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.

Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."

Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.

"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.

Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.

"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.

Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.

On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.

A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.

Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.

"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.

Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."

The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."

Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.

Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.

Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.

Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."

Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.

Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.

Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.

And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

[lesbojournals]

Poly!Marauders x Slytherin!Reader

part one two four five

The answer is, the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it festered and grew larger with every passing day.

It didn’t help that Sirius Black had it out now to tease you, especially pointing out in Potions that “You’d be far better off sharing the table with us, sweetheart. You really want to work with Snivilus?”

To which you rolled your eyes and apologized to your housemate, that you honestly didn’t even get along with that much. You would be having a better time in Potions with Sirius, Remus, and James.

Without even realizing it, the boys were slowly starting to become “the boys”, and not Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and James Potter. They were starting to feel like they were more than that.

You left the library that day with a heavy load of books in your hands, struggling to keep them steady as they towered over your vision. You heard footsteps approaching (much faster than your slow steady ones) and came to a halt. 

Deep brown eyes popped over the stack of books and looked down at you.

“Love, let me take those. Here.” With ease, James took your stack of books from your arms as if they weighed nothing. 

“To the dungeons?” He asked, gentle smile on his face.

You nodded, trying desperately (and failing) not to blush at how handsome he looked, and how charming it was for him to take the books, and-

“Wait, James, I can take them. I got it.” You insisted, and this time it was James who came to a stop.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind the walk-”

“Dolly!” Sirius exclaimed from behind, and you internally groaned. 

Having all of the boys around was nice, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed it a little too much. The feeling has your heart in a chokehold, and with each second more you spend with the boys it feels like it’s going to explode. 

You turned around. “If it isn’t Mr. Black. Oh, and Remus!”

Sirius put his hand up to his chest in fake hurt. “Why does he get the bashful, ‘oh, and Remus!’ while I’m stuck with ‘Mr. Black’.”

You didn’t have an answer for him, so you stuck out your tongue.

Remus shook his head, then looking between you and James. “Where are we headed? Dungeons? I know Jamie’s not picking up any extra reading with Quidditch.”

James took this as initiative to start walking. “Yep. Can you believe lovie tried to take all of these books herself?”

Sirius put an arm around you as you walked. “When will you learn that Jamie’s the muscle, dolly. Take advantage of it.”

You tried not to squeal at Sirius’ touch. He kept his arm around you as you walked. 

When you made it to the dungeons (with Sirius’ arm still around you) the boys turned to you. There was silence for a few seconds.

“Wanna meet us for dinner later, sweets?” James hesitantly passed the books over to you.

“Of course she does,” Sirius answered for you, taking Remus’ hand in his. “See you in the Great Hall dolly!”

Before you could respond, they walked away, Remus sending you a sheepish wave as Sirius began to talk to James.

You entered the common room slowly, already missing having James to hold your books. 

“You’ve been hanging out with those idiot Gryffindors a lot lately.” Lucius commented from his spot on the couch next to Narcissa. 

“I think it’s nice.” Narcissa defended you, and gave you a small smile.

“I think Junior was right about them being your new boyfriends.” Severus sneered from his spot across from Narcissa and Lucius.

You sighed, your books wobbling in your hands. “Can we stop commenting on them? And they’re not my boyfriends.”

Narcissa jumped to help you as your books wobbled more, and Severus rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever.”

In the dormitory, Narcissa helped you organize your books by your nightstand. You groaned and fell back onto your bed, loosening your green tie. 

“Something wrong?” Narcissa hummed, and didn’t take her eyes off the books.

You covered your face with your hands and grumbled. “I’m going to sit at the Gryffindor table for dinner.”

That brought Narcissa to turn to you with wide eyes. “Really?”

You turned your head away and groaned again. You didn’t want to talk about it–but the boys were consuming your every thought. You hated to admit that you were excited about sitting with the Gryffindors at their table. Narcissa didn’t ask anymore questions, eventually leaving you to stir in your emotions as the clock ticked closer to dinner.

At dinner time, you groaned loudly once again. Time to get up. You dragged your feet out of the dorm and out of the common room, opting to ignore the comments of your fellow housemates. 

At the Great Hall, you made eye contact with Regulus, who stared at you in horror as you walked away from the Slytherin table and towards the Gryffindor table.

“Hey!” James waved at you with elation, and a small smile grew on your face.

Sirius leaned back from beside James and smiled wide. “Darling! Come sit next to Rem.”

You glanced at Remus who had a welcoming aura about him. He scooted over so you’d have more room to sit, looking down at the spot and then back up at you.

You put your bag down and sat down next to Remus. “Yeah, sure.” 

[shootingstar-scuderia]

🦋 - max + first kisses 🙂‍↕️

okay, that’s all from me for now <33

ty ty again for sending in asks for my celly!! i had a lot of fun writing this

max verstappen x reader

It’s a routine at this point.

Max gets ready for quali and you sit as he gets ready and talks over the plan for the day to you. He’s mainly talking to himself really but, you’re content to let him. Listening to the rhetorical questions he asks while you're fiddling around with your phone or whatever little thing in his room that’s caught your attention.

And then, like clockwork, as he’s tugging on the sleeves of his fireproofs, trying to get the hem of it to sit flat under the sleeves of his race suit he asks for a good luck kiss.

And every time you say no. 

Every time you tell him he doesn’t need it and watch as he pulls a face at your words before he leaves. He doesn’t beg, never begs, just asks once with a wide cocky grin on his face and a glint of a challenge in his eyes.

It's nice and familiar, a game the two of you play. Everyone thinks that the two of you are inevitable, have thought it since the you two were young and maybe you are. But in the meantime, while you and Max are still dancing around each other, it’s nice to have something the two of you can keep to yourselves.

It’s not something you’re not really willing to give up, and honestly, with the amount he’s been winning, you think it’s the saying no that gives him good luck.

It’s different today though.

Everything’s just been a little off. Max has been running behind schedule since the morning, sleeping through his first alarm and then hitting traffic on his way to the track. You can feel his bad mood festering, not affecting him in any of the ways that matter, but sitting under his skin like a splinter.

It means he’s not as talkative today and you try your best to stay out of his way, curling up onto the corner of the little couch that sits in his room. You watch Max as fumbles around his driver's room and tries to go through his pre-quali routines.

This time doesn’t run through his strategies and thoughts on the car’s balance as he gets dressed, instead cursing under his breath “whatever little gremlins moved all my shit two centimeters to the left” as he reaches for his things. 

The question comes as he’s putting on his racing boots, “a kiss for good luck?”

“You don’t need luck.”

Max gives you a look, “needed a little luck when I missed my first alarm this morning.”

You let out a noncommittal hum, “okay.”

He startles, looking at you with eyes wide, “huh?” 

It’s endearing, seeing methodical, well-oiled machine Max off kilter, but your own words take you by surprise too. Max isn’t the only one who is off today it seems.

You sigh and tip your head back, “come here before I change my mind.”

It happens so fast that you almost miss it.

Max closes the gap between the two of you, with such force that you have to brace yourself against him as your eyes flutter shut. He slots his lips against yours, hands curling into your hair, and you want to memorize the feeling of him, chasing his lips until he pulls away with a soft groan.

“I’m going to be late again aren’t I?”

You grin and push him towards the door, “go, go, we can do this again later, yeah?” A laugh bubbles out from your chest, “my eyes were closed the first time.”

Max’s laugh matches your own, full bodied and bright. He turns to leave, stalling only to press a kiss to your cheek, lips curving up into a cheeky smile but soft and gentle against your skin. 

You feel the shape of his smile on your cheek for the rest of the day.

[landoscar-f1]

Too Sweet for Me - Ch 02

taglist (strikethrough could not be tagged): @alessiali @piastri-my-boy @adreamerinadream @landosgirl please fill this form if you wish to be added!

pairing: CS55 x fem!reader, eventual!OP81 x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, smut chapter warnings: relationship anxiety, distrust, gaslighting (pls lmk if i missed anything!) ch 02 wc: ~680

ch 01 | masterlist | next

Read the chapter under the cut

The next morning, you woke up with a heavy heart and a mind full of questions. Carlos was already up, making breakfast in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee and scrambled eggs filled the air, but it did little to ease your tension.

“Morning, hermosa,” Carlos greeted you with a warm smile. “I made your favorite.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to match his cheerfulness. You took a seat at the table, watching him move around the kitchen with ease. How could he seem so… normal?

As you sipped your coffee, you mentally rehearsed how to bring up the message you saw last night. Every scenario felt either too accusatory or too dismissive. You needed to find the right balance.

“Carlos,” you began cautiously, “can we talk about something?”

He turned, concern flickering in his eyes. “Of course, amor. What’s on your mind?”

You took a deep breath, deciding to ease into it. “I just feel like we’ve been drifting apart lately. You’ve been so busy with work, and we hardly spend any time together anymore.”

Carlos sighed, setting the spatula down. “I know, and I’m sorry. The work’s been intense, but it’s important for the next season. You understand that, right?”

“I do, but it’s not just about the work,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I saw a message on your phone last night. From someone I don’t know.”

His expression shifted, guarded. “A message? From who?”

“I don’t know. The name wasn’t familiar. But it said, ‘Can’t wait to see you again.’” You watched his reaction closely, hoping for an explanation that would ease your mind.

Carlos’s face hardened momentarily before softening. “It’s just a colleague, amor. We’re working on a project together. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Then why haven’t you mentioned them before?” you pressed, feeling a pang of doubt.

“I didn’t think it was important,” he replied, turning back to the stove. “I’m sorry if it made you feel uneasy. I’ll introduce you next time we have a work function.”

You nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but not wanting to push further. “Okay. I just needed to know.”

The days that followed were marked by a fragile truce. Carlos made an effort to spend more time with you, but the underlying tension remained. You tried to convince yourself that it was all in your head, that Carlos was telling the truth. Yet, the nagging feeling persisted.

One evening, as you were sorting through some old photos, you stumbled upon a picture of you and Carlos from a few years ago. You were at a carnival, laughing, with his arms wrapped around you. The contrast between then and now was stark. What had changed?

Just as you were lost in thought, your phone buzzed with a message from Lily.

Hey, let’s grab coffee tomorrow? We need to catch up.

You agreed, needing a friend to talk to. The next day, you met Lily at your favorite café. As you sipped your lattes, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Lily, I need to talk to you about something,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s up?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

You told her everything, from the increasing distance to the mysterious message. As you spoke, the weight on your chest lifted slightly, but the uncertainty still lingered.

“Do you think he’s cheating?” you asked, needing an outside perspective.

Lily was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know, but I do know that you deserve honesty. If something feels off, trust your gut. Have an open, honest conversation with him. Don’t let this fester.”

You nodded, grateful for her support. “You’re right. I just… I need to know.”

That night, you prepared yourself for a deeper conversation with Carlos. You needed answers, and you were determined to get them, no matter how painful they might be. As you waited for him to come home, the picture of you two at the carnival lay on the table, a reminder of the love you once shared and the hope that it could be rekindled.

all credits to @landoscar-f1 2024

[caitlynskitten]

Yoko, Fester, and Pusgley absolutely go out into the woods to go hunting with dynamite. It's been a long time since Yoko's been able to actually enjoy hunting a human, and Fester gives her quite the challenge for once.

Gomez of course challenges Bianca to a fencing match every chance he gets, Morticia and Wednesday even join in sometimes. Wednesday and Bianca are having the time of their lives fighting on the same side for once, while Morticia and Gomez are beyond enamored with the chance to fight side by side against their daughter and soon to be daughter in law, two incredibly skilled fencers themselves.

Meanwhile, Enid and Divina are more than enjoying the time they're spending with Morticia and Grandmama, learning potions and botanical skills from the women.

And as for Wednesday, she's content just sitting on the sidelines for once. She has Pubert on her lap and she's just watching with a deeply content smile as the women she loves are accepted so openly into the family she also loves so much. Something in her mind finally settles.

Oh. This is what it's like.

Oh my god just imagining Wednesday sitting down and watching all of her girlfriends and family talking and enjoying themselves is so beautiful. Ugh I can see her holding back tears or trying hard to. Until Enid comes up behind her and gives her a light squeeze hug letting the waterfall of emotions out of the small raven. Enid whispers “this is what it’s like” and Wednesday turns around and kisses her before burying her face in her chest 🥺

[ss-tier-simp]

Handmaiden - Loki Lauferson

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight dependence, takes place in the first Thor movie. It’s my first time writing for Loki, so I hope you like it.

Word count: 0,7k

You dared not meet his eyes, his question left hanging in the air still unanswered.

‘Do you desire me?’

The answer was yes. You knew it and you knew that your prince knew it too. Yet you couldn’t utter it. Trying to lie to the God of Lies was foolish, and you were certainly not one. At least you thought you weren’t one, however, only a fool would fall for a God.

Speaking the truth wasn’t an option either. What good would it do if you bared your heart to him if your love was doomed from the start? The All-Father would rather smite you than let this union occur.

“Answer me.” A command remained a command no matter how softly it was spoken.

You raised your head and his eyes met yours, which were struggling to hold back tears that had welled up. Being under a God’s gaze was unnerving, as they could grant you their favor or be the cause of your demise.

However, holding his gaze was an entirely different experience. His eyes peeled away all the niceties and the pretend. They seemed to be able to see a raw form, which you have been taught to hide at a young age as all the maidens, that were dedicated to serving the gods, had.

“I do.” Your voice croaked as you forced words that did not want to slip your mouth. “I do, my Prince.”

You knew for a long time that your feelings would be your doom, you might as well speak them out. Let them fester in your minds both the possibilities and their consequences.

“I have for a long time, my prince.” You confessed, the dam now broken. “Longer than I would care to admit. In a way that no handmaiden should desire her master, so intensely-.”

His hand on your cheek stopped your train of thought, silencing you. His thump traced it, and despite every fiber of your being wanting to lean into his touch, your training that had become second nature refused to entertain that notion.

His stare was intense, analyzing you and you were convinced that he could feel your heartbeat which was gradually beating as if it wanted to escape its enclosure.

“My prince-” you started but he shushed you.

“No need for titles within the walls of my room” Hearing his voice never lost its thill no matter how long you had been by his side. “I want to hear you call my name. It has been my desire for you to do so for a long time.”

“Loki…” you let his name in a way that you had allowed yourself to call out only in your daydreams.

The hand that was not already on you grasped your waist, bringing you closer to him, your chest touching his every time you breathed.

Kissing him felt nothing like how you had fantasized about. His kiss was soft yet firm. His lips oddly cold bringing comfort to your overheating skin. Your lips danced with the ease of lovers that had been together for a lifetime and it felt good for once to not pretend.

A noise outside of his room broke any delusion that you let yourself be swept with. You would not be forgiven for a sin like this.

Your hands found his chest, putting distance between you and breaking your kiss and your heart in the process.

“We can’t.” Your voice was firm.

“Don’t deny me this.” The plea was unbecoming of a God.

His eyes were glassy and their color was more captivating than ever, revealing sad thoughts and vulnerability that you had only seen in passing all those years.

“I learned horrible truths about me today.” He admitted. “Please, don’t deny me affection from the one person that I know truly loves me.”

Your heart kept breaking, the sight of the powerful God so desperate filling you with sorrow. Your hands that were still on his chest, travelled to the nape of his neck, bringing him closer for another more desperate kiss.

Your sin was unforgivable, your life would not be spared if anyone found out. However, Loki, your prince, the man you loved, needed comfort tonight. You would think about the consequences of your actions tomorrow.

[munsonmuses]

Noise Complaint

Modern day AU

College Boy Eddie Munson x RA Reader

Inspiration credit to my dear friend Bug, who listens to my ramblings about being an RA at my teeny little university. And dropped the idea of Eddie being a resident. Thank you @munson-blurbs

Warnings: Shameless smut with light buildup, definitively just a bunch of hate fucking, p in v, oral (reader receiving) reader has female anatomy but isn’t referred to directly as a woman, light choking, creampies, light amateur bondage, Eddie is a shithead and kind of a bully (and kind of a kinky mf)

Word Count: 2.6k

This is mostly to tide y’all over until the next chapter of Spiritual Reserves

——

You carefully walked your weekly Thursday night rounds of the building, each floor more boring than the last. A menial task between desk shifts, programs, door decs, duty phone calls and staff meetings. Lightly drumming your hands along your hips as you listened to your music through your earbuds. Humming along to Moonwalker as you finished your rounds on the fifth floor. Keying into your room and flipping down on your bed, going to close your eyes.

Until violently interrupted by the incessant ringing of your duty phone, picking up and frowning deeply to yourself. “Thank you for calling the Creel Hall Duty Phone, what seems to be the problem?” You spoke in a customer service voice, carefully waiting before hearing a familiar sigh as you quirked a brow. “Nancy?”

Your coworker, Nancy Wheeler worked the front desk while you did rounds, and called you every Thursday around midnight. Each time it was the same thing.

“Hey um, Jason Carver called again, about being unable to stay in his dorm room, as his roommate is playing music too loudly, as always…” she spoke softly as you pushed yourself to sit up, sighing in frustration.

“Room three forty nine right? Down the west wing…it’s Eddie Munson? Again?” You asked, earning a confirming hum as you wished her goodbye and pushed to your feet. Slipping on your house shoes and making the trek down to the third floor.

As you descended the stairs, the loud screeching of an electric guitar through a well abused amp grew louder. Causing your brain to rattle as you grit your teeth. Pushing down the hall and stopping at the door. There was a white board stuck to the front, with a messily scrawled poll on it, something that changed each week. Likely Munson’s doing. Although a bit of a social reject, he took attention in any way he could get it. Much to your chagrin as you pounded on the door.

And again…

And again.

By the third knock, the playing stopped as the door flew open, Eddie Munson stood with a shit eating grin. Currently chewing on spearmint gum that wafted on his breath as you crinkled your nose. Wearing nothing more than black sweats wearing the schools logo, his rings, and his hair in a low bun. Tattoos littering his arms and chest, a tattoo of gnashing fangs on his ribs as you rolled your eyes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Did someone narc again, or do you just wanna see me that bad, trying to sneak a free concert mmm?” He asked with a grin as you cleared your throat.

“You do this every goddamn Thursday. If it’s not loudly playing music? It’s you and your idiot friends racing the halls. Or you holding the main lobby hostage, or losing your id and getting locked out. It’s only ever on Thursdays. If anyone wants to see anyone bad, it’s you wanting to see me-“ you hissed as you jutted your chin towards the inside of his room. Signaling you wanted to be let in as he gallantly threw his arm out, gesturing for you to enter as he bowed lightly. Earning a sneer from you as he relished in your contempt. He drew a sort of joy from your anger in him, the attention was invigorating. In being refused love so much by his peers in high school, he’d learned to adore the hate that was sent his way.

Hate festers, it meant he was always in the minds who despised him, like a catchy commercial jingle from the early 2000’s.

He watched as you poked around his half of the room. Littered with posters, lewd art, and piles of clean and dirty clothes. The light smell of sweat, spearmint and pine coming with him as you scoffed lightly at him.

His amp was in the center of the floor right by the foot of his bed, something you clearly missed as you fell, landing flat on your stomach and chin on the cold tile with a sturdy thud. Groaning in pain as Eddie’s smile faltered and he immediately walked over, offering a hand to help you up.

“Holy shit I am so sorry, are you okay?” He asked as he held his hand out to you, watching as you took his forearm in your hand, before yanking him down as he met the same fate. Harshly hitting the floor as you laughed at him harshly. Snorting at him as he held his mouth, his two front teeth having lightly punctured his lip. Not enough to split it, but enough to draw blood.

“You are the only resident I have problems with…” you started as you glared at him harshly. “You’re loud, messy, pushy, you torment the hall-“ you continued as he glowered at you while sitting up.

Licking the blood from his bottom lip, he looked at you bitterly as he quietly listened, cutting you off.

“You’re a prissy, shrill, overly sensitive brat-“ he hissed, big eyes dark as he looked you over as you hummed.

“I’m doing my job Munson, I get paid to do this-“ you hissed as you looked at his lips. Full, pouty, with the crimson stain of fresh blood.

“You need to get fucking laid, maybe then you’ll pull the stick out of your ass-“ he snapped as he leaned in closer. “Stuck up bitch.”

“Idiot.” You hissed back, getting closer as you bumped the tip of your nose with his own, earning a growl from Eddie.

Your skin was prickling with heat as you stared him down. Trying not to fold as you felt his breath fanning across your lips.

Before you could fully process, he pushed his lips against yours. Harsh and feverish as you groaned into his mouth. The light taste of iron mingling with the spearmint in his mouth as you shuddered lightly. Letting him pull you in tight by your sweatshirt as you ran a hand up the back of his neck. Undoing his bun as you tangled your fingers into the base of his scalp, brown trellises of hair tangling around your fingers.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed as you pulled back for air, glaring at him as he rolled his eyes. Discarding his gum and pulling you to stand with him.

Backing you up, he pushed you up against the metal and wood bed frame that held his shambles of bedding. Continuing his kissing at you as he pawed at your sweatshirt, getting it off and over your head as you shuddered. His hands so warm opposed to the cold trapped within the room.

“For a total bitch? You have great tits…” he murmured as he lightly took hold of them. Large and calloused hands groping and squeezing, earning soft whines and heavy breaths from you as he laughed. His thumb and forefinger taking hold of your stiffening nipples, lightly pinching and twisting as you whined out his name, clearly worked up as he laughed lightly to himself.

“You’re a lot nicer to listen too when you’re not bitching at me…” he mumbled in your ear, lightly nipping at the lobe as you shuddered harshly.

Trailing your hands down his chest, you worked your fingers down, stopping over the stiff outline of his cock as you lightly ran your hand over him and earned a light but deep groan from him. Working your other hand into his waistband as you went to work his sweats off. Earning a harsh pinch on your left nipple as you looked at him.

“We’re doing this my way. I’m in charge now.” He insisted harshly. “Now, up on the bed.” He pat your hip to motivate you, watching as you used the step stool to get up and sit on the mattress. Watching as he rooted around in his closet quietly.

He apparently found what he was searching for, coming over with a well worn black belt in hand. Quietly climbing into the bed alongside you as he hummed.

In silence, he took your wrists, wrapping the belt around them firmly, and around the wooden bar at his headboard. Pulling tight as he checked to make sure they weren’t so tight he’d cut off circulation. Once sure, he hummed in approval and lightly pat your cheek. “Good, you look so pretty like this…” he cooed down at you, watching as you chewed on your lower lip and nodded lightly. The confidence in you dwindling.

“You’re a lot prettier when you’re not making everyone’s ears bleed you cu-“ you were cut off by a harsh kiss, his hand lightly making its way up your stomach and chest. A gentle pressure applied to the sides of your throat. A gentle choking sensation applied as you moaned lightly into his mouth. Feeling his cock twitching against your thigh as you gave into the kiss.

Eddie pulled back for air, lightly patting your cheek as he released his light hold on your throat. Sliding his way back down to the edge of the bed.

His hands took hold of your waistband, working off your shorts and underwear agonizingly slow. Eyes trained on yours as you whined lightly.

“Hurry the fuck up-“ you hissed out as Eddie smacked your inner thighs lightly. Glaring at you as he rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking impatient…” he muttered before working his hand further in, humming as he lightly cupped you in his hand. Running his middle finger up your slit. Stopping at your clit as he worked in small, circular motions. Watching your face as your lashes fluttered and your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ shape. “There we go, see? I can do a lot more with these hands besides playing guitar like a fucking god…” he hummed out softly as he continued. Drawing soft moans from you as he nodded.

Applying a bit more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves, he laughed lightly as he gently worked on getting you relaxed. He was a dick, but he was considerate. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this…all pink in the face, mouth open…let’s give them some real noise to complain about,” you could see him cringe a bit at his statement, cocky and a bit cheesy.

He pulled your legs apart slowly, bowing his head down as he placed soft and deep kisses along your inner thighs and trailing inwards. His lips stopping at your clit as he pressed a slow and deep kiss to it, humming lightly as he tentatively listened for your reaction. Wanting to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable or unhappy with his actions.

“Eddie don’t tease…fucking hell.” You hissed as he laughed lightly. Taking it a step further as he lightly sucked on your clit, circling it slowly with his tongue and applying tentative amounts of pressure. Earning a full moan from you as he carefully worked on his middle finger. Pressing in slowly as he curled and flexed his finger. Getting you to cum first was his goal.

He kept his ministrations going, refusing to let up unless asked as he laughed lightly. Sending vibrations through you as you arched your back lightly, pressing further into his face. “Fuck! Eddie keep going-“ you demanded as he eased in a second finger. Beginning the slow thrusting and curling. Flexing his fingers apart as he increased the pressure on your clit. Feeling your walls flutter around his fingers as he sped up. Getting a bit overeager as your thighs clamped around his head and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as you cried out desperately, babbling. Eddie was right, you did need to get laid. The stress of the job was melting off your shoulders as the knot in your lower abdomen came undone. Earning a desperate cry from you as you came, soaking his mouth and chin as he hummed. Pulling his fingers out as he worked in his tongue slowly, humming as he made his way back up and eventually pulled away entirely. Sitting up as he looked at you.

“So fucking good…” he eased both fingers into your mouth, urging you to taste yourself as he hummed. “See sweetheart,” he crooned, laughing lightly to himself as he pulled his digits from your obedient mouth. Patting your cheek lightly and getting to work on removing his own bottoms.

His cock was undeniably hard, unable to be ignored as he hummed and slowly stroked himself. His other hand grabbing your chin and tilting your head down to get a look at him.

“Watch me. Don’t take your eyes off of me, I want you to watch me fuck you…” he ordered as you nodded your head lightly, watching as he lined himself up, and got to work.

Pushing into you, he groaned lightly. Watching as your mouth fell slack and lashes fluttered. Grinning in pride as he eased in inch by inch. Panting and rambling praise as he bottomed out within you. Holding your hips firmly in his hands as he lightly rolled his hips.

“So fucking gorgeous, you take my cock so well honey…” he took hold of your calves. Bending your legs up and back before pulling them upwards over his shoulders. Pressing light kisses to your ankles and calves, before biting down lightly as he took a deep and long thrust.

Your head fell back, eyes rolling back as you moaned desperately. Unable to fight the pleasure that washed over you in overwhelming waves. Moaning desperately as you clenched your fists and whined desperately. “Don’t fucking stop, good god-“ you growled out as you took each bruising thrust. Eddie was filled with lust and stamina, his hips knocking into the backs of your thighs as you grinned. “So good-“ you whined lightly.

Eddie laughed to himself as he listened, his thrusts deep and overdrawn as he rocked into you. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, the pressure building up was addicting. His necklace thumping with each thrust against his chest. Your breasts lightly bouncing as he drank in the sight of you. You were gorgeous underneath him. Fucked out and pliant as he pat your cheek.

“Don’t stop looking at me sweetheart. Look at what you do to me…look at how good you make me feel.” He ordered as he felt himself getting worked up, losing a bit of control as he grinned to himself:

He leaned forward, pressing your legs into your chest as he angled your hips upwards. Causing him to reach deeper inside you, grinning. “You’re squeezing me real good, see, you can be real nice to have around…nicer to look at from this angle at least~” he cooed in a patronizing manner as he grinned.

The cacophony of moans, thrusts, panting, and the creaking of the mattress felt ridiculously loud. Flooding your brain and making your brain feel like putty as the pressure in your abdomen grew. Stomach growing tight as you whined.

“Eddie? I’m gonna cum-“ you whined as he laughed lightly.

“Not yet honey, not till I say…” he insisted as he kept his thrusts going. Making sure to hold you firmly in place beneath him. He was drunk on you.

“I’m getting close sweetheart, so what you’re gonna do is cum with me…okay? Can you do that?” He punctuated each question with a harsh thrust as you nodded your head obediently. “Good-“ he hummed as he carefully sped up, leaning down ad he pressed impossibly deeper.

Nose to nose with you, he hummed. His breaths growing ragged as he held onto your chin. “Now-“ he pushed.

You let go, whining as a searing white wave of pleasure rolled over you. Your orgasm rocking you as you whined. Coming back from your delirium as you felt the heat of his own orgasm filling you. His light rutting causing some to spill over as you whined and groaned.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips, Eddie hummed. “Same time next Thursday?”

——

Taglist: Open

@munson-blurbs

[koalayoo]

ᴀᴅᴍɪʀɪɴɢ ᴀʟʙᴇᴅᴏ

Found another piece of writing from 2021. Whoopsies part 2. I promise my writing has improved!! No warnings.

The two of you were sitting in a blissful silence. The cold air of Dragonspine brushing up against your body makes you shiver slightly but the fire near the two of you helped keep your body warm. The crackle of the fire was the only thing heard in the air besides the occasional hustle of the wind. Despite the harsh conditions of the mountain you two had found a sweet little spot down near the bottom of the mountain, keeping you partly covered from the cold wind. ‘You two’ referring to you and the blonde alchemist who managed to convince you once again to join him this afternoon to sketch the landscape.

You tried your best to not go. You really did! With excuses of being bad at drawing, that you couldn’t even draw a circle if you had to but that was swiftly shut down by him saying he had “faith in his ability to instruct and even more faith in your exceptional talents.” You just knew he was a secret sweet talker. That was a couple of months ago. Today was yet another day he “dragged” you with him to your spot although you didn’t miss the way he called it ‘our’ spot. For some reason the small change in wording caused a smile to take place on your face although Albedo paid it no mind.

Now here you two were, both standing behind a canvas as Albedo sketched away. Within these months and your frequent meetups, the alchemist taught you many tips and tricks on how to draw. Taking in the scenery around you once again, you couldn’t help but let your eyes latch onto the male in front of you every time you looked away from your canvas. Your hand moving on its own, attempting to draw the curves of his face. Your hand trying to replicate his soft features. His pale skin almost looked like the surface of the land you were on. His blond hair is slightly unkempt yet still looking effortlessly beautiful on him. Ugh, and don’t get started on those oh so enchanting blue eyes of his focused on the work in front of him before turning and locking his gaze with yours. His lips raised up in a gentle smile before looking back down.

What…?

Your eyes darted back onto your canvas.

Your chest feels weird. Almost suffocating. As if your heart were about to explode. The fast beats of your heart made you jitter. A sudden heat rushed up to your face and you suddenly weren’t freezing anymore.

What was happening?

You glanced up from the canvas that was hiding your frame and caught sight of the alchemist again. Your eyes looked away just as soon as they landed on him. Was he always so beautiful?

Your eyes then caught sight of your canvas… the one you attempted to draw Albedo on. Chuckling nervously you took your canvas off the easel. The blue eyed boy in front looked at you confused. You had only just got here, you were taking off again so soon?

Before he could even question what you were doing, you cut him off saying you felt a little unwell all while clutching the canvas in front of you. Holding it so close you could feel your fingers digging into it. Sure maybe if he saw it he wouldn’t take it so seriously but to you this was physical proof of what your admiration of the man turned into. Proof that he could occupy your mind, make you think about him in a way more than admiration. Proof that your trivial little feelings could fester into something bigger, something you knew would never get reciprocated, something you knew would never happen.

Giving him a smile you turned around and quickly walked away, desperate to get out of the cold, windy environment that had turned suffocating. The breeze that was caressing you not too long ago was now choking you, making you feel an uncomfortable lump in your throat.

If only you knew that on Albedo’s canvas was you.

Not sure if I like this one but wanted to share it anyways. Like, reblog and follow if you'd like <3 Support is always appreciated pookie.

[strljaem]

“don’t sugarcoat me, baby”

p/s ; i was writing while listening to sugarcoat natty for like 18239 times lol

note : angst, fluff

It was a bustling evening at the Moonlit Café in Seoul, a small but lively spot tucked away in the heart of the city. The scent of freshly ground coffee mingled with the laughter and chatter of the crowd. The clinking of cups and the rhythmic buzz of the espresso machine created a warm backdrop to the evening's conversations. I was seated at our usual corner table, Jaemin across from me, his eyes focused on the menu.

But my mind was elsewhere. A memory from months ago had resurfaced, festering like an open wound. It was about the night Jaemin and I had plans, but he had bailed without explanation, leaving me to find out later that he had been at a party with some mutual friends. It wasn't just the broken plans that bothered me; it was the secrecy, the way he had acted like nothing happened the next day.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. "Remember that night you stood me up?" I said, my voice low but laced with irritation.

Jaemin looked up from the menu, his brow furrowing. "Which night? We've had a lot of nights together." His tone was casual, but there was a hint of defensiveness beneath the surface.

"The night you went to that party and didn't tell me," I shot back, feeling the anger bubble up in my chest. "You made me feel like an idiot, waiting around for you. And then you just... pretended it didn't happen."

He leaned back, his expression tightening. "Are you seriously bringing this up now? I thought we moved past that."

"Don't sugarcoat me, baby," I retorted, emphasizing the last word. The term of endearment was a slip, but I couldn't take it back. His eyes widened, and he stared at me, clearly surprised.

"Baby?" he echoed, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and frustration. "What's with the baby?"

The people at the surrounding tables had started to notice the tension. A few heads turned in our direction, their curious gazes making the air between us feel even thicker. Jaemin glanced around, then reached across the table to grab my hand. "Let's go," he said, his grip firm but not painful. He pulled me up, and I followed him out of the café, feeling the eyes of the onlookers on our backs.

Outside, the city air was cool against my flushed cheeks. Jaemin led me to his car, a sleek black sports car that he adored. He opened the door for me and waited until I got in before he slid into the driver's seat. The doors closed with a soft thud, cutting us off from the noise of the street.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, crossing my arms. "We could've talked in there. Why drag me out here like that?"

"Because I didn't want to make a scene," he replied, his voice low but intense. "You know how people are. They hear one word, and suddenly it's all over social media." He turned to face me, his eyes locking with mine. The furrow in his brow deepened, but I couldn't help but notice how it made him look even more handsome, his chiseled features etched with concern.

I sighed, my anger ebbing just a little. "I just don't get why you couldn't have been honest with me. We were supposed to be best friends, Jaemin. You should've told me where you were going."

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said, his voice softer now. "I knew you'd be upset, and I was trying to avoid a fight. But clearly, that didn't work out." His gaze didn't waver, even as I burned with rage.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Well, it hurt more when I found out from someone else. It felt like you didn't trust me enough to be honest."

Jaemin listened, his expression serious, his eyes never leaving mine. The way he looked at me, so focused, made my heart race even as I felt the anger boil. The air in the car was charged with tension, the kind that made every word feel heavier than usual.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were warm and soft against mine, and his hand gently cupped my cheek. I pulled away at first, shocked by the suddenness of it. But he held my gaze, his voice a low whisper. "Stop and just accept this."

There was something in his eyes, a mix of determination and vulnerability. I couldn't resist. He leaned in again, and this time I didn't pull away. Our lips met, and the heat between us was undeniable. The anger melted away, replaced by a surge of desire that left my heart pounding. His other hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I felt the intensity of his kiss. It was deep, passionate, and filled with a yearning that had been building for far too long.

The world outside the car disappeared, leaving just the two of us in a moment that felt like it could last forever.

[dreamersbcll]

Prompt idea. You know how Tara said I want you in my life at the end of 6? How about Sam is unsure now in what extent she is "welcomed" in Tara's life, so she keeps her distance for a while. Tara notices and they have a fluffy talk about Sam being absolutely present in Tara's life

“Say Something”

————————————————————————-

Tara could feel it in her stomach. It settled at the bottom of her gut. The longer she ignored it, the more it rotted and festered away.

Fear.

Fear didn’t hit Tara like a train, flattening her across the tracks she chose to walk across. It spread through her like a dam that crumbled away, a little at a time, festering deep into her body, consuming her. She could feel it gnawing away at her bones, twisting her organs, making her blood thin.

And did she have a lot of fear. In her twenty-one years of living, she was good at chasing people away. Nobody could stay long enough to discover how much pain and misery she hid away- they left when she handed them a shovel. She couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t something worthy of waiting for.

But finally, after so much carnage and fighting, her big sister was free of Ghostface. Tara was free of Ghostface. They had a chance, amongst the bones of the murdered, to start again. And like a phoenix rises from the ashes of its own grave, they chose to begin again.

And at first, it was awkward. Sam danced around her, refusing to hold or touch Tara without explicit consent. They were in a weird limbo, both too scared to jump in but ready to dissolve into each other. Tara would reach out, and Sam would pull back, her hand just a bit too far away.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

But finally, they were at a point where Sam came home and immediately hugged Tara, holding her to her chest, just like when they were little. Tara’s chin tucked under Sam’s shoulder, Sam’s hands in her hair. Nights where Tara would watch The Babadook alone turned into joint movie nights, popcorn, and hands interlaced together. No longer did Tara have to worry about not having someone to stay; Sam was. Her big sister was repairing the bridges she had burnt in Tara’s chest.

She could almost breathe better.

Yet, the fear in her stomach was being revealed, bit by bit, every single day. First, it was Sam not texting her back after she got an A on her Literature paper, and then it was the hugs dwindling each week. And once Tara noticed that Sam didn’t wake her up with a kiss on the head before her big sister left for work, she knew her gut was right.

However, this time was different. Tara wasn’t a pushover anymore. She wasn’t the girl that let her best friend control her every move- or the one who begged an alcoholic mother to love her. The innocence that used to wrap around Tara was long gone, burnt with the many lit matches that were thrown her way.

This time, she wasn’t going to let Sam leave. Tara had just closed the wounds that bled freely from her back, stitched up with the love and support from her new life. New friends. New family.

Tara wasn’t tiny and stupid anymore.

Sam was staying.

——

Truthfully, Sam didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with her mind.

She didn’t know how she kept trying to sabotage the good things that came her way. Deep down, she didn’t know if she believed in anything anymore, but she was willing to try now.

But that same damn guilt weighed her down, wrapped its hand around her throat, and choked her. She knew that Tara was good and their relationship was something she needed, but she couldn’t let go of the guilt that plagued her mind.

Everywhere she looked, there were the bodies of the people she had a hand in killing. Her waking life was a graveyard, and she was constantly waking through it with her head down, avoiding the eyes of the dead. She knows logically that she isn’t the killer, but the blood on her clothes says differently.

A serial killer's daughter. A murderer. Just like her daddy.

Tara was something so good. From her big brown eyes to her careful smile to the way she looked at Sam. Everything about her screamed love, light, and warmth. Her little sister was everything great in the world. Sam couldn’t hold such a perfect thing and not demolish it.

The most frustrating part was that Sam was happy. She enjoyed every aspect of their carefully crafted routines, conversations, and sleep patterns. Sam would fall asleep with Tara in her arms and wake up with her sister clinging onto her chest; nails dug into her skin. She loved how she would do the dishes while Tara cooked dinner. And she especially loved that she could come home and immediately hug Tara, breathing in the scent of righteousness.

But like every good thing in her life, Sam had to crush it. Slowly but surely, when Sam looked into Tara’s eyes, she started to see the stab scars that plagued her sister's body. When Tara touched her hand, all Sam could feel was how Tara held onto her in the hospital and how fearful her baby sister looked. When Tara hugged her, and Sam felt the way she could squeeze all the broken parts of her sister together, did she know that she had to leave.

Maybe not leave, but instead, pull back. Tara would be safer if Sam let go and watched her from afar. Close enough to see into each other’s eyes but never close enough to touch each other. It was better that way. Because then, could Sam breathe, knowing that Tara would be okay if she left again.

Sam thought she was doing an excellent job at being skittish and genuinely doing a good thing by pulling back.

Yet she wasn’t prepared for Tara to corner her in the kitchen.

——

Closing and locking the door behind her, Tara could practically taste the burnt smell of bread. She sighed, knowing that Sam was cooking again. Her therapy appointment ran over, and Tara knew Sam would have to wait for dinner. But her big sister was too stubborn for her good and, of course, decided to fend for herself.

In therapy, Tara created a carefully crafted plan of attack. She would be open, honest, and fair with her words, and she would get answers from Sam. Her therapist, Katherine, approved her previously written statement and wished her luck.

Tara was prepared to be open, honest, and fair.

But then she caught a glimpse of Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through her phone, lazily munching on a piece of burnt garlic toast. Her sister looked so content and relaxed, something Tara didn’t see while she was around her big sister.

And it infuriated her. It practically set her on fire.

So, with the finesse of every Carpenter woman before her, Tara stormed in.

“You don’t get to fucking leave again! I’m not letting you, not this time! Don’t even fucking try it, Samantha!” she snapped, reaching for the garlic toast and flinging it onto the ground.

Sam’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, her expression changing quickly into horror as she realized what was happening. Swallowing the lump of satisfaction in her throat, Tara bristled once again. Before her big sister could react, Tara carried on.

Jabbing a finger at Sam’s face, Tara could feel her body tightening in rage, her breathing picking up.

“You don’t get to leave me! Look, I don’t know what I did wrong to make you pull away, but it isn’t worth it to leave. We’ve gotten so far since New York, Sam! You don’t get to throw that away and make me start over; I can’t survive you again, Sam! I can’t fucking survive you!” she practically screamed, her breathing growing wheezy.

Turning around, she placed her hands into her hair, tugging violently. She ignored the white-hot pain that ran through her head and how her chest felt as if it was weighed down by gravity. Tears pricked her eyes, her vision blurry. This wasn’t the conversation that she had planned on having. But this is what was going to happen.

She stopped in the middle of the kitchen, letting a mangled sob escape her lips. She was so fucking stupid to believe that Sam could stay. Who was she fooling? She was still that little girl begging people to look at her, love her, and see her.

“You can just go if you want. It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

And she waited, waited for the door to open and close, the air being sucked out of the room, taken by the one person who would ever know the real her. She knew she would have to drop out of school, get a job, and pray not to become unhoused.

But instead, arms snake around her middle, pausing at the way she flinched but pulling her in. Her big sister laid her chin on Tara's head, humming a bit. Blinking, Tara held her breath, trying to decipher whether or not this was a real thing.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. I’ve got you,” her sister whispered, her voice husky with tears unshed.

Tara sobbed a bit, shaking at her big sister’s voice: her strong, powerful big sister, the one holding her now. Hesitantly Tara let her hands wrap around Sam’s, holding on tightly to her big sister.

Sam squeezed her middle, still humming. “I’m sorry that I’ve been pulling away. I’ve been living in my head for a long time, and now I’m just learning how to be alive again. I want your love, and I want to love you. I’m trying to be present and stay for us,”.

A beat passed, the only noises being Tara’s sniffling and the clock tickling.

Clearing her throat, Sam continued her voice hush. “Do you still want me in your life?”

And without missing a beat, Tara pushed Sam’s arms off her and turned around, crashing into her big sister’s middle. She hugged Sam tightly, hoping that if she hugged her tight enough, Tara could mend Sam’s broken insides.

Her big sister was everything to her. She needed Sam to know that.

In true Sam fashion, her sister froze at the sudden contact, her breath lodged in her throat. Any loving gesture was foreign to Sam, as she was used to giving and never taking. But Tara would give Sam the universe if that’s what she wanted.

“I love you. Stay here. Be present. Let me love you and show you how loved you are. Please,” she said, her voice slightly muffled against Sam’s t-shirt.

Sam audibly gasped, her hands shaking. Tara only held on tighter, letting Sam know that being loved was a good thing, a free thing. She didn’t owe Tara anything to be loved.

And eventually, Sam hugged Tara back, holding her body against hers, as if Tara was about to drift off of the face of the earth. Whispers of I love you, and I’m sorry were made against barriers of clothing and hair, their love engulfing the two into a haze.

Sam stayed. Tara loved her. The world carried on spinning, their fear and guilt forgotten.

[rp-asks-crack-starters]

Could you make some starters for fantasy muses? Lots of starters and things on this site seem to be geared only to modern muses. Thank you!!!

Absolutely! Here are some starters. If there's any specific theme you'd like, let me know and I'll work on that too!!

Fantasy World Based Starters.

Adventure themed:

"By the stars, did you see the size of that dragon?"

"The bridge ahead looks perilous. Shall we risk it or find another way?"

"We've got company. Two o'clock, [Enemy mob] approaching. Brace yourself."

"The storm clouds gather overhead. We must find shelter before it's too late."

"Keep your blade at the ready. We're not alone in these woods."

"The mist is thickening. We could easily lose our way if we're not careful."

"We're not alone in this cave. I can hear them breathing."

"The runes on this door... they're ancient and powerful."

Battle/ Combat themed:

"Keep your shield up and watch your flank. Those [Enemy mobs] are sneaky."

"Focus your spells on the [enemy's] weaknesses. We need to bring it down fast."

"They're casting curses! Keep your mind clear and focus on breaking their hold."

"Stay close. We'll cover each other's backs as we advance."

"Stay behind me. My magic will protect us from their ranged attacks."

"This battle isn't over until we've vanquished every last one of them. Fight with all you've got!"

"I'm injured, but I can still fight. Cover me while I heal!"

"Don't hold back your magic. We need every advantage we can get."

"I've got your back, but we need to end this quickly. I can feel my strength waning."

Care:

"I'm going to try a healing spell, but it might sting a bit."

"Stay with me. Don't you dare close your eyes. You hear me?"

"Keep your eyes open. I need you to focus on my voice while I heal your wounds."

"Don't move. I need to remove the arrow carefully before it causes more damage."

"Your wounds are deep, but I won't let you fade away. You're stronger than this."

"I'll transfer some of my vitality to you. It's risky, but we have no other choice."

"I'll brew a potion to dull the pain, but we need to find shelter first."

"I'll call upon the healers. They'll know what to do. Just hang on a little longer."

"The poison... it's spreading. We need an antidote, and fast."

"You're not dying on my watch. We have too many adventures ahead of us."

"The wound festers with dark magic... I fear it's beyond my ability to heal."

Injuries:

"Every breath feels like knives... tearing through my chest."

"I can't move... my limbs feel like they're encased in stone."

"My magic... it's depleted. I have nothing left to fight with."

I'm alone... so alone. Please... someone help me."

"I'll walk it off... just need to shake off the shock."

"I'm sorry... so sorry. I couldn't protect... couldn't protect anyone."

"Tell... tell them I fought... until the end."

"The pain is nothing... just a scratch compared to what I've endured before."

"The pain is a reminder... that I'm alive, that I'm still fighting."

"The blade... it cut through flesh and bone like a scythe through wheat."

"I'm fine... just a scratch. Nothing a little magic can't fix, right?"

"I'll push through... I must. There's no time for weakness now."

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Schism [ MANSERVANT ]

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

"Viola, leave your room at once," came Reiji's voice through the door to her room. Rather, his room, which she had been using at his insistence since his father had orchestrated the "fiasco" (as Reiji liked to call it) of a formal gathering.

"You killed him, didn't you?" she mumbled her head pressed tight to her upraised knees. "You found him, and you killed him. You killed the only man that ever even gave a thought to wanting me."

"Even if I did," Reiji said, laying his hand on the doorknob, tempted to open it, "Why should that matter when the only way you will leave my side is as a corpse?"

"Is a blind, incompetent servant that valuable to you?" she asked bitterly. "Is abusing me the only thing that fuels your miserable ego and satisfies your wicked sadism?"

Reiji blinked at the door.

"Why are you trying to run back to him?" Reiji asked, irritation rapidly building in his voice, and he bit his tongue until it bled to stop himself from asking that painfully revealing question---

Why am I not good enough?

---

Manservant

Only silence answered Reiji, and he leaned against the door for a long, painful moment. Wondering, waiting,

"Answer me," he called, the edge unintentionally falling from his voice as his hand pressed down onto the door handle, and Viola heard some part of the metal protest at the force. It startled her, and it startled the vampire more when the door croaked its way open.

"I loved him," were the words that accompanied the cracking of the lock, and Reiji halted in the threshold as he saw Viola's miserable, pitiful expression.

"Why?" Reiji asked again, feeling his hands stiffen as they started to squeeze into fists. "What was so special about him that you broke down into a miserable excuse for a living creature when he cast you off?"

Viola's eyes filled with fresh tears, and Reiji almost instinctively reached his hand out to her, but what kind of right did he have?

"He... He was funny." The words were barely more than a trickle from her barely parted lips, but as she continued to speak, those words turned to a river. "I-I was teaching him math, and he always grinned at me in that no-good way before he bought me gummies no matter how many times I insisted it wasn't necessary." She curled her knees tight to herself, as if they hadn't already been grinding into her bones.

"He lectured me to take care of myself and ate lunch with me. He, he always used to fluff my hair, a-and the day I rested my head on his chest was the most comfortable..." Viola cut herself short and hiccuped. Sobbed. "I-I wanted... I wanted our... relationship to last longer than a few days. I-It hurt. It hurt so much. It still hurts."

Reiji could only stand, frozen to the spot as he watched his servant break in a way he had never been able to see through all his sadistic whims. It was heavy, emotional pain. Pain that did not heal, like a wound that continued to fester, rotting her away piece by piece. Devouring her until only the dead flies that arrived too late to feed remained.

And it was not a pain that made him happy to see.

"Stop it," Reiji scolded her as he finally moved from his spot, and when she wouldn't listen, he angrily slapped his hands onto her shoulders, gripping them hard enough to leave marks. "I said stop it!"

"Can't you let me cry about it?" she asked frailly, shaking in his hands. "Can't you even give me that much?" Her body in that moment, to Reiji, felt like chinaware. An easily shattered collector's item. Why had he collected her, he wondered?

"No," Reiji cruelly whispered, although his tone did not match his cruelty. "He's dead, and there is not a single dead soul on this godforsaken earth that should ever garner your attention. You belong to me. How you feel about it is irrelevant. I will whip you, poison you, hurt you every time your mind strays. All you have to do is be an obedient container of blood... that's the only thing you have to think about."

Reiji's hands grew lax around her shoulders, and he raised her wrist to his mouth. Felt her lukewarm pulse against his chill lips. "And I will remind you... over... and over... and over... as many times as it takes." His teeth pricked her skin, drawing thin rivulets of blood that his mouth closed over, his tongue darting over the wounds.

She did not pull away from him as his fangs sunk into the edge of her palm, her fingers brushing his face.

"Then make me forget about him... any way you like," she murmured in sorrow, and he squeezed her hand all-too-tightly as he stared into her expression. That person would be completely erased.

Forever.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

Please can I request - A + Anchor + Lando :) x

idk how to feel about this one so sorry

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

prompt: forehead touches - [ ANCHOR ]:     in a moment where stress and anxiety are running high, the sender tries to ground the receiver by gently guiding them into a hug, resting their foreheads together to steady them.

being in tuned with technology and social media has its pros and cons. for lando, it means growing his platform and being able to share all his hobbies to anyone that would listen. it means sharing all the happy parts of his life. social media has has given him a space to immortalize pieces of his life.

but with his career in the mix, being as in tuned with it all has opened him up to criticism. he's exposed for the world to condemn every single move he makes. he likes to believe that he has thick skin, that the words are meaningless to him and don't affect him the way the sender might hope.

and while that might be true most times, it didn't reign true today.

lando's biggest mistake is opening a reddit thread he discovered on his twitter feed. he must've been staring at his phone for thirty minutes before it finally got to him. it was comment after comment about his career, and the more he read the more he began to doubt himself. he puts his phone down on the table, screen down, head in his hands as the unkind words begin to fester and grow in his brain. they're like weeds, cluttering his mind until it consumes him completely.

he began to question his place in formula 1, doubting whether or not her deserved his seat and if he was really cut out for it all. his mind takes him down an unnerving path of self doubt and anxiety, he isn't sure how long he sat on his couch just thinking about every single word of that thread.

there lock on the door jiggles, the door swinging open revealing you with a huge grin on your face. but the smile drops the second you see the look of despair on his face. you drop your bags by the door, closing it behind you.

"lando baby what's wrong?"

he shakes his head, attempting to play off is distressed state. but he fails, with tears streaming down his face as he turns away.

"im sorry," lando tries to laugh, wiping his face with the back of his hand, "fuck im just spiraling is all."

you sit next to him on the couch, brows furrowed as you reach for his hand. "about what?"

"my career." he leans back, huffing as he stares at his hand in yours. "just don't think im really gonna get anywhere with it. i just... what if i'm wasting my time?"

"why would you say that?" he flicks his chin towards his phone on the coffee table and you sigh softly. "baby..."

"what if they're right? what if i'm wasting my time, that i should quit while i'm ahead." he lets go of your hand, standing to his feet as he swipes his phone to read what's on the screen. "lando norris, subpar career and a subpar driver. i genuinely don't see how people believe he'd actually get far in formula one." he reads.

"lando-"

"he's joke on the track, how he's gotten any podiums must it must be by sheer luck." he lets out a humorless laugh, "yeah must've been."

you shake your head, trying to speak again but lando still cuts you off. you sit quietly, listening to your boyfriend's rant, the way he stumbles and stammers with tears on his face. you can only listen to so much before you're on your feet and grabbing his hands to grab his attention. lando looks down at you, eyes bloodshot and a frown present on his lips.

"i just don't know what i'm doing anymore y/n," he admits in a shaky whisper, "i just don't know."

he breaks down again, arms wrapping around your torso to hold you close to him as he cries into your shoulder. you hug him close to you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he cries softly. his breathing becomes ragged, chest heaving against yours. you can hear him choking on his sobs, feel his hold on you tightening.

"hey," you whisper, "hey hey," you cup his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. "breathe lando. you need to breathe."

you inhale deeply, holding your breath for a couple of seconds before exhaling. you do this a couple more times, waiting for lando to match your pace. and when he does do, you bring his forehead close enough to rest on yours.

"you are so much more than the words on a stupid reddit thread. and you still have so much more to give in this sport, more to offer, and so many more milestones to hit. okay?"

he nods, eyes falling shut as he allows your words to sink in.

"i might not know too much about the cars and the whole logistical side of it all but i do know one thing for sure. it's that you're meant to be in that car, on the track. fuck you love being there more than you love being with me."

that pulls a laugh from him, and he shakes his head. lando pulls away slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "no true."

"slightly true."

"never true." he says firmly, cupping your cheeks and giving you a sweet but firm kiss. "thank you love," he mumbles against your lips. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

fluff party!

[multimilfs]

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader: A (no good, very bad) cover-up of your own

Summary: “Is this your way of subtly hinting that you want to hold my hand because it’s quite cute, but I’m not in the mood to hold your hand.” 

A/N: If you thought I forgot about the last couple of these, you are mistaken! I have one left that needs written.

On a serious note though, any fics are likely going to be very sporadic over the next few weeks. I was already struggling to fit writing into my insane work schedule, but this week someone extremely close to me passed away. I'm scrambling to handle my grief while balancing work and traveling across multiple states for the funeral. So yeah, it's going to be a minute on anything new. I appreciate your patience.

On a lighter note, this can be read as an addition to Melissa's No Good, Very Bad Cover-Up! Not required for you to read the first one, but you def should to get the full picture

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @greenawaysprentiss

Warning(s): Light angst

“You need to cut it like this or you could cut off yo—Are you paying attention?” 

Standing up straighter, you nod. 

While Melissa is giving very important instructions on how to properly chop garlic—garlic presses are barbaric and ruin the cooking experience, she explained firmly—you’re content to watch her move. She looks beautiful in her oversized denim shirt, hair pulled up messily. Errant curls fall and frame her face. 

You’re not passionate about cooking like she is, but she insists you need to learn because no partner of mine is going to live on microwave ramen and frozen meals. Helpless to argue, you go along with it, knowing it means extra time with her. 

Since that first kiss in your classroom and date afterwards, the two of you have been slowly increasing your time spent together. Whether she joins you in your classroom for a quiet lunch or you grab a drink after work, you’re happy to be with her, but this was your first time in her house. 

The sheer amount of photos impresses you. You didn’t know one person could have so many family members, let alone pictures with all of them. Most of your family stuck to themselves barring the occasional funeral. 

“Definitely.” You say, nodding. 

“No,” Melissa sighs, “You’re not.” 

“I’m not.” You agree. 

Your smile is sheepish. It isn’t that you’re not paying attention to her, you just care more about enjoying her company than listening to the cooking lesson for a moment. She sets the knife down and folds her arms over her chest. You try very hard to keep your eyes from wandering. That would not help your case, despite how flattering it might be. 

“Are you trying to waste my time?” 

Oh. Your mind says, heart squeezing unpleasantly. You hadn’t realized spending time with one another was a waste. Rationally, a part of you knows she didn’t mean it like that, but the sting of rejection has already started to fester. The smile slips away like your good mood. 

You’re suddenly very, very tired. 

“Of course not.” You say softly. 

Every limb feels impossibly heavy. You don’t meet her eyes for fear that she’ll read your emotions in them. Janine explained the whole ‘eyes are the windows to the soul’ saying to you last week and since then you can’t get it out of your head. The last thing you want is anyone digging around in your brain.

You didn’t mind the idea of Melissa doing that until now, though. Melissa is always so careful about speaking gently. Even if you know that isn’t her default, you forgot how difficult it was to be on the other end when she was so tough. 

“Okay.” She drops the topic suddenly, “Hand me the onion you brought and pay attention this time, will you?” 

She smiles and you try to return it. Though you know she’s trying to brush off the interaction, it’s done the damage in your mind. It isn’t her fault, really, you know she didn’t mean it how it sounded. But that doesn’t stop it from burning a hole in your chest. 

Your mind is spinning careful webs of misery to catch you in. Though you keep trying to fly around them, you can’t help but get caught, and find yourself in a downward spiral. The desire for space, to go home and curl up alone, is intense, but you know it’s rude to suddenly excuse yourself. So you try to pretend as best as you can. Try. 

Melissa reaches out her hand, palm up. You tilt your head curiously. As much as you adore her, how is she going to hold your hand and cook at the same time? 

“Is this your way of subtly saying that you want to hold my hand because it’s quite cute, but I’m not in the mood to hold your hand.” You say without filtering yourself. 

Melissa’s brows furrow and her hand closes. She pulls it back and flips off the burner on the stove with a harsh click! Then she turns, mirroring her posture from earlier, leaning against the counter while folding her arms over her chest. She doesn’t look angry this time… you think. 

“I wanted you to hand me the onion,” Melissa explains, and you feel very silly, “but it seems like you’ve got something on your mind. You wanna share with the class?” 

“Not really.” 

You cringe as soon as the words leave your mouth. With your energy suddenly deflating, it appears your filter has too. 

The redhead’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, “If you’re overwhelmed, you know you can tell me.” 

A lie is on the tip of your tongue before you pause. Fuck it, you think. If Melissa wants you, she has to want all of you; even the awful, silly parts.

“It’s not that. I mean, I was when I came over because the grocery store is a very overstimulating place, but I’m okay now. You—I—” You sigh harshly, rubbing your thumb to your fingertips in order to ground yourself, “It’s silly and I know you didn’t mean it like that, but when you asked if I was wasting your time, it felt like you meant spending time together was a waste. And it… I’m not feeling the best about it.” 

You close your eyes and brace for impact. You wonder what the reaction will be this time; your Mother’s deflection was always your favorite to decipher later, unpacking all of the subtle insults that flew over your head when she delivered them, too intent on just hearing it and getting away into your own space at the time. 

There was also your ex, who could twist words and blame so expertly that you ended up being the one to apologize. The guilt she pinned to your shirt to carry around until the next argument marked you like a brand. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry.” Melissa says. 

You open one eye cautiously, waiting for the gotcha! moment, trying to anticipate when the screaming will start. It never comes. Melissa has her arms crossed, but when you open your eyes, she extends a hand palm up, a silent request for touch you both so desperately need. 

“You… are?” You ask slowly, taking her hand and lacing your fingers with hers. 

“I was upset that I wasn’t being listened to and I took it out on you, honey. So yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too. I made you feel ignored and that’s not okay.” 

“We all make mistakes, alright? Let’s not beat ourselves up over it.” Melissa smiles, something genuine and loving, her other hand coming up to brush away something from your face, “Just… pay attention this time.” 

Standing up straighter and nodding, you do just that, dedicating all of your attention to her. You want her to feel as special as you know she is. It’s easy to watch her dance around the kitchen, throwing instructions your way with a knowing expression. 

At some point she reminds you about the onion you brought. Digging through the grocery bag, you set the onion on the cutting board. She pauses. Slowly, she looks between you and the onion, then back to you. 

“Is that a white onion?”