#It was emotional... & beautiful... & I loved every moment

[mysticworks]

One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader

Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings

S Y N O P S I S:

Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. Lando, worried about the implications on his career, urges you to pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child. Word count: 1.5k

[ Drop a comment to be tagged in part 2 ]

A beam of sun in your eyes pulled you out of your slumber.

Sore. Head pounding. A deep ache in your lower stomach.  

It took you a few seconds to realise that this wasn't your room. The unfamiliar sheets, the duvet much thicker and heavier. There seemed to be so much room across the mattress, stretching out in its emptiness. 

Then every memory from last night came tumbling through. 

After a launch party of the new 2024 season, you’d found yourself a little too lost in the celebrations, Lando right beside you in fits of giggles and dances. 

You'd always had feelings for Lando, ever since you joined the PR team during his rookie days - the working time together bonding into a quickly growing friendship. Yet something had always stopped you from taking it further.

And so when Lando placed his hands on your waist last night, his face inches away from yours before your lips finally collided - every rational thought was thrown out the window. 

The heat of the party. The excitement and psychedelic blood rush. Climbing into Lando’s car. Your legs, entangled. His whisper of sudden hot, breathless confession. Your heart pounding in reciprocated emotions. Your hands in his curl, his... 

You shot up in bed, last night now a vivid image.

Lando was sitting across the room, on his computer, headphones flung around his neck. His eyes flick away from the computer screen at your sudden movement, coming to rest on you, and he draws in a long breath.

You felt the air leave your lungs. How did he manage to look so gorgeous even in the mornings? 

“How are you feeling?” You blinked at his break of silence, words not quite making it out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m…” Raking your fingers through your curtain of bangs in an attempt to collect your thoughts, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the pounding headache too.” Lando shrugged, sighing, before powering down the screen and in a swift motion making his way across the room, over to you. 

Awkwardness suddenly overcame you and you did everything to avert your gaze from his. 

This proved pointless as he sat himself in front of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You could feel the warmth radiate off his body, his finger coming to rest under your chin as he forced your eyes to meet.

“Are you okay?” There was a sadness in Lando’s eyes, one that didn’t quite match the gentleness of his voice. You mumbled a reply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks - his face was so close - forcing your heart to respond with a quickened beat.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last night.” Your brows found themselves furrowing at his words.

“Sorry?” 

“We shouldn’t have…” He raked his curls, shutting his eyes tight for a brief moment, as if pained to say the words. 

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, “We shouldn’t have done what we did y/n.”

You felt something stab at your chest. “I don’t understand, Lando, I like you, you like me, we’ve known each other for years…what’s…what’s the - ” 

He didn't give you a chance to finish. “I can’t risk having…I just can’t risk a relationship right now. We can’t - ”

He pauses, gaze softening as you feel your eyes well up, but you’re determined to keep a stoic expression on your face.   

It didn't help that Lando was looking at you with such an intense look in his eye, his hand cupping your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you saying we can't date?”

You felt your voice betray you, a single tear spilling down your cheek. Lando used his thumb to wipe it away, taking in a shaky breath. 

He looked away. “Please. I’m sorry.” His eyes were almost telling you to stay, now also welled with redness, but his words said differently. 

You felt the world collapse. Your breath hitched. A tremor shot through your limbs as you scrambled out from Lando’s bed. He got up too from his seat, standing limply in the centre of his room.

It was then you realised you were in his clothes, his loose tee reaching your knees, a pair of his joggers clumsily worn over your legs. You paid no heed, now eager to just leave. To run away and hide. 

Never had rejection been so cold. It was almost like he’d used you. A part of you wanted to scream at him, throw things and ask him “why,” yet you felt as if life had been sucked out of you. 

One of the best days of your life had been merely hours ago, before turning into a nightmare. 

“Y/n…” You’d only just reached the door, but his call made you stop in your tracks. There was a shameless hope he’d changed his mind. 

“Here. It’s cold out.” 

He held out one of his hoodies, passing it to you in a gesture to take it. 

You did. Curt and refusing to meet his gaze, before turning around stiffly.

And without another word, you left his apartment, refusing to look back.

----------------------

You weren’t sure when you got home, drenched from the rain that came gushing down along the way. 

You weren’t sure of much…only that your relationship with Lando was over. 

Over before it had even begun.

Climbing out of bed the next day was the worst feeling. With no energy in your limbs, you called in sick to work, refusing to face anyone at the McLaren office, but more importantly, avoiding Lando. 

You stayed in bed, too exhausted from crying to move. 

It wasn’t until a week later that you finally showed up at work. The pain seemed to have subdued; now replaced with forever changing moods. At times you were down in the dumps, exhausted and tired - your head slightly foggy - other times, irritable and angry. Yet you ploughed on at work, ignoring the sleepless nights and restless evenings. 

Avoiding Lando at work was near impossible, and yet you managed. Only speaking to him when absolutely unavoidable through email, or putting on your best corporate voice. 

Eye contact was avoided altogether, even when he craned his head to catch your gaze, you turned away. 

That was a satisfaction you refused to give him.

At 2 weeks it seemed the restless nights had been replaced with exhausted ones, a full night's sleep still leaving you fatigued and nauseous in the mornings. You blamed the sickness on heartbreak. 

Lando watched you more often now, sitting in the lobby of your office during lunch breaks. You turned down the blinds and shut him out.

-------------------

The realisation came, 6 weeks post heartbreak. A quick glance at your calendar told you you’d missed your cycle. The nausea, tiredness, mood swings all made sense now - each jigsaw piece coming together to fit the puzzle. 

Although the fear of raising a baby alone rose in your throat, you were determined to do it. You knew Lando had a right to know. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you refused to give him that.

Perhaps you were running away.

Perhaps this was your revenge.

Your resignation made sure he’d never know. 

L A N D O 'S P O V:

They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.

I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.

I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away. 

It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. 

I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.

And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.

Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance. 

There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile. 

He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over. 

“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.

Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient. 

He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place. 

“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”

The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.

My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.

They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.

It was over.

I was one day too late.

Taglist: @hc-dutch @racinggirl @aileeincomplexity @kravitzwhore @eringaitskill @adoreyou-ido @landoslutmeout @queenofmanydreams

#ln4 #ln4 ang #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 angst #formula one angst #formula 1 angst #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #f1 angst

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

[heeliopheelia]

LACY (p. jay)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: oral (f receiving), fingering, crying, insecurities, soft dom! jay, praising, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, hate comments

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘫𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

Looking at your phone makes you want to throw up. 

“out of literally everyone he pulls… that? gotta be a joke”

“jay deserves sm better”

“if that thing got a chance with him that means i’d be unstoppable”

“pls tell me this is a joke”

“girlie gotta have a god head game cuz ain’t no way lmfao”

As if you don’t feel bad enough about yourself already. 

Ever since the photo of you and your boyfriend coming back from a date leaked to the internet, there’s been nothing but a ridiculous amount of hatred directed towards your clueless self. 

In the morning Jay’s text saying please stay offline today baby was enough to make your stomach churn without even knowing what was actually happening. And against his words and your common sense, your fingers instantly went to the first better social media app on screen’s your homepage.

And so with every single comment put out on the internet, you feel your confidence and self-worth slowly crumbling down until they have eventually worn you out and you’re nothing but a sobbing mess ever since the morning. Your head hurts from all the crying yet the slightly masochistic part of yourself doesn’t let you tear your gaze away from the screen.

Maybe it’s because deep down you’ve always felt like you’re not good enough to be dating such a man as Jay, and the insecure thoughts he’s worked so hard to bury six feet underneath your feet have just resurfaced once again. 

Knowing he’s surrounded by almost literal embodiments of the beauty standard on a daily basis and then having to come home to a plain nobody like you can’t be good for no one’s mental health, that’s for sure. 

“Baby?”

The lump stretches your throat too painfully for you to make any other sound than the whimper you let out, and soon you hear Jay’s footsteps approaching your suffocatingly silent room.

“Are you there, love?” 

You press your trembling lips together and nod your head, trying to force yourself to stop being so emotional for once. The last thing you want him to do is deal with… this, whatever your current state is. 

“You’ve been reading the comments,” he points out quietly, but not with accusation – only worry. His heart squeezes with desperation to somehow make you feel better, yet you take his silence as a sign of disappointment in you. 

And somehow you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, too swallowed by shame. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper eventually after a couple beats of silence. Your head drops lowly onto your bunched up knees. “I just had to see it myself.”

“Hey, no more twitter, no more instagram – no more,” Jay pleads softly as he carefully takes your phone out of your weak grasp and sets it on the bedside table, only to thread his fingers through yours and intertwine them together. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please, stop crying, beautiful. They don’t deserve your tears, hm?”

A sob rips out of your throat and echoes through the silent room, simultaneously breaking your boyfriend’s heart in two. “It’s just… I-,” you’re unable to finish your sentence with the hundreds of thoughts running around your mind, not giving you a moment of peace since hours ago.

“I know nothing I say will make you feel better now,” Jay whispers, shuffling closer on the bed until his chest is pressed against your shoulder and he envelops you in a protective embrace. He presses a warm kiss to your temple. “I love you. I hate to see you like that, honey.”

You nod your head, sniffling loudly and choking on your own sobs. “I love you too,” you cry quietly, moving your head to rest against his chest. “I just don’t feel good with myself right now.”

Jay hums. His hands blindly reach to your face to wipe your tears away, fingers gently caressing your damp face. “I know.” His words are muffled by your hair as he nuzzles his face in it. “I’m sorry.”

You can clearly hear the violent beating of his heart from your position and the insides of your stomach twist with sadness because you know well he’s blaming himself for everything. He promised to protect you at the beginning of your relationship, forever and always, and yet he’s failed at the one thing that should’ve been of the highest importance to him.

He felt conflicted about his job more times than he would like to admit. The constant restrictions, always having to watch his words and actions, the almost non-existent privacy – it was tough, annoying, but he could take it. 

But he’s never hated being who he is more than he does right now. Seeing the person he loves the most, the person who holds his entire world, being in such a miserable state because of his job makes him feel just so helpless.

Swallowing his self-pity, Jay soothes you as gently as he can. His fingers thread through your hair, waiting patiently until your heavy sobs turn into hiccups and eventually small whimpers. 

“I chose you, YN,” he finally says softly, hand pushing the hair sticking to your face away as the other one cups your cheek and brings you to look at him. “I chose you and I’d choose you over everyone else. It’s always going to be you. Always.” 

You blink your lashes heavy with tears, cheeks stinging from the excessive amount of them that has dropped down your face. He nudges your cheek with his nose before pressing a gentle kiss to your brow bone. This tender gesture and his words finally allow the smallest smile to appear on your lips. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jay giggled. His arms wrap tighter around you before he lifts you up and pulls you onto his lap. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t fully love yourself yet, I can do it for the both of us for now, baby. Please, believe me.” 

You nod your head, now choked up for a whole different reason. You let him lean in and join your lips together in a sweet kiss. His knuckles caress your cheeks and chin as he plants a chain of pecks on your swollen mouth.  

He tries to break the kiss but you don’t let him get too far away, pulling him back in by his neck and crashing your lips together again, this time more desperately. Jay’s fingers slip into the loopholes of your pants, bringing you closer and closer until there’s no space left between your chests. 

The hushed I love you’s coming out from both of your mouths, his warm lips sucking a kiss after kiss on yours, his hand that drops down and sneaks underneath your top to linger over your skin – you’re becoming dizzy from the overwhelming love you’re being given.

“I’ve achieved everything because of you, love. I am who I am because of you,” he breathes out into your lips, forehead bumping against yours. One last time, he kisses the whatever is left of your tears away, then goes back to your hungry lips. “I’d give you the world if you asked me to. Let me take care of you, like you always do for me.”

With a strong move, he pulls you off his lap and lays you down on the plushy bedding. You shiver when the warmth of his body leaves you, only to catch your breath when he drops to the ground with the dull sound of his knees hitting the wooden floor. 

His warm hands rub your thighs soothingly, palming your inflamed skin before his lips follow their lead and pepper small kisses all over them, gradually traveling higher. You can hardly breathe from the tension, impatiently waiting for his every next move, the exhaustion in your body making you feel everything tenfold. 

The whisper you let out is strangled because of the prominent tingling in between your thighs. “I need you, Jay.”

With a hum of acknowledgement, he unzips then takes off your pants along with your underwear, discarding the clothes somewhere on the floor blindly.  Breath hitches in your throat when he leans forward and finally buries his face between your legs, lips softly grazing your warmth.  

His hands push on your inner thighs, holding your legs wide open as he leans down and presses a kiss to your pussy. A jolt shoots through your body when his teeth brush over your clit before he ducks his head down and engulfs it with his warm mouth entirely.

A shiver runs down your spine when his tongue runs flat against your clit, another but longer lick following right after. Your fingers clench on the duvet beneath you as you pant and whimper with every move that he makes. 

Jay’s thumbs circle and press on the smooth skin on your thighs, he himself humming and grunting into your pussy as he slurps you up. 

You’re perfect, so perfect in his eyes, yet the angle is still not satisfying to him, constantly searching for a better access to your quivering hole. Suddenly, his arms wrap around your knees and he swiftly lifts your legs further up, almost folding you in half as he sinks his mouth in your wetness again, groaning at how much better he can eat you out now. Properly. 

A loud moan ripples from your throat and you jerk in his hold violently, not expecting him to just manhandle you like this. You’re just there, mind blank and eyes fluttering shut when Jay pushes his tongue into your hole, fucking and stretching you with it as best as he can. He’s being so loud with it, so nasty that you can’t help but surrender yourself to him completely, losing yourself to him over and over again. 

Two of his warm fingers circle your weeping hole before letting them sink inside slowly, gently. With the addiction of his nose brushing over your clit, his tongue never halting its movements and now working in harmony with his fingers, you’re barely responsive. 

You mewl and whine breathlessly, sweat starting to create a thin layer on your worked up body. Jay pulls away to take a breath and admire your blissed out face, long fingers curling up, and he ducks his head to cover your sensitive thighs with marks and bites. 

“Aah, s’ good,” you slur out, arching your back off the bed slightly. 

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” Jay asks, sucking one last hickey on your inner thigh before moving back to your needy cunt. You can only hum in agreement, the noise quickly turning into another string of moans and wails as you feel your approaching high. 

Jay cranes his neck to get to you at the best angle, one that will help you reach your climax the fastest. He didn’t even realize when his now hard cock started rutting against the bed slowly, only focused on you and you only, restraining his own pleasure. 

You open your mouth to warn him of your incoming release but before you can do that, Jay speeds up the movement of his fingers and has you coming within a second, a loud cry of his name on your lips serving as honey for his ears. 

He drags his face away from your glistening pussy to take a look at your face.

You’re so beautiful, so perfect, soft and all his.

“My prettiest,” he murmurs, planting a bunch of kisses against your thighs and stomach before lifting himself on his arms and crawling to get you to face him, laying breathlessly beneath him. 

He lowers himself to kiss you right on the lips, the slick from his face smearing against yours slightly but you’re too far gone to pay it any mind. 

“I love you,” is all you’re able to choke out in a whisper. Jay smiles and brushes his nose against yours, kissing you once, then twice and thrice before letting you fill your lungs again. 

“I love you more.”

And as much as you want to protest at first, you realize that he might be actually right. There’s no doubt of your feelings or devotion to him, you gave him your entire heart a long time ago, entrusted him with all you are and had enough faith in him to never make you regret your decision.

But no one loves like Jay does. His love is pure and raw, coming from the depth of his heart and overshadowing all other feelings you’ve ever harbored to another man. 

That’s how you also know that no matter anything you’ll always end up together, overcome everything. 

His gentle hands grab the bottom of the t-shirt you’re wearing, his actually now that he takes a better look at it, then lifts it up, revealing your perky breasts to him. He plants kisses against them, simultaneously unzipping his pants and kicking them down to the floor. His boxers are discarded next and you help him unbutton his shirt with your shaky fingers. 

“Make me yours,” you say into his lips once you’re done with that, hand pressed against his cheek. 

Your words are enough to send Jay’s patience out the window, and he’s lifting your leg to hook it over his waist before sinking his hard cock inside you, your walls instantly sucking him in to the hilt. He groans at the warmth that engulfs him, squeezing him so tightly he can barely move. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, blood rushing to your cheeks at the intimacy, his eyes boring into you lovingly. Because that’s what he is. Utterly, hopelessly lovesick. 

His chest heaves above yours for a moment as he lets you adjust and relax around him before settling for a slower and deep pace. Your breaths get ragged quickly, listening to the filthy squelching whenever he pulls out of you only to sink in further each time. 

“See, baby? It’s all good now,” he rasps, sweaty hair beginning to cling to his forehead because of the stuffiness in your bedroom. “You don’t need anyone else. Only me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Only you,” you repeat after him, watching his eyes sparkle and eyebrows furrow.

He lets out a chuckle, out of breath. “Good girl.”

His hold on you tightens as he fucks into you, his large hand slipping to the back of your head and pressing your face to his neck. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic and messy, and the only thing you’re able to do at the moment is whine desperately into his skin and wrap your other leg over his hips, thighs clenching his sides even tighter.

You feel better. You feel heavenly. You feel loved.

He bullies his way so deep inside you that you feel as if on the verge of blacking out. It’s so good. You’re pretty sure you’re going to leave a drool stain on your boyfriend’s toned shoulder once you pull away from there as you’re just unable to close your mouth for a second, too fucked out to have any control over it now.

“Can I go a little faster, sweetheart?” Jay asks.

You whine into the junction of his neck. “Mhm.”

And so he does, his touch growing in intensity as well. He lets go of your neck and your head falls back onto the pillows and you finally get to look at his face, expression so soft and tender, and a stark contrast to the way he fucks you. 

Your stomach sets ablaze with every loud clap of his hips against yours, his precum making a mess on your thighs. 

“Fucking hell,” he moans lowly, not being able to get enough of the doe-eyed look you’re giving him. He didn’t know it was possible, but he thinks he loves you even a little more than yesterday. 

The sloppy sound of your wet skin colliding with his ricochets off of your bedroom’s walls and your eyes water again – this reason completely contrasting to the earlier heartbreak. Jay is here to kiss all of your tears away, his warm lips tracing your cheeks and collecting every salty droplet that falls on your skin. 

You throw your head back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. And then he reaches down with the one hand that’s not holding you, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and rubbing circles on it, making you grow lightheaded again. 

His never ceasing thrusts keep hitting your g-spot, without even giving you a second to breathe. 

“J-Jay,” you whimper, voice wet and small, and he knows exactly what you want to communicate to him. 

You fall apart in his arms as your orgasm hits your sensitive pussy even harder this time, making you squirt with a shallow gasp for air. You feel completely owned by him at the moment. 

Jay’s eyes roll to the back of his skull for a hot minute, his cock aching and twitching as your walls spasm and squeeze him mercilessly. He buries his face in your neck now, nibbling under your ears and panting heavily against your skin.

Jay cums hard, probably harder than he ever has before – all because he knows he’s fucked you so good you can’t stop shaking in his arms. His own thighs begin to quiver a little as he ruts his emptying cock into your warm pussy, filling you up so nicely.

It’s the choked up wail that leaves your throat that spurs him into pushing more of his throbbing length into your sensitive self. His warm cum fills you to the brim, seeping slowly onto your thighs, yet he keeps snapping his hips against you slowly. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Take it all.”

Your lips part and when he pulls away from your neck, he immediately slides his tongue against yours. His kisses are sloppy and hot and wet but that only pushes you even further into the state of bliss, completely losing your mind for the man above you.

Your back is arched, making you press your chest into his forcefully as you jolt and twitch from overstimulation as he pulls out his soft cock out of you carefully. 

Jay’s lips press to your temple warmly with a soothing intention. You try to catch your breath, body sweaty and clammy just like your hair. Yet you look just as pretty as ever to him. His prettiest girl. 

 He collapses onto the bed next to you and lets you cling to him for as long as you want to, holding you tightly to his chest and drowning you in praises and compliments. It’s only when he notices that your eyelids are growing heavy that he gently pulls you away and up from the bed, steadying your wobbly self on the rug beside your bed. 

You look at him in confusion, eyes misty and tired and he can’t help but giggle and kiss you one more time. “We should probably take a shower first,” he flicks your nose when you scrunch it up slightly but then you nod your head.

When you start walking into the direction of the bathroom, goosebumps spiking your skin despite the hot temperature in the room, you turn around and frown when you notice that Jay has stayed behind you.

“You’re not coming, love?” You ask but he shakes his head. 

“You go first, baby. I’ll be right there in a second.” He nods his head to the ruined bedding. “Gotta change the sheets first.”

You flush as you take in the mess you’ve both made. “Right,” you mumble and then disappear behind the door. 

When you’re both showered and back in the bed together, you’re propping yourself on your elbows, trying to reach the switch of the lamp on the bedside table. You don’t get far when Jay’s arm wraps itself across your torso and brings you back down, right into his chest.  

“Stay,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face in your hair.

You giggle quietly but give in and lay comfortably, half on the bed and half on your boyfriend. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jay hums lowly. “I mean forever. Stay with me forever.”

You look at him, eyes slightly widening despite how tired you are, and his words take your breath away when you realize he’s dead serious. You’re at a loss of words, looking at the man by your side, stunned, yet he only smiles lazily and brings your hand to his lips to press his warm lips against your knuckles.

“Marry me.”

Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

taglist: @luvkpopp @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart @seokseokjinkim @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @somekpopshiteu97 @enhypens-hoe @alpha-mommy69 @jwnzlvr @wondipity

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @kissestojapan

note: i actually really like how it turned out xx

#carly's 2k event ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #park jay x reader #jay x reader smut #jay x reader #park jay imagines #park jay smut #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay smut #jay hard hours

[dewdropdinosaur]

Lay All Your Love On Me

ALASTOR X READER X LUCIFER

Summary: Insecurity bites harder than one would think in the underworld, and you are no stranger to its sting. However, with two affleunt and attractive boyfriends, you may learn just how beautiful you are. (AKA: My lovely you are beautiful the way you are and these boys wanna show you)

Warnings: NSFW/18+

Oral sex/cunnilingus, implied P in V, nipple play, Dom/Sub dynamics, use of names such as "Daddy"/"Ducky" in sexual context, restraints, SMUT

Only my second time writting smut so...sorry

Requested by @boogiewoog

Requests OPEN

In the vibrant, chaotic realm of Hell, where redemption seemed like a distant dream, a unique bond blossomed among three unlikely souls - Alastor, Lucifer, and Y/N. Alastor, the radio demon with a twisted sense of humor, Lucifer, the suave and sophisticated ruler of Hell, and Y/N, a human soul, whose presence brought light to the darkest corners of their world. Nothing could ever compare the joy that Y/N had awoken within the two demons, loving them both equally proved no challenge for her bright soul. With her love and guidance, the relationship bloomed and soon all three parties fell head over hooves in love with each other. From dates in Alastor’s radio tower, to Lulu Land, or helping Y/N work around the kitchen; Hell seemed like Heaven. 

However, not everything was sunshine and rubber ducks. At least for Y/N. One evening, as the crimson sky draped over the cityscape of Hell, Y/N found herself consumed by her own insecurities. She sat alone in her room, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the space. Her fingers traced the scars and imperfections on her skin, each one a reminder to herself that even in death, she couldn’t look how other people did. Dating one handsome and affluent demon was one thing, but two was another all together. What if she wasn’t good enough for them, what if someone else came along? What if Lillith came back, heaven forbid, Y/N just knew Lucifer would leave her in the dust the second that demoness walked through the doors., Y/N couldn't shake the nagging whispers of doubt that plagued her mind, centered around her own insecurities about her body. She just couldn't help but scrutinize every curve and contour of her form. The voices of doubt echoed in her mind, taunting her with their cruel words, as she fought to hold back tears.

Just then, a gentle knock sounded at the door, and in walked Alastor, his signature grin brightening the room like a ray of sunshine. Beside him stood Lucifer, his elated gaze filled with slight concern as he took in Y/N's troubled expression.

“Ducky, we just came to get you for dinner! Al made a real nice…something. What did you say was in it again?”

“It’s just jambalaya, I promise all normal ingredients. Why don’t you join us darling?”

“That’s alright, guys. I think I’m not super hungry right now.” Shying away from Lucifer’s embrace, Y/N wrapped her arms around her waist. 

Alastor and Lucifer sensed her distress, looking at each other the moment the words passed her lips.  With silent understanding, they came slowly to her side, their presence comforting and reassuring. Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over.

"Ducky, what’s going on in that head of yours?" Lucifer's voice was smooth like velvet, soothing her troubled mind.

Y/N hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I feel so insecure about my body. I can't help but compare myself to others, to feel like I'm not enough for you two."

Alastor knelt beside her, his grin warm and genuine. "Now, now, my dear. You are perfect just the way you are. Perfect just for us."

“But, I am not. Just look at me! I am not slender, heck you couldn’t put me next to anyone without noticing. Let alone Lillith or–” Holding her arms just to gesture to herself, Y/N could feel herself spill all her emotions manically. 

Suddenly, Lucifer grabbed her wrists and pinned her down against the bed. His smoldering gaze glowered down at her as his face leaned down to whisper in her ear. 

“I don’t want to hear that name off your pretty little lips, okay? You are mine, the one for me. Not her, not anyone else.” 

Coming to their side, Alastor joined his partner in looking down at Y/N. Using his hand to reach around and cup her chin, bringing her gaze to him. 

“My dear, I think out little darling needs to learn a little lesson. Mhmm?” 

A dark chuckle erupted from Lucifer’s throat, as he stood up and let his grip go. Both men now stared down at their partner, who laid on the bed; half near tears from her thoughts and half near moaning at the sight of her boys looking at her in such a manner. 

"We love you, Y/N," Alastor murmured, his voice soft like a melody. "Every inch of you, flaws and all." Slow kisses started down her neck and chest, heat blooming in her core. Attempting to maneneur her shirt lower, her hands werre halted by Lucifer; who grabbed her wrist and pinned them to the headboard as the red demon continued a show of his devotion. 

“Ducky, you are going to learn very quickly. Your pleasure, is our only concern.”

With a quick snap of his fingers, all clothes were removed from Y/N and both men were left shirtless; toned and slender bodies on full display. Both men’s eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of her bare form, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen. 

Alastor leaned down and took one of her hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging her hands across her torso, he slowly marked her skin with his hands. Lucifer, instead dipped down and spread her thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his hands. Slowly kissing up her thighs, just barely ghosting over where she needed him most, Y/N let out a soft moan. 

“Darling, see what you do to us? You are absolutely breathtaking.”

“Driving me mad ducky, fuck, you are just so good to squeeze.” 

Finally giving into her whimpers, Lucifer licked one long stripe up her dripping slit. Y/N gripped the sheets below her, legs attempting to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Alastor pinned her legs to the bed, as his mouth came off her nipple with a pop. 

“Now darling, let the man finish his meal. He hasn’t even started yet.” Lucifer then dived into her cunt like a man starved, sucking on her clit and slurping her jucies that it was better than heavenly ambrosia; while Alastor moved his minstratitions to her neck, sucking softly. It was only a matter of time before that familiar band became taut in her stomach. 

“Fuck, Luci…baby please.”

“Let go ducky, cum all over daddy’s face.” 

That’s what did it, Y/N felt the coil in her stomach snap as she cried Lucifer’s name. Cum now coated his face and the bedsheets below as her high overtook her senses and she saw stars. Lifting his head up slowly, slick shone and glinted. Licking his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and both moaned at the salty taste. Pulling back, Lucifer looked at Alastor who smirked; grabbing Y/N’s chin and forcing her gaze to him. 

“Now darling, how would you like your beautiful lips to scream my name next?” 

As the night unfolded, Y/N found solace in the arms of her two loves, their embrace a sanctuary from the harsh whispers of doubt that had plagued her for so long. In their presence, she discovered a newfound sense of confidence, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she would always have Alastor and Lucifer by her side, guiding her through the shadows and into the light of self-acceptance.

In the heart of Hazbin Hotel, amidst the chaos and clamor, a quiet moment of love blossomed, as Alastor and Lucifer vowed to stand by Y/N's side, their bond unbreakable and their love unconditional.

#romance #hazbin hotel fandom #answered #radio killed the video star #vizziepop #alastor the radio demon #request #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor smut #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel smut #smut writing #insecurity #feeling insecure #you are beautiful #you are perfect #safe space

[youaintnothinbuta]

“I wanna go steady” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: part two to this fic, where Elvis finally asks you to go steady n be his girlfriend

Pairing: Elvis or austin!Elvis x reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: none! Fluff, maybe typos sorrryyy

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sound of the doorbell echoing through the house sent your heart racing as you rushed downstairs, nearly tumbling down the stairs with the fright it gave you. You reached the bottom step, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You exclaimed a bright “hi” as you swung open the door, and there he was, Elvis, standing before you with that charming smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He was dressed in a black button up, his hair slicked, his eyes just as piercing as ever. In his hands, he held the most beautiful and enormous bouquet of flowers you'd ever seen, all of them in your favorite shade of pink.

“Hi, baby.” He enveloped you in a warm hug, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace that felt like home. As you leaned into him, he pressed the flowers into your hands, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss.

“Elvis,” you mumbled, kissing him on the jaw, “these are beautiful. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watched you admire the flowers, “you’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

“Come,” you pulled him inside, going to search your cabinets for a vase for them. Your parents weren’t home, they went out for dinner, otherwise he would have gone and said hello to them. You rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a delicate vase from the back of the cupboard. Elvis stood by, covering the countertop with hand to protect your head as you stood.

While arranging the flowers, you discovered a small note hidden among the blooms. You hadn't noticed it before, and your heart skipped a beat as you read the words. He held you from behind, resting his chin in the crook of your neck as you read it.

To the prettiest petal there ever was.

All my love, Elvis.

“Oh, you!” You squealed with delight as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Elvis, you are too sweet.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on the nape of your neck, his touch firm yet calming. “Nonsense,” he whispered, his voice gentle, “now, you ready?”

You gave a satisfied nod, heading for the front door. His tall frame reached out to grab your coat off the hook before you could, wrapping it around you with a gentle touch that sent shivers over your skin.

With a quick peck on the cheek, you shut the front door and headed to his pink Cadillac. The drive to the restaurant was filled with laughter and conversation, the anticipation of the evening ahead palpable in the air between you.

As you arrived at the restaurant, you were greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the aroma of delicious food wafting through the air. Over dinner, you shared stories and dreams, lost in each other's company as you savored every moment together.

As you sat across from each other, sharing ice cream for dessert, Elvis reached across the table to take your hand in his, clearing his throat.

“Y/n, there's something I-I've been w-wanting to ask you.” His nervous stutter that you adored so much made an appearance, you gave him an encouraging glance.

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love and affection reflected back at you. “What is it, Elvis?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know we've been seeing each other a w-while now, and I ain’t never been happier,” he began, his eyes filled with sincerity. “I wanna go steady, y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, Elvis,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

He leaned closer into you, you leaned in too, your lips meeting in a tender kiss.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box and placing it in front of you. “I got you something,” he said, his voice soft.

You opened the box, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the delicate silver bracelet nestled inside. It had a tiny heart-shaped charm with his initials engraved on.

“Elvis, it's beautiful,” you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his generosity.

He took the bracelet from the box, gently fastening it around your wrist as he looked into your eyes. “Like you.”

He looked up at you from your wrist, his thumb reaching out to wipe away a tear that threatened to spill over.

After he paid the bill, he stood up, once again helping your arms into your coat. After dinner, Elvis took you for a leisurely drive, the night sky twinkling overhead the cool breeze brushed your hair back. And as you arrived back at his house, you cuddled up on the couch and watched whatever was on tv for a while, getting cosy. As the night progressed, Elvis felt your lean more on him, yawning, growing tired.

“Let’s get you home so you can get some rest.” He whispered, kissing your forehead.

At your home, he walked you to your front door, he kissed you goodnight, his touch lingering on your lips.

“Thank you,” you smiled sleepily, “tonight has been the best night of my life.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He replied.

"Wait a minute, darlin'," he stopped you, as you turned to go inside. "Turn around for me."

You did, and he unclasped your necklace, slipping a ring off his finger and putting it on the chain. He did it up again, and you felt a little thrill run through you.

"What's this?" you asked, touching the ring.

“Well, you gotta wear my ring around your neck,” he said, his eyes sparkling with romance. "You're special to me, darlin', and I want everyone to know it."

You kissed him one last time, feeling like you were floating on air. You went inside, took off your shoes and coat, and couldn't stop grinning from ear, not even while you were sleeping.

A/N: the little stutter he would get like at the beginning of the 1955 maybellene recording and in that scene in loving you OH MY GOD I love it so much

#Elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvispresley #elvis x y/n #elvis film #army elvis #50s elvis #elvis imagine #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans #elvis presley x yn #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis x you #you x elvis presley #yn x elvis presley #elvis x yn #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis x y/n #austin elvis imagine #y/n x elvis #reader x elvis presley #reader x elvis

[weirdkpopgirl]

Forever | Jaemin Imagine #13

Title: Forever

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff ><

Warnings: light making out

Word Count: ~1k

Author's Note: Yet another story of mine that was inspired by my admiration for Jaemin. Trust me, I've liked a lot of k-pop guys. But for some reason, Jaemin stands out the most to me. Maybe because he's my ideal type. But every time I see him, I find something that makes my heart beat faster. I wonder if that's what falling in love feels like? Anyway, hope you guys like this. Thank you for reading ^ ^

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The Totoro lamp on the accent table next to the television cast a soft glow that warmed the living room of your once lonely apartment. Cozied up at the edge of the gray loveseat, you sat with your knees pulled close to your chest, allowing your thoughts to wander as they often did past 10 p.m. However, those thoughts were interrupted by the light padding sound of slippers against the wooden floor panels. Soon after, the couch cushion next to you sank under added weight. 

Then you felt the arms of your beloved wrap his arms snugly around your waist, and his warm lips planted a lingering kiss on your cheek without wasting another second. “Missed you,” he whispered, his voice slightly tickling your ear.

The corners of your lips curled into a fond smile, and you turned into his embrace so you could face the sweet man properly. You nestled comfortably between his legs, letting your hand naturally find its way to the back of his neck while your other hand brushed against the left side of his face. 

“I missed you too, Nana,” you murmured, tenderly caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch instantly, savoring it.

The simple action was enough to stir a flurry of emotions within you. In the brief moments of silence that passed, you studied your handsome boyfriend as if searching for any changes that might have occurred in the three weeks you had been apart. Other than his white-blond hair having grown longer so quickly after cutting it, you didn’t find any significant changes. Jaemin’s big beautiful eyes were as captivating as ever, complemented by his flirtatiously long eyelashes. His dark eyebrows were still perfectly arched, framing his expressive eyes, and his soft pink lips retained their subtle, endearing pout.

A small sigh from you couldn’t be suppressed, the sight of him having the same effect on you as always. Although, deep down you knew his kind-hearted personality made him even more attractive in your eyes. 

“What’s on your mind, princess?” Jaemin asked in his dreamy deep voice that carried a mellowness at night. His eyes held a curiosity to them, and he didn’t need to say anything for you to know he was referring to your earlier distraction.

You hesitated for a second, before responding. “I was just thinking about relationships.”

Checking Jaemin’s reaction before continuing, you saw that his attention remained fully captured on you. The way he listened intently made your heart flutter so easily, a feeling you couldn’t quite explain.

“You know, I was watching YouTube before bed the other day,” you began to explain. “And I came across a few shorts about couples talking about how the first year is supposed to be the honeymoon phase, and then they start arguing a lot in the second year and often break up.”

Jaemin nodded, a gentle smile tugging on his lips. “I see. What’s your take on that, love?”

Although you had the answer to his question in your head, it took a moment for you to piece it together.  “Hm, I don’t think there really should be a honeymoon phase. I mean, that’s not really the case for us.”

Almost instinctively, you glanced down at the diamond ring on your finger, its facets catching the light perfectly. A few days before Jaemin had to leave for Taipei with the Dreamies, he surprised you with a simple yet intimate proposal. 

“Sure, we’ve both had to work on some things,” you continued, fixing your gaze on him once more. “But even after two years together, you still make me feel like a giddy teenager with a huge crush.”

Jaemin chuckled, his laughter causing a blush to tinge your cheeks. You knew how silly your words sounded, but they reflected your true feelings. However, it was rare for you to verbally express this to him. Before any doubts about being this honest could creep in, Jaemin’s hand moved to lovingly brush a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“I feel exactly the same as you. Every day I discover something new I love about you, and every kiss we share feels just as special as our first,” he said sincerely.

A part of you sensed he said the last sentence as an excuse to kiss you, and sure enough, he leaned in to plant one on your lips shortly after. Even though you lost the number of times Jaemin has kissed you, you agree that all of them were cherishable.

Pulling away, you scrunched your nose slightly with a hint of skepticism in your voice. “Are we being too cheesy?”

If anyone had walked in and witnessed this, you were certain that they would cringe at hearing all the sweet, sappy things exchanged between the two of you. You could practically hear the fake gagging noises from his members.

“I’d like to think of it more as us being extra romantic,” Jaemin replied, wearing a playful smile that you secretly swooned over.

The conversation naturally faded into the background, as you lost yourselves in each other’s embrace once more. His lips moved against yours slowly, tenderly, without ever making you fear that he’d pull away anytime soon. One hand held your back securely, while the other gently cupped your face. Your fingers lightly ran through his light-colored strands as you melted into his touch.

“Gosh, I just want to marry you already,” Jaemin exhaled, a hint of sulkiness in his tone.

Despite his words causing you to blush profusely again, you relaxed into his arms and appreciated this quiet moment surrounded by love and warmth. Maybe you guys were pretty cheesy. But that didn’t make your feelings for each other any less real.

Being in love with Jaemin was a feeling you hoped would last forever.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #jaemin #nct #jaemin x reader #na jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #nct dream x reader

[polly-pocket13]

Give me a chance to show you how beautiful you are

bakugou katsuki x fem!chubby!reader 

tw: weight, self-doubt, self-hate, eating disorder, cursing, acne, bad english and bad grammar

a/n: just a friendly reminder that you are enough and beautiful just the way you are.

You are standing in front of your mirror and looking at yourself. 

You sighed. 

Your skin is getting worse again.

You gained weight.

Your tights are too thick.

Your belly is too chubby.

Your arms to giggly.

Slowly, your eyes started to tear up.

Why couldn't you be like the other pretty girls?

Those girls with the flat stomachs and clear skin. 

Those girls with beautiful tights and slim arms. 

Those girls who always look and act like a real lady.

Those girls who always seem perfect.

The next day, you started eating less and exercising more.

You began to isolate yourself from others and feel more and more ashamed about yourself.

Like right now, you were in your room again and stood before your mirror and looked at your imperfect body.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” you suddenly heard Bakugous voice behind you.

You didn't even notice that he knocked or entered your room.

“Bakugou, what are you doing here? Of course, everything is alright.” you told him and forced yourself to smile.

“Y/N, stop fucking lying to me. I can see that something is wrong, and I can see how, you force yourself to smile. I have known you long enough, to recognize a real smile.” he grumbled.

“I don't know what you mean.” you said to him.

“Don't play dumb, Y/N. Please tell me what is wrong.” he spoke to you.

“I am fine.” you lied again. 

You weren't fine at all. 

“Fine? You look to me like the absolute opposite of fine.” he said to you angrily.

You were overwhelmed with emotions.

You slowly started to speak, “Can't you see? I am the problem. How I look. How I act. Everything about me is just imperfect.”

You started to cry again.

“Who the hell told you such a bullshit. Tell me so I can break his nose.” he told you aggressive.

You replied quietly, “Kacchan, just forget it.”

“You don't want me to know? Well, then I will find out myself. It can't be that fucking hard to find an asshole without eyes.” he slightly shouted and wanted to leave your room.

“It was me, okay! I tell my self everyday I am not enough! So if you want to break someone's nose, feel free to break mine.” you said to him. 

He immediately turned himself to you. A second later, you could feel his arms wrapped around you.

Now, you started to cry even more.

He pulled you closer to him.

He whispered in your ear, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life.” 

“You only say it because we are friends and I am crying. You don't mean it.” you mumbled.

“Tsk, stupid gorgeous Woman. Why don't you believe me? I would not fall in love with you if you were not the most perfect human being in the world,”

he started tell you.

“I wished you could see yourself through my eyes. Then you would see that you are perfect from the bottom to the top. 

You would see how your eyes sparkle, when you talk about something you love. How you smile makes everyone else smile too.  How you just make everyone else to a better person, especially me. You would see how all stare at you if you dress up in your pretty dresses.  Damn it, Y/N yo drive me crazy every day. Your curves, your beautiful thighs, your soft belly. Just fucking everything.” he ends his “speech”.

You were shocked. You just stared at him for a moment.

“You like me? Like, really like me.” you asked him. 

“Typical Y/N. I told you lots of other important things and you just remembered one. Yes, I like you. Like, really like you.” he answered you. 

“I think I like you too, but I can't see myself through your eyes. I am just imperfect for me.” you told him.

“Give me a chance to show you how beautiful you are. Okay?” he asked you. 

“Okay.” you answered. 

Since that day, he has been proving to you every day how beautiful you are to him. 

And you slowly start to believe him and love yourself as you should because you are truly beautiful just the way you are. 

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha x you #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader angst #mha angst #mha bakugou #bnha angst #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugo fluff

[its-avalon-08]

Hi hiii!! Can I request lando watching y/n perform think of me from the phantom of the opera??

my angel, my haven

(this is super different from what i usually write so im sorry if its shit)

lando's pov :

the crimson velvet curtains billowed outwards, revealing a stage bathed in the soft glow of a gaslight replica. y/n stood center stage, the spotlight catching the way her sequined gown shimmered like a thousand scattered diamonds. her back was straight, her posture radiating an ethereal confidence that sent a jolt through me. i couldn't tear my eyes away.

think of me, think of me fondly

this wasn't the first time i'd seen y/n perform. we'd been together since our karting days, but tonight, something felt different. maybe it was the grandeur of the opera house, the hushed reverence of the audience, or maybe it was just the way the stage lights painted her face in a thousand dramatic strokes. whatever it was, it took my breath away.

we never said our love was evergreen

as the opening notes of "think of me" swelled from the orchestra pit, a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest. it wasn't just the beauty of the music, though that was undeniable. it was the way y/n inhabited the song, her voice soaring through the theatre with a power and control that never ceased to amaze me. it was a voice that could shatter glass and soothe a broken heart, all in the same breath.

think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

as she sang, a thousand memories flickered through my mind. goofy backstage moments, stolen kisses in the pit lane, late-night talks where her dreams intertwined with mine. here she was, living out one of those dreams, and i was lucky enough to witness it. a thrill of possessiveness, quickly doused by a wave of pure pride, washed over me. how could this incredibly talented, captivating woman be mine?

recall those days, look back on all those times

her voice climbed higher, weaving a tapestry of emotions with each note. christine's longing, the phantom's obsession, it all poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. her voice sounded like a dream. the audience was enthralled, hanging onto her every word. and me? i was lost in a world of my own creation, a world where the opulent stage was replaced by a dimly lit garage, the smell of grease oil replaced by the sweet scent of her hair. in that world, it wasn't christine pining for a masked figure, it was y/n, my y/n, captivating me with her talent and her love.

but please promise me that sometimes, you will think of me

the final note faded, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. then, as if a dam had broken, the applause erupted. it was a thunderous roar that shook the very foundation of the building. a wide smile bloomed on y/n's face, as radiant as the spotlight itself. as she caught my eye and smiled i felt all the stars align. in that moment, i knew. no matter what challenges life threw our way, no matter how bright her star might shine, she would always find her way back to me. and i, the luckiest man alive, would be waiting.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

thanks for reading and sending in your request! do send in more! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norizz #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #red bull racing #y/n #phantom of the opera #request #ava speaks #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x y/n #ln4 #ln4 one shot

[honeybcj]

I’m so dysphoric about my chest rn

I’m currently not in a relationship but I would be so dysphoric/insecure about sex and showing my body to another person

So could you write maybe some fluffy jegulus smut? :)

my precious nonnie <3 i completely understand where you are coming from. it’s definitely a very difficult thing to work through and live with. i wish i had all the right words to say to just make everything feel good and comfy. i know i’m just a person behind a screen, but know that you have my full support and love, yeah? i’d adore to write a little jeggy fluffy smut. hopefully this can bring you some joy today (sorry it took so long to get to!)

“Jamie,” Regulus breathes out, back arching up off the bed.

Early morning sunlight fills the bedroom with a soft yellow glow. Piled around the two of them are warm sheets, cradling their bodies with delicacy. It’s been a slow morning—one of their favorite things to indulge in. A morning full of soft touches and longing looks, tentative kisses and gentle whispers of love and admiration.

At some point, James made himself comfortable between Regulus’ legs, situating himself just right to be able to lean down and graze his lips down Regulus’ chest. Regulus’ curls fall like a halo around his head on the pillow beneath him, every inch of his skin burning just from James’ touch alone.

Regulus doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He’s found the person that loves him for who he is—no qualms or questions about it. James sees him for the man he is, loving every piece of Regulus that he offers up. And Regulus does give all of himself to James, for James shines like the sun, leaving Regulus to bask in plentiful warmth and comfort.

Each kiss along Regulus’ chest only darkens his cheeks more, eyes wide with adoration. He lifts his head, watching carefully as James trails kisses along the healed scars on his chest. He’s cautious, attentive to how Regulus’ body reacts. A shudder here, a soft whine there. It aches Regulus ache all the more; James has loved him before his surgery, during, and after.

“Baby,” Regulus whimpers, carding a hand through James’ hair.

Blissed out, James looks up at him with benevolent eyes, hair sticking up at all odd ends from hours of sleep and lazing about all morning. His lips curl up into the fondest smile, brightening up his entire face. The look alone makes Regulus melt into a puddle, heart hammering inside his chest to the beat of love, love, love.

“Hi, my love,” James whispers, slipping a hand beneath the sheets.

It’s already too much and not enough. James’ hand slips lower, caressing the soft skin of Regulus’ thigh, letting out a breathy laugh as the hair tickles his fingertips. Regulus is feeling a little impatient, hips moving on their own accord to seek out James’ hand—his touch.

“Be patient, baby. I’ve got you,” James murmurs as his hand slinks closer to Regulus’ cunt, his touch becoming more purposeful.

Fingers slip beneath the material of Regulus’ shorts, delving past his underwear. Skilled they brush through coarse curls just barely getting to where Regulus is desperate for it.

“It’s—it’s hard,” Regulus huffs, poking out his lower lip which makes James grin. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to Regulus’ mouth.

“God, you are so beautiful,” is all James says before slipping a finger through Regulus’ slick folds.

Regulus can’t even formulate a response, too overcome by pleasure and emotion. His lips part, yearning gaze falling right on James’. And there it is—the James Potter smile.

It’s like time stops for a moment, just so they can remember this exact feeling. Eyes boring lovingly into one another’s, bodies aligned. Each time James brushes over his clit, another soft moan escapes Regulus’ mouth. The tender caress turns into one finger, then two, fucking Regulus unhurriedly, even as Regulus pushes his hips down for more.

James’ thumb works in tandem, stroking over Regulus’ clit each time he thrusts his fingers. All Regulus can think is, this is the life I deserve, this is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

A building crescendo, nearly falling over the edge. Regulus’ vision goes hazy, a mix of pleasure and unshed tears. James, always in tune, catches Regulus’ shift, quickening his ministrations. And there it is—enough to send Regulus out of orbit.

When Regulus finally comes to, he’s wrapped in James’ arms, in a clean pair of pants, while James traces slow circles on his shoulder. Right there, in that moment, Regulus has never felt more at peace.

#han’s asks #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus microfic? #jegulus microfic #han’s microfics

[adrift-in-thyme]

@telemna-hyelle it took more than an hour (sorry about that) but here it is! The Four/Dot fluff I promised!

I hope it helps you end your day on a good note <33

----------------------------------------------------------

He isn’t ready for this.

Four moves along the wooded path as if in a trance. He knows every step of this place like the back of his hand. But usually, he is much more attentive than this. Usually, he keeps a watchful eye on the surrounding area, scouting for the stray chu or keese. 

Today, however, he cannot seem to keep his mind on such things. The sunlight dappled earth beneath his feet, the scent of leaves and bark baked in the afternoon warmth, the breeze that caresses his cheeks, and the chittering of the many critters that scamper about within the foliage – they are all lost on him.

He feels Dot’s hand in his, her palm smooth and warm. He smells her perfume – light and sweet like the cotton candy they spin at the yearly festivals. He hears her laughter, bright and unrestrained and free as she tells a tale from her day. He sees her, radiant, hair like strands of gold and eyes the color of the joyful sky.

She looks at him, says something he can’t comprehend. He nods, conjures up a smile. With luck, it won’t be as strained as he feels that it is.

He has faced beasts one hundred times his size, navigated the pain and confusion of being split into four, saved the world twice. But by the golden three, he is not ready for this.

And yet, he is going through with it anyway. He can’t back down now. Not when his best friend is right here beside him, every moment of basking in her presence strengthening the love he feels for her. 

Four squares his shoulders. Yes, this is the right thing to do. The hardest things often are. 

The Minish have done a spectacular job preparing the clearing. That much is evident as soon as it comes into view. Everything is as they had planned. Every detail has been attended to with immaculate care.

Vines drape over tree limbs, their slim strands heavy with layered blossoms. Flower petals drift down in lazy pirouettes to join the coat of vibrant pink already lying on the forest floor. The sun glimmers through slightly parted branches. Not far off a fairy fountain casts its soothing glow. Soft notes of magic drift to Four’s ears as he leads Dot forward.

“Link,” she breathes, gazing upward and all around, eyes wide with adoration, “this is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” he agrees with a calm he in no way feels. “The Minish worked very hard on it.”

Dot turns to him now, head cocked in question. “The Minish? What do you…”

She trails off as he drops to one knee.

It feels as though he is kneeling on a bed of silk. But the sensation in his chest as he reaches into his pouch is about as pleasant as the Big Octorok sitting on him.

The ring is in his palm though, a delicate thing melted and shaped and fired by his own two hands. It had taken countless tries to get it right, to meld the corners into the perfect curve, to carve the designs in the way he imagined them to be. Making jewelry is not quite the same as crafting a sword. It requires a different sort of skill.

But he had found that skill within him. And he had created something beautiful. Something he will be proud to see upon her finger.

“Zelda,” he murmurs and curses the way his voice trembles a bit at the end, “Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, my dearest friend…” He raises his head, gazes into those big blue eyes. The ones that had shone with empathy when the pieces of himself had threatened to shatter him anew. The ones that had glowed with mirth and joy at the festivals, brightened when he told a joke, gone sharp with interest when he told a tale.

The eyes he has gotten lost in so many times before, and hopes to many more times in the future.

“Zelda, will you marry me?”

She stares at him for a long, agonizing moment, hand held to her mouth, emotion surging across her face. Then, she laughs. She laughs and the world sings with the noise. And she swoops down and lands a kiss right on his lips.

“Was…” he croaks when his surroundings have swung back into focus and the dizzying mixture of elation and trepidation have abated somewhat, “...was that a yes?”

“Oh, Link, of course, it was! Of course!” Her hands are on his face. The ring shines on one of her fingers, though he can’t remember placing it there. Everything is a haze, a haze of wonder and joy and fear. 

It looks perfect there, though. Almost as though she was born to wear it.

“I’ll marry you, Link!” She cries, visage aglow. “I would like nothing more!” 

A laugh bubbles from his lips now, smaller and more hesitant, but overjoyed nonetheless. He stands and suddenly, his arms are around her and hers around him and they are hugging like the world depends upon it. Like if they let go, this moment, this delicate, beautiful moment will solidify and shatter. 

Perhaps, it will. But Four likes to think that it is stronger than that. Like they are.

He blinks away the tears and smiles.

As a sword is forged to endure the struggles of time, so is their friendship made to withstand the toughest of tribulations. And that makes moments like this one even more precious.

“I love you,” she says and her very soul is in the words.

Four holds her tighter and makes himself a promise that he will never let her go. He will never allow her to fall in harm’s way again, never leave her to face life alone. No, they will stand tall through it all. Together. 

“I love you too,” he whispers. “I love you too.”

#another wild fluff fic appears #two in the span of two weeks?? #idk what's happening to me XD #thanks for letting me write this for you tellie <333 #i hope you liked it #and i hope your day gets better #and that tomorrow is easier and brighter #linked universe #lu four #lu dot #zelink #fluff #trin writes

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

"Time & the Trickster"

a Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Epilogue: Goddess of Stories

Time goes by...

CHAPTER WARNING (18+): none, other than I cried again

Previous Chapter

MASTERLIST

The Doctor sniffed the air as he stepped out of the smoking TARDIS. He reached into his pocket and felt the Sonic Screwdriver inside. Taking it out, he pressed a button, grinning when it lit up and proved that it was fully-functional again.

The environment smelled deliciously familiar. London. His native timeline. Approximately…2007 AD? 

Looking down at the rubbish-covered sidewalk in front of the alley where the TARDIS landed, The Doctor smiled and picked up a dirty, wet flier that simply read ‘Vote Saxon.’

“I’m back!” he said with a grin. He opened his mouth and breathed in to taste the air around him. “And…hmm…what’s that?” 

Beyond the alley, a bit further on, a large skyscraper seemingly brand-new to the London horizon stood, a large sign in the front reading ‘Adipose Industries.” 

“Adipose, eh? Now, that’s a bit curious, isn’t it? What are they doing here?” he said aloud to himself, the name triggering The Doctor’s immediate interest. He walked across the street for a closer look. Something strange was brewing here, he could feel it, perhaps something dangerous or even deadly. 

And he wouldn’t miss it for anything. 

“You heading out, Sis?” Joey called out from the sofa, his head leaning back against the cushions. 

You were dressed in a lovely black cocktail dress, hair tossed expertly into a messy bun. The high heels you’d gotten proved to be a bit too much, but  you knew you had to make the right impression at this dinner meeting. 

“Yeah, don’t wait up,” you replied. “If it goes well, they’ll sign me, and we’ll get a round of congratulatory drinks.” 

You sucked in your breath, observing yourself one last time in the long mirror mounted in the doorway of your small-but-cozy house in the northern suburb, purchased with the sale of your first book last year. The novel you’d written about a lonely woman saving the world by returning a god to the stars was an underground hit when you’d first independently published it, and after six months and two reprints to meet demand, Random House was on the verge of signing a three-book deal with you, estimated to be worth at least a million once you chose and signed with the agent you were meeting tonight.

It was your birthday, three years to the night that you’d rescued Loki from a holding cell downtown. The date for this life-changing moment seemed almost preordained. 

“You got this,” called Joey half-heartedly. You knew he meant it, but he was already four beers into his night off, and he could only muster so much emotion without exhausting himself. His new bartending job was on a college campus, and he was still adjusting to the busy weekends of ungrateful 20-year-olds demanding to be served. 

Neither of you seemed to want to rush into relationships. Joey had never been the type for long-term entanglements of any sort, and the fallout of your whirlwind romance with the God of Stories had left most other prospects lacking. You’d dated in the years since that adventurous summer, but no one stuck in your heart the way Loki had. 

You hoped he hadn’t ruined you. Only time would tell. 

Your taxi was late, but seeing as it was a beautiful, rain-free spring evening, it was a pleasure to wait under the setting sun for it. It didn’t hurt that you didn’t live in the city anymore. The air smelled better, the ambience was less-frantic, and best of all: you could see the sky at night, which was what you’d told Joey was the most important factor when you decided to continue cohabitation and look for a new place. You could still see the city from your front yard, especially at night when it was all aglow, but the light pollution didn’t extend far enough to obscure the stars.

Almost every night that wasn’t overcast, you spent hours sitting on the low roof over the front door, watching for any sign that what you’d been through, the things you’d seen, and the feelings you’d experienced had all been real. Joey had always been able to assure you that your journey across the sea to restore Loki to his terrible throne had been real. 

To keep those feelings close to your memories, you wrote them down and gave them to your brother to read. 

“Damn,” he had said after reading your first draft, “you should get these in print…maybe change the names a bit so Disney doesn’t bean you with a lawsuit…”

Taking his suggestion to mind, you adjusted a few factors: turning Loki and The Doctor specifically into original characters who just HAPPENED to share a lot in common with their counterparts. After two furious rewrites, you had a worthy tale that caught a lot of attention. Several books about “The Great Greening” (which scientists had explained away as a climate change phenomenon) had preceded yours, but none read as intimately as what you had to offer. Admittedly, you’d played up the romance and added a bit of wishful thinking (having included an alternate ending to the book where Loki came back for you and Sylvie was tied to the throne forever). It was the sincere passion behind your words that attracted fans. 

The final signing was taking place over dinner at the Blue Palm downtown, the only place in Syracuse fancy enough to serve escargot. 

You closed your eyes as you stood in your driveway, waiting for your cab (perhaps a car would be your next extravagant purchase). You gently whispered one word into the night:

Loki. 

Opening your eyes, you were just in time to see a green streak line the sky before disappearing over the tree line. You went warm inside. Someone was thinking of you and loving you tonight. 

“I love you too,” you sighed with a smile. “Forever.” 

You knew you would never see him again, yet every time you felt the anxiety rise in your blood, you told yourself one thing: you were in Loki’s caring hands, even if from ‘somewhere out there.’ As long as you could see that green flash in the night, you knew he was real, and that he was watching. 

Conscious of a large yellow cab pulling up around the corner, you took in one more brave breath, and rode off toward your future. 

Always watching. For eternity. A Time Lord of his own ordination. 

All Loki could do was remain tethered to the golden throne, all of time between his fingers, the most powerful creature to ever exist, and also the most powerless. His only consolation was the ability to see within them, like a spectator watching you move on without him. 

He could see Mobius play with his sons. He could see The Doctor jetting around history with his ginger-haired best friend. He could see Joey finally become manager at his job. He could see you on your book tour, smiling for cameras and earning enough money to guarantee your security. It seemed you were becoming quite a goddess of stories.

All of you were getting on with your lives in various ways, as it should have been. 

Now, he was watching with quiet pride as you accepted the proposal of the good-looking, warm-hearted man you’d met the night you’d signed your first book deal, who'd started off as your agent before you both found your feelings for one another morphing into something more. Loki sent out a green falling star to celebrate your engagement, and to give his blessing to your match.

A tear pricked the corner of his eye. You made all of it worthwhile. It was an honor keeping you alive. 

“For you,” he repeated one final time, “For all of us."

Thank you for going on this journey with me. I hope it was worth the trip! ~. Lena

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirlofmanysstuff @krabog @soulpiercing @archivelaurarps @banjo-bastard

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #adventure #time travel #crossover fic #mcu crossover #doctor who #doctor who crossover #mcu/doctor who crossover #tenth doctor #time stone #tva #marvel loki #loki series 2 #loki series spoilers #loki season 2 #anti-sylvie #anti-sylki

[pinksturniolo]

Angels Like You and Demons Like Me - A Chris Sturniolo AU Story

Part 1 of 2

Christopher is a demon exiled from the underworld after committing one of the most unacceptable acts Hades will never tolerate. Falling in love with a mortal from Earth. Now he is doomed to wander the Heavens alone, where no god, angel or even siren is allowed to associate with him. He is in agony, in suffering. Until one red tipped, gold plated arrow is accidently pierced into the back of his shoulder, permanently subjecting him to a love spell.

Cupid is an angel with the power of desire, love, and attraction. She is the daughter of Venus, Goddess of love and Mars, God of war. She is tasked with matchmaking all the beings in the Heavens, each arrow she shoots having a spell of true love. Once they are pierced by her arrow, and they successfully unite with their soulmate, their bond is one that lasts forever. She never misses her aim and every immortal that’s she’s struck have been blessed with true love.

 But when her love arrow accidentally strikes a demon, all the rules she thought she knew are turned upside down.

content warnings: no smut, mostly fluff, angst, based on ancient mythology, angelxdemon, descriptions of depression, grief, loss and death.

my submission to the bratzfornick’s 141 writing challenge!

@bratzforchris @nicksbestie

ty for creating this challenge <3

the 4 story elements i picked:

genre - fluff, angst

trope - angel x demon

location/setting: alternate universe (au)

word count: 2,658

Christopher lies in the garden of Eden atop Mount Olympus, a large meadow of soft grass and small white and purple flowers, with tall evergreen trees. The warmth of the sun shines down on his bare skin, having removed his black suit earlier once he entered the garden. Demons don’t typically feel warm or cold. They don’t typically feel anything. But if he focuses hard enough, lets his eyes close and just listens to the steady beat of his heart, he can feel the breeze in the air and the rays on his chest.

He lets the tears roll down his cheeks. He may be able to relax in the soft meadow, but he will never be able to erase the memory of her. The only being he has ever loved. His heart aches every time he thinks of her face, her laugh, her soft voice. She was pure, innocent, the sweetest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

She was a mortal human from the dimensions of Earth. In the universe of Heaven and Hell, it is forbidden to associate with any mortals on any dimension or timeline. They are considered insignificant, and beneath the powers of the gods and goddesses. Immortal beings find entertainment in their silly lives, watching them from time to time whenever they are bored. However, Christopher disagreed with their ways from the moment he was taught of the ancient rules and rituals.

His parents were mortals, who were ordinary beings like the rest of the humans on Earth. Their love was true and deep, creating a beautiful baby boy whose soul was so pure that it captured the attention of Zeus, the ruler of the Heavens. And it is known from the beginnings of creation that Hades, the ruler of the underworld called Hell, is his immortal enemy.

Zeus and Hera longed for centuries to have another child, a god they could raise to be powerful and respected. So, when Zeus saw the potential in Christopher, he took him from Earth, giving him the power of everlasting immortality. As soon as Hades heard the news, he was instantly jealous of Zeus and still heartbroken over the death of his great love Persephone. He stole the baby, raising him in the depths of the underworld, creating one of the most powerful and strongest demons.

Once Christopher learned of his past, he developed a hate for Hades, Zeus, and every other god or angel in his dimension, whether they were pure or evil. He despised every single one of them, for being so hypocritical and unfair. They all made fun of humans for being emotional and silly, when in actuality they were just the same.

He made a vow to himself to never fall in love, and to never get involved in human lives.

That is until one day, Hades sent him on a quest to retrieve a lost soul from Earth, a nasty evil soul that belonged to the underworld. And he stumbled upon a female mortal, forgetting all about his mission. He was struck by her beauty and her kindness. For days, he observed her, watching how she treated other people and the dedication she had to her friends and family. He longed to be with her, to be mortal again.

After a few years, he finally decided he would reveal himself to her. There were certain ways an immortal could talk to a human, and he was willing to risk it all for her.

But Hades caught him before he could even start.

He struck her down as soon as he figured out what Christopher’s plans were, taking her life.

He begged and pleaded with Hades, groveling at his feet, screaming and crying until his throat was raw and he was out of breath. He begged him to bring her back, even if it meant he wouldn’t be with her. He never meant for this to happen; he simply wanted her to have her life back. She didn’t deserve this cruel fate.

But of course, Hades had no remorse. And he was furious with Christopher for disobeying him. So, he banished him to the one place he knew he would be miserable in.

Heaven. It’s where he’s ordered to live the rest of his immortal days at, surrounded by beautiful clouds, mountains, flowers and forest. Vast coasts and immense colosseums, miles and miles of blue sky and castles full of carved marble and grand rooms filled with silk and cotton.

Love is all around, in every being. And he loathes it. From the warm sunlight that shines and filters through the canopy of trees in the forest as he dozes off during the day to the glowing moonlight that glitters across Poseidon’s Sea, casting a blueish tint on the sand as he lays upon the beach at night. Even the yellow butterflies that flutter in pairs around him make him sick.

He used to have an appreciation for the beauty in things, to want more than the dark, lonesome and tragic depths of the underworld he came from. But now, ever since he suffered the grief of losing the one thing he had ever known to love, he had no such desire for happiness. He longed to be back in the pit of lost souls and madness that was ruled by Hades. At least he wouldn’t have to bear the sight of love all around him and could wallow in the self-misery and sadness by himself.

He searched for his lost love, hoping fate would have turned her soul into an angel and sent her up here, but that was almost a decade ago and he had no luck in ever seeing her again.

And so, he spends his days drowning in depression and lost in his misery. But at least he can feel the warmth of the sun.

Cupid watches from her place behind the trees, her feet dipping into the cool water of the lake. She observes with curiosity as the tears fall from his eyes, the light bouncing off his smooth skin. His large, black wings are spread out on the grass as he lays in it, the muscles of his arms and shoulders carved out like the sculptures in her favorite colosseum. She’s seen demons before, most of them rude and intimidating. But she senses a strong purity in him, a longing for love that she can’t quite figure out.

He’s exceptionally beautiful and she can’t help but continue to stare at him, intrigued by his childlike aura. He’s asleep now, his face peaceful except for the worry furrowed into his eyebrows. He’s dreaming of something. Or someone.

Suddenly, her bow pulses with purpose, and she gets the familiar urge of striking him with an arrow. She doesn’t though, still sitting against the oak of the tree and swishing her feet in the water.

Since she became of age, Cupid’s job is to be the sole matchmaker of the immortals in Heaven. She observes the gods and other angels, and when her intuition lets her know it’s time to strike, she pierces them with her love arrow, entrapping them in her spell.

It only hurts them for a moment, but then they are filled with a feeling of bliss and happiness. They are drawn to their one true love and well… Fate takes care of the rest.

Her spell is not just some silly party trick. It invokes real feelings that are brought to the surface by her power. It opens the mind and heart, allowing your true destiny to play out.

But it’s never allowed her to strike a demon. Firstly, demons are not usually allowed in Heaven, unless it’s a special circumstance. Even so, angels are forbidden to interact with one. So, she is more than a little confused when she feels her intuition tell her to hit him with an arrow.

But the feeling slowly subsides, and she chalks it up to the curiosity she had while watching him. Demons couldn’t love, especially here.

She flies away after a while, in search of her next lover to help. And when she slips away to sleep that night, she finds herself dreaming of the demon’s face and the way he cried so beautifully in the garden of Eden.

❧ꨄ❧༒❧ꨄ❧༒

Christopher sits on the cold rocks of the beachy shore, chipping away at the wood he’s been carving into with his small metal knife. Shavings fall to his feet, the pile growing larger on the sand. It’s a cool night, the moon pulling the tide in, the salty breeze flowing through his hair.

He feels different today, like the hole in his chest is slowly repairing itself. It’s only taken about 10 years but even slow progress is still progress. He hums an old tune to himself, his fingers nimble and constant on the craft in his hands when he feels the pair of eyes on him again.

“I know you’re there.” He speaks aloud.

He’s felt a presence near him for the past few days and his powers tell him it’s an angel. The name he’s unsure of but he knows it’s there. He’s allowed it to be, going about his day and not minding, but now he’s getting a little irritated at their prying gaze. The one moment he’s finally starting to feel peace and it’s as if they’re intruding.

He hears some rustling behind him and feels the presence move closer. As soon as he does, he whips around at incredible speed, his wings tensed up in defense and throws his knife out in their direction, intending to pierce their heart.

It flies past the angel’s head, somehow deflected and she lifts her bow immediately, releasing an arrow without hesitation. It pierces into his left shoulder, and he doubles over in pain. Her eyes widen in fear as she realizes what she’s just done .

She flits to him, her wings trembling and hands shaking as she hovers over him. He clutches his shoulder for a few seconds before he lifts his head. He gasps in shock, once he looks into her green and gold eyes, his heart stuttering in his chest.

She takes his shocked reaction as one caused by the pain of her arrow digging into his flesh and she places a hand on his shoulder, pulling the arrow out. It dissipates into the air, vanishing within the blink of an eye. The expression on her face is full of regret and empathy, a hint of embarrassment as she presses her fingers over the wound. “Oh my…. Please forgive me. I was only defending myself against your sudden attack. I didn’t expect you to wield your knife so quickly.”

Her voice is like the plucks of a harp ringing out, soft and light. His eyes dance across her face, and he almost doesn’t believe what he can see.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her brows furrowing in confusion at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, I- I’m sorry, you just… look exactly like someone I used to know.” He responds, and he notices the bow she holds in her other hand. “You must be Cupid.”

She nods and removes her grasp from his shoulder, his wound now healed. “Do you feel… any different?”

She hopes to the gods that she hasn’t permanently damaged his soul. If she were to strike any being with an incorrect intention, they’re at risk for death or even worse, to live without ever finding a soulmate. As far as the rules for demons go… she has no idea.

“I feel… strangely happy.” He says and she can’t help the smile that graces her face. “Well, then you’re in luck. My powers seemed to have worked, even on you, Demon. I thought your kind was incapable of love?” She speaks honestly and moves to sit next to him upon the rocks, tucking her bow away.

He chuckles and turns towards her, resting his chin in his hand, his arm atop his knee as he looks into her eyes again. “There are very few things my kind are incapable of. Unfortunately, love is not one of them.”

As he speaks, she realizes now who he is. She’s been watching him again for the past few days, hiding away shyly but intrigued to know who he was. Where he came from and why he was here. Why his energy was so incredibly endearing.

“You are the lost son of Zeus… Christopher.” She tilts her head, taking in his appearance closely now that she was next to him instead of hovering in the shadows.

He wore his dark suit, black gloves on his hands and his even darker wings folded against his back. His hair curled in wisps around his face. And his eyes were bluer than the ocean, even in the black of the night.

“You are correct.” He answers, and his eyes move down her body after he sees her examine him. She is dressed in all white, a flowy gown of fabric draped around her body, and her fluffy white wings expand across her shoulders. She is radiant, glowing with purity. Matching white lace socks and gloves adorn her, her hair in waves down her back.

“Are you not curious to return to him?” she asks, and he looks away now, a sad expression on his face. He shakes his head softly. “No. He has long forgotten of me, busy with his other children. Besides I am too… impure. I’m a demon after all.” He speaks in a somber tone. She is filled with empathy at the sadness pouring out of him in waves and suddenly feels tears fill her eyes.

Cupid can feel others’ emotions strongly. It is a curse and also a blessing, to feel so deeply. And she finds herself enamored with his beauty, his presence and she knows the words he speaks are genuine.

“In every angel a demon hides… and in every demon an angel strides.” She tells him, a few tears falling down her cheek and he looks up at her, surprised by her words. He watches the tears escape from her angel eyes, and before he can stop himself, he’s wiping them away gently with his thumb, the emotion in her gold and green hue of her stare tugging at his heart strings.

“There are many powerful things in this universe, Christopher. But love conquers all. And I have sensed it from you the moment I saw you resting upon the grass in Eden’s garden. Zeus may be the ruler of Heaven, but we are the rulers of our own hearts.”

Time seems to stand still as he takes in the words she speaks, his own tears threatening to spill. He traces his hand lightly down her face, brushing across her neck. He longed to feel her skin against his, his leather glove preventing him from the feeling. But he’s reminded of the hurt and pain that romance and strong feelings like this love she speaks of can bring.

He moves away from her, strong wings stretching out around him. “You are too pure, angel. I thank you for your kind words. But I must go now.” He says and flies away before he can change his mind, retrieving his knife buried into the rock it hit earlier.

She watches him leave with sadness and sinks her feet into the sand. She now wishes she would’ve never come to the beach tonight and thinks to herself that whoever his soulmate is that she’s bound him to is extremely blessed.

It’s then that she notices a wooden carving in the sand next to her feet and picks it up with curiosity. She sees that it’s the face of a woman, her expression happy and familiar. He’s an artist, she thinks. His talent shows through in the details, the way he captures her beauty is breathtaking.

She decides to keep it, carrying it with her as she floats away into the night.

❧ꨄ❧༒❧ꨄ❧༒



a/n: part 2 will be out very soon. i really enjoyed creating this story! i love mythology and angels, and things like that so hope you like it too :)

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @jnkvivi @bambi-slxt @mattscoquette @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @sturnpooks @sturniololoco

#Spotify #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #angel x demon #chris sturniolo au #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo x you #bratzfornick's 141 writing challenge

[elred001]

(This may be uncomfortable for some people. Please be very careful and proceed with discretion. Hugs and kisses for everyone)

I really don't think you guys understand how obsessed I am with BuckTommy. A month ago I had no more than 100 9-1-1 bookmarks in ao3 and now I'm over 350, all the new ones being about them.

I'm autistic, I have ADHD, I'm asexual and coming to that realization was one of the most precious and liberating moments of my life. Lists are everything to me, they are the definers of my life. I have a hard time understanding social subtleties and metaphorical language, and my biggest drawback that autism brought me was my incompetence to regulate and understand emotions. Mine or others. So I had this huge list of what emotional attraction and/or interest is supposed to feel like, and how my body is supposed to react around those I'm attracted to or like or love, so it was such a mess and an absolute pain that every time someone touched me intimately it felt like ants were running across my skin and biting into my flesh. And I cried a lot about it, and I screamed and I had fits of anger that I didn't understand at all and my parents hugged me to calm me down but that only made it worse because, tact. Touch. Awful. I made myself do things I hated because I thought it was normal and I hated myself for feeling bad about it. Those were hard times.

A couple years ago I went on a sexualities research binge and went down an ADHD rabbit hole trying to learn everything I could because I was so tired of feeling that way, and that's when I found out.

Learning about asexuality felt like magic, it felt like freedom. It felt like crying after years of putting up with it all. It felt like relief. It all made sense and the world opened up to me, and I felt like I was meeting myself for the first time. It was beautiful.

Of course, then came the moments of panic because, how was I going to tell my mom that I am asexual? Or, am I even asexual or do I just want attention? And then the famous "so how do I know I love someone romantically if I don't really want anything physical with them?"

Where am I going with all this? Well, I'm obsessed with the way the series and Oliver have portrayed the realization. The idea that discovering something completely new, and it's actually not as new as you thought, brings more than just fear. Bring freedom. Bring understanding. Brings an "Oh" moment that feels down to your bones and penetrates your soul, and you can never come back from that moment because everything feels like you finally woke up and the whole world opened its arms to you.

And it's something sweet. It is something very delicate, soft, hopeful and so, so precious. And Buck, Evan, is experiencing it all for the first time with a man who is soft to him, sweet, considerate. He is learning about himself from someone kind, so he has the opportunity to have his "Oh" moment and feel freedom, because that freedom is being given to him by someone who knows what it's like to feel imprisoned. So nothing is rushed. So everything is calm and full of understanding. So Evan can feel emotions. And feel good throughout the entire process.

So yes, I am obsessed with them both and I love them and I want them so much that they last a long time and that Tommy stays.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #ao3 #911 on abc #bucktommy #bi buck #tevan

[cinnamontails-ff]

Why this is the perfect cover for "Accountant's Guide"

Alright, folks! It’s been a week of coming to terms with my overflowing emotions regarding this beautiful piece of cover art for the Ukrainian translation of Accountant’s Guide, and I am ready to wrestle it all into an essay.

Spoilers for the story ahead! It’s been finished since September 2023, so either read it here or proceed at your own risk!

First off, a huge, huge thank you to Marko_Wowchok for taking the time to translate my work and of course, the incredible @razinbee for creating a cover that, quite frankly, I could see as an ad for the next Studio Ghibli movie. You are both so very talented and your love and care for my story is so, so appreciated!

Now, as for the piece itself: Let’s start with the choice of showing just their hands, clasped intimately atop a piece of paper. It’s something I never would have come up with in a million years, but it’s absolutely genius. There’s a sense of subtlety to it. It leaves room for imagination because you don’t actually see what they’re doing; it’s simply implied that they’re most likely going at it on the desk (again). I love this. Because while I wrote Accountant’s Guide as a romance (and it does contain explicit spicy scenes), my goal was always to write Astarion and Scarlett as partners first and lovers second. I am really not a fan of romance stories that rely on physical attraction alone. Basically, if the story wouldn’t work with both of them being ugly, it’s not for me.

Astarion and Scarlett come together as reluctant allies at first. Scarlett offers him a deal to take out Cazador together and Astarion agrees mostly as a way of keeping himself entertained. He does not believe for a moment that she might actually succeed and he is actively planning to throw her to Cazador’s feet at the earliest convenience. But simply by working together, they start to grow closer over time.

Scarlett is the first person in centuries to treat him like a normal guy™. She is a very practical person - she has to be in order to willingly cooperate with the man who’s led her sister to her death. And while she isn’t immune to his flirting, she ignores it because she is painfully aware that he’s way out of her league and nothing good can ever come from that. It is only when she starts to see his vulnerable sides that she develops feelings for him and he, in turn, for her. At this point, however, they’ve both already saved each other’s lives several times. She has fed him when he was starving and he has slaughtered a bunch of guards that interrupted his poorly planned heist/date idea. They know each other, trust each other, rely on each other – they are a team in every sense of the word. When they do eventually share their first kiss in chapter 13, it is a powerful scene (if I do say so myself), but it is also really just one more layer to the bond that they have cultivated over the course of many months. Showing their clasped hands and nothing else is such a fantastic way to visualize the depth of their connection. It is a gesture of companionship and trust as well as intimacy and romance.

Then there is the positioning of their hands: Astarion’s on top of Scarlett’s, his fingers pinning her down, while her fingers are splayed out helplessly - dare I say, ecstatically. It is a stunning representation of their romantic dynamic. Astarion is the experienced, confident sex god who usually takes the lead, while Scarlett hasn’t done a whole lot of things before meeting him and is generally happy to go along with whatever he has in mind. He is her first. He is the one who shows her everything her body can do and he is careful in taking things step by step, working her up from missionary to slightly kinkier stuff all the way to her sitting on his face in “Pocket Money”. His hand on top of hers, holding her and guiding her, is a beautiful depiction of that.

At the same time, I like how the tenseness of his fingers in contrast to her more relaxed posture indicates how much he clings to her. After two centuries of being Cazador’s slave, Scarlett is literally the first time Astarion has anything that is his own. She is his first genuine connection, a lover he’s picked for himself, as well as his savior in helping to break him free from Cazador. He is terrified of losing her, so much so that he even tries to convince her to let him turn her into a vampire, so she won’t die before him. None of that is a perfectly healthy relationship dynamic, mind you, but who could expect that from him after what he’s been through? She is his lifeline. His anchor. The one glimmer of hope in two centuries and this man is ready to eviscerate any vampire lord, spawn, or magic teacher (sorry, Gale!) who so much as threatens to come in between them.

I also want to shout out how the softness and subtlety of their clasped hands reflects how their relationship has to unfold in secret. The second half of Accountant’s Guide lives off the tension of them plotting their plan B while living under the same roof as Cazador, both of them bound to him in different ways. They are in his house, their every move under constant scrutiny by Cazador as well as his spawn, and one wrong step could be the end for both of them. Those are absolutely cruel circumstances to be building a relationship in. Astarion has to make up lies to Cazador as to how he has gained access to a more regular blood supply. He has to pretend to be disgusted with her, so Cazador will continue to send him to comfort her, not one of the other spawn. Scarlett has to hide her bite marks and (awkwardly) flirt her way out of Cazador’s attempts at getting closer to her. There’s a sense of powerlessness to their situation that makes the intimate scenes they get even more special to both of them. I am generally a fan of subtlety, a big proponent of “less is more”, and I couldn’t be happier with how this is conveyed in the simplicity of their clasped hands on the desk.

Finally, the ink and fountain pen. Fountain pens have accidentally become one of my defining characteristics as a writer and I am not at all mad about it. I love heroines who succeed through cleverness and tenacity rather than Strong Female Character syndrome™. When I designed Scarlett, I really wanted someone who would throw Astarion for a loop. Someone he’d have no clue what to do with, someone so different from him and his reality, her every word would cause a flood of error messages in his precious brain. I wanted someone down to earth, someone who would play off him and make all his silly lines sound even sillier - and I wanted someone who’d be able to free him from Cazador through nonconventional and meme-worthy means.

And so I made her an accountant.

I have spoken about this before, but I hail from a family full of accountants. My research for this fic was every single family dinner I have ever attended. I love the ridiculousness of defeating a vampire lord through tax fraud because it plays on the inherent arrogance of Cazador. He is immensely powerful, physically as well as in his social influence, but he, too, can be brought down by a very diligent, very detail-oriented accountant who can demonstrate just how much money he owes the government, thus motivating them to step the fuck up and put him behind bars. It’s the epitome of the (fountain) pen being mightier than the sword. Scarlett is a character who has been underestimated her entire life and she doesn’t really mind it because when the time is right, she knows she can brandish her fountain pen and show everyone what’s what. She has a very quiet, unassuming type of power about herself that I have seen in the many badass accountants in my family and I love how this is reflected in the fountain pen, the ink pot, and of course the infamous ink stains on her fingers. Scarlett does not care about the ink on her fingers – she cares about getting shit done. And I love her for it. And Astarion loves her for it. But he will use every chance he gets to tear her off her work and bend her over the desk because he is also absolutely crazy about her.

This piece is sexy without being graphic. It is beautifully intimate and soft, yet still holds that tension between the two of them with Astarion holding on to her as hard as he possibly can and Scarlett practically melting at his every touch. It shows how a very unassuming, very mundane pencil pusher went and took down the immortal vampire lord with nothing but her mind and her fountain pen (and, well, math magic). The simplicity of it all is what really kicks me in the gut, I think. Because their love is simple at its core. It’s inevitable from the moment they first strike their deal in chapter 4. They don’t have a lot of grand gestures or epic fight scenes (the only fight scene is largely taken care of by The Gang as Astarion is stuck to the floor and Scarlett goes one-on-one versus Laiara). Even their love confessions are quiet and unassuming. They just grow together in a way that has always felt very natural to me and then they hold on and weather it all together until they emerge on the other side, together.

This piece hits right into the core of my story and I couldn’t be happier to see something so beautiful emerge from what I have created. Thank you. I will treasure this forever.

- Cin

#my writing #geeking out over stunning fanart #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #cinnamontails

[yilan-meiyuan]

fanghua, pure love warrior.

in the chinese-language fanghua fandom, we have a term to describe xiaohua and xiaobao's relationship: 純愛戰神 (pure love warrior). in fact, it was so widely understood that even a chinese singer who watched mysterious lotus casebook knew and listed fang duobing as an example of someone who embodied the pure love warrior spirit. in his words:

"[fang duobing] was always looking for his shifu. he persevered no matter what others had to say, no matter if others had good or bad words for his shifu, and no matter the rumours that spread about the type of person his shifu was, he always continued to look for him. there wasn't anything else. he just wanted to find him. i think that's what a pure love warrior is."

the term "pure love warrior" originated from a popular japanese manga series. nowadays, it evolved to be extensively used to describe a quality of simple and unadulterated love in couples. it is mutual love, fully and completely 雙相奔赴 (literally meaning two people who run towards each other). the couple works together against all odds to fight off outside factors that try to tear them apart. they are fearless and would defend their love to death. as a colloquial internet term, you will see "pure love warrior" commented when someone does something incredibly sweet for their partner.

this quality of feeling between two people was also echoed by fang duobing's actor. he said:

"as kids, fang duobing held on to li xiangyi's gifted wooden sword and words of promise as his belief in him. as much as it was recognition from the best in the world, it was the one ray of light he wanted to hold on to shining through the mist. because of that, he looked up to li xiangyi to the brim.

however, from the moment fang duobing met li lianhua, fang duobing had only ever seen li lianhua as li lianhua. towards li xiangyi, it was respect; towards li lianhua, it was friendship. and, neither were stained with a scrap of selfishness.

xiaobao greatly cherished the friendship he built with li lianhua. he had set his mind on such a friend, and, forever, it will only be li lianhua this one for him."

it bears noting that "pure love" being denoted by a fandom does not mean lack of intimacy. on the contrary, in chinese-language fanghua fan works, from meta, fic, mvs, to art, you will find emotional and physical intimacy to be stronger and more consistent, delicate, and moving than others.

for instance, xiaobao would ask xiaohua if he is cold or in pain every step of the way, and xiaohua would reassure him to not think too much (but of course xiaobao would - xiaohua's comfort is his priority); xiaohua would relapse but more than anything, he would be afraid his condition may make xiaobao cry; and, no matter the state xiaohua would be in when he is found, with or without memories and all, xiaobao would willingly stay with him to the end.

"pure love" is beautiful love and is simply describing the quality of love that two people can have. that's what fanghua have for each other.

#fanghua #li lianhua #fang duobing #mysterious lotus casebook #i just love them so much 😭

[your-soup-overlord]

Snippet of Rockabye

I cannot focus on just one story at a time rip, but this is from the first chapter of a fic that i've been planning since before it's my party. Enjoy!

Danny Fenton was a normal kid. He loves the stars, mapping them out while he dreamed of rockets and ships that could take him up there. He was smart, able to keep up with his parents as they showed him how to build and create.

Danny Fenton had dreams, he had a family. An older sister, Jazz, who swore she would protect him from anything and everything the moment she first saw him in the hospital, their mother cradling Danny close as their father lifted her up and onto his hip.

Danny Fenton had a mother and father, both loving in their own way. Maddie Fenton, who taught her kids self defense, took them on adventures showed them how beautiful the words was. Jack Fenton taught his kids how to make his famous fudge, and tended to their wounds with gentle words and light touches.

Danny Fenton had it all, until he didn’t. A portal, his parent’s greatest project. Soon, nice family dinners turned into Jazz ordering takeout almost every day, and then to Danny learning how to kill reanimated foods. Family camping trips slowly stopped, and soon Danny had to be the one to take care of his parents. To make sure they ate, that they slept or even took breaks. Their work consumed them.

And then the portal failed. It failed and Danny hated it. The portal that took his parents away couldn’t even work, but the worst part was how defeated his parents looked. Danny hated the portal. Sam and Tucker, his best friends, wanted to see it.

The portal worked. Danny tripped on the exposed wire and hit the on button his parents put inside, and it opened on him. It was green, and Danny hurt as the electricity and ectoplasm killed him and then brought him back over and over again.

Danny Fenton became Danny Phantom.

Danny Fenton struggled, failing school and missing classes. Danny Phantom anguished, fighting ghosts and protecting them as he was thrown into a new world. Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one.

A true halfa, the balance between life and death. Danny didn’t want to be dead. But he learned. Danny learned about haunts, politics and ancients, and about cores. Danny learned all that the others knew, because unlike them he was not formed with the knowledge already.

Danny fought and he talked, he laughed and he cried. He told his friends of how ghosts fought to bond, or to test each other. He told Sam and Tucker, and then eventually Jazz, all he could. And he gained a Fraid. It started off with Sam and Tucker who were with him for his death, and then it moved to Jazz. They helped him with being human, like how Clockwork helped him with his cryptic sayings and ghost etiquette classes, and how Pandora mentored him in battle and strategies. His Fraid kept him safe from his parents  and the Ghost investigation ward who shot at him, who wanted to rip him apart and study him.

He remembers how his Fraid was there for him when he learnt of the trial by combat and how he was now the Ghost Prince. They were there for every fight and enemy, for when Dani was given to them and when Vlad took her away from them. Of how they hugged him as he shared the story of Dan.

Danny remembers learning about obsessions and the different types of cores. He remembers how excited he was when he told his Fraid of his dual obsessions, one space, the other protection, and of his ice core.

Danny lived and died. He was a ghost and human, dead and alive simultaneously. He may have loved and he may have hurt but Danny knows one thing for certain. Danny could feel. He was sentient, he felt pain, he had emotions and feelings.

Phantom is told it does not.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp au #dc x dp fic #Rockabye