#or rather. a small section of said Thing

[shadowtriovibes]

it's a sign of the times

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian..."

the 'verse continues in "the train ain't even left the station" [AO3]

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?” At once, the three of you freeze. “Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?” “I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Can you please remind me again why I’m even a part of this harebrained scheme?” you ask for at least the third time.

You’re crouched around a small table in one of the far corners of the upper section of the Library. It’s well past curfew, but since you aren’t technically breaking any rules by avoiding the Restricted Section, you’re currently getting away with your loitering, as do most students who are caught studying after hours this close to final exams.

Only, you’re not studying. You’ve been summoned there by Ominis, who despite being your closest friend at Hogwarts is also a conniving, duplicitous liar who neglected to tell you that this whole thing is Sebastian’s idea.

You watch warily as he turns over a contraband Time-Turner in his hands, inspecting its impossibly small dials and knobs. The golden sands inside the hourglass hypnotically shift back and forth while he reads over its inscriptions and consults the guidebook he’d smuggled out of the Restricted Section earlier that same day.

You have no idea where he managed to get the device – perhaps in one of those vaults along the coast in Cragcroftshire that he’d been exploring during the summer term. However, now he’s got it in his head that perhaps the reason you haven’t been able to heal Anne is that the cure to her curse simply hasn’t been invented yet. Therefore, a quick jaunt several years into the future ought to reveal a way to rid Anne of her illness (and maybe even earn his way back into her good graces).

It’s not the first ludicrous and impractical idea he’s had in the past year, nor will it be the last, but it’s certainly one of the more radical ones.

“Merlin’s beard, I’ve already told you,” Sebastian sighs. “Since we’re going forward in time rather than back, this is an unauthorized use, and in case we get stuck in the future, we might need your ancient magic.”

“So I’m an insurance policy?!” you demand.

“Not so much for Sebastian as for me,” Ominis answers plainly. “He thinks he’s got it all sorted out, but I’m not as sure.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian interjects.

You huff and roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that using a Time-Turner to go forward is expressly forbidden by the Ministry? It’s only to go back.”

“Loads of people have done it, though,” he argues. “I’ve been reading all about it, it’s well-documented.”

“And they’ve all come back to the present?” you demand.

“Yes,” he snaps. “...For the most part.”

You scoff. Unbelievable.

“Do you two honestly think my magic is just an unlimited get-out-of-Azkaban-free pass?” you hiss. “I have no idea how to manipulate time and space. If we get stuck there, we’re stuck there.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out like you always do,” Sebastian mutters distractedly as he fiddles with the Time-Turner.

You glance at Ominis pleadingly and he just shrugs.

“You know we can’t let him go alone, we’ll never get him back,” Ominis reasons.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you grumble.

Sebastian shoots you a warning look before he holds up the Time-Turner for the both of you to inspect.

“I have it set to jump forward twenty years,” he explains. “We’ll have to get cozy before we go, as we’ve all got to be wearing it. Physically, we’ll land precisely where we are now, at the same time of day.”

“What if the layout of the Library changes?” you ask skeptically.

“The castle hasn’t changed in centuries,” Ominis points out. “Compared to its history, two decades is indeed quite short.”

“...Fine,” you finally mumble. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

The three of you stand in a tight circle in a spot tucked away behind some shelves, hoping to remain hidden there after you make the jump forward in time. Sebastian drapes the thin gold chain connected to the Time-Turner around the three of you; it even seems to stretch and extend in length to fit. Then he murmurs a brief incantation to the enchanted timepiece and spins the innermost piece a whopping twenty times.

Your stomach lurches while it turns over and the world around you seems to spin out of control, almost like one of those Muggle carousel rides you saw once as a child. You can barely make out years and years of students and professors walking around you – through you, even – and countless books sliding on and off the shelves until everything comes to a sudden halt and you fall straight to the floor.

Ominis and Sebastian tumble with you, winded.

“That felt bizarre,” Ominis wheezes. “Where are we? Did we travel anywhere?”

“N-no,” Sebastian breathes. “Everything else just… traveled around us.”

You glance around the Library and see that as Ominis had suggested, it looks largely the same. There are some newer books among those you recognize on the shelves, their spines less creased and dyed with more vibrant colors than those of your time.

One title jumps out at you: Advances in Practical Conjuring, 1900-1910

We’re in the 1910s, you think bewilderedly. We’re in a new century.

Mercifully, the layout of the library seems to be largely unchanged. Rows and rows of dimly lit stacks stretch along the length of the grand room with two winding spiral staircases leading down to the lower level.

Once you catch your breath, the three of you cast Disillusionment on yourselves and huddle together to make your way downstairs to the Restricted Section. Ominis leads the way with his wand extended to search for any lingering students or restless ghosts, having long since proven that his spatial awareness bests both yours and Sebastian’s even without his sight.

Your trio makes it downstairs and past the first row of shelves before Ominis stops in his tracks. Sebastian collides with him and then you knock into Sebastian, causing you both to hiss some choice words at each other.

“What’s going on?” you demand in a whisper.

“Someone just came in,” Ominis explains. “The librarian is at the desk and she hasn’t noticed, but a student is coming down the stairs.”

Sure enough, across the room you see a faint flicker of light and can just barely make out the outline of a small student sneaking down the main stairs – must be a young one, you think, no more than thirteen.

“I think it’s a girl,” you offer. “I can see her just over there.”

“What’s she doing?” Sebastian whispers.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ominis says carefully. “She’s past the desk, the librarian didn’t see – oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

“She’s going straight for the Restricted Section,” Ominis mutters. “Just our luck, I suppose.”

The three of you remain crouched behind the shelf while you watch the girl creep ever closer to your hiding spot. You’re panicking inside your head, wondering what possible seams of the universe might immediately be torn to shreds if she were to spot the three of you, but thankfully she seems single-minded in her mission to gain access to the locked collection of books across the room from you.

“She’s tiny,” Sebastian snorts. “I suppose the young ones are even more bold in the future.”

“Weren’t you about her age when you first started to sneak into the Restricted Section?” Ominis reminds him.

Sebastian insists, “No, I was fourteen. I didn’t go in until Anne was attacked. She’s got to be twelve at most, maybe even a first year.”

“Will you two be quiet?” you hiss. “She’s going to hear you!”

Across the room, the Disillusioned girl pulls a key out of the pocket of her robes and starts to insert it into the lock. A girl her age wouldn’t have mastered Alohomora yet, you think, nor would it be effective on this kind of lock. You have no idea how she managed to get a copy of the key, however.

“Do you suppose we could just go in after her?” Sebastian proposes. “She’s nearly got it open, we should take advantage of that.”

“Are you mad?” you scoff. “We can’t be in there at the same time, we’ll get caught!”

“So what if some little girl from the future sees us?” Sebastian argues. “Why wouldn’t she believe we’re just students from her time doing our own research?”

But before you can further explain to Sebastian how astonishingly stupid that idea is, the girl across the room gasps softly and drops her key to the floor. In front of her, the lock is glowing red as if it’s searing hot.

That’s a new security development from your time, you think. It’s rather lucky the three of you didn’t discover that the hard way.

Immediately, the young librarian leaps from her seat and hustles across the room to the Restricted Section’s gated entrance much faster than Madam Scribner ever would have.

“Hang on…” you say under your breath. “Is that – that’s Sophronia!”

“Who?” Ominis asks.

“Sophronia Franklin, she’s a fourth-year in our time,” you explain distractedly. “She’s always lingering in the library, of course she takes over for Scribner once we finish school.”

“I know her,” Sebastian chimes in. “Tried to get me to play a game of trivia in exchange for returning a book on curse breaking I’d been waiting for. Rather precocious, I thought.”

You glare at Sebastian and he merely rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way, I was referring to her choice in books,” he grumbles. “Merlin, you’re protective of her.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” you murmur, appreciative of the fact that Sebastian can’t see you blushing. Truthfully, you don’t think much about Sophronia these days, other than that she absolutely cannot catch the three of you in her Library as she’ll easily understand what you’re up to.

Before you can try to convince the boys to call it quits and return to the present, Sophronia rounds the corner and the girl’s Disillusionment charm melts away in surprise.

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

At once, the three of you freeze.

“Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?”

“I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Apologies, Madam,” you hear the girl say with a cheeky lilt to her voice. “I was just looking for a book for my aunt, that’s all.”

Just then, Sophronia leans down to pick up the dropped key and all three of you catch a glimpse of the young girl’s face. She’s probably around twelve, like Sebastian had guessed, but her face… Merlin, she could be your younger sister.

Her slightly-upturned nose is nearly identical to yours, only she’s got a small smattering of freckles across hers. Then there’s her chin, which juts out just a bit like yours does, and you’re too far away to make out the color of her eyes but you’re positive that they’re almond-shaped just like your own.

Now that you think about it, her hair is tied back like you always did with yours when you were younger – braided with a green bow at the end, only her hair is a rich, warm brown color.

“...Is that you?” Sebastian asks softly. “How. How are you doing this?”

“That’s not me, I’m right here,” you remind him.

“Hold on, what am I missing?” Ominis whispers.

“That girl looks exactly like this one,” Sebastian insists. “She’s got her nose, her eyes, her face shape. It’s like there’s a second-year version of her, standing right across from us.”

“We’re twenty years into the future,” Ominis reminds you both. “...What if she’s your daughter?”

You feel like the room is starting to spin around you again, and you find yourself pitching to the side before Sebastian quickly tugs on your arm and pulls you back behind the shelf.

“Do not go daft on us now,” he mutters. “I don’t care if that is your daughter–”

“She’s your daughter too, you know,” Ominis chimes in. “In case you were wondering.”

“Wh… What?” Sebastian stutters, and Ominis gestures for the two of you to listen in.

“Goodness, Miss Sallow,” Sophronia sighs. “You really are so much like your father, always sneaking into the Restricted Section.”

You watch as the girl puffs up her chest proudly, a mischievous smirk on her face that doesn’t strike you as particularly like you at all – but rather Sebastian.

“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, Madam Franklin,” Anne-Marie says.

“While I respect that you are both voracious consumers of knowledge, he, like you, had little respect for the rules of the Restricted Section,” Sophronia continues. “I’ll have to ask you to leave until you get permission from a professor for relevant research or turn fifteen.”

Anne-Marie is still arguing with the librarian as she’s being escorted out. “Perhaps if you would just let me borrow the book for a while–”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to give you detention this time,” Sophronia interjects. “I can’t keep looking the other way simply because I owe your mother a favor. This is the third time this term!”

Anne-Marie huffs and folds her arms. “But my godfather–”

“Your godfather is a very busy man who would undoubtedly appreciate it if you spent more time staying out of trouble,” Sophronia finishes, “than trying to emulate your father. In fact, I think Ominis would agree with me that one Sebastian Sallow in this world is quite enough!”

Well, that certainly clears things up.

Sophoronia marches Anne-Marie up the stairs and out of the library. The three of you, having already forgotten your original mission, put your heads together without a word so Sebastian can drape the Time-Turner around your necks and return you to the present.

You collapse in a heap on the library floor, but this time it’s fully empty – even the librarian’s desk light is extinguished. You sit in silence for a few moments, and you and Sebastian don’t dare look at each other. Eventually you force yourself to stand and offer Ominis a hand up, steadfastly ignoring the other boy.

“So,” Ominis finally says, barely concealing his smile. “When exactly is it, do you suppose, that the two of you fall hopelessly in love with each other?”

You both curse at him at the same time, and Ominis throws back his head and laughs.

“Shout at me all you want, but that little girl is proof that the two of you are destined for each other,” he crows. “Oh, how brilliant!”

“Come now, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh. “You don’t seriously think that girl is, what… our child or something?”

“That’s precisely what I think,” Ominous answers, smirking. “You said it yourself, she looks exactly like her mother.”

“Stop!” you interject. “I’m not anyone’s mother, in case you forgot.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Ominis agrees primly. “I imagine it will be several more years before Sebastian makes you one.”

Sebastian goes deeply red while you sputter indignantly.

“Thats – that’s foul, Ominis,” you insist. “It’s untoward to even be talking about this!”

Sebastian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re that offended by the very idea of us having a child together? I’m hurt.”

“W-well, I just meant that we shouldn’t talk about things that haven’t yet come to pass,” you explain nervously. “Besides, all that is years away. Decades, even.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way he looks you up and down.

“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not like we know anything for sure, obviously.”

“Of course,” you agree. “...I don’t suppose you have any other family members named Sebastian? Distant relatives, perhaps?”

“Why?” he drawls. “Looking to snag a cousin of mine so I won’t be the one to father your children?”

You shove him right into one of the bookshelves, but he laughs like he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“Now now,” Ominis murmurs. “You ought to be kind to your future husband, you don’t want to damage his virility.”

“I have half a mind to put a dent in Sebastian’s virility right here and now to save me some trouble later,” you reply, casually aiming your wand at his groin.

“Have you gone mad?!” he stammers as he takes several steps backward. “Put that thing away!”

“Oh, will you please relax?” you sigh. “We just saw one of your descendants, your ability to procreate is in no danger.”

“You could still put me in the Hospital Wing,” he sulks. “Besides, it’s not just procreation that I use it for.”

Ominis snorts. “Unfortunately, I am intimately aware of that.”

You make a face while Sebastian grins cheekily, offering no apology.

The three of you start to make your way toward the exit into Central Hall, ignoring the weak protests of the prefects stationed outside. As you make your way back toward the Slytherin common room, you all fall silent again, lost in your thoughts.

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to forget what you saw, you think. In the future, you have a daughter. Her father is Sebastian Sallow, and… and she’s brilliant. Beautiful, courageous, more than a bit headstrong, and as determined as you both are if not more so.

You catch yourself actually grinning, and when you glance over at Sebastian, you see the same expression on his face.

“Anything you care to share?” you ask him.

“I know we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he starts, “but there is one thing that girl said that I won’t soon forget.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he admits, “I heard her say she’s looking for a book for her aunt, and you haven’t got any sisters.”

You smile softly and reach for Sebastian’s hand. “No, I don’t.”

He lets you take his hand in his to give a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s still alive,” Sebastian says quietly. “She… she’s still sick, probably. But she’s still alive in the future. She meets my daughter, and she knows her.”

“She does,” you say. “And – and maybe we don’t quite know how that happens yet, but you can have a little faith, Sebastian. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, and Anne will be with us for a long, long time. There’s still plenty of time to make things right again.”

He nods wordlessly but doesn’t drop your hand.

Just before you arrive at your common room, Ominis stops in his tracks.

“Hang on… Her name, Anne-Marie?” he asks you. “That sounds like something Sebastian would have picked. How generous of you.”

“Aww,” Sebastian laughs. “You must be so in love with me by then to let me pick the name.”

You grit your teeth and ignore them as you murmur the password to the giant stone snake guarding the door, hoping to get some well-earned rest and be rid of these boys for the night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian says as he ducks around you and slips inside the door. “I’ll let you pick the name for the second one, and we can duel for rights to the third.”

You go running off after Sebastian and holler, “You bastard Sebastian Sallow, how many damn children are you expecting?!”

Ominis quickly pulls the door shut behind him and shakes his head.

“Godfather,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll never know peace, will I?”

---

[Get to know more of the Sallow kiddos in "the train ain't even left the station" ❤️]

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #my fic #time travel #i tried to stick to time-turner lore as much as possible while completely retconning it #(future) dad!bastian

[tomriddleslove]

Repent.

✩ Tom Riddle x F! Reader

Summary: The one where Tom is confronted by the golden girl of Hogwarts, and he confronts a rather ugly truth. Hatred and desire are very similar things, and Tom can’t tell which one he feels. Alternatively: As Hosier once said “The only Heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you.”

A/N: GRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF

Maybe smut in p2 if people want it?

Songs: Talk - Hozier

The elder Riddle boy found it ridiculous to think he’d be standing here, promoting the very school he had subjected to many terrors, schmoozing with the same snobby, stuck-up wizards and witches for hours on end. His mouth ached from being held in a permanent welcoming smile, and the corners of his lips turned upwards in an uncharacteristic manner.

The role of Head Boy came with countless benefits. For one, he was adored and respected by many, something that was absolutely vital to Tom. Similarly, it also helped preserve his image greatly. No one would question Tom if he was roaming the halls late at night, for he was simply upholding his duties. It became an excellent cover for his now frequent trips to the restricted section of the Library.

There were other less beneficial but still preferable upsides. He got his own room, as the Head boy and the Head girl got their own private quarters. He could be excused from meaningless activities such as the mandatory health education days, if he convinced Headmaster Dippet that his time would be better spent elsewhere. Truthfully, there weren't many negatives to being Head Boy.

Having to spend his valuable holiday time dressed in a rather suffocating suit, promoting Hogwarts as one of the best schools to new prospective parents, was not a part of his role that Tom enjoyed. But if this is the small inconvenience he would have to put up with twice in his one year as Head student, then so be it.

There was, of course, you. That was perhaps the worst part of the job. Having to work alongside you. Tom loathed you, more than he did the average person.

You pranced into the school, having only joined in the 6th year. Within a week of your arrival, the teachers could not stop raving about the prodigy that they had the pleasure of teaching. Your hand shot up before Tom’s, and your marks were almost always higher by 1 damned percent. It wasn’t just enough that you had stolen Tom’s spotlight, no, you made sure you were front and centre in every field. Tom excelled in academics, you excelled in everything. From sports to extracurriculars, no one stood a chance if you were there.

But perhaps what infuriated Tom the most, was that you were nice. People adored you, and you naturally managed to captivate everyone with a sort of charisma that had teachers and students alike stumbling over one another for the chance to speak with you. You had it all, with absolutely no flaws.

Tom didn’t have a valid reason to hate you. With the others, he could attribute his hatred to their foolishness, their stupidity, or their overall incompetence. But you? There was nothing. It was irrational to hate you - the golden girl of Hogwarts, and that was what infuriated him more. It betrayed every rule he held himself to; he always had to be logical and meticulous.

Tom seethed inwardly as he watched you effortlessly charm yet another set of parents, your smile radiant and your words smooth as silk. He couldn't deny your talent or your intelligence, but it grated on him nonetheless. You were a constant reminder of everything he wanted to be but couldn't quite attain.

It wasn't just the fact that you outshone him in every aspect; it was the way you did it with such ease, as if it were effortless for you to excel in every endeavour. Meanwhile, Tom had to meticulously plan and scheme for every bit of recognition he received, always calculating his next move to stay ahead.

His eyes rake down your form, taking in the deep red dress that you wore. No doubt the finest silk draped over your body, a sort of blood red that caught under the dim lights of the chandeliers. Drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever you went, the fabric flowed gracefully around your figure, accentuating your curves in all the right places without revealing too much.

You were undeniably stunning, yet another thing to add to a list of your perfections. You handled the disgustingly leering eyes of the elder Wizards, who came to talk to you, with grace.

A damned Gryffindor too, as though your very presence wasn’t offensive enough.

Gods, he hated you. He really did. Your mere presence was enough to set him on edge, a fire burning through his veins that could never seem to be quenched no matter how hard he tried. He runs a hand through his lightly gelled hair, walking over to the far side of the Great Hall. With the rest of the attendees being otherwise engaged in conversation, he grabs a glass of champagne, knuckles white as he grips the delicate glass stem and drains it in one go. He sets the glass back down and sighs before plastering a fake smile on his face, manoeuvring through the crowd.

As Headmaster Dippet ascended the small stage at the front of the great hall, a hush fell over the crowd. He cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles before addressing the gathered guests.

"Good evening, esteemed colleagues, parents, and students," he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "I would like to extend a warm welcome to each and every one of you to our annual open evening here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The assembled guests murmured their acknowledgements, and Headmaster Dippet continued, his tone warm and welcoming.

"We are delighted to have the opportunity to showcase the many wonders of our esteemed institution to you all," he said, gesturing expansively to the grand surroundings of the great hall. "From our esteemed faculty to our talented students, Hogwarts prides itself on providing a world-class education in the magical arts."

A ripple of polite applause echoed through the hall, and Headmaster Dippet smiled warmly before continuing.

"I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest gratitude to all of our dedicated staff and volunteers who have worked tirelessly to make this evening possible," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Their commitment and dedication to our beloved school are truly commendable, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for their efforts."

Another round of applause filled the air, and Headmaster Dippet nodded in appreciation before raising his hand for silence once more.

"And now, my dear guests, I invite you to partake in the festivities," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Our talented orchestra awaits to serenade you with their delightful melodies, and I encourage you to take to the dance floor and enjoy the evening's entertainment to the fullest."

With a final smile and a gracious bow, Headmaster Dippet stepped down from the stage, leaving the guests to mingle and enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities.

You look over at Tom and find he’s already looking at you, a shift in his gaze when you lock eyes with him. You see him sigh, and motion to the large area of floor which had been dedicated to dancing. The very face of the school, the two of you step up, and dark green clashes with deep red, the serpent and the lion front and centre. Your hand finds his, cold and unwelcoming, and his other comes down to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against silk.

The melodic hum of the violins echo through the hall, watchful eyes on the two of you. Your steps were hesitant at first. Gradually, as you found your footing, your movements became more fluid, if not entirely harmonious.

“Smile, Riddle. At least make it seem like you’re happy to be here.” You mutter lowly, only for his ears. He clenches his jaw, but ultimately he knows you are, as always, right. A small smile graces his lips, looking down at you as he speaks harshly under his breath.

“I’m not happy to be here.” He snaps, and a smirk tugs at your lips as the two of you continue dancing, harshly whispering to one another.

Tom's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. Yet, despite the tension that simmered between you, you refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a lazy smirk of your own.

"Is that so, Riddle?" you retorted, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with undeniable challenge. "Because it seems to me like you're doing a splendid job of pretending." You quip sarcastically.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with a forceful urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

Tom's lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he hissed, each word punctuated by a sharp edge of contempt. "But you can't hide your true nature forever, no matter how hard you try. I'm just waiting for the day that perfect facade of yours crumbles.”

Your smirk only widened at his words, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you leaned back slightly, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging one of your own.

"Ah, but dear Tom," you countered, your voice silky smooth despite the tension crackling between you. "I don't need to hide anything. Unlike some people, I don't have dark secrets."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

You simply chuckled, a sound filled with smug satisfaction as you leaned in to whisper your reply. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, Riddle," you murmured, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all, it's not like your plans are a well-kept secret."

For a split second, Tom froze, his eyes widening in surprise before a mask of cold indifference settled over his features. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, his tone icy as he pulled away from you, his grip on your waist loosening slightly.

“Oh of course not. I’m all the more intrigued to see how it will all play out.” You hum, an infuriatingly smug grin on your face as you look up at him, as bold and blunt as you've ever been.

Tom must admit he’s somewhat suprised. You seemed so demure and polite, he had never expected such directness from yourself.

The song comes to a close, everyone applauding as you meet Tom’s stare head-on, refusing to break away. You go to walk away when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him with terrifying force as the orchestra begins playing once more, with everyone else joining in.

The sudden tug at your waist caught you off guard, your breath hitching as you found yourself pulled back into Tom. His grip was firm, almost possessive.

"What do you think you're doing, Riddle?" you demanded, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension as you struggled against his hold.

But Tom's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into yours with a steely resolve that sent a chill down your spine. "Dancing," he replied curtly, his tone clipped as he held you close, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

He leans in closer, breath fanning against your ear as he speaks.

"You do realize you're playing with fire, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

“I’m not afraid of being burned.” You remark back quickly, meeting his frustrated gaze with a teasing one of your own.

Tom's lips quirked into a sardonic smile at your response, a flash of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps you should be," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a warning tone.

You let go of Tom as the music comes to a close and he doesn't immediately pull you back. You look at him for a second more before tearing your gaze away and disappearing into the crowd.

Silly, silly girl.

Tom pursues straight after you, murmuring half-assed apologies to the couples he shoves past. The serpent slithers through the crowd, far in over his head, desperate for a glimpse of that red.

As Tom finally catches sight of you weaving through the throngs of people, his frustration mounts, fueled by the relentless desire to confront you. Without a second thought, he pushes past the last couple blocking his path and quickens his pace, determination etched into every line of his face.

"[Name]!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. But you don't stop, your figure disappearing around a corner just ahead.

Refusing to be thwarted, Tom breaks into a sprint, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes the distance between you. Finally reaching the corner, he turns sharply, only to find you standing just a few feet away, your back pressed against the cold stone wall of the corridor.

A smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you watch him approach. "What's the matter, Riddle?" you taunt, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Can't keep up?"

Tom's jaw clenches, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

You tilt your head to the side, a mocking smile playing on your lips. "I don't have to think, Riddle," you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I know."

A flicker of annoyance flashes across Tom's features, but he quickly masks it with a cold indifference. "You may be clever, but you're also reckless," he retorts, his voice icy as he takes a step closer, crowding your space.

"And you're one to talk," you shoot back, your voice laced with a challenge.

Without warning, Tom closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist with a forceful grip.

Before you can react, he's dragging you down the corridor, his steps purposeful as he leads you to the nearest empty classroom. You stumble along beside him, caught off guard by his sudden aggression.

He shoves open the door, pulling you inside with him as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, fumbling around for a desk as Tom slams the door shut, He turns to you, breathing heavily as he takes a step forward, forcing you to back up into the desk behind you.

“What do you know.” He utters, voice low as he clenches his jaw.

"I know enough," you reply evenly, meeting his intense gaze with unwavering defiance. "I know that you're not as invincible as you think you are. Though you’re certainly trying to get to that point."

A flicker of anger flashes across Tom's features, his eyes narrowing as he takes another step closer, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. "You know nothing," he retorts sharply, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

You should feel ashamed, you should avert your eyes, but you cannot help but feel thrilled at the sight of Tom so angry, a familiar flutter in your stomach as he looks away, his jaw clenched.

The corner of your lips turn upwards into a provocative grin, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

Tom lets his gaze stray downwards for one second and he knows he’s fucked.

Completely and utterly done for. He’s fallen for the most stupidly infuriating, brainless, primal emotion of them all. Tom Riddle, who is smart, manipulative, and cunning, has lost his cool because of lust.

How utterly pathetic.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling with a mixture of disgust and arousal. He hates you, despises every fibre of your being, and yet, that only seems to fuel the fire burning inside him.

You remain silent, observing him carefully as you are not privy to his innermost thoughts.

For a moment, there's a palpable silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. And then, without warning, Tom's hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with a bruising grip as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"You don't know anything," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.

You don't have the time to even think of a response because Tom’s lips are crashing onto yours, replacing every single thought in your head with him and him only.

It's more angry than it is anything else, mouths clashing against one another in a punishing kiss. His grip on your jaw is bruising, a stray hand coming down to rest against the curve of your thigh and push you up so you're sitting on the desk.

He kisses you with fervour, as though he’s trying to steal the oxygen from your lungs and snuff the life out of those damn eyes.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer as you meet his kiss with fervour, your lips moving against his with a desperate need that borders on reckless abandon.

“Tom,” You murmur, a gasped plea as your nails dig into his bicep. He pays it no mind, lips coming down to press open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It's maddening, the way you've managed to unravel him with just a glance, a touch, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable in your presence.

But even as he loses himself in the heat of the moment, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the danger you represent. You know things, dangerous things, secrets that could unravel everything he's worked so hard to achieve. And yet, in this moment, none of it matters.

His rationale and will is eroded to nothing, consumed by the need to possess you fully.

Your hand wraps around his tie, tugging him slightly as you lean back, breaking the kiss. You gaze down at him, green tie wrapped tightly around your hand, and Tom wants to groan at the interruption, though he refuses to give you the satisfaction of doing so.

“Lust is a sin, you know?” You hum, lips slightly swollen and red as you keep Tom in place, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Tom didn’t care. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t believe in God. Tom didn't care about the concept of heaven and hell either. If being with you meant risking damnation, he was more than willing to take that chance.

“So is Lying. Greed. Hatred. Jealousy.” You list, tugging at Tom's tie with each word, pulling him lower and lower until he’s the one looking up at you. You lean back on your palms, crossing your legs as you narrow your eyes.

“Quite the sinner, aren’t you?” You hum, your voice laced with amusement.

Tom is done for, looking up at you with his mind filled with nothing but a visceral need for you.

“Perhaps.” He mutters, his voice strained.

He reaches out for you but you tut, placing a heel on his shoulder as you forcefully push him down, forcing him onto his knees in front of you with his tie still grasped firmly in your hand. The action causes your dress to slip slightly where the slit occurs in the side, revealing a glimpse of your skin so close to Tom’s face that he can’t tear his eyes off of it. A devious grin graces your face, tilting your head as you pull your plush lip between your teeth.

“Do you believe I won’t get into heaven?” Tom murmurs, stupidly playing into this game of yours as he looks up at you.

You laugh, low and mocking as you look down at him.

“Oh Tom, at the rate you’re going at I’ll be the closest you ever get to paradise.”

Tom may have been strong, but he was only human, and mankind was prone to crumble in the face of temptation.

“What do you suggest I do then?” He growls, his voice a low rumble filled with frustration and desire. You smirk down at him, relishing in the power you hold over him, knowing that you've managed to unravel the facade of control he presents to the world. With a flick of your wrist, you release his tie from your grasp, allowing it to fall limply against his chest.

Your heel remains as it is, pressing down firmly on his shoulder to ensure he remains in the same position as you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Repent.”

Repentance is not something he's accustomed to, nor is it something he's ever considered. But in this moment, with you holding all the cards, he finds himself willing to entertain the notion, if only to appease the insatiable hunger gnawing at his soul.

@schaebickel @mildlyuninformative @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic

[kokoa-la]

Prompt from @help-i-need-a-cool-username

Jason has once again snuck into Gotham University. Now, before any assumptions are made onto why the crime lord would break into a college, the reason is because he likes the library. That's it. The public library is trashed and small, barely taken care of, but Gotham U's? It's beautiful. Multiple floors, organized and in sections, taken care of, alphabetical order, it's magnificent. The chairs were a reason alone to sneak in, but the students here added an extra charm. 

He had gone to the very back of the library on the second floor. This area was  pretty well hidden and enclosed. He would come here to read without anyone questioning him, even hiding the books he wasn’t finished with yet to continue on later. Jason wasn’t expecting someone to be so close to his spot though. A few tables across stood a student, thin, tall, with pitch black hair, baggy cargo jeans, and a white t-shirt. The other hadn’t noticed him yet, so he remained quiet and just watched. He was in front of a large white board on wheels, seemingly taken from the rooms he saw down the hall. 

“That doesn’t work, goddammit.”

On the white board was lines upon lines of equations- at least he thought they were equations, with most of them being letters and symbols rather than numbers. It made the vigilante’s brain hurt. The student - assumed STEM major - just kept mumbling to himself.

“Stupid physics, won’t allow interdimensional travel”

What? Jason may have been out of school since 15, but he knew no courses were asking for the answer to traveling between dimensions. It seemed the student had a habit of talking to himself when worked up or focused, possibly why he isolated himself from the rest of the library. 

“If your parents could do it, why can’t you? Think Danny, think!”

That sentence wasn’t concerning at all, but at least Jason learned the boy’s name. Danny seemed to have a strange background, what did he mean by ‘if your parents could do it’? Had his parents managed to travel between dimensions? The other was chewing on the cap of the white board marker, his other hand resting on his hip as he swayed back and forth.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! That! The thing! That thingy!”

Jason could practically see the lightbulb go on above Danny’s head. Just then the other erased a solid portion of the whiteboard and dropped to his knees, ouch. He started frantically scribbling, fast and messy, barely cohesive. Though, Jason was sure that if it was Tim sitting where he was instead, the boy could probably understand everything on that board. He’d stick to English literature, thank you very much. 

“That’s it! Oh my ancients! I got it!”

Danny practically jumped in the air, punching the air in triumph. Jason almost felt proud of him, this complete stranger he’s been watching, wow he was being creepy, huh? Danny shot both of his arms straight up, the marker gripped tightly in his right hand fist. 

“I did it!”

He looked so happy, so excited. He began to buzz, even spinning, before stopping mid loop and turning around slowly. Shit, Jason had been caught. To be fair, Danny hadn’t exactly turned around the whole time, meaning Jason was just watching his back the whole time as he worked through his… problem? It’s such a shame, Jason was thoroughly entertained by this random kid. 

“Uhhh, hi? How long have you been there?”

Oh shit, Jason had to talk now, didn’t he?

“Not very long, but long enough to know you were trying to solve interdimensional travel before apparently succeeding.” 

The color drained from Danny’s face. Whoops?

“Uhm, no I didn’t.”

Now that he got a closer look, the student looked like someone Bruce would adopt. Black hair, clear blue eyes, tan skin, sharp features, the whole nine yards. He was actually fairly attractive, maybe even cute. 

“Really? I could have sworn that you said ‘stupid physics won’t allow interdimensional travel’”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah sure, and I’m a student here.”

“Wait, you’re not a student here?”

“That’d only be true if you were lying.”

“Well I’m not so-”

“Uh huh, sure you’re not.”

“Look dude-”

“Jason.”

“Look Jason, there’s no way that I could solve interdimensional travel, the multiverse doesn’t exist.”

“Look Danny-”

“How do you know my name?”

“I won’t tell a single soul if you explain how you did it to me”

Curiosity won his gambit. Would he regret what he was about to say? Perhaps.

“Maybe over a coffee?”

He knew it was worth it when the marker hit the floor and Danny moved his hand to cover his red face. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’s done something he regrets, maybe this time it’d be a cute STEM major who knows the secrets to the multiverse. 

#dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny fenton is a huge nerd #figuring out interdimensional travel instead of finishing his 5 page english paper due 'like yesterday' #jason has done many things he regrets #breaking into a college isnt one #neither is asking out the cute nerd with eccentric capabilities #if only jason knew what he was getting into #boo #jason todd x danny fenton #dead on main #college au #gotham university

[allfearstofallto]

Where I think their darling is from + How they met them - headcanon drabbles

Yandere! Scaramouche, Diluc, Ayato (separate) x reader.

AN: I couldn't think of one for Childe, but spoilers, I think his darling is from Liyue. I'm also writing a full fic based on Ayato's section, just putting on the finishing touches!

Scaramouche -

A Drunk from Mondstadt

The city of freedom. A cute name. A lying name. He knew better than to think there was such a thing as actual freedom, but if it helped the drunken residents sleep at night to believe that, then so be it.

Missions to Mondstadt were short work for him. Partially because he was one of the few Fatui who didn't want to stop and take a drink or enjoy the scenery and “freeing wind” as they called it. He’d rather get things over with and just go home.

“Free samples! Free samples!” That was another thing he hated about Mondstadt. It was constantly noisy. Whether it be advertisements or the people themselves, the city was never quiet.

“Would you care for a sample?” He wanted to ignore you and just walk past, but of course you had to call him out personally. He scoffed and shot you a glare, something that would make most people tremble, but you didn't even flinch. Were you dumb? Or just plain ignorant, either way he didn't see your future as being very bright.

“Wow, you're very angry. Maybe you need two samples,” you reached over to the table next to you and handed him two cups. A sickly sweet smell hit his nostrils and he resisted the urge to gag, “It's a new mead recipe, including this season's fresh fruit. A very popular flavor, I designed the recipe myself.”

He raised an eyebrow at what you said? The hopeful look in your eye made him actually want to drink this sugar concoction. Pure anticipation on your face, a look that was normally annoying to him, but he found your hopefulness rather charming. Cute even.

Scaramouche eyed the cup for a second longer. Then brought it up to his lips. Disgusting. It was absolutely disgusting. That syrupy sweetness coating his tongue damn near induced vomiting, but he held back any emotions. The only pleasant part of the entire drink was the bitter liquor aftertaste.

“So?” You asked. There was a sparkle in your eyes like a gem, he felt himself falter, a feeling he hadn't felt in years. He wanted to be soft to you.

“It's good,” he muttered, a bold face lie of he'd ever told one before, but you seemed to believe it.

“Thank you, sir!” You exclaimed and he could help, but to partially match your smile.

As you continued to talk and recommend wines and beers to try, he barely listened, but he couldn't walk away. The eccentric way you spoke and moved had a hold on him. He wanted that at home with him. Maybe Mondstadt wouldn't be so bad to visit again after all.

Diluc -

A Scholar from Sumeru

Diluc’s mornings consisted of walking around the vineyard, checking on the grapes, and pulling away any that weren't purely perfect. It was a job that started long before the sun even rose and only ended right before the winery opened.

The day looked average. Nothing too out of place. Nothing except for you. With the way you were crouched so still, he almost didn't notice you, your unmoving form practically making you blend in with a bush of grapes. But there you were. Dressed from head to toe in the green Akademiya garbs, he hadn't seen a scholar outside of Sumeru in some time.

“You're quite a long way from home,” he finally spoke to you, crossing his arms to make himself look more intimidating, “And you're trespassing. The winery doesn't open for another four hours,”

You finally turned your head to look up at him with a look of confusion on your face, “But I'm not here for wine?” You said, tilting your head to the side. Finally you stood, picking something up that was next to you. A small notebook, an obvious accessory for a scholar, “I'm here for the grapes.”

One of Diluc’s red eyebrows raised in confusion, “We don't just sell the grapes,”

“I know that!” You laughed like he said something truly funny, even lightly hitting him on the shoulder. Your strike felt no heavier than a feather's touch against his built shoulder, “I'm studying them. Wine from Mondstadt is known to have the best taste, and I'm researching that.”

“By trespassing?”

“By studying your grapes. Good wine starts with its grapes,” you affirmed. You opened your notebook in front of him to show him doodles and notes that you’d written, all actually pertaining to grapes. So you actually weren't lying.

A small smile formed on his lips. It was like it was forced out of him. You were truly passionate about what you were doing, even if it was something as mundane as the grapes that went into wine.

“How about you study the grapes when the sun is up? I have a spare room in the manor that you could use,” Diluc wasn't one to shy away from kindness, but normally staying a night in the manor costs more than a few fun drawings and a charismatic character, but he felt himself falling into an ease around you.

“Could I? Really? Thank you,” You followed him as he led you up the steps to the manor. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he still let one of his hands fall and hold your waist as you walked up the stairs.

He was attracted to you, yes, his red eyes couldn't seem to leave your face as you talked on and on, but the hand wasn't placed there because of that. He wanted to make absolutely sure that you wouldn't stumble, like he didn't trust you not to trip and fall over your own feet.

If you noticed the hand, you didn't say anything and as the two of you walked into the manor together, the idea tickled his mind of never allowing you to leave.

Ayato -

a sneak thief from Inazuma

What you were doing was bases to have you killed. He wondered if you knew that. If you did then you were even more bold for doing it.

The maids in the Kamisato estate all had the same face to him. Obviously, they looked different, but remembering their faces and names wasn't too important to him. All that mattered was that they worked.

And worked you did, diligently at that, until all eyes were off of you. The first time he saw you do it, he thought he'd misunderstood. Obviously, you didn't notice that he was there, so when you took a silver teaspoon off of the tray, and dropped it into the sleeve of your obi, his eyes went wide.

He thought that it was a one time occurrence, that maybe he caught you when you were truly desperate. But then you did it again. And again. And again. You were outright stealing from the Kamisato estate, whilst being one of his loyal employees. And yet somehow he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it.

Your brazen display of disrespect towards the Kamisato name was honestly a little refreshing. Yes, you still bowed when he approached you and referred to him by proper honorifics, but to know that right under his nose, you were still taking from him, that thought was rather thrilling.

While you thought you were being stealthy, and in truth you were. Your sleight of hands was one to be reckoned with. You were good, but not good enough for him to not notice. What you were doing was something you could be killed for. Treason. Blasphemy even. And he fawned over how he could use that against you.

#genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere diluc #yandere ayato #yandere diluc x reader #yandere ayato x reader

[bakugoyelling]

We Can Take Things Slow

Aki Hayakawa x Fem! Reader 

Warnings: (minors dni) 18+ smut, virgin! reader, fluff, fingering, praise

Word Count: 5.1 K

Summary: What started as a crush has bloomed into a full-on relationship, and for the first time in your life, you're ready to do more than kiss.

Out of all people, you would have never thought that he would be your boyfriend; the first time he came in, you had to force yourself to stop staring. You had only worked at the local grocery store for about six months, and while you had seen attractive people come in to shop before, you had never seen a man as handsome as him.

He was tall — with blue eyes and black hair, the dark tresses often tied atop his head. His topknot hairstyle actually made your lips quirk up into a smile the first time you saw him. The ponytail was just so small and, for lack of a better word, cute.

He didn’t go to your register that day, and although slightly disappointed, you were glad. Just looking his way made your heart rate speed up. Who knows how you would have embarrassed yourself if you had to talk to him.

The next time you saw him, he walked in with — what you assumed to be — his friends, a guy and a girl who appeared to be rather rambunctious, one rolling in on a shopping cart while the other tossed boxes of snack cakes into it. Or maybe, they’re roommates; you thought as they walked past, watching them head down the aisle as you scanned a carton of milk. You wondered if he liked milk.

He didn’t go to your register that time either — well, he almost did, but he pivoted this shopping cart at the last second and headed a lane over, even though your current customer had just checked out. He must really like waiting in line.

And every time after that, he did the same, always with that boisterous duo; he never went to you. It was such a regular occurrence you no longer felt nervous when he came in.

But at least you still got to admire him. Sure, he might be avoiding you, but he was still pretty. Handsome, just like the first time you ever saw him. Plus, there was no harm in looking at him, right? A girl’s allowed to have a crush.

Then one evening, he came in alone. Dressed in a short-sleeved button-down, he spent most of his time in the produce section, picking out fruits and vegetables before disappearing between the aisles, where you didn’t see him again until he emerged at the check-out line — your check-out line.

Placing his groceries on the conveyor belt, you stood in disbelief, the nerves you thought you had long forgotten returning.

“Hello,” with a nod, the man greeted you, his eyes looking into yours as your cheeks grew warm.

“Hi! Did you find everything okay today?”

Overly peppy, you continued, tapping a button on the cash register before you began scanning his items, trying your best to appear calm.

“I did,” he said.

For a second, your eyes met as you glanced up at him, nodding in approval as you kept scanning.

The silence that followed was awkward. Well, it was for you, at least. Time seemed to slow while you worked, and halfway through, attempting to ease the feeling, you commented on his choice of milk — your face filling with a heavy heat as soon as the phrase left your lips.

“Mmm, oat milk,”

You’re not sure what response you were expecting, but all he did was exhale an amused huff and nod at you, taking out his wallet as he prepared to pay.

Great, he totally thinks you’re weird now, you thought. The next time he comes in, he’ll definitely go back to avoiding you.

Plus, surely he’s already got a girlfriend, right? Now that you’ve seen him up close, it’s proven just how attractive he is. Maybe next time he’ll come in with her. Maybe, you’ll even get to see them kiss.

But that never happened because he didn’t have a girlfriend. He either came in with his two friends or alone. And while he didn’t always go to your line, he frequented it more often. Over time, you even got less nervous when he appeared, and your interactions grew less stiff. You even learned his name — Aki. The two syllables felt like a dream leaving your lips. Along the line, you even found out about his profession. He was a devil hunter. Not uncommon, but dangerous. You’d known people who had joined Public Safety before, and although things didn't usually end well for them, you had to stop yourself from thinking of all the terrible possibilities this could mean. At least, this explained the formal clothing he sometimes wore.

Even your coworkers started noticing that things were different. Every time Aki came in, they’d tease you, asking things like, “So, when’s the wedding?” and “Have you hooked up yet?” Their questions were lighthearted, but you refused to answer — it was fun talking about the man you admired, but they didn’t need to know everything.

That is until, months later, after a series of secret rendezvous, one of them had seen you and Aki outside of work — at a table for two at a local restaurant, where he asked for a taste of your food, and you giggled, leaning in with a pair of chopsticks to fed him. But the light kiss that followed was what really caught their attention.

So the next day, your closest work buddies threw a lunchroom celebration, where despite their playful banter, they made sure to share how happy they were for you. Your oldest friend, who’s twice your age, even mentioned that she “Could tell he was a sweet one” and “Always knew he had a crush on you,”

Her words were the highlight of your day.

Sometimes you still can’t believe you're really with him. The two of you are similar in some ways. But in a lot of ways, you aren’t. Aki smokes, and you don’t — but that’s good, he tells you. Aki enjoys drinking beer, but you’ve never liked the taste. So you sip on water most of the time. But that’s great too, he says. In fact, he should be more like you, he insists. Aki has been in a relationship before. He’s had sex — shared his naked body with someone other than himself — And you haven’t. Not even close. All you’ve done is kiss. But you haven’t told him that.

And while you shouldn't feel shame for such a thing, you do. Like when you go to his apartment and spend the night eating cereal together, honey-flavored grains swimming in oat milk.

“Hey, let’s do the crossword puzzle on the back,” you say, dipping your spoon in for another bite.

If this were a different cereal box, the game on the back would probably already be done. However, lucky for you, Power and Denji — Aki’s roommates that you met sometime back at the grocery store — keep their hands off his boxes of “grandpa food,”

Grabbing a pen, Aki hands it to you, looking on as you begin to fill out the small square boxes, lifting a finger every so often so he can point out an answer. And when the puzzle is complete — and your bowls are empty, he washes them as you get ready for bed, changing into your pajamas to wait for him in the bedroom.

Being alone with him in here makes your heart race sometimes. Although the only thing the two of you have done in here is kiss, you can’t help but think of what will happen when you tell him that's all you've ever done.

It’s only happened once before, but one time things got heated. Clearly more experienced than you, Aki's kisses grew fervent, his lips moving against yours with ease. Like the love interest in a romance movie, he moved with such seduction, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip as his hands grazed the skin beneath your shirt. Your body grew hot, and for a second, you thought of letting him undress you, but instead, you gently pulled away — kissing one last time before you left to get a cup of water.

The memory makes you feel bad in a way. You should have just told him then, explained to Aki how you didn’t push him away because of what he did, but instead because you’re a nervous virgin. Or maybe you should tell him tonight — get it over with and…

“Did you already brush your teeth?”

But his question breaks you from the idea, and as you shake your head in response, you decide, maybe next time. Besides, brushing your teeth is more important anyway.

Four weeks later, you find yourself facing the decision again.

Your relationship with Aki has even reached a new milestone — you’ve said you love him. And with the faintest blush, Aki has said he loves you too.

In fact, he said it just moments ago before you kissed him — before you straddled him on his bed and began tasting his tongue. Slowly getting comfortable, you’ve started taking the lead with things like this now. It’s fun and exciting, yet, the idea of going further still makes you nervous.

It’s not like you don’t want to go further. You do, but you’re scared. Afraid that once you tell Aki, things won’t be the same, the flame will fizzle out, and he’ll leave you. Or even worse, he’ll use you for sex, and that’ll be the end of it — a cherry-popping dream come true.

“Hey, you okay?”

Caught on to how you’ve stopped and pulled away, he questions you, studying your expression as you refuse to make eye contact.

“Aki…” you mutter his name in quiet guilt, shifting about as you decide to rip off the proverbial band-aid, your heart pounding in your chest as you timidly confess, “I’m a virgin,”

“Huh?” caught off guard, his brows pull together as you remove yourself from his lap, your eyes growing glossy as panic sets in. If he laughs right now, then it’s over.

“I’ve never done anything, okay?” you hush, wiping away at your cheek.

You'll tell everyone at work that he's a jerk.

But Aki doesn't laugh. He doesn't chuckle; he doesn't even smirk. Instead, Aki thinks. He acknowledges your reactions — figures this information must have been weighing down on you for a while, and from what he can tell, you must be worried right now. And while to him, it’s no big deal, to you, it is. So in respect of your feelings, he does what he can to comfort you.

“That’s okay,” he gently speaks. “That doesn't change how I see you,” Hoping he’s not making things worse, he continues.

“Did you think it would?”

Peering up through dampened lashes, you nod. It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s true. Before you got into a relationship with Aki, your lack of sex was never an issue — other than the fact that you’ve never been with another person, you did plenty of sexual exploring on your own. You’ve done things that not even your friends in two-year relationships had done, knew kinks by name, and even told them what kind of toys to bring into the bedroom. You know your body, and you know what you like. You’ve just never had anyone to share it with. Being vulnerable in such a way can be scary. And while no, you don’t have to say anything about it, you feel it’s best that you do.

“That’s why I wanted to tell you…before things went any further. I just need you to know. So, we can take things slow, okay?”

Shifting closer, Aki nods before wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug, holding the back of your head as you press yourself against him, the scent of soap heavy on his skin.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” he whispers. “I don’t mind taking things slow,”

In his arms, you continue to listen, his acceptance putting you at ease.

“We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. Until you want to, alright?

In response, you nod, silently agreeing before you pull back, peering up at Aki as you wipe your eyes. 

“What if I only ever want to hold hands?” you mumble.

“Then we’ll only hold hands...and I’ll still love you,” smiling down, he assures you.

Aki only wants to make you happy, and although he can’t guarantee he'll never make you sad or worried, he can promise to never make you uncomfortable. 

—

“So, got any plans for the weekend?” your coworker asks from beside you, adjusting a can of corn as you reorganize the shelves before closing time.

“Actually, I do,” you say, the lilt in your voice soft as you continue working. “Aki and I are going to a new gyoza restaurant tonight. It just opened up,”

“Ooh, a date, I see? And will you be feeding him again this time?”

You give your friend the side eye, and they chuckle, the memory of when they first saw you together causing you to laugh along.

“And what if I do? Are you gonna be there watching like last time,”

“Hey, I just happened to be there,” your friend holds their hands up in defense. “It’s not my fault I caught you kissing mister topknot,” they tease. “Besides, I’ve got my own boyfriend to feed tonight,”

“Oh yeah, how is your cat, by the way?” Humored by your joke, you smile, peering over at your friend as they shake their head with a chortle. The end of your shift flies by when the two of you are together, and before you know it, the grocery store is closed for the night.

Once back home, you call Aki to let him know. Telling him that after you shower and get ready, you’ll call him back so he can pick you up. 

“Alright, see you soon then. Love you,” 

“Love you too, bye,” his voice carries over before hanging up, the end of the call leaving you eager to be with him again. 

An hour later, he’s knocking on your door, standing outside your apartment with joy in his eyes when you open up to greet him — two overnight bags in hand. 

“You ready to go?” he asks, silently admiring your features.

“Yup,” you smile as he takes your bags for you. “I’m so ready to eat too. I’ve been dreaming of this gyoza all day!” 

Heading to the car, he chuckles at your enthusiasm. It sounds like tonight he won’t be getting any of your leftovers. Guess he’ll just have to order extra.

—

Four plates of fried dumplings later, the two of you have had your fill, and with the bill paid, you head back to Aki’s apartment.

“Denji and Power are out, by the way.” he mentions while unlocking the door, “But they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, so enjoy it while you can,”

“Hey, don’t be mean,” you giggle, “I like them,”

“Yeah, yeah…”

With the place so quiet, you and Aki fall into what feels like a sense of domestic bliss — the tv on in the background providing a bit of sound as you go about helping him rid his fridge of spoiled food. It’s something he does every weekend lest he discovers a container of leftovers growing mold.

After that, he puts a load of laundry into the wash while you make a cup of tea — the last time you came over, he had a flavor you had never tried. You thought it was good, so Aki made sure to get more.

The two of you even brush your teeth together, which is nice because the minty fresh flavor of it remains once you’ve settled in bed — your upper half pressing against his as you kiss. Over and over, until the short pecks turn into your tongue running across his bottom lip, teasing him before he opens up and accepts, his hands sliding down to rest on your waistband as you pull back to catch your breath.

“Aki,” his eyes watch your kiss-swollen lips whisper his name. The warmth of your fingers resting against his jaw as he lifts his gaze.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly aware that you’re on top of him, he removes his hands from your hips — the subtle movement is a sign that he’s being cautious, your comfort always at the forefront of his mind. 

“You know, I still want to take things slow,” your heart rate speeds up as he keeps his eyes on you. “And I don’t think I’m ready to go all the way yet, but,” 

Now Aki’s heart is racing. He’s almost positive that he knows what you’re going to say, and he’d be lying if he said the thought of pleasing you in any way doesn't get his body aching with desire. 

“Can we try something?”

Your face blooms at the question, a sense of embarrassment washing over you as your boyfriend remains silent for a second, lips parting before he places his hands back on you and nods.

 “Anything you want,” he murmurs.

And while it’s difficult to ask your first real boyfriend to finger you, you do it. You probably sound like a total dork, you think, but Aki thinks you sound cute — delicate, endearing, but not the least bit innocent as you softly ask, “Will you fuck me with your fingers, please?”

The phrase sounds so vulgarly sweet; Aki has never wanted to satisfy someone's desires as much as he does yours. With your words repeating in his mind, he nods, keeping an eye on you as you move off him, settling beside him instead.

Shifting onto his side, Aki leans in to kiss you, interlocking your fingers with his as he pulls back to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

He knows you’re the one who brought it up, but he still feels the need to ask.

Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you shake your head in response, “I’m positive,” you assure him. 

Aki nods once more, bringing your entwined hands up to his lips to kiss your knuckles, one by one, until he lets go and places his hand on your hip, stroking your soft skin as you peer up at him.

Caught on by his hesitance, you pull him in for a heated kiss, reassuring him even further of your request with the tracing of your tongue against his lips — the wet muscle flicking against his as you glide your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, breathing out a moan while his hand travels further down, dipping into the waistband of your shorts.

“Can I?” he mumbles, thumb tracing against the fabric.

Agreeing, you shift your hips beneath him, allowing his hand to go all the way in, your lips parting in a shaky breath as his digits slide across the front of your panties, stopping just above your clit.

You’re glad you wore such a thin pair tonight, the friction of the lacy material already feels so good, and with each light circle Aki presses against you, you can feel the fabric dampen, knowing that soon, his touch will feel even better. 

As he teases you, Aki is sure to gauge your reactions. He pays attention to your movements, focusing on bringing you nothing but pleasure. And when your hips grow more fervent, when your legs spread open further, he experiments with a few words.

“Oh, you’re all nice and wet for me. Aren't you?” 

His voice is so low it’s impossible to hold back the moan in your throat. No one has ever said such a thing to you. But Aki can tell you like it. The way your clit twitches is enough to indicate that. 

“Will you let me see?” he asks.

You’ve never felt so needy before, eagerly nodding before he kisses your nose and leans away, settling on his knees so he can undress you. You haven't been this nervous in a while — but it's a giddy nervous, and each of Aki’s tender movements helps ease you. He’s slow, gentle, and careful of where he touches you as he kisses the swell of your knee, peering up at you while he glides his hands up your thighs. Everything he does is with your desire in mind.    

The veins in his hands flex while he grabs your hips, testing the waters once more as his fingers hook onto the sides of your panties — waiting for your permission.

Aki’s hands have always been nice to you, and as you shake your head in approval, you get lost in the vision of them, admiring how they look in this intimate moment as he undresses you, his long fingers pulling down your shorts and underwear until your core is exposed. 

Flustered, your knees pull together as you catch him staring, his blue eyes focused on your sex as he swallows, his lips parting while he softly speaks, “You’re absolutely perfect,”

Your breath hitches, and he kisses your thigh before adjusting himself, moving up the mattress until he’s lying beside you. This position will be more comfortable, he decides. He can please you without his gaze being too overbearing, and the closeness of your lips will make it easier to kiss as he touches you. He’s committed to making this experience a good one for you.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, gliding a hand across your stomach.

Nodding, you lift the hem of your shirt, muttering out a quiet “yeah” as you pull it up to reveal your tits, your nipples pebbling from both the cool air and Aki’s stare. He silently curses at how good you are at teasing, leaning in to kiss you as his calloused hand moves up to knead the soft mounds of flesh. The stimulation has you moaning, bucking your hips into the air as his thumb and forefinger pinch the sensitive skin — the slickness between your thighs increasing by the second.

“Mm, Aki,” you mutter his name between kisses, your eyes heavy-lidded as you place your hand on his, guiding it down until it rests on your pelvis. 

“I know, I know,” he hushes, “I want to touch you too, just gotta make sure it feels good for you,” he kisses your cheek and then finally; lets his fingers begin to explore.

They brush past the strip of pubic hair you shaved this afternoon, slowly making their way towards your pussy lips, where his fingers dip in to gather your slick as you spread your legs for him. Having Aki touch you like this feels like heaven, and you can feel the strings of your essence separating as you open up for him. His digits circles around your entrance a few times before trailing back up, stopping mid-stroke while he gently speaks, “Oh, you’ve got the cutest little clit I've ever seen,”

The sensitive nub throbs as he makes contact with it, a whine spilling from your throat while he languidly rubs it, his fingers returning to your slit before it becomes too much — if he had kept it up, you would have come in an instant, which isn't bad, but you enjoy the build-up.

Wetting his digits some more, Aki teases your entrance, kissing just below your ear as he quietly instructs you, “Just relax for me, okay?” 

Nodding your head, you take a deep breath, staring down as he continues playing with your pussy, rubbing your slick folds up and down before slowly sliding his middle finger into you. The sensation has both of you gasping. Aki because you’re so tight and warm, and you because his fingers are so much bigger than yours. They’re thicker and longer, and as the discomfort melts he begins to move.

He sinks his digit all the way in before almost pulling out, repeating the movement a few times over as your half-lidded eyes grow wide, a breathy moan falling from your lips as you adjust to the feeling. 

“You okay?” your boyfriend mumbles.

“Mmhm, your fingers are just…bigger than mine,”

Endeared with the comparison, he huffs out a laugh, kissing your lips while he sinks into you once again, swallowing your mewls of pleasure as he curls his finger this time, pressing against the swelled tissue of your g-spot. It’s like discovering the area for the first time all over again, and your brows pull together as your hips buck against his hand, your legs spreading further as you grab at your tits.     

 “That feel good?” Aki’s voice remains low, the sticky clicks of your cunt mixing in with the sound while you earnestly nod.

“Yeah…” you whimper, slack-jawed as you whimper on.“Yeah…I want more,” you plead, your lust-filled gaze meeting his while you desperately shift your hips.

You may not know it. You may not even be trying, but through each passing second, through each soft phrase, Aki grows more and more captivated in pleasing you — and knowing that he’ll soon be the reason behind your erotic gratification; has him happy to oblige. 

He pumps his middle finger into you a few more times before he pulls it out, tracing along your clenching little pussy while he eases it back into you, his ring finger joining in this time as you breathlessly curse. His digits are so much thicker than yours, longer too. You think this feels good when you do it yourself, but having Aki finger you feels even better. Unrestricted as to how far your wrist can twist, this new angle allows you to feel things deeper, granting you a new level of satisfaction you could never give yourself.

When he feels your walls relax again, Aki begins building the movement of his fingers, pumping the two digits at a steadying pace as he kisses you, trailing his lips down your neck and across your chest. Grazing your nipple, his tongue laps at the bud as he curves his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot. In search of repetition, your hips jolt into his touch, your cunt clamping down as Aki adjusts himself, “Gonna go a little faster now, alright?” he says, sliding his body further down for better reach. Slick with arousal, you’re taken aback by how easily he’s able to speed up his digits, your head thrown back in a heady groan as your pleasure elevates to another height, the sticky sounds of your cunt growing as Aki works his wrist, his palm brushing against your clit every so often.

Cute and high-pitched, your whines are intoxicating to him, swallowing them up between kisses while his fingers stroke your walls.

Your heavy lids make it difficult to keep your eyes open, but even in your lust-filled daze, you make it a priority to drop your chin and take a peek, to watch as your boyfriend fucks you with his fingers. So wet from your pussy, his hand glistens before you, your face flooding with warmth as you whimper his name, “Ah-Aki, Aki,”

You’re close; you can feel it — building up with every thrust of his fingers — with every graze of his heavy palm against your clit. Your skin is heating up, and your hips are jerking, grinding against him in search of more. Just a bit more of that pressure, and you’ll be falling past the edge.

Observant, Aki catches the way your swollen bud twitches and quickens his pace, rapidly pumping his fingers as you clench around him, the sloppy sound mixing in with your cries of ecstasy as he pushes all the way in, his palm grazing your clit as his fingers curl into the spot that has you keening. Repeating the motion, he watches your brows pull together as you shift your stare, meeting his gaze before he presses his forehead against yours. The fading mint of his breath fanning across your lips while he whispers, “You gonna cum for me?”

Your breath hitches as he pushes the heel of his hand towards you, the calloused skin rubbing against your sensitive nub while you press your knees together, trapping his hand in place while your brows crease, urgently nodding your head in admission. 

“Yeah?” Aki gives his own little nod while continuing to work his fingers, hitting the spongy spot in the back of your cunt as you struggle to speak.

 “Y-yes, yes fuck, please, ohh –” your words cut off into a drawn-out sob, your stomach clenching as you squeeze your thighs together, your body twitching while you dissolve into pleasure with Aki for the very first time — the reality of it all making your walls tighten around his digits even harder, soaking them in your essence as he works you through orgasm.

The sensation has Aki’s mouth falling open, feeling your pussy squeeze his fingers as you curve into his touch, keening through the incredible high while you melt into him. Your shattered breaths catch on the tip of his tongue as he kisses you, tangling his wet muscle with yours — swallowing the moans that escape you.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Aki whispers against your lips as your clit throbs, his palm pushing down on the swollen nub, causing you to twitch in place while your climax begins to fade. As you relax, his fingers slow their pace, your body slumping into his as your heavy breaths grow steady, your half-lidded eyes catching sight of his digits pulling out of you.

You sigh as they leave you, your cunt squeezing around nothing as you hear your boyfriend mutter out a quiet “Fuck…” — Enamored with how you leak for him, how you’ve coated his thick digits in the creamy white of your pussy. How you’ve allowed him to share such an experience with you.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he says as you lie back. The endearment has you lazily smiling, his lips pressing against the damp skin of your forehead.

“So perfect,” he repeats between kisses, tilting your chin to peck your lips.

A dreamy haze surrounds him as he stares down at you — your lower half still exposed as you peer into those beautiful cerulean eyes of his, thoughtlessly murmuring out loud, “So, do I have to give you a handjob now?”

The enchanting clouds dissipate as you realize what you've said, the apples of your cheeks growing warm as Aki's face goes blank — a tinge of regret traveling down your spine for even asking the question.

“Well, do you want to?” He calmly replies as you continue to look up at him, searching his gaze while you swallow the words caught in your throat. As much as you desire Aki — as much as you want to have him fall apart because of you; you’re not ready. At least, not tonight.

Prepared to see disappointment spread across his features, you silently shake your head, declining with a nodded no. But to your relief, Aki responds with an affirming smile.

“Then no, you don’t have to,” he says, “We can save that for some other time,”

“Are you sure?”

Kissing the top of your head, he nods, pulling back to assure you once again, “I’m positive,” he replies.

Not until you're ready.

— please do not modify or repost my work

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A/N: Aki is so boyfriend :') he's got such nice hands too Heheh, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, let me know! Kind comments are always appreciated ♡♡♡

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

#aki hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm smut #aki x reader #☁️csm #💗aki #🌹spicy stuff #m.writes #mp

[shibaraki]

A FISH OUT OF WATER ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

synopsis: you are his constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. he wants you. but you are the most oblivious creature he has ever met.

tags: GN reader, merfolk au, merman atsumu, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, falling in love, courting behaviours, obliviousness, cultural differences, first kisses, getting together

wc: 3.5K

↱ written for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↲

As a child Atsumu never understood other finfolks fascination with humans, good or bad. Ma was never reluctant to explain, rather, he just didn’t care to ask. There were far more important things to do in the reef. Like hunting shelled crabs, riding the currents, and eating oysters so he could spit pearls at his brother's head until he gave chase.

But three moons before his twelfth birthday, he found you.

Suspended in the water, bubbles dwindling around your frame as the fight bled from your muscles. You sank into a lifeless repose. A human. Small, smaller than him. Thoughts whirring to a stop, his mind blanked, and his tail propelled him forward in a blink.

You were light in his arms at first. Breaching the surface had been the scary part. Worse then, as he needed to drag you up onto the shore where he could be seen. The section of beach close by was secluded. Shielded by large rocks, tide pools formed in the crevices. Atsumu deposited you onto the sand, hissing at the tides that crawled behind and splashed at your chin as if to scold them.

You convulsed and curled in onto yourself like the tiny dumbo octopus that lived in the crevasse near his home. Water spurted from your nose and mouth. It gathered in the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. Atsumu stared as you wailed and felt his own tumultuous emotions swell dramatically. Restless under his skin was the urge to calm you. To comfort you. But he had never been any good at that kind of thing.

So he reached out to pat your leg. It was covered in clumps of sand. Your shorts and shirt were drenched, and one of your feet had lost a flip flop. Then he repeated what Ma always told him, “Don’t worry, guppy. I’m here”.

That distracted you enough that your attention fell on him. Your immediate petrified screech reverberated harshly in his sensitive ears, both pressed flat to his head as he hissed and squirmed further back into the ocean to escape the sound.

“A—A monster! Get away!”

An odd sense of vulnerability washed over him. Embarrassment, shame, anger. At that moment, Atsumu decided all his assumptions must have been correct. You were clearly a few fish short of a shoal. “M’not a monster,” he’d shouted back, fins flared irritably. “Be grateful I saved yer life, Ugly! Ugly, ugly, ugly!”

Your face scrunched up at the insults, covered in salt water, tears and bile. A dull ache struck against his skull, hard and sudden. You had kicked him in the head and ran away.

Osamu laughed at the mark upon his return. Atsumu endured, kept his mouth shut and resolved never to go back to the surface. Ever! But curiosity still drew him back the next morning. And the next. Every day he checked, you were there, standing awkwardly on the beach and squinting at the horizon. Searching.

Ma’s voice echoed through his thoughts while he hid from view. Atsumu was great at lots of things. Loads better than Osamu. Racing, hunting, splitting shells, tying knots, playing ball. Not so great at making friends. Try to meet ‘em where they’re at, she said. Smile. Be nice. Find what they like and ask about it.

When he finally plucked the courage to make his presence known you’d been back in the tide pools. The ends of your shirt pulled out to hold all the shells you were collecting, heavily weighing on the wet fabric. A few tumbled down as you crouched to pick up a limpet, mouth curling into a pleased grin. Limpets are boring, he thought. And an idea struck.

Diving lower, Atsumu combed through the sand and seaweed until he spotted an iridescent spiral of orange and purple. The snail went helplessly as he clasped it between his webbed fingers, shooting for the rocks. You were still there, filling the silence with a directionless hum.

Atsumu broke the surface quietly. Enough distance between that you could not kick him again. “Hey!” he called, hands thrusted out toward you, head already turned toward his shoulder to brace for another scream. “Got a snail. Wanna see?”

Nothing came. He hadn’t realised how much your acceptance meant to him until then—when you crouched excitedly close by, unheeding of the tide soaking you further, and gasped as he presented the gift. Relief burst in his chest, warm and tingly to the tips of his fins at the careful prodding of your fingers to the creature in his palms; so intense that a wave of luminescence washed through his scales.

“I was looking for you,” you later admitted, voice softened in apology. “Thank you for saving me. I’m sorry I kicked you and called you mean things”.

Atsumu detailed the slight pout to your lips. Knees shifting in the sand. Eyes wide, gleaming hopefully as you waited for his reply. Something fluttered in his stomach the longer you looked at him. Horrified, the longer he looked back, the more it dawned on him that you were not ugly at all.

“Good. So y’should be,” he grumbled, smacking his tail up onto the shore. Heat blotched across his cheeks when you glanced at it in awe. Timid, he added, “…S’fine though. Didn’t hurt”.

Smiling gleefully at that as his gaze darted back and forth, you held out your pinky and promised to always be his friend.

Time elapsed. Seasons passed. No longer a juvenile, his colours started to come into full bloom. Rich gold around his hips and waist, tapering into black toward his large ruffled tail fin. Even his hair lightened as he took to adulthood. After his twentieth birthday the months seemed to come and go faster than he liked. You were his one constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. Atsumu’s blatant affection for you remained his worst kept secret but none of the finfolk scorned him for it.

Osamu’s steadfast teasing was the only downside. Offhanded or feigning disinterest, he’d always ask, “What d’you keep doing up there?”

Atsumu bounced a hard clam off his brother’s thick skull, “Nothin’. Told’ya a million times, I just like the surface”.

“Uh-huh. Does the ‘surface’ in question happen ta’ have a name and a pulse?”

“You’ll soon have neither if you don’t shut yer trap, ‘Samu!”

Summer comes along and once again, Atsumu decides to remain in the reef. There’s a new den for him in the alcove, carved out from the outcropping of rock with his own hands, right next to a dense forest of kelp. The afternoon sun filters through it in rays as the currents shift, dewy light dancing on the walls.

Two years he has been eligible to migrate and find a mate. This will make it his second absence from the celebrations. Ma never pushed him despite the worry written plain on her face. Osamu only pinned him with a knowing look as he went. It will be the longest they’ve been apart from one another and he doesn’t like it.

Realistically he still could have attended—should have, maybe, lest the other pods find his refusal disrespectful. But Astumu had no compulsion to go. The very idea of leaving you threw his instincts into high gear and he needed to race the currents just to calm the urgency wracking his bones. Because somewhere amidst the years spent with you he became aware of the voice clamoring in the back of his head. One that had been growing in intensity for some time, but hadn't been quite as loud as it was until the elders advised him to take a partner.

You were his mate.

Atsumu had been subconsciously courting you since you were children. Bringing you food and gifts, letting his display scales flash lurid in your presence. He kept guard as you slept on the sand, picked the seaweed and dirt from your hair, swam in synchrony with you when the tides were calm, wrapping your legs around his tail until you become a knot of a person. In hindsight, it was embarrassingly obvious—

Yet you are still blissfully oblivious to it, and that nags at him like nothing else.

Raking claw tipped fingers through his hair, Atsumu paces the length of his den with thoughts of how to be more deliberate in his courtship. Human relationships were complex—purposefully difficult, in some cases. You might respond better if he simply confessed what his intentions were.

You’ve promised to come by the cove as soon as you’re free today. Adulthood came with plenty of changes for you as well as him. You have to work more than he likes. It means less time together; hours spent with other people, any of which could stake their own claim and take you from his reach.

Agitated, Atsumu darts to the surface the instant the sky settles into evening. The sun spreads a blush across the ocean’s surface, tepid but pleasant when it kisses his cheeks. Your distant figure is climbing over the rock formations with careful movements. At first he lingers in the deeper water, submerged below the nose to watch like he used to all those years ago.

“‘Tsumu!” arms high in the air, you wave and bounce on the balls of your feet when you spot him. Lazily, he rides the small wave that floods onto the shelf you are standing on, arms folding on the craggy surface to keep his upper half above water.

There’s a bag over your shoulder. It drops low with the weight it carries. “Look what the tide dragged in,” you let the bag drop, contents half spilling out across the floor. Familiar things. Suncream, bottled water, a change of clothes. Your foot comes to rest atop the worn volleyball as it rolls toward the edge, flinching when he splashes at you in retaliation. “You’re here earlier than usual. Did’ya miss me?”

Atsumu bobs, eyes rolling. “Was too busy making up my new den to think twice about’cha, sunshine,” he cracks a grin. You bat at the hand that threatens to circle around your ankle as you lower yourself to sit on the shelf’s edge, legs swinging over the depths.

“All grown up and living on your own now,” you pat his head in what is intended to be condescension but only ends up conveying fondness for him as your fingernails scratch gently at his scalp. “Proud of you”.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tipping into the touch without shame as he bobs in the water. Peeking up at you through the hair drying unruly over his eyes his heart sits prominent at the back of his throat. You’re in your swimsuit under your clothes again, he notices. “Ya gonna get in with me today?”

“Planned on it,” you replied coyly. Atsumu inhales deeply. Gills flutter. He feels his fins flare around his hips and smothers the need to hide himself, nudging his cheek to your bare thigh. A beat passes and your smile dims somewhat, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, ‘Tsumu”.

He rumbles his disapproval. Turning to nose at the skin there, Atsumu loosens his jaw and gently pincers your flesh between his teeth. Just enough to serve as a warning. The muscle and sinew remains relaxed despite it all, entirely sure he wouldn’t hurt you.

A heavy warmth drapes over his being at the heat, blood and beating heart echoing through your veins. “Gross,” you say without malice, flicking his temple at the lave of his tongue over your nonexistent wound.

“Ugly,” he returns, affectionate cadence unrestrained. You temper a smirk, kicking water his way as you tug your t-shirt over your head. Atsumu sinks into the sea’s cool embrace while you undress. Years ago you would have shied away from his blatant staring.

You’re welcoming to the arms that circle your waist as you turn to lower your body into the water. Atsumu doesn’t need to hold you up anymore, not like when you were young and easily drawn into the stronger currents, but he does so regardless. It earns him a soft huff, and a weak protest that is patently for show, but you let him.

A pleased sound vibrates in his throat before he can bite it back. You’re truly the softest thing he has ever laid hands on. Your fingers trail along his biceps, tracing the scales decorating his shoulders. Bioluminescence pulses through them with a shudder and you laugh at him, though not unkindly, “You’re lookin’ a lot brighter lately”.

Your ignorance is a blessing sometimes. Hiding his face in your hair his tail undulates and pushes your entwined bodies back toward the reef. Pride swells as your thighs cinch around his hips. The tides break around you, paving a pathway of foam from the shore to the corals. Below are vibrant formations, each unique and intricate, shelter for shoals of fish darting from the shadows stretching across on the seabed.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

“Just did,” Atsumu snarks reflexively. You tighten your hold around his neck, leaning back to glare at him. You are about as intimidating as a sea bunny. He hums, “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Something flits across your features. Hesitance, maybe. Then your anxieties are spilling out into the open, “Why’d you split off from your group? Are they mad at you or something? If it’s because of me—”

Words stutter into a pitched plea for mercy when he pointedly tucks his chin to suck a mouthful of water into his cheeks. You flinch preemptively, throwing your hands up to your face. Atsumu holds a moment longer, pursing his lips as if readying to fire. You push at his chest in a fit of nervous laughter, “Okay, okay! I get it, it’s not my fault—don’t spray me!”

He doesn’t spit it at you. The seawater falls from his lips, trickles over his chin and returns to the tide. “Yer ability to overthink never fails to amaze me,” your breathing hitches as he brings your foreheads together. The flustered look you cast him makes him squeeze tighter, unwilling to let go. “They’ve gone to the mating grounds, that’s all. Figured it was as good’a time as any to find my own territory”.

You pause, a crease forming between your brows. “The mating grounds? You’ve never mentioned that before”.

Atsumu shrugs. The movement ripples out around you in broad rings. “Never needed to,” he says. “Wasn't important. M’here, aren’t I?”

“Why?” the pressure from your thighs lessens, just a fraction, but he’s already scrambling to cup the back of your knees and keep them there. You freeze. Scrutinising any minute change to his expression, eyes bright and flickering. Atsumu avoids your gaze with his inner cheek between his teeth. Slow, a smirk pulls at your lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve got no suitors”.

Atsumu chitters, displeased. You shouldn’t find the idea amusing. He wants you to hate it. Sulking, he says, “Glad ya think that’s funny”.

Your face falls, then. And you are seeking the strong grip he had on you before, clutching at his shoulders. Your hands slide carefully up the column of his neck, featherlight over his gills. A shiver breaks out across his skin as you take his face into your hands. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean—” you stop to sound a frustrated groan. “I didn’t mean it like that, ‘Tsumu. I just—I thought you were joking. Why wouldn’t a mer like you have everybody vying for your attention?”

His mouth shapes around a small ‘o’. Then it draws wide, crooked and teasing. “A mer like me, eh?” he echoes, slipping back from your grasp to circle you in the water as a thrilling static buzzed under his skin. Need grips him and hems his scales, saturating them with rich gold hues. “Like what?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, loser. You know,” you struggle to tread water and spin to track his circular motions, pushing a vindictive wave of water at him. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen”.

The glow from his display is bleeding into the blue-green waters and attracting the attention of the reef dwellers but he’s too pleased to be mortified. He halts his stalking, crowding into your arms, “Y’think I’m—?!”

Your fingers thread into his hair. With all your might you dunk him under, cutting his sentence short as a wave rushes to fill the space in his open mouth. He laughs through the descent of your body, the force having pushed him low enough that he is facing your bare stomach. Remaining there, even as you relinquish your grip.

Other finfolk never really commented on his colouring. They hadn’t attempted to initiate courtship, either, not with his priorities elsewhere. You have praised his scales before but this feels different. In the context of being wanted—desired as a partner. Maybe it’s just pretty words. But you would not have submerged him in a fit of embarrassment if there weren’t some truth in it.

Fins vibrating eagerly, small trails of bubbles rise to the surface. You're patting at his arms now, worried why he won’t come up, expression distorted by the water. He sinks forward, face pressing up against your midriff. Your abdomen immediately clenches. Nails dig into the curve of his shoulder as he mouths at your sternum. Arms rise to wrap around your waist and your knees flank his ribs, squeezing tight.

A mer’s senses are that much sharper here. He feels your stuttered breath, hears your heartbeat quicken, smells the beginnings of arousal. It tastes like victory, overwhelming all rational thought. Head to tailfin his instincts are begging to drag you to his den and fuck you to sleep.

But he can’t. Not yet, and not the way he wants to.

Pushing into a soft, resting stomach, Atsumu takes a breath, shakes himself from his reverie and blows hard against the skin. You immediately convulse, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Overhead, your sweet laughter; muffled by the white noise around him but just as euphonious.

You’re panting when he finally resurfaces, your head tilted to keep your chin above water. The tide must be coming in. He supports you against his chest, making you a few inches taller. “You dickhead. Fishbrains,” you chide breathlessly, betrayed by the fond look in your eye. “Shit. Don’t do that again”.

“Mean. What happened to gorgeous?” Atsumu’s pout trembles, struggling to keep his amusement at bay.

“I'll take it back!”

“No take backsies,” he croons, nuzzling at your jawline. Dangerous. “Glad ya think I’m hot and all but that’s not the only part of courting. Like, proving yer able to take care of them. Hunting an’ preparing food. Presenting gifts. Helping them groom. Keeping guard. S’why it takes the whole summer”.

As he speaks a slither of dread settles heavy in his gut. The memories practically flit across your face, visibly connecting the dots. “But you’ve always done those things—” your voice loses strength, mouth opening and closing a few times before finishing, “for me…?”

The sky is bruised. Clouds have gathered by the cliffs, and the sun is almost tucked beneath the horizon, casting a final burst of orange across the glittering ocean’s surface. His display dims. “Yea’,” he clears his throat, summoning a playful tone, “Real sharp, angel. I sure know how to pick ‘em”.

Any confidence he had slips between his fingers like dry sand the longer the silence draws between you. A sad note catches in his throat. His gills twitch as he waits with bated breath. Warm, soft hands come to cradle his face. Your thumb sweeps gently back and forth beneath his eye.

You don’t laugh. You don’t even splash at him. Rather, reverently, you say “…‘Tsumu”.

He peers up to meet your gaze. Softened by dusk, you are watching him through lidded eyes, crinkled at the corners. A sharp sensation frissons up his spine. You tilt his chin, bringing him into a chaste kiss. Atsumu shudders, hands pawing desperately at your hips. You pull back a hair’s breadth only to kiss him again, full lips sliding together, a more deliberate press that grows fervent at the cautious lick of his tongue.

When you seek air with a sharp inhale your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Atsumu doesn’t bother to dull his purr, nor the soft flow emitting from his tail, forming a golden ring of light around your entangled bodies. Mirthfully, you murmur, “I can’t believe it. You like me”.

It feels right; like finally letting himself have everything he’s ever wanted.

He laughs quietly, tucking a kiss beneath your ear, “Somethin’ like that”.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxiii - nAWt

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

genre : dad!au

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

warning : medical situation

wc : 1.6 k

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

"Thank God you're here, go- go there! I'm trying to get ahold of (y/n)'s cousin!" Wooyoung hissed frantically as he rushed to the nurse's station.

The first thing Hongjoong noticed was chaos, in one section of the ER. Usually, as bad as 'the emergency room' sounded, there wouldn't be this much commotion so it caused him dread when saw people rushing accompanied by the sounds of his son crying and his nanny trying to calm him down. It not a good sign when patients screaned loudly to no end and it was never a good sign when healthcare providers act frantically.

His legs took him immediately to his son's bed where the little boy was thrashing against the doctor and nurses who were trying to examine him but failing as they didn't want to hurt him accidentally. "Kijoong!" He called out, rushing to his son's side who upon noticing him, wailed louder and tried climbing onto his dad. "God, what happened?" Hongjoong asked the ER doctor who sighed, "The boy fell and we're trying our best to see if there's anything wrong with him but he's being difficult. As you can see, he had a couple of scratches and bumps due to the impact but since he fell off of the elevator, we wanted to make sure," he said. Hongjoong's eyes widened at the revelation and his heart dropped to his stomach, "What the hell did you mean he fell off the elevator?" Kijoong, who was already calming down slightly from his dad's presence, got pulled back slightly so Hongjoong could examine his condition only to see that he didn't look bad at all considering the description of what happened, "H-how did he fall? Where's-"

Hongjoong's words were cut off by the sound of the curtain being pulled back to reveal your form, looking like you had gone through hell and being held back by the nurses who wanted you to remain still. "That's not what happened," you stated, shifting your gaze from Hongjoong to glare at the doctor, "You're making it seem like he was running amok all by himself so let me tell you what actually happened." The nurses tried to get you to lean back but you shrugged them off and even tried to sit up but the pained look on your face as your body started to fold proved you had rather major injuries.

The way you winced caused Hongjoong to let go of Kijoong, knowing that he had to make sure that you were alright much to Kijoong's disappointment and he let it show by screaming for his dad. Hongjoong told him that he'd be right back soon but Kijoong kept wailing, watching as his dad started to conduct a neurological examination on you. "Fuck, what the hell happened, (y/n)? W-why-" he was trying his best to see your pupillary reaction but you kept trying to push him off, "You go tend to your son, Hongjoong, please, I'm fine!" And that ticked Hongjoong off, "Fine? Fine!? Look at you!" his eyes started to water when he looked you over. You had a small bandage over the corner of your left forehead, nasty long and deep scratches on the side of your left arm that looked red, inflamed, and still slightly bleeding, and the left side of your pants that was rolled to your knees, revealing friction burns and bruises added with two broken fingernails. "You looked like you just fought a fucking bear, (y/n), this is- you're not okay! You need my help!" he scolded, shutting you up momentarily and the sternness of his voice caused Kijoong's wails to momentarily stop. "What happened?" Hongjoong asked, this time slightly softer.

After a moment and with a deep breath, you told him. "Kijoong ran past me after his session with Mingi, I didn't even get to ask Mingi about the assessment because I knew I had to get him and I did. I got Kijoong but he tried getting away from me," you said, pausing to take a shaky breath as you eyed Kijoong, "He was trying so hard to get away from me and all I could think about was getting him away from the escalator but then he pushed me and lost his footing." Hongjoong subconsciously settled to sit by your side on your bed which seemed to trigger something in Kijoong as he began to call for his dad, calls that fell on deaf ears as Hongjong was too focused on listening to what happened to you and his son while his brain was trying to assess the possibilities of internal injuries in you and his son. "So I did what I could think of first and dove right with him, I grabbed him and try to shield him from the impact, I'm sorry," you hiccupped, getting emotional as you felt guilty for letting Kijoong get hurt. Hearing you say that, Hongjoong chuckled tearily and grabbed your face in his hands gently, "Sorry?" he smiled, "You saved his head from cracking open like coconut, (y/n), you did what you thought you had to and you did it so well," he said, really grateful for you and your actions. Your shoulders slumped in relief over realizing that he wasn't mad at you nor did he blame you for the incident.

Meanwhile, seeing you two in such a state, Kijoong grew even more agitated and had even tried to claw the nurses and doctor off fo him, He wanted to jump in between you and Hongjoong and he wanted to do it right then, no more delays, In his childish mind, he there was nothing more important and no other situation is as important as this one. In his childish mind, he had to do something for his dad who had done so much for him. But being held back like this was preventing him from doing anything about it, from doing what he wanted. And no matter how much or how loud he shouted, no one was taking him seriously and it was infuriating, it was frustrating.

And then it happened.

Within a split second, Kijoong's eyes rolled back into his head and his body tensed, his jaw slackened and his fingers curled into tight fists. The voice that wailed loudly suddenly stopped which caught the attention of Hongjoong but by the time he got a good look at Kijoong, Kijoong was already spasming on his bed.

It was then that another hell broke loose.

Hongjoong let go of you almost instantly and rushed to Kijoong's side, not that you could blame him. In fact, at that moment, you suddenly didn't care about anything else, not even about yourself or your injuries as you ripped your IV off and rushed to Kijoong's other side. Though they could have helped, you shooed the doctor and nurses away, getting to immediate work of putting Kijoong in the position he should be in as he rode out his episode.

"Why? Why is it back now- he was doing just fine," you muttered to yourself. Somehow, in this situation, you were able to assume your role well as the caretaker while Hongjoong was doing his part as the concerned parent but still trying his best to keep his composure calm. Or, well, as calm as he could because what kind of a parent would just be okay seeing their child in such a medical situation.

It took a while but Kijoong finally came to. His body stopped spasming and his eyes rolled back to their normal positioning, his muscles relaxed and he began testing his vocal skills again. "Dad, daddy," he called, whimpering with tears slowly brimming in his eyes. "Hey, bud," Hongjoong smiled leaning in to hug his son gently, "I was so worried seeing you like that, are you okay? How are you feeling?" Although his dad was talking to him, he couldn't help but block his voice and focus on seeing you, Or, more specifically, your hand that was resting on Hongjoong's shoulder.

The next moment shocked everyone as Kijoong jumped up and pushed your body away with such strength that it made you stumble back, hitting the nearby tray which caused you to wince when your injured side got the brunt. "GET OFF MY DADDY!" he yelled loudly, his face growing red and although you were already at a considerably further distance, Kijoong was advancing on you like an animal before Hongjoong got a grip on him. "Kim Kijoong, what is the matter with you? You don't talk to an adult like that, you don't talk to (y/n) like that!" he scolded which didn't bode well for him as Kijoong began thrashing in his grip, screaming for you to leave his dad alone and for you to go away at the top of his lungs. His screams echoed through the area and the next and it frightened you- no. It broke your heart to hear him saying that he didn't want you around, telling you to leave. The usually sweet boy had turned on you and you didn't know what you did.

Despite your injuries having yet to be properly checked, you stumbled back and staggered out of the ER, as if listening to Kijoong's instruction.

"Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?" Wooyoung called, slamming the nurse's station phone to end his call before rushing to you, "Excuse me, miss, your cousin is coming so you need to keep your ass- hey!" you didn't listen to him, maybe you couldn't but who cared? You simply walked out, leaving Wooyoung worriedly following you but not before he stopped in Hongjoong's line of sight, mouthing 'what the hell?' but not waiting for a reply.

As much as he hated to admit it, Hongjoong didn't know what happened or what was going on and it was worrisome. It felt like a subtle afternoon breeze had crumbled his concrete castle down and there was nothing he could do to salvage anything. Worse of all, it felt like he had managed to hurt you all over again but this time, he couldn't go to you.

Fantastic.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

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@strawberry-yeo @luvt0kki @allisonleannn @dinossaurz @khjcs @blackb3ll @aloverga @at1nys-blog @itsbeeble @potatomountain @axo-l0tl @green-thots @intancollins @galaxypox @11glitch11 @maddiebabyxoxo @alyssajavenss @mirror-juliet @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @kodzukein @teenyfinds @dear-dreamie @mitchloveswriting @soobiverse @satsuri3su @phenomenalgirl9 @guess-monst3r @dimeb29 @ka-ni-ma @yayaistime @angelicyeo @kyume02 @thedistractedwriter @surveilenceysystem @ateezourstars @aursmrt @mismatchfluffysocks @puppyminnnie @nycol-ie @yungilia @writingbarnes @worcesheshestershiresauce

#cultofdionysusnet #sandsofirenet #kflixnet #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez social media au #ateez smau #ateez fanfic #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #kpop social media au #kpop smau #kpop fanfic #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #smt social media au #smt smau #smt wanbelyn

[schrodinger-swriter]

Can I Ask for Husks fluff alphabet?

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, Z preatty please?🥺

(I'm sorry I almost hit the limit. I'm obsessed with him😭)

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, and Z for Husk

No need to apologize! If I wanted a smaller limit I would have said so in the original post! Nothing wrong in wanting to get the most out of something C:

I hope you enjoy this, Anon, it was fun playing with Husk's personality in this! He reminds me of a grumpy grandfather.

Confession, I thought for the longest time Husk was a.. well dog. I.. Don't know why I thought that, perhaps it's the face markings and his name being "Husk" (Like Husky) that caused my confusion. For two years after the pilot I was... rather dumb..

What do you mean Husk is 75.

ATTRACTION:

He enjoys those who are more honest with themselves and aren't pushovers. He can hardly stand those in denial. He calls it as he sees it when he's pushed to do so. This is less of an attraction thing, but I feel he would be most compatible with someone he can be real with and can be able to deal with his bluntness. In a way, you keep each other in check.

CUDDLES:

Small and soft, warm too. He's a cat, so it feels like snuggling into a large cat! I don't think he would be too deep into PDA, the most he would be comfortable with doing is quick kisses when someone else is passing by.. usually... more on that later. Though, now that it's mentioned, I don't think he would be too big on physical affection all that much.. now don't get me wrong he loves a good back massage every now and then, but it's going to take him a while to curl up next to you for cuddling. Little spoon.

INJURY:

Would ask you what the hell happened while wrapping your wound.. Goes from scolding you for being a jackass if you just. Threw yourself into danger, but will go on to say you have some guts. Stern when it comes to you taking it easy so you can heal properly... is not phased by any false play ups of your pain, though depending on his mood he might let it pass. For a bit..

If he's the one injured he's stubborn, insisting that it's not that big of a deal. Dresses and cleans it appropriately, all while nursing a bottle of booze. Dismissive when talking about what led to the injury. Might be a little standoffish if you try to take care of him, especially if you come off as trying to baby him.

JEALOUSY:

He deals with his jealousy the same way he deals with all of his other problems. Alcohol. He sees another man chatting you up? Alcohol. Sees you laughing a little too much at some chumps joke? Alcohol. Someone talks brings up how you seem so lively around another person? Alcohol. I think you get the point. However, if it's a case of you being pushed into a situation you don't want to be in, he's going to pick up on your discomfort and drag you away... does not make it seem like you have somewhere else to be, no, he just tells the other person to fuck off as he takes you away. His fur sometimes fluffs up in annoyance. Pulling that pin from the C section, in regards to PDA, he will tug you to his side to further push the effect that you're taken.

KISSES:

Bunny kisses. You know, you two touch noses and nuzzle a bit. He doesn't allow it often, but it is something you two do every now and again. He defaults to kissing you on the mouth, quick pecks usually aren't for him, though... Sometimes leans over the counter of his bar to steal a kiss when no one else is around. This goes for both giving and receiving!

NO:

He can't be with someone who heavily relies on physical touch, it's simply not for him and he can only compromise so much. That's not to say he wouldn't try, because he would. However you can only sacrifice your comfort so much before it becomes a problem, you know? I don't think he would do well with people who complain.. not vent, more so whine about everything. He seems far too irritable to be able to deal with that in his day to day, outside of the bar.

As for actual deal breakers within an established relationship... I think it would have to be a stubborn person. Funny, coming from him since he's stubborn. But Husk appears to still go with the flow of everything, even eventually befriending the rest of the cast. No, when I say stubborn I mean people who can't take their heads out of their asses to see that there's other things to worry about and shit like that. He can only give you so many reality checks before throwing in the towel. Bonus negative points if combined with the complaining thing.

PETNAMES:

Do not call him "Kitten" he might actually be upset by that. On top of that, it's so... basic... predictable. It's not special. No, something that basic wouldn't work on him... and that's not considering the fact he himself isn't too big on petnames. Though.. seeing that he died in the 70s, I enjoy that the thought that he defaults to names from that decade. I believe he would call you "Dollface" or even just "Doll"

It'd take him a while to grow used to the idea of being called anything other than his.. name.. but he looks like a "Pumpkin" or a "Lovey"

.. just don't call him that around Angel, he won't hear the end of it..

ZZZ:

Tends to sleep either sprawled out of curled into a ball. Really it depends, though more often than not he sleeps sprawled out. Doesn't like being held while he sleeps, so cuddling while you guys doze off is off the table. Though, he wouldn't mind you scratching between his ears or shoulder blades sometimes... maybe you'll even hear him purr. Will take a decent amount of time before you get to the "sleeping in the same bed" stage. Old man snores, so good luck with that.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #husk x reader #husk x you #husk imagine #husker x reader #husker x you #husker imagine

[natalievoncatte]

This was a rare novelty: Lena was not the most famous person in a pubic place. In fact, dressed down in jeans, a tank top, and a ball cap, Lena was downright unremarkable. Or at least, it seemed that way.

All of the attention was heaped on Kara. Or rather-

“Supergirl!”

A gaggle of girls of versions ages charged over to them in a virtual mob, and Lena felt almost snubbed. Kara, herself in shorts and a Sentinels jersey, briefly seemed confused at the attention, even though she’d been out as Supergirl for almost six months now.

She quickly settled into meeting and greeting, asking the girls their names and signing various bits and bobs for them while the rest of the group, Alex and Kelly and Nia and Brainy, hung back, just behind Lena.

Finally, Kara managed to disentangle herself when security started breathing down their necks.

Lena had gotten everyone box seats directly behind the home dugout, and the group made their way down.

“This is pretty far from the rent-controlled section,” Kara said, grinning as she gestured at the nosebleed seats, a high above them on the top deck.

Brainy immediately settled in to study the game program and books on baseball he’d brought with him, amiably explaining (mansplaining? Coulansplaining?) baseball to Nia. For her part, his girlfriend seemed content to listen to his excited chatter, so Lena wasn’t bothered.

Alex had apparently appointed herself to keep Kara fed, and had already acquired enough snacks for a small army, and Kara was happy to dig in and take a chili dog in either hand.

Lena didn’t much care for the game, so she was pleased when Alex handed her a beer with a sardonic “things we do for love” look. Kelly was apparently more the fan of the two, and the Sentinels were playing the Metropolis Knights in this game, prompting an intra-Superfriend rivalry.

As for Lena? She was there for Kara.

The afternoon light seemed to caress her features, bringing out the soft glow in her honeyed skin and golden hair, and there were depths in her eyes that no one in the world could ever equal. Lena could stare at her forever and never get bored.

The spell wasn’t even broken when she polished off the first two hot dogs and let out a wild, rumbling belch that made her giggle and Alex roll her eyes.

She already knew that she was in love with Kara, but every time it seemed like her heart was full to bursting, it grew even fuller.

Lena has meant this for them. Lena had offered her the seats, hoping to feel out Kara about the potential for a date-date, to finally get an answer about the maddening tension between them over the last two months. Kara spent more time at Lena’s new house over the last two months than she had in her own apartment, and yet that line had never been crossed.

The line remained unbroken, but they were right up against it. Kara gave Lena’s thigh a squeeze without seeming to realize what she was doing, then yanked her hand back as if she’d touched something hot, and just played it off when Lena looked at her, and kept looking at her.

The start of the game spared her from the awkward conversation.

Kara was eager to explain to her, leaning over to over-explain the nuances of every move and play.

Exactly like Brainy and Kelly were doing with their girlfriends.

Lena paid her more attention than the game, so Lena didn’t even notice when one of the Knights hit the ball oddly and, instead of flying out over the field, rocketed almost straight up. Lena was, in fact, so focused on Kara that she didn’t realize where the ball was going until it was cutting lazily through the air and headed straight at her head.

A yelp jumped from her throat and she jerked back, but of course there was nothing to fear. A moment later there was a hearty slap of cowhide on skin. Kara plucked the ball from the air two inches from Lena’s nose, dramatically holding it in place for a moment.

When she moved her hand, and the ball, Lena followed Alex’s eye-line. Kara’s sister was groaning.

They were all on the Jumbotron, the huge screen over the left field stands, and the crowd was pointing and cheering as the announcer’s voices boomed out about the great catch by Supergirl.

Lena wanted to sink through her seat.

Then Kara said, “Here.”

She held out the ball in both hands, turning in her seat. The way she held it, cupped gently in her palms with great reverence, giving Lena a weird and silky flash of her doing the same thing with a velvet box. Lena took it, grinning like an idiot in spite of herself and clutching it to her chest.

Lena pointed at the giant screen, and Kara looked, waving to the crowd as if she’d suddenly remembered that they were there. Lena gave a half-hearted wave, then turned back to Kara to say something.

Whatever it was, it was utterly scrubbed from Lena’s brain by impossibly soft lips gently brushing her own, then locking with them. Some distant part of Lena’s brain tried to explain, to rationalize. It was a mistake. Kara would get flustered and play it off with something about what friends are for and the moment would slide away, a taste of a dream that would leave Lena starving for another morsel.

No. Kara was full on kissing her. The heat that surged through Lena’s body was all consuming, and she barely registered the thunderous cheers from the crowd. She let herself fall into Kara, hiding against her shoulder as Kara wrapped an arm around her and settled them both lower in their seats, tugging her ball cap down.

The camera finally turned its attention elsewhere.

Alex turned to Kelly and said, “fucking finally.”

“Hey,” said Kara, her voice soft and only for her. “Want to head home after the stretch?”

Home. Not your house. Home.

“I’m not totally sure what that means, but yes,” Lena whispered back, then popped a bit of popcorn in Kara’s mouth.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #Jumbotron kiss #idiots in love #fluff #total fluff #there is no plot here only warm fuzzies

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

How the iudex sleeps

Unexpectedly enough Fontaine started wondering how the great judge is productive enough to do all his work and some bizarre ideas start pooping up until the iudex himself says his 'secrets'

Read also: otters sleep holding hands and with their babies on their bellies and I found that incredibly sweet

WC: 1,3K

Cw: gn reader, you both have a baby but it isn't specified if he is biologically related or adopted

‘The chief of justice is a busy person’ is a known fact amongst the citizens of Fontaine, who see him working through many cases plus uncountable quantities of paperwork. That led to a question for some people ‘how does he get enough energy for the day’ at first the common guess was coffee but they were told off by an angry melusine.

“Huff! As if monsieur Neuville would ever drink such things! Only weird humans can drink something that bitter”

That quickly shut down that possibility and led them back to the board of ideas. About that time reporters started to notice how many people seemed interested in maximizing their energy and being awake for longer, while they aren't life changing or particularly interesting sections, some weeks are remarkably unremarkable and anything is better than nothing.

Now every week there would be a few merchants promoting tonics, pallets and pills that enhance energy, even when they would find ways to waltz around trying to mention the judge in their advertisements.

‘Lawfully energetic’

‘as fierce as a dragon’

‘enough to stand 100 trials’

Even if the last one was almost enough for the mermonia palace to get involved for using Neuvillette's name it was vague enough that it got off the hook.

Usually Furina’s crew would be able to rehearse two scenes before tea time but for some reason it was already 2 pm and they were still rehearsing the beginning of the play.

“ I'm sorry, Ms. Furina, I just can't connect two ideas together today” the female lead says as she grabs her head, sighing deeply. Furina touches her back and before she can ask about it someone shares a thought to the air.

“ Oh! Have you tried nilotpala lotus tea? It seems to stimulate the nervous system and clear up brain fog. Maybe the iudex uses that” the man who was supposed to be practicing the piano to match the scene says with a slight poison over his words.

“ Isn't brain fog rich coming from you?” Furina yaps at him “ your tempo was off the whole day” as she looks over his shoulder and rather than seeing a music sheet she finds the newest issue of steambird “what are you even reading? Focus on the piano! We have a show next week!”

She quickly grabs the paper and starts reading the small column with advertisements and tricks, huffing at the idea “stop reading those newspapers and keep rehearsing! The magic fix you are looking for is simply a good night sleeps, like the iudex you are stalking for an answer” she sighs loudly before looking at her crew.

“Is that all?”

“Simply a good night's sleep. What else were you expecting? An extract with 10 times more caffeine than a cup or liyue acupuncture?” She looks at her crew and finds some of them nodding and others seemingly disappointed “now, a break or can we start from the top?”

Unsurprising enough, very few people believed what she claimed, most likely wishing for a strange concoction that can make up for bad habits. Even then a few girls believed it to be rational enough of an answer, seemingly even one of them must have said furina knew his whole nighttime routine causing a hoard of reporters to crowd her door asking senseless questions.

‘Does he use sleep mists?’

‘What kind of fabric are his sheets?”

‘What does he eat before bed? Does he drink water?’

After being stalked everywhere from her home to the supermarket or the café she started dressing up in disguise to escape, luckily a few days after she noticed the quantity of reporters went down and only one came knocking on her door asking about the rescheduling of her play.

“ Oh, yes, we had to reschedule as there was an ‘important trial’ that had to be dealt with urgently. A representative of the palais mermonia apologized for the inconveniences but in the end the most important thing is justice!” furina says with her characteristic theatrical flare. Now looking at the reporter scribbling things on his notebook she adds a bit “the new date will be in two weeks, if someone presents the special meet and greet tickets with the old date they will still be valid”

As he finishes writing he goes off to write the article “thanks miss!”

Now standing on the doorway to the rehearsal room, Furina was expecting the usual sleepy greetings or the usual chitchatter or gossiping but, unusually enough, the whole room was silent and her whole crew was hunched over a spot, their backs facing her.

Clearing her throat she greets them first but they still don't react “ morning? Guys? Are you all okay?” she rounds them trying to get their attention until one of them catches sight of her.

“Director! Look! Monsieur Neuvillette told his secret to the newspapers!” He grabs the yellow paper and holds it to her face, a big bold font meeting her eyes.

CASE MELUSINE AND OTHER QUESTIONS WITH THE IUDEX: PAST CASES TO HIS GREATEST SECRET

‘Greatest secret?’ Furina thinks for a second ‘did he already publicly state to be the hydro dragon? Doesn't seem like it’ but she quickly smiles at her co actor “So? What is his secret?”

But all her crew look at her with a questioning glare “ what we have been wondering all this time? Who would have guessed our director was right!”

“What is that even supposed to mean?!”

Charlotte looks at the pages full questions she prepared for her so desired meeting, who knew that after so long wishing for it she would truly get a chance to interview the iudex, even if half the questions she prepared couldn't be answered for privacy or because the cases weren't closed she got enough material to fill a good pair of pages. Even then she couldn't lose this opportunity and started asking the ‘dumber’ or sillier questions

Looming over one particular line she wonders, would the judge consider it rude for her to ask that given he was giving her his important time but she simply swallows and asks

“How are you able to work through so much work?”

“My apologies?” Neuvillette furrows his brows and looks confused “I don't think I quite understand what you mean”

Charlotte breathes in deeply before elaborating “People have been wondering how you have enough energy to do all the work you are able to do”

Neuvillette stays silent for a second with his eyes closed

“It's known the iudex doesn't talk about his private life, so if you don't want to answer-”

“ It's not that” Neuvillette reassures her calmly “it wasn't a question I was expecting, that is all” he crosses his legs and details as Charlotte writes

But regardless of how many tries we have thrown to the ceiling we all were wrong, the way our judge is able to power through the day is simple actually, a comfortable bed and his beloved family. Even if he refused to expand on information about his family he did speak more about his routine.

“I'm unsure why people care so much suddenly but it's very simple, really, I always sleep with my lover in bed and keep our child on my chest” even as Charlotte choked on her own spit at a sudden juicy revelation neuvillette barely glanced over the rim of his goblet “we are also rather particular about bedding, but for now we settled on silk flower sheets made I'm liyue”

As he drinks water a small smile creeps up his lips, remembering that very morning vividly, his fingers firmly entangled with yours, almost as if he fears you would leave and meet a cold spot when he wakes up, even when you are practically hugging his side. Or your young baby peeking his head out of his father's sleeping shirt and feeling the soft beating of his heart with a pleased face.

Hm, he is sure that is why he always wakes up with enough energy to power through his duties .

Opening his eyes he finds Charlotte with small tears on her lashes and muttering ‘how sweet’.

“ So about your son…?”

“No”

“Understood”

#genshin impact #gi #neuvillette x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillete #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #the blue text was supposed to be tte newspaper #hshshs just in case it didn't translate that way #neuvillette otter

[works-of-fanfiction]

The Love of Another - Part Two || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

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Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, angst. Some (pretty cringe) fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5.7k

 a/n: thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the first part of this! I haven’t written anything multi-part in literal years, but this was fun. some chunky sections of dialogue here, hopefully easy to follow! enjoy x 

(Paul is Paul Anderson and Sophie is Sophie Rundle (if that wasn’t obvious already). Y/N’s character in the show is not canon/replacing any of the actresses, just feel free to use your imagination and slot her in somewhere! it is yourself after all.)

“Would you rather have Tommy teach you to ride a horse, or Arthur teach you to box?” The interviewer asked, smiling at the actress in front of her. Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, tapping her knee as she thought about her answer. “That’s a hard one, because both could end up with me on the floor!” She joked, looking past the camera at the crew who were essentially getting paid to laugh at anything she said. “I have to go with Tommy on this one. It’s probably the least dangerous! Plus, who doesn’t love watching Cillian ride those horses?” The two women laughed together before swiftly moving onto the more serious questions about Y/N’s debut in the series. “I’d have gone with Arthur.” Y/N’s husband sneered, lowering the volume on the TV. Behind him she was sat at the table, re-reading the new scripts she’d been sent and familiarising herself with the lines.

“They pay me to say stuff like that, you know.” She declared casually, not bothering to look up from the page. He turned around and watched as she scribbled down some notes, mouthing words to herself quietly.

“They pay you to brown-nose Cillian?” He scoffed, leaning on the back cushion. Dropping her pencil with a sigh, she finally looked up with raised brows.

“Yes. Just like I got paid to brown-nose every other man I’ve worked with.” She quipped sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and twirling the pencil between her fingers. She waited for him to respond, but the snarky comeback never came. A smart choice on his part.

Despite her only having met Cillian once, her husband still had this bizarre idea that they’d spent every waking moment together during filming. Y/N had become too exhausted to argue about it. Her career and her future in Peaky Blinders was a lot more important than her husband’s petty jealousy, and she certainly wasn’t going to throw away the role of a lifetime because of him.

“Y/N… Your line.” The prompter called, waving the script in the air and tapping the page with her pen.

“Oh, sorry. Can we go from the top?” Y/N asked nervously, looking around at the crew that were becoming increasingly impatient. What was supposed to be a quick and simple scene was turning into an hour of do-overs with Y/N forgetting small details on every take. “I’m really sorry everyone.” She addressed the room, some mumbling back, others just rolling their eyes and whispering among themselves.

Stepping forward off his mark, Cillian turned to the director. “I think we can pick this up next week. Don’t you?” He asked quietly, eyes flitting to Y/N and back again. “Long day…”

“Alright. We’ll set up for this scene first thing Monday morning, but I want it finished and perfect by lunchtime.” He spun in his chair, ordering everyone to go home and rest up on their rare weekend off.

Sighing, Y/N tugged at her hair, freeing it from the clips holding it tightly in place. Paul patted her shoulder sympathetically before leaving set, shaking Cillian’s hand on the way out. Cillian sat down beside her quietly, waiting for everyone else to filter out. Once the room was empty, he scooted closer, slipping his hand in hers beneath the table. “I had it, Cill, I had it.”

“I know.” He soothed, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I did it for my sake, not yours. This suit is itching.” He joked lightly, pulling at his collar. Looking up, she felt a smile creeping onto her face. There he was, being cheesy, always trying to cheer her up.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I think the guest in your trailer might have something to do with it.”

Nodding, she looked down at their hands, at Cillian’s gentle fingers dancing along her veins. She thought about her husband; how he’d travelled all this way and spent the entire afternoon waiting for her. Yet here she was, comfortable in the arms of another man, betraying him for the thousandth time.

Cillian could see the cogs turning in her head. Forgetting to blink, she stared down at the tabletop, studying the cracks in the brown paint. He squeezed her hand softly, reminding her he was still there. “What are you thinking?” He whispered.

“I have to tell him, don’t I?” She asked, not really seeking an answer. For months she’d tried to plan a way to tell him, to come out with the truth and end her marriage for good, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t something she could do over the phone, but she also couldn’t bear to see him in person. She continued to pretend everything was OK, smiling through their FaceTime calls and sending love hearts whenever she couldn’t answer. ‘Couldn’t’ meaning when she was with Cillian.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, or when, or where, but I know I have to. I mean, it’s been a year already, and I think I just lost track of time but then  – “

“Hey, hey.” Cillian grabbed her face gently, putting a pause to her rambling. “You don’t need to go making any grand declarations today.”

“If I leave it any longer, it’ll just make it worse.”

Y/N seemed to stare straight through him, her jaw tensing beneath his fingers. Part of him wished he could fix it for her, that he could go to her husband himself and tell him the truth to save her the burden. He feared how her husband could react, knowing he had a habit of getting jealous and suspicious whenever she got too friendly with a man. He knew he could handle it but wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from the entrance; it was Sophie, looking for her so she could drag her to her birthday night out. The pair separated, Cillian standing awkwardly. “There you are. Come with me, I’ve found the perfect dress for you to wear tonight!”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He smiled, giving Y/N one last reassuring smile before leaving the building. The last thing Y/N wanted to do was go out, but she didn’t want the crew hating her even more after her earlier fiasco, so she dragged herself to the wardrobe department and let Sophie show her the dresses they were going to ‘borrow’ for the evening.

“A vision in red! Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Paul beamed, hugging Y/N tight as she joined the group, her husband in tow. Paul made the effort to greet him - the man lucky enough to steal Y/N’s heart - as he put it. She laughed along, the pang of guilt inside her chest doubling in size. He may’ve had occupancy of her heart once upon a time, but that space had since been filled by someone else, and that someone was currently sat in the corner looking as handsome as ever. Cillian raised his glass to her, smiling, his arm flexing in his t-shirt. She nodded back, the all-too-familiar rush of heat spreading up her neck and to her face.

It was the perfect night for it, considering the football match just a few miles down the road was keeping most of the city occupied for a couple of hours. Everyone chose to pack out the pubs, leaving the majority of the bars fairly empty and ideal for the star-studded crowd to hide out and enjoy their night. It wasn’t often they all stepped out together like this, but birthdays were an exception. 

“Drink?” Y/N’s husband asked, throwing his arm over her shoulder. Leading her to the bar, he gushed about his conversation with the Arthur Shelby, and how much of a nice guy he was. She wondered if he’d speak so highly of Cillian, or if his strange vendetta would get the better of him. “Shots for the birthday girl?”

“Oh, not yet. Let me ease myself in.” She laughed weakly, drumming her fingers on the bar.

“Not even one?”

“Why? Are you trying to get me drunk?” She raised a brow, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Well, you always were fun after a few drinks…” He purred, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She grimaced at his words, but luckily he didn’t notice as he was too busy waving at the bartender.

He ordered, yelling obnoxiously over the music. Y/N’s eyes wandered across the back of the bar as she absentmindedly bobbed her head to the song playing, mouthing some of the words. “Oh, I’ll get these.” They both turned to see Cillian standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, a friendly smile on his face.

“It’s alright, mate. I promised I’d get the birthday girl her first drink.” Her husband’s hold on her tightened as he spoke, his fake grin wide enough to blind a man.

Y/N stood there between the two men, her heart pounding as she felt Cillian’s stare on her face. He’d had good intentions coming over, wanting to keep an eye on her, but she wished he’d stayed put at his table. She already struggled to act normal around her husband, and her lover’s presence only made things ten times more difficult.

“Perhaps some shots then? My treat?” Cillian rested his arm on the bar, catching the attention of another bartender.

“She doesn’t want – “

“Shots sound great. Thanks, Cill – ian.” She stuttered, correcting the nickname before her husband noticed. He looked down at his wife, then back at the man beside her who calmly ordered, leaning over the bar so he didn’t have to shout. Funny how she suddenly agreed to shots when he was the one paying…

Cillian passed Y/N and her husband a shot each, and they downed the drinks together. She winced as it burned her throat, sticking out her tongue as she groaned. “Tequila! Are you trying to kill me?” 

The Irishman laughed, nodding a last thank you across the bar. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiled sincerely, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. He left the bar, rejoining the cast and crew and instantly slotting himself into a conversation. She watched him fondly, almost forgetting about the man stood behind her. Stretching his arm over her shoulder, her husband placed the drink into her hand. 

She turned and took a sip. “Thank you… Wait, you didn’t take your shot?” She asked, pointing at the full glass on the bar. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. “Why not?”

Swallowing with a loud ‘ah’, he shrugged, his expression blank. “I figured it was a moment to be shared between the two of you. Here. Why don’t you have mine?” He slid the shot towards her, tapping the rim of the glass twice. “Go on. It’s your birthday after all.” 

“You’ve got some nerve. Can’t you go a day without starting this bloody argument?” She hissed, pushing the shot back to him. Some of it spilt over the edge, leaving a sticky sheen on the bar. “Drink it, and let’s go join my friends.” 

“I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me to.” He leaned down to her level, trying to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t scared of him; she just saw him as a pathetic, jealous little boy. When he behaved like this, it made her wonder why she ever felt bad for cheating on him at all. 

“Fine. You want to be a child? Then two can play that game, babe.” She spat, turning on her heels and heading towards Cillian. She slipped herself into the group between him and Sophie, linking arms with the woman on her left. “Which one of you is going to dance with me?” 

“I thought you’d never ask!” Sophie squealed, taking Y/N’s drink. “Look after this, will you?” Thrusting it into Cillian’s free hand, she then dragged Y/N into the nearest space, throwing her arms in the air and whooping to the music. They joined hands and spun around like two girls in a playground, shouting the wrong lyrics to the song and giggling uncontrollably. 

Y/N twirled around and set her sights on Cillian, beckoning him over with her finger. “I’m not dancing!” He laughed over the music, keeping a firm grip on their drinks. “I’m guarding your drink!” 

“No, go on. It’s her birthday.” Her husband goaded, appearing behind Cillian. Y/N frowned as she watched the two men speak, unable to hear what they were saying. Sophie grabbed her and spun her around, putting her back to them.

“Shouldn’t it be you dancing with her?” Cillian asked innocently, gently placing the drinks on the table. 

“Oh… I don’t think she’s my friend at the moment.” 

Watching his wife dance, he got the sense he was losing her; that she was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d noticed how Cillian watched her, that lovesick puppy dog smile pasted on his face and eyes following her every move. He had attended many an event with her past co-stars, and none of them had ever looked at her like that. To him, Cillian was showing off, gloating that he’d lured his wife away from him. He wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if it was the last thing he ever did.

Y/N stumbled out of Sophie’s grasp, dizzily making her way back to the table. “Everything alright?” She asked, out of breath and reaching for her drink. “It’s a workout dancing with her.” 

“Don’t you worry, love. Everything’s fine. I was just talking to Cillian here about you. About the two of you, I mean.” Sniggering behind his glass, he gulped down the remainder of his beer and wiped his mouth, clearing his throat. Cillian’s face contorted in confusion, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, toes curling inside his shoes out of frustration.

“What’s he said to you?” She asked, directing her question to Cillian. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be rudely interrupted. 

“So quick to jump to his defence.” 

“We’re not doing this here.” Y/N snapped, dropping her glass with a thud. “You are not showing me up in front of my colleagues, my friends.” 

“Pick a place then, love. It won’t make a fucking difference.” Her husband could be nasty when need be, but she wasn’t about to stand and take it, especially not with an audience. 

“Right - “ Cillian started, cut off by Y/N barging past them both and towards the doors. This caught the attention of her cast mates, which Cillian quickly fed a lie to before speeding after her. 

He found her outside, stood against the wall and hunched over, hands clutching her knees. “Y/N, I’m so sor - “ 

“Cillian, don’t you dare apologise for his behaviour. Do you hear me?” Her voice shook as she spoke, the sudden rush of anger overwhelming her. She slid down the wall, sitting on the pavement, her exposed shoulders flat against the cold bricks. “Who does he think he is? Acting like that in front of everyone? I could lose my fucking job.” 

“You wouldn’t lose - “ 

“Yes, Cillian. I would. If the studio… If the writers found out about this - “ 

“They won’t.” He asserted, kneeling down so they were on the same level. “They won’t.” 

She took a few deep breaths, Cillian’s presence calming her down as he crouched opposite her, his fingers resting lightly on her knees. “You know, for months I have felt like the worst human being in the world. Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing the cheat staring back, the lousy fucking cheat.” 

“So, you’re not perfect. You’ve done some, admittedly not great things, but I don’t think anyone in there would blame you.” 

“Somehow I don’t think they’d praise me for fucking my co-star behind my husband’s back.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple with her fingertips. “God, I’m sorry, Cillian. I’m not trying to… You’re so much more than that, I – “

“It’s alright. You’re upset… And I can handle whatever you throw at me.” He joked, reaching out to pinch her chin.

Hearing the doors swing open, the two flinched, Cillian rising from the ground instinctively. “Well, isn’t this cosy?” Y/N’s husband drawled, sauntering towards them. “So… I was right, yeah? You and him?” He pointed between them, his words directed at Y/N.

“Please…”

“Just answer me. Put me out of my God damn misery.” He threw his arms in the air in defeat, letting them fall to his sides, hitting his thighs with a loud slap.

Pressing her palms against the ground, Y/N pushed herself up, adjusting her dress as she steadied her feet. She approached her husband, and Cillian put his arm out to try and hold her back. “It’s OK, Cill.” She stood looking up at the man she once loved, her hands balled into fists at her side, thumbs picking at the fabric clinging to her legs. “You’re right. You figured it out.”

He exhaled a laugh, kissing his teeth. “I knew it.” Turning away, he ran his hands through his hair, looking up to the sky and sighing deeply. “How long?” He looked back, hands on his hips and brows furrowed. “Y/N, how long?”

“Since my twenty-ninth birthday…” She said shyly, realising just how much worse that made everything look. It had been exactly a year, pretty much to the hour, that she’d shared the first kiss with Cillian that started it all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, I am sorry for interrupting your little anniversary night…” Exasperated, he took a deep breath and exhaled the air with puffed cheeks. “You know what? You are not the woman I married.” He pointed his finger in her face, but she didn’t react. Folding her arms over her chest, she stepped back until she felt Cillian against her, his hands supporting her upper arms. He whispered comforting words into her ear and her eyes began to water as she continued to stare at her husband, distant and unblinking.

Silence fell upon them, and Y/N expected more to be said, but was surprised to witness her husband turn and walk away. Anything else he had left to say was muttered under his breath as he disappeared around the corner. She and Cillian waited a few seconds to see if he would come back, but the street stayed unusually empty and quiet. “It’s alright. He’s gone.” Cillian whispered, and she spun in his arms, clinging onto him desperately.

Her thoughts felt like they were drowning in a whirlpool, like she couldn’t take control of them no matter how hard she tried. The heaviness in her heart had dissipated, but the ache in her stomach and throbbing in her head persisted. “Can we get out of here, please?” She begged, her head buried in Cillian’s chest.

“Shall I tell the others we’re leaving?”

“Just leave it. Please, can we just go?” Her voice cracked as her hold on him tightened, pieces of his shirt screwed up between her fingers.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Lying on the bed, Y/N stared at the ceiling, her fingers ghosting over Cillian’s as he laid beside her. A strange mixture of relief and dread washed over her body, making her feel weak yet incredibly alive at the same time. She wanted to jump up and down, to declare her feelings for Cillian from the highest rooftop she could find. However, another part of her wanted to hide, to burrow under the covers like a scared child until it was safe to come out. She was too afraid to check her phone; it was probably already blowing up with messages from her family and friends.

How could you? 

Who was there for you when you were starting out? Did the fame get to your head? 

He’s heartbroken! You should be ashamed. 

The mere thought of it all made her head spin, and it was far easier to leave her phone on do not disturb and pretend no one else existed for a moment. Her thoughts felt so loud, and she wondered if they both held their breaths for a moment, would Cillian be able to hear the gears twisting and turning inside her brain? Or the steam coming out of her ears? 

“Some birthday this was.” She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Am I supposed to feel bad? Like… Is this the point where I’m supposed to cry and scream about how terrible of a person I am?” 

“You can if you want to.” Cillian turned his head to the left, and she looked over at the same time, their eyes meeting in the middle.

“No… I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t. I don’t feel bad, not anymore. Is that horrible?” 

“How do you feel?” 

This was a new feeling for Y/N, for the both of them in fact. Throughout their relationship they’d spoken about everything from their favourite albums to their very particular pet peeves. They’d even spent a whole night debating the existence of aliens, sitting out on the balcony of a hotel room and bickering with each other beneath the stars. The thing they hadn’t really spoken about were their feelings, including their feelings for each other. Those three fateful words were still dangling from the tip of Cillian’s tongue, and there was so much Y/N wanted to say in return.

“I feel… Relieved. I feel free.” Clasping her hands together, she tucked them under her head. “That’s awful to admit, isn’t it?” 

“It’s better than pretending.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of her dress. “Paul was right, you are a vision in red.” 

Y/N giggled, swatting his hand away and adjusting the strap. “You are such a flirt!” 

They stayed looking at each other, studying each other’s faces as if there was something new to see. Y/N counted the little flecks in Cillian’s bright blue eyes, watching his pupils twitch and change sizes with every few blinks. He added up the freckles on her face, imagining how they’d look if they were connected like tiny constellations across her cheeks. He smiled to himself, his tongue poking out to swipe across his bottom lip. “What?” She asked, eyes squinting with playful suspicion. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” His voice was gentle and quiet, barely reaching above a whisper. It wasn’t necessary in the room they were in. Not a single sound could be heard around them, except for their breathing and bodies shuffling against the sheets. He swallowed his words, assuming that perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear them. It had only been an hour since she confessed to her husband in the street, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with a big declaration of love. He’d know when the time was right, he was sure of it.

Rolling off the bed, Y/N pressed a kiss to Cillian’s forehead and went to take a shower. Whilst she was gone, he looked around the bedroom, spotting various bits of his belongings scattered from the many times he’d stayed over. Filming for the series was almost complete, and it would soon be time for them to pack up their rentals and head home, wherever that may be. He thought about how things might change now that they technically didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Would people start to notice? Would they be victims of some derogatory Daily Mail headline by morning? 

Returning in a towel, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, combing through her damp hair in the mirror. Cillian knelt behind her, balancing on the mattress as he ducked his head down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the birthday you deserve.” He murmured against her skin. She closed her eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling of his lips moving across her shoulder blade. 

“I think it was exactly what I deserved.” She whispered, turning her head to catch a glimpse of him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed up at her through his lashes. 

“There’s still just under two hours left of it. Do you think we can turn it around?”

“What do you suggest?” 

Cillian scrambled to his feet, hitting the carpet with a clumsy thud. Clicking his fingers, he pointed to Y/N, a goofy smile on his face. “You still have that wine in the fridge?” 

“You really trust me to drink wine after last time?” She raised a brow then mimed throwing up, clutching her stomach with her arm. “After last time…” She fake gagged, making him grimace.

“OK, OK! Bad idea!” 

He stood with one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. Cocking her head to the side, Y/N admired the view in front of her, pinching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something oddly appealing about Cillian in regular clothes with the signature Tommy Shelby haircut. He wore a crisp white t-shirt with dark jeans, which just happened to be one of her favourite looks on him. It was simple, yet he somehow made it the most attractive thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes followed the trail of his veins down his forearm, where they reached the hand that sat just above his waistband.

“I’m gonna be honest, that was my only idea.” He laughed, resting his cheek in his hand. 

“Cillian…” She said softly, shuffling to the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”

As he approached, she parted her legs, giving him enough room to stand between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down, his eyes meeting hers. She looked so beautiful like this; just wearing a towel with unruly wet strands of hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her cheeks blushed a light pink, decorated in a couple of stray droplets of water from the shower. 

“Closer.” She whispered, reaching up to grab his shirt. He lifted his knee and rested it on the mattress beside her, using his hands as support as he hovered over her, lowering her until she was laid on her back. 

“Is this close enough?” He breathed, his palms flat on either side of her head. 

“Almost…” 

He lowered himself further as if he was performing a press-up, using the strength in his wrists to steady himself above her. “This will do.” She smiled, bringing her lips to meet his. 

Dropping to his elbows, Cillian weaved his hands into her hair, tugging gently at the root. She moaned softly into his mouth, arching her back to inch herself closer to him and press their chests together. He groaned, a shiver coursing through his body as the towel around her dampened his shirt. 

Pulling away from the kiss, they each opened their eyes and gazed at the other, panting quietly with heat-flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Their faces were just close enough to still be able to see one another properly without their vision blurring. Y/N sighed, her forefinger tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “Are you OK?” Cillian asked, running the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. 

“Yeah, I just…” She couldn’t concentrate with his fingers under her chin, featherlight and careful across her skin. Blinking slowly, she relaxed into his touch, relishing in the feeling of the goosebumps that prickled her cheeks. 

“We can stop if you want.” 

“No, no. That’s not what I want. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her words weren’t exactly a lie, but they didn’t seem to match the look on her face.

Worried, he flipped onto his side and laid next to her, his right hand finding a loose piece of thread hanging from the towel and twisting it around his finger. “If you need a bit of space for a while – “

“No, Cillian. Please don’t say that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry…”

“I just don’t know what happens next. Am I supposed to announce it to everyone? Do I file for divorce on Monday? How does this all work?” She laughed slightly, mostly at herself for being so clueless. “I think telling everyone my marriage is over will be the easy part. How do I tell them about us?”

“Well, the divorce stuff can wait for a bit. You don’t need to rush into anything.” He patted the bed, searching for her hand. She turned her palm upwards, letting his slide over the top and their fingers entwine. “As for telling anyone…”

“What?” She rolled onto her side, mirroring his position. “Do you think we should tell people?”

“I was going to say, is there really any need in telling anyone yet? I mean, we’ve kept it between the two of us for this long already and – “

“Yes, but that was because we didn’t have a choice.”

“I know... but just think about it. I think it would be weirder if we charged into work next week and announced it to everyone.”

She stared at a crease in Cillian’s shirt, daydreaming about how things were going to be. He was right. They didn’t need to shout about it, and Y/N certainly didn’t want to draw any attention to herself just yet. She already knew what people were going to think of her and label her as, and she wanted to delay the backlash for as long as possible; whether her husband was going to allow that was another story…

Cillian opened his arms for her, scooting higher onto the bed so his feet were no longer dangling off the edge. She followed, snuggling into him and tangling her legs with his. The silence between them was heavy, like there were a million words going unsaid. Y/N knew that Cillian was everything she wanted, but a small part of her worried about what would happen to her husband. Being married to someone for four years was going to leave a stamp on her forever, but she sincerely hoped he’d be OK, and that he wouldn’t try to inflict a war on her and Cillian. She knew in time that things would smooth themselves out and feel normal, but for now, she was content to sit in her little confusing bubble, just as long as Cillian was in it with her.

“Cill?”

“Mhm?”

“When we met earlier in wardrobe, and I spotted that box, what was in it?” She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“You really wanna know?” She nodded. “OK… Well, that box wasn’t actually for you.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what was in it! It was already there.”

“Cillian!” She slapped his chest playfully and he huffed, feigning hurt. “Why did you say it was for me?”

“Technically, I didn’t! You just assumed.” He laughed, watching her cheeks redden and brows knit together. “Don’t look so disappointed! Listen, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow when I give, or rather take you to your real present.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“That’s all I’m saying! I’m not going to spoil it.”

“Fine…” He hugged her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She listened to his heartbeat, counting the thumps in sets of eight. Looking up from his chest, she was surprised to see him already looking at her. “What about my other present?” She whispered.

“What do you – Oh, right. That.”

She sat up, kneeling beside him so she could see him better. He rotated onto his back, folding his arms across his chest, and tucking his hands under his arms. “Y/N – “

“No, wait!” She turned her head, fixing her messy hair and readjusting the towel around her body. Turning back with a flip of her hair and a dramatic flailing of her arms, she gestured for him to sit up.

“What are you doing?”

Awkwardly crawling closer on her knees, she ran the back of her hand over his cheek, leaving it to rest below his jaw. “Cillian.”

“Y/N.” He chuckled, and she immediately hushed him. She tried her best to be serious, but laughter threatened to burst out of her. “Whatever you’re doing, please get on with it because you’re freaking me ou – “

“Here it comes…” She spoke in her best attempt at an Irish accent, cringing at herself.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He threw his head back, belly laughing, and she grabbed him by his shirt to pull him back. Composing himself, he bit his cheeks to refrain from laughing any more. “Sorry… Go on.”

“I love you.”

He was silent, staring at her as he ran his fingers along his upper lip nervously. He knew it was coming, yet it still caught him by surprise, hearing those words come out of her mouth. He’d heard her say them plenty of times when they were in character, but this was different. They sounded so sweet when they finally meant something, and feeling her eyes on him made his heart pound in his chest. “Too cheesy?” Y/N asked, dropping the terrible accent.

“Cheesy, but I liked it.”

Sitting down cross-legged, she reached her hand out for him which he gladly took. He kissed her knuckles softly, keeping his lips there as he looked up at her. “I love you too.” He confessed. Both their bodies seemed to slump as if a weight they’d been carrying had been lifted, and despite everything that had happened, or rather gone wrong, that night, this moment felt right.  He kissed her again, before slotting his fingers between hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we’re going to be OK.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy oneshot #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

[kairoot]

. ﹙★﹚THE COLOR VIOLET. | 희승

PAIRING : heeseung x f.reader ➖ GENRE : angst, 80s au, high school au ➖ REQUESTED : no ➖ WARNINGS : lowercase intended, pet names, break-up, no happy ending, swearing, let me know if I missed anything! ➖ WC : 1.6K

SECTION SONG: the color violet by tory lanez

.˚ *꒰ঌ ✦ ໒꒱ * ˚. —

apologizing was hard, but accepting an apology you didn’t believe in also proved to be difficult. there were not enough fingers on your hands to count how many times heeseung had apologized for causing you trouble.

whether he wasn’t communicating or distancing himself randomly. but his biggest issue was keeping his promises.

that was definitely something he lacked in your relationship and it was getting old. he’d fill your head with all these fantasies, sweet talking you until it was time to actually act on what he’s saying.

you used to believe him, getting your hopes high when he would tell you things but disappointed when they wouldn’t come true. now, you wouldn’t even bat a lash at anything he was saying. cause in the end it would never happen.

you sat on the bleachers in the gym, watching everyone dance around with friends or their partner. your chin rested in your hand as you thought to yourself. staying at home with a cola in your hand and watching full house play on the television screen seemed like a much better idea. you wondered why you didn’t go with that choice rather than believing heeseung when he said he’d be joining you that night.

a few guys had gave you glances, showing that they were interested and some even came up to you, but you were in no mood to move around. and even though you planned to end things with heeseung, that didn’t mean your loyalty wouldn’t remain.

before you could let your eyes wander anywhere else, one of the large double doors of the gym flew open. your eyes widened as your boyfriend entered the building, hair and suit soaked from what you assumed was rain.

his eyes hurriedly scanned through the huge crowd of high schoolers, hoping to spot you somewhere on the dance floor.

your feet had began to move down the bleachers before you could even think about it. you scrambled to the drink section hoping that he didn’t catch sight of you.

a sudden feeling of anxiousness washed over you as you poured the red beverage into the matching cup. you gulped it down, trying to rid the dryness in your mouth.

a hand on the small of your back was the reason your drink almost came back up, the sound of your coughing was heard in the small area.

“woah, take it easy on the ‘punch’, maybe?”

there he stood in front of you now, showing off his intoxicating grin. you would’ve fell all the way into his arms if you didn’t have morals.

you avoided his gaze, staring down at the empty cup. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him and say those words all at once.

“hey,” the tip of his finger came to lift your chin, doe eyes looking back into yours.

“you okay?”

you nodded, still looking up at him, feeling a bit vulnerable under his stare.

“c’mon.” he smiled again, starting to lead you toward the dance floor.

“no.” you pulled your hand away from his, remaining in your spot at the drink table.

heeseung looked at you once more, a concerned expression spreading over his features.

“what?”

“i can’t do this, heeseung.” you placed your cup to the side, finally bringing yourself to look at him.

“what.. what do you mean?”

he’d hoped you didn’t mean what he thought you meant but you did. everything that heeseung had put you through caused you anything but happiness.

“you know what i mean.” you sighed.

“baby, you don’t really mean it.” he gave you a half-hearted smile, his hand coming to caress the side of your face.

“as much as i’d hate to admit it, hee.. i do. i mean it.”

for a moment, there was only the sound of music blaring and people cheering around you. heeseung seemed like he couldn’t bring himself to say anything so you continued.

“to be honest with you, this relationship hasn’t brought me much happiness and i think that should change.” you removed his hand from your cheek as it came to rest at his side.

his body tensed up as your words seeped into his brain. this was the talk he knew that was coming but never wanted to hear.

“and i.. i just can’t continue like this, hee. not when you can’t even keep your promises.” you tried to be transparent with him but careful not to hurt him either.

“y/n, i’ll do better i-“

“will you, though? or is that just what you’ve told me the last couple of hundred times?” you tilted your head slightly.

“you know, i had to get a ride from jen and her boyfriend because you clearly forgot about tonight.” your hand came up, gesturing to his damp appearance.

he sighed, shaking his head, “look, baby, you know i didn’t mean to..”

“you never do, do you, hee?” you asked, rhetorically.

once again, he couldn’t answer to your words and could barely look you in the eye.

you took one more glance at him before walking off to another corner of the gym.

heeseung felt his eyes burning as he took the cup you were drinking from and took a sip from it.

after realizing he couldn’t stand being in the same place he had his heart broken in and with all the love songs playing, he took long strides toward the double doors he came in, now exiting through them.

the rain still came down like pellets on him as he struggled to find his dark tinted car.

he stumbled toward the door, unlocking it and sliding in the drivers seat. the engine started as the key entered the ignition and he pulled out of the school parking lot, already doing 90 in the rain.

heeseung wasn’t angry at you, per se. actually, he was quite frustrated with himself. he didn’t blame you for breaking up with him. it was his own fault that his heart got broken and that you couldn’t have the happiness that you deserved.

★ ★

milan’s note: LOL no joke this sucks ik.. i havent had the chance to write a longer fic in a while and this clearly shows but i wanted to try something new! first sentence prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz — message or comment to be added

#kairoot #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #heeseung x yn #heeseung x you #enhypen heeseung #heeseung enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction

[etheries1015]

Lilia X reader - Rejection

Lilia X GN! Reader -

General warnings: Angst, no comfort (sorry brotha), Lilia rejects your advances after some...slight miscommunication and misunderstanding :(

Lilia is just a poor old fae, who so happened to take what he thought to be a harmless joke too far.

TW: None that I can think of, however, let me know if I missed anything so I can edit this section accordingly!

The red eyed fae had always made it a point to tease you, so much so to the point where you began to suspect his 'teasing' was, instead, flirting. He would always hang upside down, giving you a devilish smile and saying things such as; "Ah, prefect! When are you going to give this poor old fae a chance?" with a chuckle. You always responded with a roll of your eyes and an exasperated sigh, easily hiding the blush beneath your facade of exasperated sighs and rejection.

He had no clue when this time you crossed your arms and replied, "Fine." you meant it full-heartedly, while he only fed into what he thought to be an ongoing inside joke. He laughed about taking you to some lavish date in town with extravagant hand gestures, inwardly chuckling at how he thought he was sounding ridiculous, yet you were listening rather attentively and taking him seriously. You both parted ways to your respected dorms, Lilia failing to notice a very real blush that flared upon your cheeks as he winked and disappeared from sight.

Lilia hadn't truly meant what he said, he was simply going along with a bit you two had made while gaming at some point. You had known of his age, and made some sort of joke about; "let's get married, so when you die I can benefit from all of your life savings," or something along those lines. He laughed hysterically at this joke and decided to keep the bit going on, unaware of your true feelings about him.

At some point months after you had endured his endless pickup lines and marriage proposals, there you were sitting in pomefiore in front of a mirror where Rook and vil took liberties in dressing you up. Rook had been singing your praises while Vil nodded in approval at his work. He did your hair and light makeup, while Rook had found an outfit that best suited your figure and extenuated your most flattering of features. What you called "too much," they simply said it was necessary to help you 'glow,' as Vil put it. "There, perfect. Now, will you finally tell us who you're going on this date with, that caused you to come begging for my fashion advice?" Vil inquired to you, making the finishing touches to your hair. Rook circled around you in the chair that you were sitting in, admiring the work he and his housewarden had put into your finalized date look.

"Oui!" Rook exclaimed, holding his hands dramatically to his heart, "We must know who took the heart of our beloved prefect before any of the rest of us had the chance!" He proclaimed. You responded in laughter and a shake of your head. Blushing deeply you simply sat up from the chair as Vil finished his work on your appearence, and gave them a small hug.

"Thank you guys for helping me, but...i'll tell you if it goes well. I rather keep it a surprise for now," You smiled gently, making your way to the door out of the lounge. Rook grabbed your arm gently, you turned around to notice him waving his phone around indicating he wanted to take a photo.

"For coming to us for our assistance and for hiding the identity of your date, asking you to allow us to take a photo of your beauty would be the least we may get in return, non?" You couldn't resist his charming nature and his way with words, so you agreed giving him a big smile and striking a flattering pose to show off your fit. After taking a photo much to his liking, Rook gave you an approving nod whilst Vil patted you on the shoulder wishing you luck. With your look now completed, you took your leave heading to the spot you had agreed upon.

There was a specific cafe you had been wanting to visit in the town, and when you mentioned it to Lilia over text (after you finally agreed to his advances) He simply replied; "Sounds like a lovely little place, I'd love to go." You smiled down at your phone, re-reading the text you had made the night prior, texting him "On my way," before chuckling in delight and putting your phone back into your pocket. The skies were rather cloudy that day, and rain seemed to be forcasted from the shadowly clouds afar , however you did not let this deter you from your plans. You made it to the cafe and stood to the side of the wooden door, pulling your phone out once again to glance at your notifications. He hadn't responded. You weren't too worried about this, he wasn't one to give fast responses, and the type to say, "Well I figured since we were about to see each other in person, why bother replying?" in these situations. So, you gave it time.

10 minutes. 20 minutes. 25 minutes. The clouds you had dreaded were now casting shadows over you, and rain began to sprinkle. Becoming antsy you decided to walk inside, being greeted by staff before taking a seat at a small table meant for two. You stared back down at your phone, texting him once more.

Are you coming?

No response, and no indication he had read it in the first place. You gave it a little bit more time, perhaps he got caught up in some sort of nonsense with Sebek or something came up with silver?

30 minutes, 45 minutes...You decided to call him. The fact that it went straight to voice mail indicated he must have been on 'do not disturb' mode, something he often does when he's...gaming.

screw it. You ordered a drink and sat back down at the table. Growling in annoyance you sipped away at your drink while continuing to tell yourself "15 more minutes, 10 more minutes, it'll be okay, he has a family back at the dorms, and he's kind of forgetful. I'm sure he will remember and respond to me soon. He's probably not actually playing games, he probably forgot to turn off do not Disturb after his raid last night... it's...it's okay." Another 15 minutes passed, another 50 excuses you convinced yourself of before it became about 2 hours past the time you had arrived. You had ordered two drinks at this point, playing away at your video game on your phone until it consumed your battery and eventually died.

you knew he wasn't coming.

Sighing in pure defeat, you stood up and disposed of your drinks, leaving a hefty tip to the worker who had served you. They gave you a look of pity and a small thank you for your token of appreciation, something that caused you to cringe and your frown to deepen after turning away from the counter.

don't look at me like that, You thought in agony, It only confirms that...I got stood up by the one person I didn't think would do that to me. walking out of the café with the rain pouring down heavier than before, you let out yet another miserable sigh before a weary chuckle. "Sighing?" you could hear a voice say in your head, "Why, you're letting all of the happiness escape you." You rolled your eyes at this and simply kept your feet moving, responding to the voice out loud, "Well... that's what happens when you rely on someone. You sigh away your happiness, because they took that with them."

Many people had already left the streets in search of shelter, to which you didn't care anymore. Your hair was now free of the styling Vil had taken the time to do for you, The little amount of makeup he applied was now streaming down your cheeks mixed with rain and tears. The outfit that was specially picked for you was drenched and sticking to your skin uncomfortably, however, you no longer cared at this point. Walking to the campus was about 30 minutes from the city, and the agonizingly slow pace in which you took extended it to closer to what felt like an hour. Or an eternity.

You walked through the gates of the school, the courtyard free from anybody in sight. You weren't sure if you wanted to go in just yet and face grim seeing you in such a miserable state, so you took a seat on the ground off to the side of the gates, sobbing into your knees. The weather has gotten worse pouring down heavier and heavier, you finally decided it was probably a safety hazard at this point, and lethargically picked yourself back up to make the way to your dorm. That was...until a familiar voice called out your name.

What a joke... He must have finally seen the messages. you inwardly laughed, staring blankly at the fae standing in front of you in the middle of the courtyard. He wasn't his cheery self per usual, he wasnt trying to poke fun or flirt with you, he was serious. His red eyes weren't glistening with playfulness, they were...not the Lilia you knew.

"Well if it isn't the man of the hour!" You called out, forcing yourself to laugh grimly, trying to rush past him, "better get inside before you get soaked too-" Lilia grabbed hold of your arm and pulled you back. He knew what you were doing, you were trying to pretend none of it ever happened. You were pushing back the fact you were hurt, and avoiding what he had to say because you already knew. You didn't want to hear him say it, you just wanted to dry off in your dorm and sleep the horrible day away, sleep away the burning in your heart and the wrenching feeling of dread that tore in the pit of your stomach.

"(y/n)-" He said, the playfulness that normally sang in his words was no longer there, only cold seriousness intertwined with his demeanor instead. You flinched, unable to reach his gaze and having a difficult time removing yourself from his strong grasp. You never knew that hearing your name come out of his mouth could feel so...estranged. It was common that hearing him say your name would make your heart dance in backflips, however this time it made your heart sting for a different reason.

"Please-" You choked out, "I just...want to go home." He shook his head and lightened his grip on your arm, where you were finally able to remove it and rub your wrist gently. A few seconds of silence felt far too long, the air was thick and the rain seemed as if it began to let up. His hands were placed on his hips as he sighed and shifted his gaze down with a shake of his head.

"I believe my joking has gone too far this time, i'm afraid," He said, looking up at you with pitiful eyes.

don't look at me like that, you thought in apprehension and a pained expression painting your features, like I should be empathized with. Like I am below you, like I...fabricated it all in my mind. No matter how much you wanted to say the words out loud, you couldn't seem to find your voice. So, he continued.

"I was under the impression that we were going along with a joke, I wasn't aware you had harbored real feelings for me. Forgive this old Faerie, I'm afraid I'm rather dense when it comes to romance, much less the... romantic advances of a human."

Your eyes widened slightly as your chest seemed to cave into itself. That word... Human. He was drawing a line, reminding you of what you are, and what he is. You knew this all along and had come to terms with falling in love with a Fae, especially one aged as much as Lilia himself. You scoffed and your sadness soon turned into anger, you quickly found your voice. With clenched fists and nails digging into your palms, the shaky unsureness was replaced with adrenaline and rage.

"I know!" You yelled sternly, looking down at the ground with tears of melancholy rushing down your flushed cheeks red with vexation. Lilia didn't seem to have much of a reaction to the sudden outburst, he gently folded his arms and listened to you as your poured your heart out of your lungs.

"I understand. I'm a naïve human, and you're a wise old Fae!" You sobbed, "Do you really think I'm that stupid?!" Your eyes were lit with fires, looking up to reach his own slitted orbs of deep Burgundy. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, he had a frown upon his lips and eyes devoid of any strong emotion, but you didn't care anymore.

"You have lived many years, far past my own. I get that! But you know what, I didn't care about any of those differences, because I love you, goddamit! I love you because you're Lilia, I wasn't even thinking about your age, your race, or anything! But I get it, I know what you're thinking." Your heart pounded and throbbed in your chest, even after admitting your feelings out like that, you still couldn't tell what Lilia was thinking this very moment behind those eyes. He hadn't moved a single muscle since you began your confession.

"To you, I'm just...a young human who can find anyone else that will fulfill my romantic needs that this is a phase of infatuation, But I-" He finally held his hand up, and you can feel the line he was putting between the two of you. He knew you were going to try and tell him that those things didn't matter to you, how you could still live happily by his side, and convince him that you didn't care what happened in the future, but to live in the present. However you can also tell there was no changing his mind, there was no convincing him, and his convictions were final.

"It seems that you already know what I'm going to say," Lilia spoke in a calm authoritative tone, "I hope we can still enjoy each other's companionship as friends, however, it cannot go any further than that. I apologize for casting confusion in your mind, (y/n), however romance is..." He turned his back, "far too late for me."

With that being said, you blankly stared at him as he left you behind, once again sitting limply against the side wall of the gate. You tried to tell yourself you understand, and perhaps this was nothing more than a..."right person wrong time" situation. As you tried to console your mind with reasonings to your stressful encounter, you weren't entirely certain how long you sat out as the rain in which you thought was dissipating, began to thunder and pour it's tears as it had earlier.

The only sounds left behind was the sad song of a broken heart, and the rain drowning out your defeated sobs.

----

A link to my master list!

- don't worry I have a fluff I'm also writing about Lilia and reader to make up for the angst.

- honestly I feel like I'm not very good at writing angst and I have a difficult time creating an atmosphere of like...heart break, so if you have any suggestions for improvement please do let me know, I enjoy reading (CONSTRUCTIVE) feedback to enhance my writing skills!

- I also have so many ideas for like...an aftermath of all of this. If you have any ideas or suggestions as well, please share! Perhaps I'll write a second part...

PT 2 HERE

#Lilia #lilia vanrouge headcannon #lilia vanrouge #lilia twisted wonderland #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland fanfiction #Twisted wonderland X reader #Twisted wonderlamd headcannon #lilia vanrouge headcanons #twst headcanons #TWST #TWST x reader

[kykyonthemoon]

A chocolate confession

Your thrown-away chocolate box ended up in Xiao’s hands, and so did your heart.

Tags: Xiao x F!Reader, High school AU, fluff, first love

923w

— Masterlist

—————————————

Lazily, the afternoon sun fell on the vacant classrooms. On the rooftop, where there was a small garden that had been neglected for a long time, you sat on a shabby wooden bench all by yourself. Tears spilled over the neatly wrapped gift box in your hands.

Then, you grabbed it and hurled it forcefully into the grass in front.

"Ouch!"

You were startled by the scream that came from the bushes. You got up right away and moved in its direction. As it happened, there was an additional lawn beyond the shrubs that led to the final section of the terrace that you had never been to.

There was another person there. A male student.

He picked up the box and rubbed his head, messing up his dark green hair a bit. He looked about for a bit, confused, and then he saw you.

“Is this yours?” He asked while holding out the box to you.

Embarrassed, you just wanted to deny it and run away. But maybe he already knew the answer right from your silence. He "hmm" loudly, then looked at the gift box in his hand.

“Almond chocolate?…”

“S-Sorry…” You mumbled. “Give it back to me…”

He sat motionless and gazed up at you, his face looking tired. Your flaming eyes were visible to him. You, on the other hand, were rather terrified of his icy coldness. You retreated a step.

After a moment of considering, somehow he leisurely unwrapped the gift in front of you. To your extreme surprise, he just said:

“If no one takes it, I will. You were going to throw it at me anyway.”

“Eh…” Before you could react, you saw him pick up a round chocolate from the box and put it in his mouth.

You just stood there bewilderedly watching him eat another one. The wind dried your tears. You were so confused. The chocolate box was obviously meant for the person you'd been crushing on for a long time, and it was brutally turned down. You wanted to throw it away out of sight, but now a strange guy came out of nowhere and sat down to enjoy it.

But you did not stop him either. There was something odd emanating from him that no one ventured near to disturb. In the blink of an eye, he devoured the chocolate box and held the empty box out to you. “There. I ate it. Don't cry anymore."

You now realised why he was acting that way. You lowered your head, preparing to cry once more.

“I told you not to cry. Your crying is so loud it bothers me."

You covered your face with both hands, revealing only your grinning mouth. You replied in a trembling voice:

“Yes… Got it… Thank you…”

Thank you for receiving my chocolate.

From that day on, you started paying attention to the friend on the rooftop. He was a student in the next class to yours; his name was Xiao. He was cold, quiet, and liked to hide in that garden nook during breaks or after school. Although he appeared unapproachable, he was actually a warm person. By receiving your chocolate on Valentine's Day, it was his way to make you feel less sad after being rejected.

And it worked better than expected. Not only did you quickly get over that hopeless love affair, but you also managed to become friends with Xiao.

You often met him on the rooftop, still in the same place. You chatted about all kinds of things about studying, friends, hot dramas that you heard of at school... Xiao did not seem to care much, yet instead of chasing you away, he laid on the grass, listening while half sleeping. It was nice to have such a quiet friend to keep you company, because somehow, you felt like a burden had been lifted, and all your secrets would be safe with him.

In a blink, a year had gone by. This year's Valentine's Day, you also brought another box of chocolates to the rooftop.

“Who rejected you this time?” Xiao took the gift box from your hand. He was sitting cross-legged on the grass. You walked over and sat down next to him.

"No one." You answered. All the phrases you had prepared ahead of time vanished as the anxiety in your heart increased.

"So, to whom is this intended?"

“Well…”

Xiao paused midway through the gift box's unwrapping. He was waiting for an explanation as he gazed at you.

“This… isn't for anyone else... but you...”

Your expression flushed. You gave Xiao a covert glance. His already expressionless face transitioned from shock to embarrassment. His face was parted with a pink line that reached his ears.

“For me?…”

“Yeah…”

Your two hands were firmly clenched together. You murmured: "For you... Because you have always been by my side since this day last year..."

Xiao looked at the box of chocolates in his palm, confused, then looked back at you.

"So this is just a token of appreciation?"

“Not really.” You gave a brief explanation. “Actually… I wanted to give you chocolate… Because… because…”

Xiao fixed his gaze on yours. "Because?"

"Because I wish to spend this year's Valentine's Day with you... And many more Valentines to come…”

It was a little awkward, but you eventually expressed your emotions to Xiao. He was taken aback. But a smile flashed across his face. He took up the chocolate box and gave it a little shake.

"Alright then. It’s a deal.”

-The end-

#genshin impact #fanfic #fanfiction #xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #character x reader #genshin impact fanfic #latte for two series

[carolmunson]

the nerve.

virgin!eddie x reader, semi-modern AU, it's the very early 2000s (early enough that the phantom menace would have already come out in 1999, but cellphones weren't really a thing yet.) i feel like we've been on a toxic!eddie train for a little so here's a little love drunk baby boy (in his late 20s) whose been about you for ages but the timing wasn't right. now you're together and it's time, but he's real nervous. this fic is mostly from eddie's point of view, so, hopefully you bitches like that. super fluffy, smutty, sweet. cute. tooth rotting even. warnings: smut, minors dni. couples first time, virgin!eddie, p in v, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving).

Eddie's hands are sweating when he pulls up to your house. A small little one bedroom he's been in so many times before -- cozy and soft, like you. You never have the overhead lights on, except for in the kitchen. Always opting for something warm and glowly, decorative. You told him a story once about how women used to put pink lightbulbs in their house so they'd look younger and he never forgot it, so now he tells people that story and says he learned it from you.

You hadn't been dating long, but he feels like he's been with you forever. You come so naturally to him -- years of friendship will do that to a person, he guesses. Spending those years watching you be with someone else, someone he didn't really know very well -- different town, someone you used to know in college with Nancy. When you showed up to Steve's after the break-up he was almost relieved but he felt awful about it. Feeling giddy while you cried into Nancy's shoulder and Robin rubbed your back. You thought you were gonna marry that guy -- how?! He didn't even like your favorite movie! He didn't even know how you liked your pancakes! Or how you lie about what your favorite song is depending on who you're with! (It's a tie between Nina Simone's 'New Day' and The Beatles' 'Blackbird' in case anyone was wondering.)

Getting here, coming to your house for dinner dates, taking you out, holding your hand, that was an easier task than what was to come. But it wasn't an easy road to get here for him either. He wasn't really great at the whole girls thing.

It's why he was was still blushy and nervous the night you came over to Steve's for a movie night. You all got snowed in. He knew you liked him and you knew he liked you but you weren't sure if you 'like' liked each other -- you'd never said. Neither of you had.

He stopped breathing when you'd sat next to him, sinking into the cushions of Steve's large L-shaped sectional with your knees brushing. Steve casting glances over at Eddie to implement at least one trick he taught him to get close to you. 'If she doesn't do it back then you know it's not happening, it's that easy.' It's that easy? He'd rather die than make a move and have you not be into it.

You were half way through The Empire Strikes Back when he noticed Steve knock Robin on the knee with his. Robin looked over at the two of you, knees and shoulders touching, hands to yourselves. Her lips curled into a mischevious smile when she realized what her partner in crime was asking from her.

"Hey," she whispered over to you, offering you a peach ring from the bag, "Want one?"

"Ooh, thank you," you whispered back. 'They're my favorite.' He thinks it as you say it to her, he knows they're your favorite, that's why he always picks them up at the gas station before he shows up to these things. The crinkling of the bag gets Nancy's attention and she casts a glance up at Steve from where she's settled in the crook of his arm. They share knowing looks, shaking her head while her attention goes back to the screen.

"You want one, Ed?" she asks, except this time her hand is much farther away, resting on the back of the couch so that he'll have to reach behind you to get one. Eddie looks at her, eyes begging, 'you're kidding'. Her eyes glint back in the glow of the TV, 'I'm not kidding.'

"Yeah, sure," he says shakily, reaching across the back of the couch. If you know what he's doing, you're not letting on and that's fine with him. He grabs the candy, popping it in his mouth and letting his arm rest behind you at first -- heart pounding while he moves it downward enough so that you can feel him drape himself around you. He can't look at you at all while he does it, terrified that you might be disgusted by him even attempting to be close to you.

He swallows when you turn to him, your knees pressing up to his thigh when you shift your hips towards him, feet tucking up onto the couch. Eddie turns slowly to see you looking up from his shoulder, eyes shining with a smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," you say back in a whisper, inching your face a little closer to him, "Can you tell me what's happening?"

He lets out an airy chuckle through his nose, "I always forget you haven't seen these, sorry we started with the second one."

"So, right now," he starts, pointing at the screen, "Harrison Ford's character--"

"Anakin," you say, certain of your answer.

"No," Eddie laughs.

"Qui-gon Jinn," you offer, as a new answer. "Oh my fucking God," he laughs, running a hand over his face in disbelief. He looks at you, toothy grin and all, "You don't know who Harrison Ford's character is, but you know the name Qui-gon Jinn?"

"It's very memorable," you say softly, laughing at yourself. He loves that about you -- you're very confidently wrong sometimes.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, "That's like, in the newer movies -- he's not even in the ones from the 80s."

"Oh -- is it Obi-wan?" you ask, "Or Luke?"

"You know you're the assistant editor for the Culture section, right?" he asks, his face inching closer to yours, "How do you not know about film culture?"

"More like nerd culture," you huff back, rolling your eyes. When you turn your attention back to the screen he feels you settle into the crook of his waist, scooching yourself closer to him. His hand falls to your shoulder, unsure if he should hold you the way Steve holds Nancy -- arm wrapped around with a hand resting on her hip. That might be better for another day when he was feeling more confident.

Your head finds a home on his shoulder and part of his chest, your hair smells like Herbal Essences and he only knows that because he started buying it recently. He holds his breath for a moment while you get comfortable against him. Eddie eases himself against you, hand around your bicep to pull you in closer.

"Harrison Ford is Han Solo," he says to the top of your head.

"No, he's Obi-wan," you mutter defiantly, brushing off his answer.

"Sure," he laughs, "You're right, he's Obi-wan."

He kissed you in the kitchen after everyone had gone to bed and you both stayed up talking over a six pack. You tasted like peach rings.

Once he parks in the drive way he gives himself a mini peptalk all the way to your door. It's not like it was your first date, which he'll admit went really well, but this was the date. You both felt it. With every kiss getting more feverish, every makeout getting more and more hot and heavy, every wandering hand and mouth -- he was gonna have sex with you tonight.

Which would have been fine.

If he wasn't a virgin.

He'd gone over and over it again with Steve. Tips, help, tricks, reassurance -- but all of it made him feel even more inexperienced. It took him three years to graduate high school and he wasn't exactly the most popular guy there. No one caught his eye when he threw himself into work at the auto-shop, even less at the craft store full of old ladies, and even less at the comic book shop where all he was, was surrounded by other vigrins who were ten years younger than him.

He was always too nervous to talk to girls at The Hideout or other bars his band played at. They were almost always more into Jeff and Gareth anyway. Smooth talking, suave, more confident with age -- he felt like he was behind. Regressing, even. More focused on his hobbies, his friendships, more focused on you. How you'd talk about work and whether you wanted to move closer to the city. How you'd hang out at the bar with him after a gig and listen with bright eyes while he told you what was coming next for the band. How you'd ask about the next campaign for the store's D&D club. Even if you didn't get it, you at least tried. Anakin, Obi-wan, Qui-gon Jinn.

He knocks and rings the bell, he can hear the thump! of Brutus, your old gray cat, jumping from the couch down to the floor getting ready to greet him. You appear, flushed and smiley, some of your hair stuck to your cheeks with sweat.

"Hi, sorry, the kitchen's kind of hot -- didn't get a chance to y'know -- get my shit together," you say, while the door opens. He swears his heart is going to come out of his mouth out of these days with how it rises in his throat when he sees you.

"You look pretty," he says, shrugging off his jacket when he steps inside. You press a kiss to his cheek but it's not enough. With his coat still in his hand he catches you with the free one, stopping you before you head back to the kitchen, to kiss your lips.

"Hi, baby," he says quietly. You grin, eyes downcast to the floor.

"Hi."

"How was work today?" he asks, finally stepping away to hang up his coat in your closet by the door. Brutus follows him with scraggly 'meows' and 'rahhs', weaving through his boots to get his attention.

"Work was worky. Nancy's bummed she didn't get that promotion but she'll be alright," you scrunch your nose in sympathy for Nance, drying your hands off on your jeans.

"She's got bigger things going for her anyway," Ed says, bending down to scratch Brutus behind the ears. The cat nuzzles his hand with a pleased purr, following him who was following you back into the kitchen. He looks at the pots and pans boiling and simmering, the light on in the tiny oven. Your kitchen and little and hasn't been updated since the sixties but you told him you prefer it. 'S'part of my charm,' you'd say. He thought all of you was charming.

"This is a lot, baby -- you didn't have to do all this," he pleads. He hates when you over work yourself, and you do it all the time. 'I just wanna impress you,' he thinks your response as you say it because of course you do.

"Everything you do impresses me," he murmurs, coming up behind you while you massage arugula for a side salad, "But I would've been more impressed if you called a pizza joint and placed an order."

"I can't make a phone call," you laugh, "I think it would kill me. I think I'd have a heart attack."

"Which is why I'm saying it would've been more impressive if you ordered a pizza," he says into your hair, leaning his head on your shoulder, "What can I do to make this easier for you?"

"Will you just set the table for me?"

Dinner was delicious. You made it for him, so of course it was. He likes this, snuggling on the couch, laying long ways, Eddie's head on your chest with your hands gliding through his waves. His eyes are fluttering closed and open again while the graze of your nails glides over his scalp. He totally gets why Brutus begs for scratches behind the ears -- this must be exactly what it feels like.

The hum of 'If I Only Had A Brain' leaks out of the TV speakers. This was culture you knew -- you'd seen The Wizard of Oz a hundred times over. He knows it's not your favorite movie, but it's up there, it's close. Your favorite movie is Grease and you don't lie about that to anyone. You got John Travolta's autograph once and framed it when you were little, he remembers you telling him that when you were drunk at karaoke. You sang 'Hopelessly Devoted'.

Then you made him come up and sing Summer Nights with you. He wished he would've kissed you then, but you had a few drinks and he thought maybe you were just feeling flirty. That you didn't like him like that. You wanted to kiss him when he hit the end high note, it still makes your heart race a little when you think about it.

"This is so you," you say, the sleepy hum of your voice vibrates against his ear. He furrows his brow and looks up at you.

"Excuse me? If I only had a brain?" he inquires, hand crawling up to press against your face in a fake smack, "That's mean."

You laugh, it's a sound he wants to be the one to cause for the long haul, "I don't mean you don't have a brain, I mean like -- look at him move. He's such a goofball -- you're like that, you're goofy."

He rolls his eyes, "Okay."

"In a good way!" you argue playfully.

"Oh look, it's you," he teases when the Wicked Witch appears on screen with her green hands and sneering glare.

"Did you know that she actually --"

"Couldn't use her hands to eat or drink whenever she had the makeup on because it was toxic?" he finishes, shifting his body so he was caging you in under him. He uses his free arm to nudge you onto your back, both of your faces hidden by his sheets of dark hair, "You told me."

"Oh," you blush, "Sorry. I always forget who I tell my little facts to."

"No, it's okay," he says softly, leaning down to kiss you, "It's very cute."

"You're very cute," you say back when his lips break away.

"Stop," he says with a giggle. Always so boyish when he doesn't mean to be.

He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose when you lean up to kiss him again. The kiss is chaste and sweet, your legs parting so he can comfortably slot himself between them. He's come to learn how much you like that type of friction and closeness. You like loosely wrapping your legs around him -- it's a thought he has often when he's home alone and thinking about you.

You deepen the kiss, hands finding his hair, tongue snaking into his mouth. Somewhere deep in his belly comes a growl, hips pressing up against yours eagerly. The softest, 'mm!' squeaks out of you at the pressure and he can feel the gentle roll of your hips against him. His heart hammers in his chest -- oh fuck, we're gonna actually do it.

Eddie's eyes flick up to see Brutus on the lounge chair looking at him. He looks back at Brutus, green eyes shining into his brown ones -- it feels...judgemental.

"Could we maybe go somewhere that Brute can't see this? I feel like the spirit of your dad is inside him," Eddie asks, still keeping his eyes on the cat.

You let out an airy laugh through your nose, "Yeah, sure, c'mon."

Your room smells like you, so do your sheets, your pillows. He loved being engulfed like this, he didn't think he could be any more in love with a person.

You follow him in and watch him sit on the bed, eager faced and flushed. He gulps when you take your jeans off, followed by your sweatshirt and socks.

"I just wanted you to see -- surprise!" you cheer quietly, looking back at him. The set was burgundy, made of satin, shiny. Slightly frilled on the ends. Underwear cut high and perfectly laid over the curve of your ass. The cups of the bra in that old timey balconette cut. You bought it on purpose, you bought it for him.

"Oh fuck," he mutters to himself.

"I didn't know if you'd like black or red more so I sorta," you shrug, "Met them in the middle."

"I don't care what color it is," he breathes out, eyes glassy and blown, mouth completely dry. How could you talk so casually to him when you look like this? How could you act like this wasn't a really big fucking deal to have worn a set for him to see? With him in mind? Like, you thought about him while you bought this? His jeans feel tighter by the second. He leans back on his hands on your bed to take you in, "You look -- insane."

"In the good way," he quickly follows up.

"You like it?" you smile.

"I really like it," he nods, gulping again, begging his voice not to crack, "C'mere, let me look at you up close."

He watches you approach him and sits up slowly, hands coming out to caress you. He puts his hands up to cup your breasts, thumbs dragging over the fabric of the bra, drifting down to your hips where he leans forward to kiss the side of your tummy, another by your ribcage, a third on your sternum. He looks up at you afterwards, awaiting your lips when you lean down to kiss him.

"You're so pretty, baby," he mumbles against your lips, "You're beautiful."

He swallows when you get him on his back, biting his lip when you straddle him over his jeans. You take your hair down, he blinks hard to make sure he's not dreaming -- that you're really on top of him, really in lingerie, really looking like that.

"Shouldn't um -- shouldn't I be on top of you?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" you ask with a giggle, "You don't want me to be on top?"

"It's just, like," he sighs, letting his hands rest on the outsides of your thick thighs, "Aren't I supposed to be in charge?"

"You're not supposed to be anything, Ed," you reason, pawing up his chest until you were flat against him. You kiss him but he stays rigid, his mouth rubbery and unmoving.

"You okay?" you ask, his chest pangs.

"Uh, yeah," he says, shaking his head. He racks his brain for anything Steve might've told him, any porn he might've watched. Sure girls were on top but like, they didn't like that did they? Didn't they like being thrown around? Slammed? Fucked? What do you like? Shit, how was he supposed to figure this out? Especially with you grinding your hips like that, slow and teasing -- fuck.

You tug at his shirt and he uses the moment to pull it off, scooching you off him to take off his jeans. Regular, clean, tartan boxers. He wished he'd worn something sexier -- like boxer briefs or something -- something that didn't look so ridiculous with a hard on.

"So we're doing this, right?" he asks, climbing back on the bed and laying you down on the mattress.

"Only if you want to," you smile at him, reaching behind you to snap the bra off throwing it on the floor. All the light in the room was from a single three wick candle on your dresser on the back wall but even then he could see the curves of your chest. The shape of your body under him. Your head hits your pillow and he sighs, using one arm to steady him and the other to glide over you, from your cheek, down your neck, landing on the swell of your breast.

"You're so perfect," he says softly, eyes lingering where his hand was resting. He kneads it gently and smiles when it earns him a small gasp. Your legs part again and he uses his knees to part them further.

You look up at him, a little confused, but part your legs further anyway. He sits up, leaning back to take your arms and pin them against your chest, falling back into his previous position. He kisses roughly, you oblige but it doesn't feel like him.

He bites at your lower lip, hard enough that you let out a whine but he takes it as the go ahead. He lets his mouth wander, nipping down your neck in harsh love bites with nothing to follow up to soothe them. His hand snakes into your hair with a sharp tug.

"Ow," you whisper, but he doesn't hear it. Too busy trying to make sense of this in his head. Is he supposed to lick a stripe up your neck before or after he bites? Is it supposed to be closer to your jaw? Where did he even see this? This would be easier if he wasn't achingly hard.

“Hey, hey, stop — stop,” you say sternly. Eddie recoils immediately, sitting back on his heels and shrinking into himself with a deep blush you can’t see in the low light. His eyes sting with embarrassed tears, adams apple bobbing while he tries to swallow them down. His heart is beating so hard he think it might shoot directly out of his chest. And how awful would that be? First he ruins sex and then he just bleeds all over you?

“What’s going on?” you ask, pulling your blanket up from the end of your bed.

“I just — I’m doing what I thought you might like?” his voice his tight, like he’s holding back a cry, “Am I not doing it right?”

“Ed, I just want you to be yourself,” you sigh. You reach out to him but he slinks away before you can, "You're like, trying to be the DM version of you right now."

"Yeah but he's like, hot and confident," Ed shrugs, "I'm just...Eddie Munson, resident virgin."

"I wanna fuck Eddie Munson, resident virgin," you state plainly. His cock twitches, he thought he might even cum from hearing you say that.

"And you won't know what I like unless you ask me, don't just guess," you instruct softly. He let's you reach back out and touch him, pulling him down to lay next to you. His hand skates over your tummy and he wraps an arm around you to pull you close. The smell of your perfume and shampoo engulfs him instantly -- his brain had to be shutting down at this point.

"This is all about communicating," you assure, "Do you think you like it rough like that? Like how you were doing to me?"

"Um, I don't know," he lies, because he does like that. He thinks he likes doing it and he thinks he'd like it being done to him.

"I like it," you confessed, "Just not right now."

"Oh," he blushes, "You like when I'm rough? Just not all the time?"

"Exactly," you smile.

"So what do you like tonight?" he asks awkwardly, "Or what would you like tonight?"

"Soft," you say, pressing a kiss next to his lips, "And gentle."

You kiss him again, on the lips this time, "You."

With a newfound approach he leans in to kiss you, this he knows he’s good at because Steve overheard you tell Nancy that you ‘never got so wet from making out before’ and that it ‘made you feel like you were in high school again’. He gasps when you break away to kiss his jaw down to his neck, his hand traveling up to get entangled in your hair.

"I really like when you kiss me there," he pants out, eyes rolling when you reach a spot on his neck right above his collar bone, "Fuck."

"There?" you grin against his skin, letting your tongue run over it again before sucking on the spot eagerly.

"Fuck, yeah there," he whines, hips bucking against your thigh. You maneuver him again, crawling on top of him and he succumbs to letting you take the lead. Your hips do that deliciously evil grind over him again, and he can feel how dampened your panties are over his boxers. Each drag of your hips pulls his skin over the head of his cock, sending him hurtling closer to cumming than he anticipated. He reaches feverishly for your hips, holding you to a stop.

"Too much?" you ask. Fuck, why are you so cute?

"A little," he confesses, breaths getting heavy, hips twitching.

"Sorry, I just...I'm really horny," you whisper with a giggle, covering your face with your hand like a visor. He giggles back, shimmying down so your heat was directly over him.

"We can...you know," he says, reaching up to move your hand and place it on his chest, "We can do it."

"You sure?" you ask again.

"I'm sure," he assures, heart still thumping with nerves. He watches you lean over him, breasts directly in his face, knocking his nose, while you fish in your beside table for a condom.

"I brought some, they're in my --"

"Too late," you say, gold foil packet in hand, offering it to him while you sit back between his legs.

"You're too confident in me," he says at the sight of the Magnum XL wrapper.

"I promise I'm not," you laugh, "I've seen a lot of dicks."

You both pause.

"I mean...you...fuck, you know what I mean," you smack your hand to your forehead, "Let me shut the fuck up really quick."

He takes the condom from you and tugs down his boxers slowly, while you help him take them the rest of the way down. He sighs while he reaches down to pump himself a few times before slipping on the latex. He catches your eyes round out when you see it, your soft swallow of the saliva pooling in your mouth.

Maybe you weren't too confident in him.

It was a little tight, if he was being honest.

"I'm gonna be on top, okay?" you ask. He nods, looking at you while you slide off your underwear, nerves building in his throat. Adrenaline coursed through him like he just did a line, like he just played a show. Like you just kissed in Steve Harrington's kitchen. Like when you tasted like peach rings.

You kiss him while you get back over him, sliding over his length with your lips. Your thighs twitch when the rigidness of the underside of his cock runs over your clit.

"Ooh, fuck yes," you mutter to yourself, face crumpling with pleasure.

"That's good? You like that?" he asks, hands resting on your hips while you continue toying with yourself over him. You nod, knowing you're wet enough to take him without foreplay, which will be a different conversation for a different day.

He squirms when you take his cock by the base, guiding the tip to your entrance. "Oh, fuck, fuuuuck me," he gasps while you start sinking down on him, "Jesus fucking Christ. Shit."

He watches you sink all the way down to the base, bodies meeting again. He feels you press your weight on your hands on his chest, eyes rolling when you adjust your hips, walls tightening over him.

"Baby, I -- you're -- Jesus," he gasps, a soft groan follows suit. "Oh my god, oh my god," he hears you whine, eyes begging when he looks up at you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, nerves overriding his pleasure, "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm okay," you breathe out, "It's just you, fuck, you feel so good."

"I -- I feel good?" he asks, "I'm making you feel good?"

You nod over him, hips dragging up slowly and then back down, little soft gasps and moans coming out of your mouth when you lean your head back. He watches you in awe, light bursting behind his eyes and sparks going off in his belly while you pick up the pace.

"I'm -- oh my god -- I'm not doing -- shit -- I'm not doing anything," he admits, "How am I -- oh god, oh god --"

You slow down, resolving to grinding your hips slowly to answer him, "You don't have to do anything, you just...you fit like, perfectly in me."

He grabs a pillow and covers his face so you don't see him smiling like an idiot, "Are you saying I have a nice dick?"

You laugh and it sends vibrations down his shaft to his sac, his hips jump involuntarily. He feels you reach for the pillow and he grips it harder.

"C'mon, let me see you," he hears you say, relenting when that soft coaxing tone comes out of your mouth. You tuck the pillow off to the side, still sitting there with him inside of you. He puts his hands on your hips, sliding them down your thighs and then back up again.

He mumbles gently, "Can't believe you're here with me."

"I can," you smile, hips rising and falling again.

"Shit," he gasps, fingers pressing hard into the fat of your hips and back to your ass to steady you. He blanks out his mind, shaking out whatever Steve said, whatever porn he watched, whatever he read online. He lets you keep riding him until he sees stars and on instinct he wraps him arms over your hips to keep you in place and pull you to him.

"Want me to slow down?" you gasp out.

"No," he grins, planting his feet on the mattress. He bucks up into you, once, twice, three times until he gets a steady rythym. You feel like fucking heaven, and you sound like it too.

"Oh fuck, Eddie," you whine out, it's high pitched and needy. He grunts in response, chasing his high while your tits bounce in his face.

"Oh my god, oh fuck that's -- that's so good," you gasp, the end coming out in a yelp. Your nails did into his shoulders and he hisses in response, the pain feels good -- he makes a mental note of that to go back to later.

His thrusts slow as he feels himself getting closer to the edge, taking it away from him as he eases up. He wants this to last forever -- he can't even believe he's lasted this long.

"You good?" you ask, taking his face in your hands. He smiles, it's stupid, pussy-drunk.

"M'good, I'm so good," he says softly, "I wanna be on top now."

"Oh, okay," you chuckle out, "Let me just--"

You raise up off him and he whimpers at the feeling of you leaving. The cold air hitting his cock, his chest -- he feels exposed. You lay back on the mattress, legs open and spread for him while your hand travels down to rub lazily at your clit.

"You can't be serious," he whispers, "That's so hot."

"Me touching myself?" you ask.

"Yeah, you -- shit, you're a like a high preistess or some-something," he says, eyes wide with wonder while your hips squirm. He feels stupid after saying it, mentally scolding himself. You're such a fucking loser, Munson.

"Can you um," he takes a deep breath while he steadies himself between your legs, lining himself up with your opening, "Can you keep doing that while I -- do this?"

"Yeah," you nod, a whimper coming out of you when he pushes in. His body knows what to do but finding a rythym is hard at first. The caveman in him wants to just go for it, jackhammer you until he cums. He starts like that, hard and fast thrusts, grunting and moaning like an animal, hips smacking against the backs of your thighs -- but he can hear Steve in his head.

'Start slow and work your way up, try different angles -- when you feel her like...I don't know -- gush? That's when you know you're hitting it right.' 'Gush?" 'Yeah, gush. You'll know what I mean when you finally do it.'

He takes your legs, pressing them up against your chest -- a position he's definitely seen in porn. But the normal kind. The real couples kind. The kind where they're definitely in love. He readjusts, sliding back into you slowly, he smirks to himself when your eyes roll back, arms falling back to your ears.

Then he feels it.

The gush.

"Ed that feels so good," you whine, tears pricking your eyes, "You're doing so good, baby."

Eddie gasps, cock twitching wildly at the praise. His face gets white hot, biting his lip, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

You catch his reaction, letting yourself get louder for him.

"You're such a good boy, Ed," you coo between moans, "You're so good for me."

"So good," he rasps back, hips starting to snap erratically.

"Oh baby, shit, fuck, I'm gonna cum -- m'gonna fuck -- cum," Eddie grunts out, laying flush against you while he finishes out hard and fast. He groans into your ear while you feel him spasm over you and inside you, riding out his orgasm until he comes to a stop. He takes a shaky breath but he doesn't get up, his chest and shoulders continue to shake, he sniffles.

He's crying.

"Oh, no, Eddie -- baby are you okay? What's wrong?" you ask, running your hand over the back of his head. He lifts up slowly, looking at you and your concerned face, your kiss bitten lips.

It makes him want to cry more, "Oh angel, I'm sorry. I'm not sad I --"

"I just love you so much," he sniffles, laughing at the ridiculousness of this, face already wet with tears, "I love you and I've never like -- felt close to anyone like this before. M'sorry for crying. I know it's stupid --"

"It's not stupid," you smile, pulling him to your chest, "I love you, too."

He laughs again, "Do you think I'm some loser virgin for crying?"

He sighs at the feeling of your nails against his scalp again, his body still so sensitive with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"No," you smile, "Especially not a loser virgin. Since, you know, you're not anymore."

"I guess you're right," he says into your neck.

In the light of the three wick candle on your dresser, you both continued you lay there, naked and wrapped up in each other on your bed. You've switched around, your head on his chest and his hand stroking your hair.

"Do you uh," he starts, "Did you cum?"

You shake your head no, "I didn't, but that's okay."

"No, don't say that," he huffs, "Steve said that girls say 'it's okay' but that it's actually not."

"Psh, you really listen to everything that Steve says?" you argue.

"Well yeah, he's -- you know, he used to get girls before him and Nance were official," he says, "He wouldn't lie to me."

"Well I'm not lying to you either," you say, leaning on your side to look up at him, "It's okay."

He squints down at you, "I don't believe you."

With you on your side, he gets up on his knees again, hands finding your hips to lay them back on the bed.

"What're you doing?"

"I said, I don't believe you," he repeat, leaning down to kiss your stomach, your hip bone, the top of your pubic bone, "So I'm gonna make you cum."

"You're really confident," you say while he opens your legs to get between them.

"You think I can't?" he asks, a small frown falling onto his face.

"No, I'm sure you can," you urge, "I'm just saying, you sound really confident."

"It's sexy."

"Sexy?" he asks with a grin, kissing the inside of your knee, "I'll take it."

He looks down in the low light, your pussy still slick and glistening, still slightly puffy from earlier. No wonder guys ventured down here so often -- you looked delicious.

His fingers graze your inner thighs, making you shiver. His eyes meet yours, a devilish smirk dancing over his features, "Do you like that?"

"M'just excited," you blush, grabbing the pillow from earlier to cover your face. Eddie gets to work, laying down on his stomach, letting his lips slip and slide against your inner thighs before licking a thick flat stripe up through your lips. Your whine is loud enough to leak past the pillow, your hips grind slowly up against his mouth.

This was a skill he felt good about. He'd only done it once before a couple years ago during a really drunk hook up in the city, but he definitely didn't hear any complaints. And he figured, if he was a good kisser he had to be good at like...kissing pussy? That's how he thought about it at least.

His tongue traveled wherever he could let it go. Into your opening, against your lips, up and over the hood of your clit. He listened to your breathing, how your hips would react, the tensing in your thighs, trying to see where you liked it the best.

"Up a little higher," you instruct, pillow discarded, leaning on your forearms to look down at him. Your eyes meet and he melts, nodding while he moves up, waiting for your okay. He reaches up, the gods of cunnilingus speaking to him while he does, and pulls back the hood of your clit to lave his tongue over it.

"Ohmygod," you whisper out, head falling back on its hinge, "Don't stop."

"That's really hot," he croaks out to himself, looking at the expanse of your body above him, your exposed neck. He didn't mean to say it out loud. Fucking christ, he sounds like a teenager. He busies his mouth so he stops talking, sucking gently over you while your hips grind in time with his work.

"You can -- mm -- you can use your fingers, too," you tell him while your hand comes down to entwine in his hair. Eddie's eyes flutter closed, the gentle tug when you hit the right spots sends him reeling. His other hand comes up, tongue still flicking in alternating rhythms over your clit. He lets one finger slide in without resistence and then another -- Steve always said something about using two, but he doesn't remember, he just remembers 'curl upwards'. He pumps slow at first, your moans are getting to him, the sound hitting him right in his pelvis. The tightness of your walls around his fingers feels just as good as it was around his cock.

"Oh just like that, just like that, fuck," you gasp out. The praise sends him into a frenzy, hooking his fingers up to feel a different texture than before -- spongey, rigid.

But that's what it happens -- more than a gush. A flood, all over his fingers while your walls clench down hard on him. Hips rising off the mattress while you cum for him, whimpers and whines pouring out of your mouth.

"Easy, baby, easy," he giggles, free hand gripping your hip to ease it back down, "I got you."

You steady your breathing on the bed, feeling him detach from you, pressing soft kisses back up your tummy to your chest.

"You okay?" he asks gently.

"How," you breathe in, and out, "Did you get so good at that?"

He shrugs, "I dunno, just sort of winged it. Was I really that good?"

"You were really that good," you nod, "I came really hard."

"Fuck yeah," he nods to himself, still not realizing that he's thinking out loud, "Sick."

"Sorry," he says with an embarrassed shake of his head. You sit up, pecking him on the lips in a silent 'I love you,' and go to your dresser to throw on some pajamas. He reaches down off the bed to slide on his boxers, pulling his shirt over his head. You meet in the middle of the room and he can't help but hold you to him, feeling closer to you than he ever has. Magnetized, like you're meant to be touching at all times.

"I made brownies," you say, "They're already sliced up and in the microwave. Figured we wouldn't have time to get to dessert, so -- I prepped ahead of time."

"Is it lame to say I already had dessert?" he asks, a boyish grin showing off his teeth.

"Yes," you reply with a smile, "It is."

"Do you wanna watch Grease with me?" you ask while you walk to the door, warm light pooling into the room as you open it.

"Are you gonna say every line as it's being said like you always do?" he responds, following you out of the room, trying not to trip on Brutus who is scurrying past his feet to sleep on your bed.

"Of course I am," you say confidently, going to the kitchen to take out the plate of covered brownies in the microwave above the fridge. He takes them from you, placing them on the counter while he grabs two small plates from the cupboard above your head.

"Then I absolutely want to watch it with you," he smiles, a genuine full smile. Steve is gonna lose his fucking mind when he tells him.

Eddie Munson, resident virgin loverboy.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

[coochiequeens]

Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced

BY VICTORIA SMITH

The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.

“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.

What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.

In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.

What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.

I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).

Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.

As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.

Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.

Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.

In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:

“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”

Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.

Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.

When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.

My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.

#Traumatic births #Doctors not listening to women #There's no such thing as a birthzilla #Women aren't too posh to push #Doctors are so posh they schedule cesareans to accommodate their schedules not the mothers #Furness General Hospital Scandal #This is going to hurt #Keep Adam Kay away from women #Women wanting a say in their births are not acting like they want to control the weather #Nottingham maternity scandal #If the baby suffers during a traumatic birth it's the mother who will providing the care after they come home from the hospital