#I’d let him drown me with him

[connecting-the-stars]

Sea salt and scar tissue. Gunpowder and wires. I’m so sorry to inform you, but we are the same. (I am sorry - I really am.)

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[acourtofquestions]

So Long, London is literally Feyre and Tamlin

[wildsaltair]

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[trunklewunjle]

He deserves all the attention please let me marry him

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON THIS GUY!! AAUUEUE Sobbing so hard, i'm so glad that you guys enjoy him and all the other shenanigans on my page! if my friends haven't heard enough about how overjoyed i am over several things, my brain has definetly not shut up about it! (very positive <3)

Apologies for not posting as much! i am a creature who is stuck within the depths of responsibilities (as well as roleplaying with my friends sbfhf) (everything is great over there) (the world isn't ending over there). I have made a lot of art of this idiot but I'm not sure if I can post a lot of stuff just yet, partially because i accidentally used colors bright and contrasting enough to temporarily burn magenta into my eyes for 15 minutes

needless to say i've been having a good day so far though! have a great day or night too :) ( And to the one person who was talking about, eating the goo on their face (I hope)? I would not recommend it, but I can understand the appeal, it does glow! It will taste like magic and whatever else was put in his skull that day (: )

Memory belongs to me (Psych, and is apparently several others' meow meow) (I will not be explaining) Marshmallow (background) belongs to @nullandvalid, myself, and not the law

[extinctlesspains]

Something about how unhinged the Salesman/Recruiter does something to me. What if the reader is also a recruiter for the games? She's gotten used to his insane persona and knows how to handle it since they have to communicate about work. They'll often play games during these chats.

Sorry too many ideas floating!

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑇𝑤𝑜 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

.・。.・゜✭・

.・。.・゜✭・

ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ:ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:ʜᴇ sᴍɪʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪʟᴇ ғʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʜɪs ʏᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴇᴄʜᴏɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀғᴇ́, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʜᴇʟᴅ ɴᴏ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴇᴅɢᴇ. "ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, "ʜᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, "ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ."

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ, ɢᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The café was bustling, but the hum of life around you barely registered. Your focus remained on the chair across from you, still empty despite the time ticking by. He was late, as usual.

You stirred your coffee, letting the bitter scent ground you. Working with him was a test of patience and resilience, but it was also... oddly thrilling. The Salesman, you didn't know his name since he was very isolated, was chaos incarnate, unpredictable in the worst—and sometimes best—ways.

“Miss me?”

You didn’t jump at his voice; you were too used to his dramatic entrances by now. He slid into the chair across from you, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. His dark suit was immaculate, the red tie a glaring slash of color that caught the light.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting your coffee for a sip.

“Fashionably so,” he quipped, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “But I see you’ve kept my seat warm. How thoughtful.”

“Hardly.” You set the cup down with a faint smirk of your own. “If you’d been much later, I’d have left.”

“Ah, but you didn’t.” He leaned forward, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. “You never do.”

The weight of his words hung between you for a moment, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you gestured to the briefcase he’d placed on the table.

“Are we doing this, or are you just here to waste my time?”

His grin widened as he reached into the case, pulling out a familiar bundle wrapped in cloth. Unfolding it revealed two ddakji tiles—bright squares of red and blue paper, their edges slightly worn from use.

“You know the drill,” he said, setting them on the table. “Winner takes all.”

“And by ‘all,’ you mean…?”

He chuckled. “Coffee, pride, the satisfaction of victory. Take your pick.”

You sighed, already reaching for one of the tiles. “Fine. One round.”

The first smack of the tile hitting the table drew a few curious glances from nearby patrons. The Salesman’s opening move was quick and sharp, flipping your tile with ease.

“Your turn,” he said, lounging back in his chair.

You studied his expression, the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. He was too confident, as always. But you’d learned how to read him—his subtle tells, the little quirks that betrayed his intentions.

With a precise flick of your wrist, your tile hit his at just the right angle. It flipped cleanly, landing with the blue side up.

“Hmm,” you said, feigning indifference. “Looks like you’re buying the coffee.”

For a moment, he just stared at the upturned tile. Then, to your surprise, he laughed—a genuine, full-throated laugh that drew more glances from the other customers.

“Well played,” he said, clapping his hands together. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Or maybe you’re just slipping,” you replied, leaning back with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes, but the smile on his face didn’t falter. “Careful, recruiter. Pride comes before the fall."

As the game ended, the conversation shifted seamlessly into work. He described his latest target with the enthusiasm of a storyteller spinning a particularly twisted tale.

“Mid-thirties, father of two, drowning in debt,” he said, ticking the details off on his fingers. “His wife just left him, and his parents refuse to help. Classic case. He’ll fold like wet paper.”

You nodded, though something about his tone made you uneasy. “And what happens when he doesn’t make it?”

“That’s not our concern, is it?” He leaned forward, his smile taking on a sharper edge. “We’re just here to open the door. What happens after they walk through it is up to them.”

You hated how easily he dismissed it, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Still, the gnawing discomfort refused to leave.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said, watching you closely. “It’s a dangerous habit in this line of work.”

“Someone has to think,” you shot back.

His grin widened. “Touché.”

The tension between you had always been an undercurrent, a quiet hum that neither of you acknowledged outright. But tonight, it felt sharper, closer to the surface.

“You know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you’re the only one who’s ever beaten me at ddakji more than once.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” you replied, keeping your tone light.

“Or maybe,” he said, his gaze steady and uncomfortably intense, “you’re the only one who knows how to play my game.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, you wondered if he’d crossed a line, but then he leaned back, the smirk returning to his face as if nothing had happened.

“Another round?” he asked, already reaching for the tiles.

You hesitated, the weight of his earlier words still lingering. But then you nodded, picking up your tile.

“Fine,” you said. “One more round.”

This time, the game wasn’t just about tiles. It was about control, power, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

The tiles hit the table with sharp, precise smacks, the sound echoing louder in your ears with each round. Your focus narrowed, every move calculated, every flick of his wrist analyzed.

Smack!

Your tile flipped his for the second time that night.

He stared at the table, then back at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might be angry, but then he smiled—a real, genuine smile that softened the sharp edges of his face.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Looks like you win again.”

The words felt like more than just an acknowledgment of the game.

And as you sat there, the faint buzz of the café fading into the background, you realized something.

Maybe you weren’t just playing his game. Maybe he was playing yours, too.

[pinkboaclub]

Sweet Thing

Summery: You and Harry are best friends, despite your 15 year age gap. One night, when your blind date goes wrong, he wants to make sure your night still ends in pleasure. {Older!Harry}

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (15 years), mention of alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“Oh, what’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry asked, his voice warm with concern as you trudged over to him from the bar, exhaustion written across your face.

The music in the background blared so loudly that it felt like it was vibrating through your bones, drowning out everything else. Every Friday night, Harry rented a private room at the local club for your group of friends to unwind, drink, and let loose.

You collapsed into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’m just so tired…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer with a gentle smile. He knew how alcohol always made you sleepy and affectionate, especially after just a few drinks.

“Poor thing,” Harry teased, his lip sticking out in a mock pout. He was used to giving you the same spiel every Friday—how he knew even a little alcohol would knock you out.

“I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight,” you giggled drunkenly. “But then Eve and Clara dragged me to the bar, and I had one drink… and then two… and then three…it really wasn’t my fault.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something to eat, at least. You need to balance out that alcohol.” He reached across the table to grab a small bowl of pretzels and nuts he had sent to the table the moment he saw you take your first shot, but the thought of eating made your stomach churn.

Despite the 15-year age gap between you—23 and Harry 38—you had always been close. You were just friends, of course, and had made sure to clarify that to everyone around you, but it didn’t stop people from speculating.

But could you blame them? You practically lived at his house, spent most of your free time together, and took care of each other like an old married couple.

You half-heartedly munched on a couple of pretzels, trying to settle your stomach. Just then, a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water, which you drank down in one go, the cold helping to ground you.

As your friends continued their chatter, some heading to the bar, others to the dance floor, you stayed in Harry’s lap, drifting in and out of sleep with your head tucked into his neck.

“We can head home if you want, bunny,” Harry murmured, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back.

“No, I’m okay,” you protested sleepily, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled deeper into him. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

Eve, Clara, and a few others returned, laughing as they took their seats around the table.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen fall asleep in a club with barely any alcohol in their system,” Eve said with a teasing smile.

You managed a sleepy chuckle. “I can’t socialize without a little buzz,” you admitted, blinking your eyes open for the first time in a while as you sat up.

“As long as we get you on the dance floor later, I don’t mind,” Clara said with a wink, sipping on her margarita.

"Speaking of socializing," Eve began, eyeing you playfully, "Do you remember that guy we met at Jolie’s art exhibit? Elijah?" You nodded, though your memory of him was hazy.

"Well," she continued, "he kind of asked if I could set you two up on a date... but I told him I’d check with you first. It’s totally your call."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the idea of finally getting laid after months of dry spells, but before you could think it through, your words came tumbling out.

"Sure, why not? I think I remember him being cute. Is he nice?" You caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as his jaw clenched.

"He’s a friend of Jolie and me from University," Eve said, her voice light. "He was closer to Jolie, but he’s sweet. Really into art and music. I think you’ll like him." Eve’s tone was upbeat, though the surprise among the other girls was palpable. You'd been known to avoid dating for months, and yet here you were, agreeing to a date in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Eve texted Elijah to let him know you'd accepted.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes that were 10 times funnier thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system. After a couple more drinks, you, Eve, and Clara decided to hit the dance floor again.

"You’re coming with me?" you asked Harry, slinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Not really feeling it," he bluntly replied. "But don’t let me stop you."

You pouted, leaning closer to him. "You can go home, if you’re done. We could go home together." Your lips kissed all over his face, guilt creeping in as your drunk brain wondered if you'd done something wrong.

"No, no, sweet thing, I’m good. Just haven’t had enough to drink to feel loose enough to show off my moves," he chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your head. "Go have fun."

With that, you strutted away, immediately getting lost in the rhythm of the music. You couldn’t help but notice each of you was drunkenly dancing to a different beat.

"Hey!! Elijah texted me back!" Eve shouted over the thumping music. "He wants to take you out tomorrow!"

"Sounds good!" you yelled back, not even pausing in your wild dancing. "Any time after five works for me!"

When your legs finally felt like they’d given all they could to the dance floor, the three of you retreated back to your private room.

"I can tell by your face that you’re getting tired again," Harry teased, his voice warm as he glanced over at you. You sat down next to him, leaning into his side. "Time to go home?"

You nodded, already feeling the weight of your headache catching up to you.

"Okay, let’s go, sweet thing." Harry helped you stand, offering you a smile.

As was the usual routine after a night out—one of you sober, the other tipsy—the sober one would drive the drunk one home. When you were both drunk, however, it became a game of scissor -paper-stone to see who’d get the front seat in the Uber.

He gently assisted you into his car, a sleek black Range Rover, securing your seatbelt as you leaned back, closing your eyes in quiet exhaustion.

When you arrived at his house, he was there again, unbuckling your seatbelt and guiding you to the door with steady care.

“I’ll grab you some water and Ibuprofen. Why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed?”

You nodded in gratitude, your body heavy with fatigue as you slowly made your way up the stairs. Once inside his room, you went straight to the dresser, where you always kept a few pairs of pajamas for nights like this.

In his bathroom, your extra face wash, moisturizer, and toothbrush were neatly arranged….maybe people weren’t wrong to wonder if there was something more going on between you two.

Your hangover symptoms the next morning are what woke you up, head pounding and nausea. You opened your eyes, seeing Harry sitting up next to you, reading his book, shirtless.

“What a beautiful site to wake up to.” You groggily joked.

Harry looked up from his book, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he marked his place and set the book aside. His eyes softened as he noticed you, his hand gently your messy hair away from your face.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked, his tone low and soothing.

You let out a groan in response, your mind scrambling for some semblance of clarity. Slowly, fragments of last night came rushing back. The dim, pulsing lights of the club. The laughter. The dancing. You winced at the ache in your feet, a silent reminder of how long you'd been on your feet. And then, a sudden, jarring memory surfaced—one that made your stomach churn in a different way.

“Wait… did I really agree to go on a date today?” You asked, barely believing it yourself.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers still gently massaging your scalp as he looked at you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You did,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. “Jeez, I can’t even remember the last five minutes, let alone a date,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Harry’s chuckle turned into a laugh as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your temple in a comforting rhythm.

"I think you’re going to be just fine," Harry teased, his voice still soft with affection. "But I’m not gonna lie... I am interested to see how this date goes. Since you've been avoiding dating for so long"

"Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m not expecting anything amazing," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror, nervously adjusting your outfit. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the date, but you didn’t want to look like you didn’t care either. You settled on a simple black dress—something that was easy but still flattering.

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if you had something better to do. You could always call Harry afterward to complain about how terrible it went.

You arrived at restaurant where Elijah had suggested you meet. It had that typical artsy vibe—exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and food that probably cost more than it should have. As you walked in, you spotted Elijah immediately.

He looked up as you approached, a confident, almost smug smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you made it,” he said, standing to greet you.

"Of course," you replied, offering a smile.

"So, what do you like to do?" Elijah leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze more smug than ever. "What’s your thing? What are you into?"

The question hung in the air, a little too casually thrown at you. You hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. "Well, I enjoy a bit of everything. Not really an expert in anything, though. I like books, music… anything creative, really."

He waved a hand dismissively, clearly not too interested in your response. “That’s nice. But honestly, I think everyone has their own version of what ‘creativity’ means. I think it’s just one of those things that gets watered down by society’s need to put things in boxes.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking his own thoughts. The guy was talking in circles, as if he had an actual dissertation on his mind.

At some point during the evening, you realized that Elijah wasn’t going to ask about you or show any real interest in anything about your life. He kept dropping vague hints about how "complicated" he was, how misunderstood artists like himself had to suffer for their brilliance, and how he was just waiting for the world to catch up with him.

The only thing that really seemed to get him talking was his apparent admiration for himself.

Eventually, the awkwardness started to wear off, and he invited you to his apartment. Not that you were expecting anything from it—but you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and the loneliness was starting to hit.

The two of you ended up sitting on your couch, sipping wine, your conversation moving toward more personal topics. It felt... comfortable, even though you knew it wasn’t exactly what you'd been hoping for. Still, you found yourself kissing him a little while later, your mind racing with that familiar nervous excitement.

Things moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, both of you tangled up in each other in the dimly lit space of your apartment.

Time passed—minutes, hours, it was hard to tell. Eventually, you found yourself at the door, your dress wrinkled and your head spinning.

"Stay. Please," Elijah urged, his eyes softening slightly as he leaned in closer. “We could talk more. I really want to see you again.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts muddled. But, remembering the hours of excruciating conversation, you knew you needed to leave. "I have work in the morning," you said, even though it wasn’t true. The lie slipped out before you could even think about it.

Elijah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Well, I guess that’s alright. But next time… Let’s make sure we have more time."

You smiled softly, but your mind was already elsewhere, already home and away from him.

You stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your coat tightly around your shoulders, feeling that familiar sense of discomfort slowly sink in. The date had been a total bust, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret.

At home, after a quick shower to wash off the lingering feelings of awkwardness, you picked up your phone and texted Harry, hoping that he’d be up for a late-night rant.

"Can I come over to vent? This date was so annoying."

You didn’t have to wait long before his reply popped up. "Of course, pretty girl."

And so, you drove over, already thinking about how you were going to explain all the cringey moments to Harry, secretly hoping he wouldn’t say, “I told you so."

“You look like you had a blast,” Harry remarked dryly, opening the door for you.

You suppressed the urge to launch into a full rant. “Oh, yeah, great time,” you replied with equal sarcasm.

You both collapsed onto the couch— you sprawled out, Harry sitting up beside you like you were about to start a therapy session. Without missing a beat, you let the floodgates open.

“He literally talked about himself the entire time,” you began, voice dripping with frustration. “He asked me what I like to do, and as soon as I told him, he started lecturing me on his ‘interpretation of creativity.’ And it didn’t stop. For the entire date.”

Harry grinned, clearly entertained, as you continued your rant, eyes narrowing as you remembered every detail.

“And every conversation has to be this deep, philosophical, soul-searching dive— like, ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space,’ you know? The kind of thing you'd hear from the most insufferable kid in a first year psych class.”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair as the memory played in your mind. “Do you want me to continue?” You looked up at Harry. “It gets a little…18+.”

Harry's jaw slightly clenched, but he let out a chuckle. “Oh really? His personality wasn’t enough of a red flag?” He teased you, you burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, you have no right to judge, we’re both victims of making bad decisions when we’re horny.” You joked.

“Mm, I don’t know, I would’ve left after the ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space’ comment.”

“First of all, he didn’t actually say that…..that was just his vibe.” You corrected, both of you continuing to laugh. “And second of all, I KNOW you still would have slept with him, especially if you hadn’t been with anyone in four months.” You reminded him.

“Oh would I? No amount of horniness would have even made me go back to that type of person’s house.”

“You’re a liar. “ you said, dying of laughter. “Do I have to remind you of that girl you slept with, the one who kept saying ‘actually’ in front of very compliment, that you hated? ‘You’re actually funny. You’re actually kind of cute. You’re actually smart. What was her name? Lily? Lucy?”

“It was Laura.” He sheepishly corrected you

“And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t just one night, even after she described your sex as ‘actually good’, so I don’t want any judgment from you.” He surrendered, and let you continue.

“I’ll spare you the intimate details…I’ll just say, I didn’t necessarily leave satisfied.”

“Did you finish?”

“He finished. I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” He titled his head towards you in disbelief.

You stayed silent, almost trying to hide a smile out of embarrassment. He shook his head in disapproval.

“This is why I don’t go on dates. All I got was a shitty dinner and I still haven’t had a non-self inflicted orgasm in 4 months.”

He held his arm out as an invitation to invite you closer to him. Accepting his invitation, you leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Did you go home and…help yourself?” He asked, rubbing your back in consolation.

“No! I went home, took a shower, and then came straight here!” He chuckled, pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him.

“You don’t have to end the night unsatisfied,” he teased, his voice low with a playful edge.

“You promised no judgment,” you laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. His silence, paired with the look in his eyes, made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“I’m just saying... there’s an easy fix,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Both of you laughed, though the underlying seriousness in your tones couldn’t be ignored.

“An easy fix? Like what?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, the flirtation slipping into your words.

“Well, let’s say you wanted to,” He guided you off his lap, sitting you next to him. “You could lay down right here.”

You lowered your back onto the couch, your heart pounding harder than ever.

“Is this okay?” He clarified. You nodded and he continued. “I could come up here, make you feel better.” He crawled up to your neck, laying kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone.

He kneeled down on the ground in front of the couch. His hand shifted down to the button of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them down your leg.

“You're in control here. Anytime you want to stop or do something else, you let me know, I want to make you feel good.” Your chest quickly moved up and down and you hummed in acknowledgment.

He grabbed your leg, placing it on one of his shoulders, kissing the other leg until he got to your inner thigh. Before he could continue you grabbed the ends of your top, quickly pulling it off to reveal your bra. Harry gave you a cheeky smile before he continued.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, sucking the delicate skin until a string of tiny purple bruises dotted your thighs.

“Please, Harry.” You whined in an impatient tone.

His eyes shot up to your face. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please…please Harry.” The eagerness that had been building up in you for the past four months started to come up all at once.

“You need to learn patience, baby.” He teased you, lightly grazing his lips along your inner thigh. Finally, he grabbed your underwear and helped you out of them.

He planted his lips over your clit, expertly curling his tongue around the swollen area and flicking until your hips bucked. His arms curled around your thighs, pulling you to him and splaying a hand over your stomach to keep your hips still. He flattened his tongue against your clit to give you the pressure that you desperately craved.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny. So wet. Is this all for me?”

You hastily nodded, unable to speak.

Your hand tugged hard on his hair as his tongue worked delicately hard across your clit. Harry took one last look at your flushed face before moving his fingers at a punishing pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could tell that you were holding back a bit, since you two had been friends for a while, yet this was your first interaction past a simple cuddle. He lifted his mouth from you.

“It’s alright, sweet thing. I got you, I want to make you feel good.”

He went back to pleasuring you, his ability to make you feel this good felt so natural. You focused on him, trying to push any nerves to the back of your head. His hand that rested on your stomach grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your hand, giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

A shudder rippled through your body and a deep moan erupted from your throat as you came around his fingers. Harry focused on you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

He climbed back up to you, sweeping your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet baby.” He cood, your eyes stayed closed as you catched your breath.

You mindlessly pulled him closer to you, hiding your face in his neck, needing immediate aftercare after your powerful orgasm.

“Wanna go upstairs…an-help you.” You breathlessly begged, kissing his neck and lowering your hand down his abdomen.

“Okay sweet thing, let’s go upstairs.”

[read part two here!]

[thedensworld]

Talk the Stalker | C.Sc

Genre: fluff

Summary: Seungcheol is obsessed with you, he loves you and he would do anything to protect you.

Note: i'm obsessed, addicted, and drowned in his pretty smile! Happiness suit him sfm!

Seungcheol's hand was warm as it held yours tightly while the two of you entered the restaurant. He had already noticed two or three cameras tailing him outside, snapping pictures of the two of you together. He paid them no mind—your relationship was public anyway, and he was too used to the attention to care. Right now, all that mattered to him was making sure you were okay.

This restaurant was your favorite, a haven you always turned to when your appetite disappeared—which had happened again today. He had picked you up from the shooting set after a long day. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be working from afternoon until late evening. Coincidentally, his own schedule had wrapped up at the same time, so he decided to spend the night with you.

"Can we grab something first? I think I’m gonna pass out," you muttered the moment you slid into his car.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, already anticipating this. You hadn’t eaten, had you? His mind pieced together the puzzle: you probably woke up barely two hours before your schedule, rushed to get ready, spent an hour commuting, and then worked the entire day without a single meal. The thought of it frustrated him—he had been through similar habits in the past, too busy to eat. But seeing you, the love of his life, neglecting yourself like this made his chest ache. Without a word, he drove the two of you straight to your go-to spot.

While you disappeared to the restroom, Seungcheol took the liberty of ordering your usual meal. When you returned, he waved you over, pulling the chair beside him. As you sat down, his hand instinctively reached for your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension he imagined must be building there.

"How’s your back? Still hurt?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.

You had injured yourself three months ago during a stunt for an action film—a brutal fall onto your back that had left you with a dislocated shoulder and lingering pain. While everything had seemed fine recently, yesterday’s severe backache brought the worries flooding back for both of you.

"Stop making me worry, could you?" Seungcheol sighed when you gave him a soft chuckle, clearly trying to downplay the issue. "Sometimes I wonder how your fragile body even handles all those stunts," he added, shaking his head.

“Fragile?” you scoffed, lightly smacking his arm. “I work out, thank you very much.”

He lifted your arm with a smirk, inspecting it playfully. “This slender little arm trying to punch a stuntman? I’m not worried about them; I’m worried about you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a grin, making Seungcheol laugh.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His tone softened as he said, “That’s why you need to stop getting hurt, okay? I know how much you love your job, but if you want to do it for a long time, you have to take care of yourself.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. It was something you always told him whenever he pushed himself too hard. “Stealing my lines now?” you teased, and he chuckled warmly.

After dinner, you suggested taking a walk. Seungcheol hesitated, asking if you were too tired, but you insisted. He figured you must’ve missed him more than you were letting on, and the thought filled him with a fluttery warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

As the two of you strolled down the quiet street, the chill of the night air began to creep in. Seungcheol noticed you shivering and immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased with a playful smile, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Seungcheol said shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your lips curling into a smile as you clung to his arm. “Anything?” you challenged with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Not to that scale. Know your place!” he shot back, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Are you happy with me?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the comfortable silence as he reached for your hand, holding it firmly before swinging it lightly, a playful gesture to get your attention. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from him.

You nodded eagerly, the sincerity in your expression clear. "I think you’re one of the very few people who can make me this happy," you admitted, your words filled with genuine affection.

His brows furrowed almost immediately, and he stopped walking, a playful pout forming on his lips. "I’m not the only one?" he asked, feigning offense.

You chuckled, amused by his theatrics. "Know your place," you teased, leaning closer as a mischievous grin spread across your face.

His pout melted into a radiant smile, his dimple making a brief appearance. "I was kidding earlier, babe," he said softly, though his playful tone lingered as he began walking backward to face you, still holding your hand securely in his.

Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. After a moment, he raised a brow and asked, “Can I stay the night?” The flirty tilt of his tone made you raise yours in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t this the first time you’re actually asking?” you questioned, suppressing a laugh as you tilted your head.

He nodded, chuckling at your amused expression. “I know, I know. I must be the worst boyfriend, huh? I never ask for consent, I won’t kill anyone for my girlfriend, and to top it all off, I make fun of her slender arms.”

You gasped in mock outrage and raised your hand to playfully slap his arm, but he anticipated it and bolted ahead, laughter echoing through the quiet park near the restaurant. The chase was on, and you found yourself running after him, your laughter mingling with his in the cool night air.

That night, before heading home, the park became your private playground, filled with stolen moments of joy and carefree laughter. You hoped, for both your sakes, that no paparazzi managed to capture the scene.

*

You entered your apartment, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Though it wasn’t as luxurious or spacious as Seungcheol’s place, it carried a charm he adored—you. Every corner of your home was filled with your scent, your presence, and your personality. To him, it wasn’t just a place—it was a sanctuary, his sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes. Seungcheol smiled, watching as you settled in, your energy shifting into the comfort of your space.

As usual, Jibby, your orange tabby cat, sauntered over to greet you, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The cat had been your loyal companion ever since you rescued him on a shooting set two years ago. Predictably, Jibby ignored Seungcheol entirely, keeping his amber eyes locked on you with unwavering devotion.

“Still no love for me, huh?” Seungcheol joked, crouching to scratch Jibby behind the ears, only to receive a flick of the tail in return. “This cat’s got some serious attitude.”

You chuckled, picking up Jibby and holding him close. “He’s selective. He knows who pays the rent around here.”

As you placed Jibby back on the floor, you noticed strands of his fur scattered everywhere. “Oh, Jibby! Your fur’s everywhere!” you exclaimed, brushing some off your pants.

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, crouching to inspect the floor. “It’s not even summer, and he’s already shedding like crazy. You think he’s stressed?”

Your face filled with concern as you knelt beside Jibby, running your hands gently over his fur. “Oh no, Jibby. What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Before you could continue, Jibby let out a loud, startling meow, making both you and Seungcheol jump. The sound was completely out of character—Jibby was always a calm and quiet cat.

“That’s...new,” Seungcheol said, frowning. “I’ve never heard him meow like that before.”

Your concern deepened, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, you found your building’s security guard standing there. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We got a report from your neighbor. They said your cat’s been meowing loudly for hours. Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Jibby, the worry evident in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted, stroking his fur as he let out another sharp meow. “I think something’s wrong.”

That night, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You stayed up with Jibby, trying to comfort him as his restless meows continued. Seungcheol, sensing how stressed you were, insisted on staying over. When he saw how exhausted you looked around 3 a.m., he gently took over, cradling Jibby in his arms while you rested on the couch.

By dawn, it was clear Jibby needed professional care. “I’ll take him to the vet,” Seungcheol offered, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve got an early schedule, and I can handle this.”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve already—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “Jibby’s family. And family takes care of each other.”

As you watched him gently place Jibby into the carrier, whispering soothing words to the stressed cat, you felt a swell of gratitude and love for the man who had seamlessly woven himself into your life—and Jibby’s too.

The next day, Seungcheol received a call from the vet. The feline, Jibby, was missing home and showing signs of increased stress. Hearing this, Seungcheol couldn’t help but worry. You were out of town for a shooting schedule and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so Seungcheol decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked his manager to help him pick up Jibby from the vet, determined to make the cat feel better.

Driving to your apartment with Jibby in the passenger seat was no small task. The cat meowed incessantly, his cries echoing through the car. Seungcheol tried speaking to him in the same soft, soothing tone he had heard you use countless times. “Hey, buddy, we’re going home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, glancing over at Jibby. But his attempts were futile; the cat’s distress didn’t subside, and Seungcheol found himself understanding your concern on a much deeper level.

Once they arrived, Seungcheol texted you: “Jibby’s home safe now. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

He set down Jibby’s carrier, opened it, and placed some food in the bowl. He watched as the cat cautiously stepped out, sniffing around before beginning to eat. Gradually, Jibby seemed to relax.

Seungcheol didn’t turn on the lights, thinking it might overwhelm Jibby. Instead, he opened the curtains slightly, letting the moonlight bathe the room in a soft glow. Leaning back on the couch, he kept an eye on the cat, who finally settled beside him.

“You finally opened up to me, huh, Jibby?” Seungcheol murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. It felt like a small victory to earn even a fraction of the cat’s trust.

Suddenly, the sound of the passcode being entered broke the serene moment. Seungcheol sat up, his body tensing. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Who could it be?

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure in a hoodie stepped inside. Jibby’s demeanor shifted instantly; he bolted toward the figure, his fur standing on end as he hissed and meowed angrily.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded as he rose from the couch, flipping on the lights. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice filled with authority. The intruder froze for a second before bolting for the door.

Not wasting a moment, Seungcheol dashed after him. The man was just reaching the emergency exit when Seungcheol grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him against the wall with a force that came from pure adrenaline.

“Who are you?!” Seungcheol growled, his voice dangerously low as he pressed the man harder against the wall, preventing any chance of escape. “Why are you here? Why do you know my girlfriend’s passcode?”

The intruder struggled, but Seungcheol’s grip was unyielding. The hours he’d spent learning jiu-jitsu were finally paying off. His sharp eyes scanned the area until he spotted a CCTV camera. Without hesitation, he dragged the man into its view, ensuring the footage would capture everything.

Jibby followed, his meows loud and furious as if scolding the man himself. The cat even swiped at the intruder’s legs, his claws adding to the chaos.

Moments later, two security guards arrived, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he explained, his voice steady but laced with anger. “This guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. He knew her passcode. I caught him before he could get away.”

The guards immediately restrained the man, apologizing profusely to Seungcheol. “We’ll handle this. Thank you for acting quickly, sir,” one of them said as they led the intruder away.

Seungcheol stood tall in front of the man sitting tied to the chair in the dimly lit security room. The sight of him was sickening. Moments earlier, Seungcheol had watched the CCTV footage of this guy sneaking into your apartment multiple times in recent days. A wave of anger surged through him as he pieced things together. Was this the reason Jibby had been so stressed lately?

Seungcheol’s hand instinctively went to rub Jibby, who sat calmly in his arms, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside him. The cat, ever so loyal, seemed to sense his unease.

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible. “I’m just a fan…”

Seungcheol’s blood boiled at those words. He stepped closer, his voice sharp and unwavering. “No fan should do this. You’re not a fan—you’re a criminal!” He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out barely held in check.

The security guards standing nearby intervened, stepping between Seungcheol and the intruder. “Sir, please, the cops are on their way. We need your cooperation,” one of them said firmly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let it go. He glared at the man, his voice dripping with contempt. “What did you do? Did you plant a camera or something? Huh?” He leaned in, his intense gaze locking on the man, pressing him for answers.

The intruder hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before he gave a reluctant nod. That was all it took. Rage exploded in Seungcheol as he handed Jibby to a nearby guard before grabbing the man by his collar.

“You sick—” Seungcheol growled, but before he could finish or act on his anger, the security team pulled him back, their firm grip reminding him to maintain control.

“Mr. Choi, we’ve got this. Let us handle it,” one of the guards reassured him.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved as he let go, glaring daggers at the man who cowered in the chair.

Seungcheol stormed out of the security room, his frustration bubbling over as he marched toward the head of security standing nearby.

“How did this even happen?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Your job is to protect her and everyone in this building. Do you even realize how badly you’ve failed?”

The head of security looked uneasy but tried to maintain composure. “Sir, we’re investigating the breach—”

“Investigating?” Seungcheol scoffed, his voice rising. “This isn’t some minor mistake! That man entered her home multiple times, and you didn’t notice? What if she had been home alone? Can you guarantee what that bastard could’ve done to her?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the thought of you in danger overwhelming him.

“Mr. Choi, I assure you—”

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, stepping closer. “You can’t assure me of anything. You couldn’t even keep a stranger out of her home! She trusted this place to be safe, and you let her down.”

The head of security hesitated, clearly struggling to respond, as Seungcheol continued. “Do you know how terrified she’ll be when she finds out? Do you know how hard she works, how much she sacrifices, only to come home to this?”

Taking a deep breath, he added, “I don’t care what it takes—double the patrols, update your system, install better cameras, do something. Because if this happens again, I swear, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The head of security nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Choi. We’ll prioritize this immediately. I’ll personally oversee the updates and report back.”

Turning on his heel, Seungcheol made his way back to your apartment with Jibby settled on his arms. As he entered, he set Jibby down gently and sighed, his heart still racing. His protective instincts were on overdrive, and all he wanted was to make sure you were safe.

He sent you another text:

“Call me when you can.”

Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his gaze shifting to Jibby, who was curled up on the carpet, seemingly calm after the ordeal. The sight of the cat, finally at ease, should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The thought of leaving you and Jibby alone in this apartment, even for a second, made his stomach twist. He sat forward, rubbing his temples as his mind raced. “I can’t just leave you here,” he muttered, as if Jibby could understand.

Decision made, Seungcheol stood and began gathering a few of Jibby’s essentials. He packed the cat’s food, a couple of toys, and the small bed you’d bought for him. Jibby tilted his head curiously, his tail flicking as he watched Seungcheol move around.

“You’re coming with me, buddy,” Seungcheol said softly, crouching down to scratch behind Jibby’s ears. “At least until we know this place is safe again. No arguments, okay?”

Jibby responded with a low purr, and Seungcheol took it as agreement.

*

"Why is he in your place?" you asked, your laughter spilling through the phone as you watched Jibby sprawled comfortably beside Seungcheol on his couch. His home looked warm and inviting in the dim lighting, and even through the screen, you could see how relaxed Jibby seemed.

Seungcheol smiled at your reaction, his voice softening. "Jibby feels at home here. I think he loves my place. Isn’t that right, Jibby? You want to live here with me?"

As if on cue, Jibby let out a soft meow and snuggled closer into Seungcheol’s arm, his orange fur brushing against Seungcheol’s sweater. You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I left him with you for one day, and now you two are best friends? This is betrayal," you teased, though your heart warmed at the sight of them together.

Seungcheol laughed, patting Jibby gently on his back. "Oh, it’s not betrayal. He actually loves me—he just doesn’t want to make you jealous."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’s moving in with you."

Seungcheol tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking you both could. I mean, look at him. He’s practically claimed my couch already."

Your laugh turned into a soft sigh. "Babe, you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but his expression growing serious. "Think about it. Jibby clearly loves it here. My place is bigger and you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him when you’re out for work. Plus..."—his voice softened—"I’d get to see you every day."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his words. "Baby, are you actually suggesting I move in with you?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed how much he meant it. "It makes sense. Jibby’s happy here, and I’d feel better knowing you’re both safe. You can have your own space, do things your way. No pressure, but... I’d really like it if you were here."

Your gaze shifted to Jibby, who was now fully sprawled out on Seungcheol’s lap, purring softly. The sight was oddly comforting, and you couldn’t deny how much you missed Seungcheol already, even though you’d only been apart for a day.

"I don’t know," you said hesitantly, though your voice wavered with the idea already taking root in your mind. "It’s a big step."

Seungcheol leaned closer to the camera, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Big steps aren’t so scary when you’re not taking them alone, you know. Just think about it, okay?"

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. "I’ll think about it."

Seungcheol grinned, the kind of grin that made your chest feel warm. "Good. Jibby and I will be waiting."

The sight of him and Jibby, so at ease together, made you wonder if moving in wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

End.

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[yinemw]

𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

context: taking a bath with bf Viktor (gender neutral reader) I’d also like to add that this is my first time writing for a disabled character. Personally I’m not disabled so I wouldn’t know how that feels like, and it is not my intention to offend anyone or make Viktor’s disability the main focus in my writing. If anything is offensive or you guys have any tips or criticisms, I am happy to learn and fix anything!

warnings: nudity, nothing explicit though

character: Viktor from Arcane

m.list

“Is it working?” you asked innocently from behind Viktor, hands on his shoulders as you gently massage his muscles. Maybe a bit too softly for Viktor, he knew why though, you were always scared to hurt him, ever since the surgery on his back you were always extra gentle during your massages. So he knew why your fingertips sometimes felt feather light against his muscles.

“Oh uhm, yes” he answers, having been lost in his own thoughts as he looked down at the floor. Thinking about hextech as usual, new ways to improve and understand it. Wishing he was at the lab with Jayce, he didn’t like when you and Jayce wanted him to rest. “I’m feeling fine, let’s go to the lab”

“Viktor no” a sigh slips past your lips as you hold him down by the shoulders, making sure Viktor didn’t get up from the bed. The room dimly lit by a few candles and the moon shining from between the curtains. “It’s late—”

“Jayce is probably there”

“So you’d rather spend time with Jayce than me?”

“No that’s not what I said, it’s the hextech”

Your eyebrows furrow and fingers stop working on his shoulders. “You’d rather spend time working on hextech then spend time with me then”

He could hear the hurt in your voice and regretted his words. This wasn’t the first time you two had discussed the lack of time you spent together as a couple. Yes you saw each other at the lab every day, but it wasn’t like you were spending time with your boyfriend, it was spending time with your co-worker. “That’s not what I meant, and you know that” Viktor looks over his shoulder at you, leaning his forehead against yours. “I just feel restless…”

You knew that, you always paid more attention to Viktor than anyone else. It wasn’t because of his condition or anything , your gaze often just naturally wandered over to the pretty man. It was hard to take your eyes off of him, so you always saw the change of body language, knowing when he feels restless. “I know a way you could relax…since this massage clearly isn’t helping”

★

“Are you…joining me?” Viktor asked softly, leaning on his cane as he looked down at the bathtub. A few bubbles covering the surface of the warm water.

You light the last candle, placing it by the sink before turning to him. “If you want”

“I want” was all he said, letting his cane lean against the counter as he started to undress. Feeling your soft hands graze his skin as you help him, not like he necessarily needed the help to undress, but it was much appreciated. Today was just one of those days where everything seemed dull and dark, his body and mind both tired and restless at the same time.

With a little more help, Viktor sunk into the warm water of the bathtub, eyes closing as his mind wanders back to hextech. “I should be at the lab…”

“I will drown you”

A small smile spreads to his lips as he cracks open his eye to watch you undress. His beautiful significant other, the person who had stuck with him through everything. Who puts up with him and his stubbornness every single day and turned it into something amusing instead. “You’re beautiful” he mumbles, the words said in his accent seemed to have an even bigger effect on you.

Clearing your throat to pretend like nothing, you slip into the water. Sitting on the opposite side of the tub, knees held to your chest due to the small space. “We need to get a bigger bathtub” you say after watching some of the water spill over the edge.

Viktor had closed his eyes again, the tips of his hairs also submerged in the water. He felt light, and warm. It helped soothe his aches and pains, even if it was only a little, it was enough to make him feel more laid back than usual.

Finding a wash cloth and some soap, you gently start to rub it against Viktor’s skin. Starting with his shoulders, you lift his arms slightly to make sure you get every part of his body. You knew Viktor liked when you did this, the smell of your body wash and the gentle touch against his skin was always comforting.

But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t intimate enough. Discarding the washcloth, you decided to use your hands only. Skin to skin contact, to feel his muscles and skin against your fingertips. The soap making little bubbles float to the surface of the water, covering up his bare body. Some of the bubbles getting stuck to his neck and chin, glistening in the flickering lights of the candles.

“You okay?” You ask, just in case. He hadn’t said anything and his eyes had been closed the entire time. The sound of his soft breathing and water droplets filling the room.

He opens his eyes slowly, golden brown eyes meeting yours. Eyelashes wet due to the steam. “Yes” he answered simply, lifting his arms out of the water and tracing his slender hands across your chest and stomach. Innocent and soft touches against your skin, he pulled you closer to him. Not satisfied until you laid down between his legs. “I want to stay like this…you must be tired too”

He was right, you were tired, you just didn’t seem to realize until you felt how comfortable it was to lay against your boyfriend. You settle between his thighs and get into a more comfortable position, back rested against his chest. Viktor’s arms circling around your waist, holding you close and making sure you don’t slip underneath the surface of the water. His chin resting on top of your head, your body felt so soft and warm against his.

When Viktor first moved to Piltover he never understood the pleasure in taking a bath. To simply sit and soak in the water when there was so much else to do. But his whole perspective changed when he started dating you. You changed him, made his life easier, made his life brighter. As much as he wants to work at the lab, to build hextech into something that can help people, you made him realize that’s not all his life is about. So he tries to soak up every moment he has with you, and baths became a frequent routine in your relationship.

“Vik, did you fall asleep?” You chuckle softly, hearing how his breath slowed and how his arms loosened around your body. “We are going to turn into raisins if we stay here any longer, come on mister scientist”

Viktor groans, mumbling something under his breath as you force him out of the tub. Though he had to admit the water was starting to get a little too cold for his liking. And even if he would have preferred to stay a little longer, he couldn’t fight his smile as you tease him about his grumpiness.

“Do you enjoy making fun of a burnt out scientist, hm?” He teases back, throwing his towel over your head before starting to make a move to the bedroom. Still butt-naked, taking only his cane with him, the door to the bathroom wide open as he walks out. “I can feel you staring”

“Shut up!” You yell, though he wasn’t wrong. Taking a few extra seconds to admire his back, the way some water droplets still slid down his skin from the tips of his hairs. It wasn’t a view you could get sick of seeing easily.

After getting ready for bed, you join Viktor in the bedroom, seeing him already lay on the bed. Covers pulled up to his chin and eyes closed, though you knew he wasn’t asleep, his little snores were hard to miss.

“Oh to be a pretty sleeper”

Viktor only smiles sleepily, feeling the bed dip underneath your weight. He didn’t have to open his eyes or do anything, you naturally moved between his arms, molding to his body like a puzzle piece.

“So the bath helped you relax?”

“It does every time”

“Mmm good” you nuzzle into his neck, breathing in the scent of your body wash. His skin still a little damp and warm, some of the wet strands of his hair sticking to your forehead. You could feel how Viktor’s body went limp in your embrace after a few seconds. The room filling with his soft snores. If he fell asleep so quickly you knew he wasn’t lying, the bath really did do wonders.

“Goodnight Vik…sleep well my love”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [10] - Storm

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: A sudden storm can be overwhelming.

Word Count: 3670

CW: Explicit language, blood, injuries, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Getting too caught up in a relationship hadn’t been an issue since you’d had Theo, but before him, there was a reason why all your friends accused you of being a romantic. When you fell in love, you didn’t even think about the possibility of a break up but—

You really should have.

“Logan?”

Logan looked down at you, running his fingertips over your spine while you played with the dog tags around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“I have a question but you need to promise me you’ll be honest.”

A rumble of a chuckle vibrated in his chest, making you bite back a smile as you looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest.

“The last time you made me promise that, you ended up asking me what animal I thought I could beat in a fight.”

“That was for science.”

“How?”

“In case one day we decide to go on a safari and end up getting stranded in there.”

“That’s a possibility?”

“You can’t be too careful,” you said. “I’m used to thinking about every scenario—anyway, this is another question.”

“I’m listening.”

“So you have the super strength and all that…”

“Yeah.”

“What supernatural creature do you think you could take down in a fight?”

Logan blinked a couple of times. “That’s the question you want me to answer honestly?”

“Could you take down a werewolf?”

“We’re actually talking about this,” Logan muttered to himself. “Okay.”

“A werewolf,” you insisted. “Could you take down a werewolf?”

 He took a deep breath, then shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t think it’d be that difficult to take down a werewolf,” he stated and you hummed.

“A little cocky, but I’ll let it slide,” you said, laying your head on his chest again. “A vampire.”

“Please, vampires are lame,” he said with a grimace. “I could definitely take down a vampire, are you kidding?”

“You sound so sure of yourself that I’m half-tempted to ask if you’ve ever taken down a vampire.”

He let out a chuckle. “I’m not going to be beaten by a creature that can’t survive in the sunlight even if it’s hypothetical.”

“They are pretty powerful.”

“To repeat, they burn in sunlight. Doesn’t sound powerful to me.”

You clicked your tongue.

“How about a zombie?” you asked. “Could you take down a zombie?”

“Those things fall apart anyway, shouldn’t be difficult.”

“What if it’s a herd?”

“Same logic.”

“You’re telling me you could take down one hundred zombies?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

You hid your yawn behind your hand. “Um, mermaids.”

“Mermaids aren’t even scary.”

“No, not that type of—like those in Pirates of the Caribbean, have you watched that?”

“No.”

“I’ll put that on the list. It’s like—it’s like sirens, they lure you to the sea and then drown you.”

He paused for a moment, then hummed.

“Yeah, I think a mermaid could take me down.”  

“Really?”

“I’m not good with water.”

“Can you swim?”

“I can swim but if I try to stay still in the water I sink,” he said slowly. “Because of the skeleton. And like I said, I’m not good with water.”

Something in his voice sounded distant so you decided not to push him. You were way too sleepy for a big conversation anyway, and you didn’t want to force him to talk about anything he didn’t want to talk about. Heaving a sigh, you nuzzled closer to him and he dipped his head to press a kiss on top of your head.

“How about you?” he asked. “What supernatural creature could you take down in a fight?”

“Do you know any creatures you can disarm with the power of speech?” you asked, making him let out a laugh.

“Not really.”

“I mean I think I’d have a better chance surviving a vampire than a werewolf,” you murmured, your voice already drowsy. “Werewolves have fewer weaknesses I think, and yes vampires can hunt you down but only in night time. Well, werewolves can only hunt you down during the full moon, there’s that but I feel like as far as supernatural creatures go…”

You didn’t even realize you were falling asleep.

Until a soaring pain pulled you out of it.

A scream left your lips as your eyes snapped open, your hand shooting to your other arm to grab at it. You sat up straighter in the bed, now realizing Logan was also awake and upright in bed, breathing hard and unsheathing his claws. Your name spilled from his lips in a whisper as you looked down at your arm, the blood pouring from the open wound, coating your hand and the sheets in red.

“I’m fine—” you managed to say breathlessly while Logan stared at you, complete terror in his eyes. “I’m fine it’s just…um—”

“Let me see,” he said in a low voice and you tried to blink back the tears with a grimace. Logan carefully lifted your arm, letting you see the three gashes through all the blood under the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

Shit.

“You need stitches,” Logan muttered as he grabbed his jeans to put them on. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Stitches?” you repeated, looking down at your arm. “Are you sure?”

“Those are deep cuts,” his voice sounded a little distant again and you couldn’t tell it was because of the blood loss you were currently suffering from. He bunched up his white shirt to press it against the wound, making you hiss in a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he swallowed thickly. “I’m so sorry.”

“What—no, it’s fine!” you said in a haste, trying to focus through the fire burning your arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is.”

“Logan—” you started but he went to grab your sweater off the chair at the corner of the room, then made his way back to you. He helped you get into it, then into your jeans while you held onto his shoulder trying to move your arm as little as possible.

“I can carry you—”

“Logan, it’s just my arm,” you assured him with a huff of a laughter. “I can walk. It’s totally fine.”

A shadow crossed his eyes, his jaw clenching tight.

“Right,” he muttered through his teeth. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

                                               *

You really, really hated hospitals. As a child, you were quite the troublemaker so you’d had your fair share of hospital visits, and each and every time was quite painful. Even now, as a grown up, you couldn’t help but feel tense whenever you had to go to hospitals.

And Theo’s very scary birth hadn’t helped the situation.

But if anything, this really wasn’t a big deal. A couple of stitches and you would be fine, but Logan looked much more tense than you were. He was completely quiet and withdrawn, standing in the corner of the hospital room like a guard dog while the doctor worked on your arm.

“So how did you get this, exactly?” she asked and you tried to smile at her.

“Oh, uh…I work in a diner,” you said. “And as it turns out, night shift and sharp objects aren’t a good combo.”

“I’d bet,” she said as she pulled back to look at the stitches, then took off her latex gloves. “Well the good news is, it’s a very clean cut so it’ll be much easier to heal. Keep it dry the first day, and after tomorrow you can wash around it with clean water twice a day.”

“Okay.”

“Take the antibiotics, apply the cream I prescribed and…well, be careful around knives?” she said with an assuring smile and you let out a small laugh.

“Noted. Thank you so much, doctor.”

“Have a nice night,” she said and walked past the cubicle curtain. You let out a breath, feeling around the gauze before lifting your head to smile at Logan.

“Hey,” you said. “You okay?”

For some reason, Logan couldn’t hold your gaze like he usually would, so instead he stole a look at you before fixing his gaze on the floor and nodded.

“Sure.”

“You don’t like hospitals either huh?” you asked, “I mean if I hate the smell, I can’t imagine how you feel with those enhanced senses of yours.”

Logan didn’t answer, instead he rushed to help you when you grabbed your coat so that you could put it on.

“Thanks,” you said and he pulled his hands back as if he could burn you if he kept them on you a second longer than he needed to. You pulled your brows together, but didn’t comment on it as you started walking beside him to get out of the building.

You didn’t really do well with quiet so the music coming from the radio and your nonsense chatter were the only things filling the silence in the car. Logan met your questions with occasional grunts to signal that he was listening and at best you got curt, one-word answers.

It was only when you walked into your apartment and Logan followed you like a quiet guardian that you turned to him, putting your hand on your hip.

“Logan.”

He closed the door behind him. “Hm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I can talk until the sunrise but this is becoming a one-way street,” you told him. “Are you okay?”

He blinked a couple of times as if he couldn’t believe you were asking him that.

“Are you?” he asked back after a beat and you shrugged your shoulder.

“It’s not the first time I’m getting stitches,” you said. “And to be completely honest with you, after childbirth everything else they do to you in a hospital kind of pales in comparison. I’m fine.”

He snorted, then clicked her tongue. “Sure.”

“No seriously, it’s just stitches,” you said, walking to the kitchen to fill yourself a glass of water. “And you heard what the doctor said, it’ll heal pretty easily.”

You popped the painkillers in your mouth, then downed them with water before putting the glass back on the counter, then walked back to the hallway.

“If I go to sleep right now, I think I can survive on three cups of coffee instead of four tomorrow,” you joked with a grin, but he couldn’t even smile back, he just followed you to the bedroom. After helping you get into a comfortable oversized shirt, he took a step back as you sat down on the bed. You frowned, tilting your head.

“Are you coming?” you asked, motioning at the bed and Logan shook his head.

“No,” he said, his voice deep. Your frown deepened.

“What?”

“I should uh—” he motioned at the living room. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I’d still hear if you needed anything at night and it’d be safer.”

“Safer?” you repeated. “Logan, come on.”

“I can’t risk another nightmare and you ending up with…” he nodded at your arm and you scoffed a laugh.

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

Alright, this was strange.

Logan was never this curt with you. He wasn’t the most open person in the world, yes, but whenever he spoke to you, his voice would always be warm, melting your insides. Now he sounded way too distant, way too controlled.

You might as well have been speaking to a robot.

“Why are you punishing yourself right now?” you asked, looking him in the eye and something in his gaze shifted before his jaw clenched again, then he shook his head.

“Call my name if you need anything,” he said, walking out of the bedroom and you blinked a couple of times in confusion. A sigh left your lips and you rubbed at your eyes, then slowly lay down on the bed, grimacing when a sudden spark of pain shot through your arm. You put your pillow under your arm, then grabbed Logan’s pillow to bury your face into it, the pleasant smell of his cologne soothing your senses before sleep creeped up on you, pulling you into its warmth.

                                                 *

 When you woke up, you were still groggy and your arm was throbbing. A grimace twisted your face and you took a deep breath, then pulled yourself up to sit up in the bed, and looked down at your arm, feeling around the gauze. It wasn’t extremely painful, but it still made sure to let you know it was there so you had a feeling you were going to have to be extra careful carrying plates at the diner, at least for a while. The delicious smell coming from the kitchen made you turn your head and you nibbled on your lip, then slowly pushed the covers off of you and got up from the bed to make your way to the kitchen.

“Hi stranger,” you said with a grin and Logan looked over his shoulder, then put the grilled cheese sandwich right next to scrambled eggs on the plate.

“Morning.”

“If breakfast is your way of apologizing for not sleeping next to me last night,” you said as he poured you coffee, then placed the cup on the small table next to the plate. “It’s the right path.”

A forced smile twitched the corners of his lips upwards before you sat down, then grabbed the sandwich to take a huge bite.

“Aren’t you eating?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Not really hungry.”

You blinked a couple of times; that was new.

“Logan,” you said, clearing your throat before putting the sandwich down. “I think we should talk about what happened.”

“I agree, but after breakfast.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion, then shrugged with one shoulder before grabbing your coffee cup to take a big sip. Logan’s gaze didn’t leave you as if he was trying to take in the sight of you as much as he could, as if he was trying to burn this- you, this moment- into his mind. The look in his eyes wasn’t distant anymore but worse; it was just haunted. You could feel your stomach doing an unpleasant flip before you tried to shake off the chill running down your spine, then chewed your bite and cleared your throat.

“What time did you wake up?”

Logan shook his head slightly.

“Didn’t sleep.”

“At all?” you asked, gawking at him and he shrugged his shoulder almost nonchalantly.

“It’s fine.”

“Well it’s actually—” you started but were cut off when your phone started ringing in the bedroom.

“One moment,” you said and rushed to the bedroom to grab it off the nightstand, then answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey love,” Stacey’s voice reached you. “Did I wake you up?”

“No no, I was already up,” you said and sat down on the bed. “What’s up?”

“Okay so, the boss is going to kill me, but…”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’ll be late again.”

You let out a small laugh. “Stace.”

“Okay I know what you’re gonna say but this time it’s totally not my fault.”

“No?”

“Well, my body decided to have a hangover after last night, so technically it’s not my fault.”

You hummed. “How much did you drink?”

“Well it was my friend’s birthday and Paul and his friends were at this bar and we decided to go have fun, and then my friend hooked up with Paul so I had to drink a lot to stop myself from visualizing what was going on in the bathroom.”

“I can imagine,” you said. “It’s fine. I’ll cover for you, no worries.”

“Ugh, you’re an angel and I love you.”

“Love you too Stace,” you said with a laugh, then hung up the phone and shook your head before making your way back to the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” you told Logan and sat down. “It’s Stacey, you’ve met her.”

“You’re going to work today?” Logan asked. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Oh yeah, it’s totally fine,” you said. “I barely feel it to be honest, and I’ll be careful.”

“But…”

“Besides, I need to cover for Stace,” you said. “Apparently her friend hooked up with Paul—you remember our line cook Paul? He’s kind of a womanizer, I’m kind of surprised she and Paul never had a thing—they sure do flirt a lot but anyway, Stacey’s friend and he hooked up last night and knowing Stacey, she probably drank everyone under the table, and now she has a hangover. Shocking, isn’t it?”

Logan nodded slowly without pulling his gaze off of you.

“Did I tell you about how when Stacey and I first met, I ended up getting black out drunk?” you asked, biting into the grilled cheese sandwich. “It was my first day at the diner, and she convinced me to have a night out with her, and I swear to you, that girl is a goddamn sponge when it comes to alcohol. I was out a couple cocktails in, and she still had numerous shots and cocktails after. Julie was taking care of Theo that night, so I ended up sneaking into my own apartment so that he wouldn’t wake up, and rambled to Julie for like two hours straight about kittens, and then fell asleep watching cat videos.”

A small, sad smile curled Logan’s lips and you smiled back at him, then took another sip of your coffee and put your empty plate into the sink.

“Compliments to the chef,” you said with a grin despite the strange tension almost palpable in the kitchen. “If you ever get tired of going on missions and stuff, you could go into culinary world I feel like.”

He scoffed a laugh and you took a deep breath, then cleared your throat.

“So,” you said. “Can we talk?”

Logan swallowed thickly and nodded his head, his jaw clenching.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened, at all,” you said. “It was an accident. You…you had a nightmare right?”

Logan paused for a moment, then shook his head. “That’s not an excuse.”

“Logan, that’s an accident,” you insisted. “You really shouldn’t blame yourself. I don’t.”

“You should.”

“Well then sucks to be you because I’m not gonna,” you said. “And unless you want to get separate beds like those weird couples in the 1950s, I don’t see how you’re planning on—”

“I think we should break up.”

That managed to shut you up mid-rant. Your eyes snapped up to his and for a couple of seconds, you could only gawk at him in complete silence, your throat getting tighter.

“…What?” you managed to rasp out, your voice lost somewhere in your throat and Logan crossed his arms, leaning his back to the wall.

“It’s going to be safer for you—”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Do you realize what could’ve happened?” he asked back, his voice tense. “We got lucky, if you can even call last night that.”

“Logan, it’s a goddamn scratch!”

“Yeah, this time!” he insisted. “This time it was only a scratch on your arm, what about the next time? What if it wasn’t your arm?”   

“You cannot be serious,” you said, blinking back the tears as you shook your head. “You can’t.”

“I’m not going to have your blood on my hands,” he said, his eyes locked in yours. “I can’t hurt you. Not…not you. I was so wrapped up in this that I forgot how dangerous I could be for you—”

You let out a breath, running a hand over your face. “Don’t give me that speech again.”

“I’m not talking about some silly heartbreak,” Logan told you through his teeth. “I’m talking about life and death. You might see it as nothing, but we both know that it’s not nothing.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm and sniffled, blinking back the tears again.

“I told you, I’m going to be the one who decides whether this relationship is dangerous or not.”

A dry laugh climbed up his throat.

“Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I…” he couldn’t even finish the sentence as if the mere thought was way too painful. “I can’t put you in danger.”

“You’re not putting me in danger,” you insisted. “You can hear my heartbeat, can’t you? You can smell it when I’m scared, when I’m—when I’m nervous. So tell me; last night, was there even a second that I was scared of you? Or this morning? Have I ever been nervous around you because I thought I was in danger?”

That made him pause for a moment before he shook his head. “No.”

“There you go. There’s your answer to your moral predicament.”

“That makes it even worse,” he rasped out and you frowned.

“How?”

“Because now it falls on me to do it,” he said. “And I can’t even fucking convince myself that you want it.”

You sniffled, shaking your head.

“Don’t do this,” your voice was a low whisper. “Please don’t do this.”

He stared at you, the look in his eyes so painful that for a moment it made you think you were somehow tormenting him with mere words before he clenched his teeth and stepped closer to you so that he could carefully wrap his arm around your waist. He moved slow as if he was terrified that he could somehow hurt you just by touching you and he dipped his head to press a kiss on top of your head as you sniffled, making his grip around your waist tighter for only a moment. You could feel him nuzzle into your hair and stay there completely frozen for a couple of seconds, as if he couldn’t bring himself to pull back.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say after a beat and pulled back, then walked out of the kitchen. You heard the front door open before it closed, and as if on cue you fell on your knees, burying your face in your hands.

Then the sobs started.

11 - Blast

[willowsnook]

Concerned (LN)

lando norris x neighbor!reader

Another late night working and you were exhausted. You’d been on PTO the week before, so now you were playing catch-up and drowning. Trudging back to you apartment, you rounded the corner and ran right into someone else.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” your neighbor said at the same time you started to apologize. You had met him a couple of times, but he was gone a lot, so it was a pretty standard friendly neighbor relationship.

“You look horrible.” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, and a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His face was haggard, dark circles under his eyes and a weary expression that spoke of sleepless nights. The lines on his forehead deepened as he tried to hide his fatigue, but you couldn't help but notice how drained he looked.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping,” he admitted, and you tilted your head, looking for more, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Okay, come on,” you said, heading towards your apartment. With a moment's hesitation, he followed behind you into your apartment. The first thing that caught his eye was the unique decor - the walls adorned with scattered pieces of art, each telling its own story. The colors and textures clashed and complemented each other in a chaotic symphony, creating an atmosphere that felt both whimsical and intimate. He couldn't help but feel drawn in, wanting to explore every inch of this quirky space that was a reflection of you.

You sat him down on a barstool in the kitchen before opening a cabinet filled with various powders and ingredients. He watched as you contemplated a bit before picking a couple down and placing them on the counter. Filling the kettle and putting it on the stove, you turned back to him and tried to figure him out.

“You have a lot of ingredients for tea,” he said, not knowing what to say.

“Yeah, I read this book earlier this year about a woman who owned a tea shop and then became fixated on making perfect tea,” you said and he smiled. He felt himself starting to relax around you, appreciative that you hadn’t pushed on why he looked so tired even though he knew you probably had a good idea.

The comfortable silence lasted a couple of more minutes before being interrupted by the high scream of the kettle, and you carefully poured it into a cup that would turn it into your favorite tea invention.

“Let it cool for a couple of minutes,” you told him, and he nodded, picked it up, and moved to the couch. You unpacked your bag from work, looking up occasionally to see him sipping and staring out of your grand windows. Deciding he was probably fine by himself, you went to take a shower and change into your pajamas.

As you emerged from the bedroom 20 minutes later, you spotted the familiar mug sitting on the coffee table, and him sprawled out, fast asleep on the couch. A small smile tugged at your lips as you quietly made your way over to him, careful not to wake him. The soft light filtering through the window cast a gentle glow on his sleeping face. You reached for a nearby blanket and draped it over his body, making sure he was warm and comfortable before retreating back to your room.

The next morning you slept in a little later before coming back out into the kitchen. Lando was still snoring softly on the couch and you kept quiet as you made coffee and pulled out eggs for breakfast. You heard him stir and looked over your shoulder to see him sitting up, yawning. He slipped off the couch and made his way towards you.

“I owe you one,” he said and you waved him off. “You are my favorite neighbor.”

“What an honor,” you joked and he smiled.

“What can I do to repay you?”

You stood thinking for a second before smirking, “Well I’d love it if you could get me Carlos’ autograph; he’s my favorite driver.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together disapprovingly, causing deep lines to form on his forehead. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his reaction before turning back to the skillet of sizzling eggs.

“I’m going to head out now, but again, thank you for last night. I really needed it,” he said, and you turned, surprising him as you hugged him. His embrace was tight but not suffocating, and his arms felt strong and sturdy around you. When he pulled back, you could feel the weight of his exhaustion in the way his body slumped slightly.

“You need to take care of yourself,” you said.

“It’s hard,” he replied and you pulled back to see his sad eyes looking back at you. Giving him one last smile, he left you to make breakfast, retreating back to his own place.

———————————————————————

The rest of your weekend went by quickly and you enjoyed the relaxation of not having to think about work. Sunday afternoon, you were deep cleaning your apartment, casually paying attention to the football games you had in the background. After scrubbing your kitchen, you took a break, pulling out your phone and scrolling through Twitter.

Now, you weren’t a big F1 fan; you just tuned in every once in a while mainly because you thought it was cool that you knew a driver, but you’d see tweets on your timeline every once in a while. One caught your attention, and you opened the thread to see some account commenting on a recent stream that Lando had been on with his friends. You watched the video of his friends making fun of him for eating expired food and giggled as they ragged on him.

Thinking back to the other night, you started to actually be concerned about him eating expired food. First of all, it was gross as fuck. Secondly, it could easily make him sick. Having an idea, you grabbed your keys before heading off to the grocery store.

A couple of hours later you were outside Lando’s door, having just knocked on it. He was surprised to see you standing there when he swung open the door.

“I have something for you,” you said, and his eyes flickered down to the bag in your hand before letting you in. Setting it down on the counter, you began pulling out all the Tupperware filled with several different things.

“This should last you until you have to leave again to race,” you said nonchalantly, turning to look at you. He looked at you wide-eyed, taking in what you did for him.

“You made me food?” He asked slowly and you nodded.

“I heard that you were eating expired food, which is disgusting,” you said, and a small smile crossed his face. “That could also kill you, and it would be really irritating to have a bunch of police and noise here to deal with it.”

“Mmmhmm,” he said smirking. “So you did it because you didn’t want to be inconvenienced if I poisoned myself?”

“Exactly,” you told him. “If you were my favorite driver, I would say I was doing it because I care about you and want to make sure you are okay.”

“But I’m not your favorite,” he said and you nodded. “Correct.”

He smiled to himself as you bid him goodbye before heading back.

Later that night he hopped on to stream with Max who instantly asked him what he had for dinner.

“A burrito bowl,” he replied and Max perked up.

“Did you order it?” He asked and Lando shook his head.

“No, my neighbor heard that I was eating expired food so she made me a bunch of meal prepped things to last a couple of weeks.”

“Was it your hot neighbor?” Max asked with a smirk and Lando blushed.

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“Just so everyone in the chat knows, Lando has been simping over one of his neighbors for almost a year now, and instead of just talking to her like a normal person, he just stalks her on social media and turns into a lovesick school boy anytime he sees her.”

“That’s not true,” he complained and Max laughed.

"Remember when you saw her at the little coffee shop by your place? She chatted with you for what, five minutes? You couldn't stop talking about it for weeks," he teased, savoring the memory of his friend's flustered excitement.

“Shut up mate,” Lando muttered with a slight grin. Little did he know that you had been tuned into the stream, listening to all of this.

pt 2

[katszumi]

silence immersed the room as the door clicked shut behind you. the ticking clock a reminder of how little time you have.

“you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you spewed to the male in front of you, your features displaying a look of anger.

katsuki rolled his eyes. “well, it’s not like i get called a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. what else did you honestly expect?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a seat atop of the long metal table.

“not much, yet you still seem to subceed my expectations.”

“subceed? seriously?” katsuki paused to let a scoff escape his lips. “you’re upset because i’m actually selling this story? the only one, might i add. this was your shitty grand idea!”

unknowingly, you took a step forward.

“the idea was to make it known we disliked each other. not for you to publicly shame and insult me!”

you, katsuki and a few other heroes were invited to attend a press conference. while the original topic was to discuss about the mission you all completed the day before, the topic began to stray away and focus on the relationship between you and katsuki.

japan knows of the hatred you and katsuki shared between each other, that was no unknown fact. the media described you two as fiery rivals considering both of your quirks contained fuel.

you two despised each other. or at least that’s the lie you fooled everyone with.

you were unsure when katsuki started to look appealing to the eye, how attractive he was when he was drowned in sweat, how you began to long for the small but noticeable glances he sent you in public. you couldn’t tell when it happened. but before you knew it, a small pool of desire that had katsuki’s name printed on it began to fill every minute of the day.

“which is no different than what we used to do. you want them to believe it? then don’t take my shit. suck it up and be a bigger asshole than i already am.” he was right. you know he was right. but it was so difficult to pretend as if you hated him.

even if you called him a bitch, or a cunt, maybe even call him out for having a small dick—which you know is far from the truth—that still wouldn’t deny the peace you felt whenever you were with katsuki. how the world seemed to stop still on its axis. how there were no rain, wind or time. just pure bliss.

fuck.

out of everyone, it just had to be him? his captivating, intense ruby irises. his brash, abrasive demeanor. only his words that could seem to sway you. the man the world deemed you to abhor.

instead of admitting the truth, you twist his words. “well, i’m pleased to know it’s so easy for you to do.”

“jesus fuck, y/n.” now, katsuki rose from his position, never once breaking eye contact with you. “you think this is easy for me? you think i like getting up there and lying through my teeth? doing this is the one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.”

he walks closer and even closer to you, minimizing the distance you established for good reasons. this is how it always happens; one of you forgets about the space you two have to maintain until words don’t seem to work anymore. instead, your lips weave together, forming a new way to communicate.

but you don’t move. you don’t want to.

“is it? all those insults feels like it comes pretty smooth to you.”

katsuki pauses as he takes a second to analyze you. his eyes scan your body then leading right up to your face.

“because those are the words i wish i could mean. every time, it burns me to say those things about you when i’d rather be up there claiming every single part about you.” he lowered to a whisper, but his voice maintained a fervent tone.

his hand raises, slow and steady. he cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek. instinctively, you lean into his palm, your eyes softening as you gaze into his eyes.

“you think i enjoy this?” you watch his jaw tighten, his hand dropping to your hip. “think i like watching you talk with those eager men? it takes everything in me to not beat them shitless for daring to come across you. do you know how hard it is to fight the urge to pull you in and show them that you’re not available?”

too captivated by his words, you didn’t notice how katsuki lowered his head. you could feel the heat of his body from how he gave you no room to breathe. he placed his lips on your soft skin, slowly kissing the side of your neck.

no. resist him. your mind was screaming. this couldn’t go on forever. at some point, you guys had to stop.

“what will make them back off? if i mark you up? think they’ll understand then?” he proposed the question, but to you, it seemed more like he was asking for permission.

you didn’t know what effect katsuki placed on you to have you like this. but in this moment, you didn’t care about the rumors, the consequences, your image. it was all pushed back in the back of your head. so, you slightly tilted your head upwards, giving him more leeway to continue.

katsuki gripped your hips. not too strong to leave a mark but strong enough to squeeze a small moan out of you.

“don’t you fuckin’ understand, y/n?” he leans away to look in your eye.

“what?” you meekly responded.

“i go insane when it comes to you. i’m not the kind of guy that drools over any woman’s attention. but, you… fuck.” he stops himself, from what you can only assume was to control himself with whatever he was about to say. “not being able to have you only makes me crave you more.”

you stay quiet.

“you know how many times i’ve tried to resist you?”

“how many?” finally, you spoke.

“too many fuckin’ times. i’m done fighting it, y/n.”

confusion struck your face. “what do you mean?”

“be mine. forget the press, forget our pr managers. be with me.” katsuki brings you closer with the hand placed on your hip, the action drawing you to one conclusion.

he leans in and interlocks his lips with yours. immediately, you drown in the feeling of his soft but chapped lips that you couldn’t seem to push away. somehow, you find the strength to pull back from him.

“not here. not in pub-”

“yes here.”

with his tone, you could mistake him to be aggressive in this moment. but over the months, you managed to be able to read his eyes from the forbidden glances he’s sent your way; how he really felt through the way he wore his eyes.

katsuki’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his soft ruby eyes shifted from your lips to your e/c irises.

there was a look behind his eyes. there were more watchful, more tender than usual. almost as if he was pleading with his eyes. like he was begging.

so, how could you say no to him in this state? him being so vulnerable with you?

but that was always the problem.

you could never say no to katsuki bakugou, no matter what.

your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him in with your eyes. he inclined his head and laid his lips on your mouth. the silence that did wrap the room ten minutes ago was replaced with the noise of sloppy kisses, your mouths powering over each other.

you can feel your heart rate increase from the action, even more noticeably so when he entangles a fist in the back of your shirt. he needs you closer, maybe within his skin if possible.

following his action, you guide your fingers through his ash blonde strands, sending a shiver down his spine. he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, pulling it just slightly.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” your murmur, yet his ears catches it. “this would be the hottest topic for the media.”

a snicker parted his lips. “we just can’t be caught. but the day you stop being scared, i’m ready.” his words vague and simple, yet still holding so much promise.

“i hate you.”

and you did. you hated that he was too enticing. too irresistible.

“thought it was hard for you to say things you don’t mean?” he referred from earlier. of course, that was just like him. the same him you mistakenly fell for.

“just shut up.” was all you replied with before leaning back in to connect his lips with yours, choosing to help him with your statement.

this was supposed to be like a forbidden love trope but i think i just revealed how thirsty i am😔

[ameliathornromance]

“Ouch!” Your Orc hissed, jerking in pain as you pressed alcohol soaked cloth to his arm. “You can’t be more gentle, can you?”

“Well if you stopped moving,” you returned through gritted teeth, “then it wouldn’t hurt as much. It’s not me that’s causing you pain, it’s the chemical. If I’m any more gentle about it, the pain will just last longer and it will sting a lot more.”

The giant gash in his arm just did not want to stop bleeding. You let out a sigh of irritation as you realised it was going to need stitches. “Hold onto it for me?”

Grumbling, your Orc Boyfriend pressed held the soaked cloth in place as you reached for your medical box behind you, “how did this happen then?”

“I was in the gym,” your boyfriend started, “and this goblin wouldn’t stop trying to take pictures of me, so I told him to put the phone down. He said ‘no, it’s a public space, I can film who I damn well likes’ and his smug face pissed me off. So… I might have gotten a little rough with him.”

You sighed again. Typical of an Orc to start the physical fight. Pulling out a needle and medical thread, you cleaned them, nodding as your boyfriend went on, “and then this little bastard pulls out a knife and just slashed me open!”

Your head whipped around to look at your partner, “what the fuck?!” you set the needle and thread down on your bedside table. “You’re not hurt anywhere else, are you? Oh my God, why did they even let that guy in with a weapon!?” You surveyed your Orcs topless body, searching his green skin for any kind of graze or cut.

“Something about it being for Goblin arts practice.” Your boyfriend grunted, annoyed. “Anyway, he’s then restrained by some of the staff, the police are called and there was also an ambulance.”

“Why didn’t you let the paramedics stitch you up?!” You asked, aghast. “Why would you refuse it and come back here!?”

Meeting your boyfriends gaze, he gives you a sheepish look. “… Because you used to sew up my cuts when I was a cage fighter?”

“That was only on the fly!” You snapped, “I’m not a medical professional, I could have really hurt you doing that!”

He scoffed, “we all could have gotten really hurt doing that. It was underground and illegal for all of us to be there.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up the needle and thread again. You set to work sewing up your boyfriends wound, “that was a very, very long time ago. I don’t know if I’m still any good at this.”

“I trust you.” The Orc said, smiling. “You were always gentle with me whenever I’d come out of the ring.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, “I was only gentle with you because I liked you.”

Back then, it was difficult to find any kind of joy. You were in a lot of trouble with loan sharks and had to do something to pay them back.

You’d been kicked out medical school, were drowning in their debt… but there’s no reason as to why you couldn’t put to use the little skills you’d learnt.

So you started helping illegal cage fighters with their injuries. They paid well and everyone had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Although half of your pay check got taken back by the loan sharks, the fighters you did heal would give you tips of 100 coins, sometimes up to 1000, depending on how they were feeling, so that helped a great deal.

Your boyfriend, known as ‘Big Money’ for his green skin and huge muscular body, was the top fighter there. If you were smart, you betted on ‘Big Money.’ It’s in the name isn’t it? You want to win? You bet big.

Every time you took care of him, he always took you out to dinner as thanks. And eventually, he was taking you out just because, and before long, you were dating.

Everyone knew you as ‘Big Money’s girlfriend’ and rarely gave you any slack… apart from the occasional too big for his boots fighter who snarked you or shoved you away when you tried to tend to his injuries.

When that happened, everyone would treat said fighter like he was a bomb about to go off; no one wanted to be near him, or associated with him And who would? If Big Money was going to get you for disrespecting his girl, you would stay clear too.

A cold shot went through you, “you don’t think that Goblin knew who you were, do you?” you asked.

Your Boyfriend stiffened at the question. He was quiet for a little longer than you’d have liked, but he answered you. “I’m not sure. I didn’t recognise him when I saw him, he might have just been a spectator.”

“Either way… it’s still a concern.”

Your boyfriend was in a similar situation to you too, but the difference was that he was hundreds more in debt than you were. Which is why he was put in the ring. Partly as a punishment, partly as a way to earn back all the money he’d lost.

The pair of you wanted to escape that place. Not because you didn’t want to pay off your debts, but because of the barbarity of the environment.

Every time you saw your Orc coming out of the ring, he just looked worse and worse. Black eyes, shattered orbital bones, fractured fingers and toes, tendon snapping and a whole list of other, much gorier things were what made you both realise you wanted out.

With each time you had to fix up his injuries, your hands became even more unsteady.

The event organisers had no clue of your relationship with their ‘Big Money’ and often berated you, threatening to raise your interest if you couldn’t do your job properly.

“We need to leave.” Your Orc had urged you after a particularly bad fight. Both his eyes were swollen and he had stitches sewn into his bottom lip. He paced up and down your cramped bedroom, “this is getting bad, like, too bad. Who knows what they’ll do if-”

“Just stop saying things like that!” You had said, grasping the sides of your head. “I don’t think I can cope with talking about that kind of thing, if they find out we’re thinking about running, they’ll kill us!”

“No, they won’t.” Your Orc had said, firmly. “They won’t. I won’t let them lay a finger on us.”

He had bent down to you, squeezed your hands reassuringly. “I can do this, get us out of there, but you have to trust me okay? I know a guy, who knows a guy. They can get us out and we won’t have to worry about the debt again.”

When you began to shake your head, your boyfriends puffy eyes meets yours. “Please, (Y/N), trust me on this, they’ll believe we’re dead and gone, they won’t come looking for us!”

The final straw came when your Orc was knocked unconscious for two hours. They’d had him in fight after fight, breaks of ten seconds all but before he had to get back in the cage and fight on.

You had to fight back tears as you shakily stitched up a split eyebrow and tried to keep your cool from going off on the event organiser, who sat behind you and counted bills, feet up on the table in his ironed clean suit, paid for in blood money.

And when your boyfriends stitches had failed to hold together and he went down and out… the blame fell to you.

That was it.

You knew you both had to leave.

Your Orc had woken up with no apparent brain injuries and as soon as you were both able to speak again, you told him, “that guy who knows a guy, how much money does he want from us and how soon can he get us out of here?”

From that point it was simple: a fire would be started, people would have to clear and escape the premises, and that’s when the two of you would run.

You remember what it was like, preparing for it. You had to get your blood drawn every two weeks, not a lot, but just enough for people to know that something had happened to you during the confusion.

Your boyfriend did the same thing. He got all of his – limited payments, just enough for him to eat off of – in cash, so he saved and saved for weeks, you did too.

And the moment that fire broke out, you’d never felt such relief.

The pair of you took off in the crowd and the guy, who knew a guy, spilled the blood you had drawn in those earlier weeks.

You’d both gotten into an unmarked van, before being dropped off in a city where nobody knew your names, your past or what you’d had to do to become free.

Once the adrenaline of getting caught had worn off, the pair of you had celebrated with buying a new flat and staring new careers.

You got into alternative medicine, and now healed people through those means, while your boyfriend became a fitness trainer.

And overall, everything seemed to be going well… until today that was.

The guy your boyfriend knew, had said that you had to avoid being photographed, filmed and having any kind of digital trace if you wanted to avoid being found.

You had completely forgotten about that part. Life had been so good that your past had felt like a nightmare.

But if your anxiety was correct, it seemed like you would need to pack up, go on the run again. Or find a way to get that footage off of the Goblin and delete it… and that’s assuming that he hadn’t already put it on social media or sent it to the event organisers, if he was connected to them.

“Hey,” your Orcs soft voice broke you out of your trace state. You tied off the stitches as he put the knuckle of his finger under your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Whatever happens, we’re going to be alright.” He said, firmly. “No one is going to try and hurt us. I’ll get in contact with my guy, and we’ll see what he can do. Who knows? That little bastard might have just been running a fitness page or something. Since he had a knife, he might just do this sort of thing a lot and expects to get into fights.”

You smiled, grateful for his reassurance. “Yeah.”

Sometimes, occams’ razor is the way to keep your head above water. You still made a mental note to pack a duffle bag full of valuables to make sure that you could both shoot off if you needed to.

But you trusted that your Orc Boyfriend would keep you safe. He’d done so all this time, so what would stop him now?

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[eatfishies]

let's drown in this ecstasy together | 🔞

summary: Sylus has been relentlessly working hard these past few days.

or

You gave Sylus a helping hand, ensuring that he sleeps soundly tonight.

word count: 2.9k words tags: NSFW, sylus x reader (afab), porn without plot (super filthy ngl), oral sex (blowjob, deepthroat), HEAVY dirty talk, clit play, swearing, vaginal sex (rough sex), pet names, breeding kink, creampie, choking, nipple play, established relationship fish notes: uwah ..! i wrote this w my dick n it's very Very self-indulgent hehe :3 also inspired by the pic above ^^ hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

It was a quiet, tiring day for Sylus. Being the leader of Onychinus comes with a load of responsibilities and duties that he must oblige. Still, he’s relieved to finally get a breather and unwind from his long day. He leaned back on the sofa, lazily unbuttoning his shirt, leaving his chest slightly bare. 

He closed his eyes and tried to take a nap. That was until, a soft creak came from the door. He fluttered his eyes open, a small smile crept on his lips as he saw her walking towards him. Without hesitation, he extends his arms, inviting her into an embrace, to which she lets him. She gently stroked his white hair, the action making Sylus relax from all the tension he’s been feeling. 

“Didn’t expect I’d get to see my kitten today. I thought we agreed to meet on Friday.” He spoke as he hugged her tight, yet he was undoubtedly happy that she showed up today rather than their fixed date. 

She smiled as she gazed down at Sylus, still carding her fingers through his hair. “There were no sightings of wanderers lately so we were told to take it easy in the meantime.” She pulled away slightly to cup his face. “Besides, I miss you.” 

Sylus felt his heart swell with affection at her declaration. He looked up at her fondly, “I missed you too, sweetheart. This was certainly a pleasant surprise.” 

“Anything for you, Sy.” She said as she climbed onto his lap. “You look so tired… have you not been sleeping well?” There was a disapproving look on her features which made Sylus chuckle lightly. She looks so cute, he thought. 

“I think you already know the answer to that, kitten.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, “You know how work has been for me.” 

She frowned, “I do and I don’t approve of it! You already have bad sleeping habits and now you’re neglecting your own sleep. Must I watch over you and ensure you get enough rest?” 

A deep chuckle emitted from Sylus. “Hmmm… I wouldn’t mind that at all. My little hunter wants to be my sleeping aid? How sweet of you.” 

“Sylus, I’m serious! I will really nurse you to sleep if I have to.” 

Hearing her say that made Sylus excited. “Oh? And how exactly will you put me to sleep, sweetie?” He said in an amused tone. She stared at him, a flash of hunger in her eyes, “I can think of a thing or two to help you relax and sleep.” 

Despite the fatigue weighing heavily on Sylus’ shoulders, his desire for her is far greater than any other hurdle. He smirked, “Really? Enlighten me then.” 

Suddenly, he can see the clear signs of lust etched on her face. She licked her lips, “With pleasure.” 

Without warning, she closed the distance between them. Their lips met each other in a tantalizing dance as Sylus’ hands roamed all over her body, feeling her curves and groping her ass. When they pulled away, Sylus immediately began to press kisses on her neck, eliciting whimpers. 

It was addicting, listening to her moans and debauched cries. Sylus could get lost in it, all he can think about is her and making her feel good. But, she gently pulled him away and got off of his lap, kneeling down before him. 

That action alone made Sylus’ breath hitch in his throat as she swiftly unzipped his pants and tugs it down, freeing his hard cock, which stood tall and proud. 

She licked the precum from his tip, her tongue swirling around the head as she gazed up at him. “Relax for me, okay?” She spoke breathlessly before skillfully swallowing him in one-go, making Sylus curse loudly. 

The sensation of being inside her hot, wet mouth only intensified his arousal. He groaned as she fervently sucked and bobbed her head around his shaft. Sylus’ eyes fluttering shut, savoring the feeling of her tongue, pleasure coursing through his veins. 

His hands find their way to grab onto her hair, gripping it tightly and pushing his thick cock deeper inside her mouth. “Such a good little cockslut for me.” He moaned out as her throat constricts against his member.

“Remember to breathe, sweetie.” He said hoarsely, forcing it deeper and deeper until it hits the back of her throat. “That’s a good girl.” The encouragement only further strengthened her resolve to please Sylus, letting him use her completely.��

Sylus sets a brutal pace, fucking her throat with long, powerful strokes. The sounds of her moans and whimpers as he continued to deepthroat her were like music to his ears. He tilted her head back, pushing further deep inside to take more of his thick, pulsing shaft. A single tear streamed down her cheek, it was a pretty sight to see and it fueled his need to cum by a tenfold. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at this, kitten. You love my cock, don’t you? Always so eager to please me and make me feel good.” He can feel the head of his dick nudging against her throat. She whimpered, staring up at him with teary eyes as she humped the floor, desperate for any sort of friction against her needy cunt. 

It’s always a major turn-on to see Sylus like this. To let him dominate her and make a mess out of her, reducing her into a dumb slut who can’t think of anything other than his cock. The vibrations of her moans and whimpers only increased his pace, relentlessly ramming her throat as he feels it convulse around his throbbing cock. 

Each thrust and sound she makes sends a jolt of intense pleasure through his hardened member. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “My pretty cocksleeve. Doing so well for me, hm? Taking me like a champ.” 

She preened at his praise, eagerly sucking him with vigor. The grip on her hair tightened as Sylus continued to ram his throbbing cock into her throat, chasing his release. 

“Gonna cum in your mouth just the way you like, hm? Drink all my seed up, my sweet slut.” Sylus growled, the rough thrust makes her flutter her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

With a deep groan, Sylus cums deep in her convulsing throat. His cock pulsing and throbbing, flooding her mouth with thick, hot cum. He leaned his head back, panting as his release started to subside from the intense orgasm. She pulls away from his softening member with a wet pop. A strand of cum and saliva connects the tip of her swollen lips for a moment before breaking. 

A wave of satisfaction spread through her as she stared up at Sylus, enjoying his debauched state and feeling an immense amount of pride at being able to make the all-mighty feared leader of Onychinus like this. Sylus’ gaze falls onto her, watching with renewed lust as she lolled her tongue out, displaying the lewd puddle of his cum before swallowing it whole.

The action made Sylus’ cock twitch and harden again at the erotic sight before him. “That’s my good cumslut.” His voice is rough with desire for more — to completely devour her until she’s a sobbing mess. 

He tilts her chin, meeting her needy expression that is just begging for more. “My little hunter is such a good girl. Swallowing my cum like that… let me reward you for your hard work. How does that sound, kitten?” 

She nodded her head, her eyes lightning up at the prospect of getting utterly ruined by him. A smirk curled on his lips as he effortlessly picked her up and carried her over to his massive king-sized bed. Sylus laid her down gently and swiftly took off her clothes. 

Both of their clothes scattered onto the floor, leaving each other bare. “You’re perfect, kitten. My beautiful girl… my whole treasure.” He spoke softly, his voice filled with affection before he captured her lips in a searing kiss. 

Pouring every ounce of his passion and devotion into it. A kiss that promises a lifetime of love and happiness together. His hands roam her curves with urgency, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that buzzed through her skin whenever he caresses. 

His fingers trailed lower, cupping the soft swell of her breasts. Sylus groaned against her lips, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her as he felt her own desire rising to meet his. His tongue delved into the sweet cavern of her mouth. It’s intoxicating and he can’t seem to get enough of it, no matter how many times they’ve done this. 

When they pulled away, Sylus wasted no time and leaned down to capture her perky nipple between his lips. His tongue swirling around her hardened bud before sucking on it fervently. His other hand moved to pinch and roll her neglected nipple.

A small puddle of slick started to leak out of her cunt and onto Sylus’ expensive, silk sheets. “Sy… please… I want you.” She whimpered as he greedily suckled on her breast, feeling her arousal soar.

Sylus pulled away slightly, “Beg for it, kitten. I want to hear how much you want my fat cock inside you.” His hand slides down between her thighs, rubbing her clit languidly , “You’re so wet for me. So eager, aren’t you, my little slut.” 

“F- fuck…! Ah… feels so good, Sy.” She drawled out, biting her lip as his fingers stroked her folds, coating his digits with each rub. “So ready for me, so eager to be filled by my cock. Tell me what you want, sweetie.” He murmured against her skin.

Not a single thought nor feeling could describe the pleasure she was experiencing. Only Sylus could reduce her to such a state. Whatever troubles she had all vanished the moment Sylus touch her. It was electrifying and addicting, she can no longer live without him. A soothing balm to her rough days and the one who makes her feel the most alive. 

His crimson eyes burned with a feverish light, his expression morphed into one of pure, unadulterated lust. Sylus waited patiently for her command, ready to fulfill every single wish and desire, to worship her. To him, she is everything. Nothing else mattered except her. 

“Want your cock! Please! I want you inside me… need it so bad.” She squirmed beneath his skillful fingers. The heat in her core grew every second, it was maddening and she wanted him now. 

“As you wish, my love.” He rasped, his voice low and rough with raw need. “I’m going to fuck you now, kitten. I’m going to fill you up, claim you, make you scream my name until it’s the only word you remember.” 

He loomed over her, his large frame making her feel small. His gaze burned with deep intensity, like a predator waiting to devour his prey. Sylus’ body is a work of art, his chiseled muscles and scars of his past battles makes him look breathtaking. 

Slowly, he spread her legs wide open. The thick length of his cock pressing against her slick folds. He reached down to grasp his shaft, stroking and coating it with her arousal. 

“Look at me, kitten.” He gazed down at her, “I want to see your face when I enter you, want to watch your expression as I claim you, body and soul.” 

He nudged the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, the pressure building, the anticipation was almost too much to bear. Then, with a single, powerful thrust of his hips, Sylus sheaths himself inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke.

“Fuck… you feel so good.” Sylus moaned out, his head falling back and his eyes squeezed shut as her tight walls clench around him, gripping him like a vice. “You feel incredible, sweetie. Like you were just made for me.”

Wanton moans and cries falls from her lips, lost in the clouds of pleasure as Sylus rocks his hips. Each thrust is deep and hard, to make her feel every inch of him with every throb and pulse of his thick shaft as it stretches her, filling her completely.

“That’s it… that’s my good little cockslut. Take all of me.” He panted, his breath coming in fast as he lost himself in the sensation. 

The room is filled with the sounds of skin-slapping and moans, spurring Sylus on, driving him to take her with newfound ferocity. Her hands scrambled to purchase, gripping the sheets tightly as he pounds her dripping wet pussy.

“More… Ah..! Please, more! I want it.” She writhed, tears falling freely down her cheeks, letting herself drown in ecstasy. 

Something snapped inside Sylus as he heard her desperate pleas. “More? My, you’re so greedy.” He snarled, hooking her knees over his elbows, nearly bending her in half as he loomed over her, his ruby eyes ablaze with a hunger that consumed him utterly. “You want more of my cock? Want me to fuck you harder, deeper, until the only thing you can do is scream my name and beg for more?”

Relentlessly, Sylus slammed his hips with a rapid pace, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed beneath you. The obscene sound of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with her debased cries and his animalistic grunts. It was erotic and it makes her feel dizzy with how overwhelming the whole experience is.

Sylus hissed, “Your cunt is gripping me so tightly, sweetie. Like it never wants to let me go. Do you like it that much, hm, my dumb slut?” To further punctuate his filthy words, Sylus rammed inside her wet cunt.

Whatever words she wanted to say died down in her throat with how brutal Sylus’ fucking is. He leaned down, “Let’s stay like this. I want to stay buried inside you forever. You’d like that, don’t you?” 

He wrapped his hand around her throat, applying just the lightest pressure. It’s a dominant, possessive gesture, a silent declaration of his ownership to you, body and soul. “My pathetic little cockslut. Always begging for cock, hm? Let me fill you up full until all you can think about is me fucking you.” 

As if it wasn’t possible enough, she feels the pit of her stomach coiled with arousal. Her pussy spasmed and clenched around his enormous shaft, Sylus’ hips never faltering in their ferocious rhythm.

“You’re such a good girl.” He rasped, his fingers curling around her neck with more pressure. “Take my cock like the good slut that you are. Milk me with your greedy cunt. I’m going to breed you, pump you full of my seed until it’s dripping out of you. Until everyone knows who you belong to.” 

Hearing him say such filthy words with ease pushed her to the edge. The head of his cock kissing her cervix repeatedly, eliciting a plethora of moans and cries. “Cum for me. Cum around my cock like the good girl you are.” 

His other hand slides down, finding her clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in circles. “Come on. I want to feel this greedy pussy spasm around me as I breed you. Want to feel you shaking and quivering and screaming my name. Give it to me, slut. You can do it.” 

That alone was enough to make her scream aloud. “I’m cumming, Sy! Fuck!” Her pussy spasmed and throbbed around his cock as she arched her back, her body shaking from the intensity of it all.

“Fuck, I’m close, kitten.” Sylus pants, his pace unfaltering, “Gonna fill this cunt up…!” With a final harsh thrust, Sylus releases his load deep into her core. He grinds against her, ensuring that every last drop of his seed is pumped directly into her womb. 

For a while, the both of them stayed still and panted from their vigorous activity. She feels Sylus’ cock softening inside her as he collapses onto her, burying his face on her neck, inhaling her scent.

“You’re… you’re out of this world, sweetie.” Sylus said breathlessly. She chuckled lightly as she cupped his face, pulling him away from her neck and staring deep into his eyes.

“I should be saying that to you. You’re too good at this.” A sense of pride washed over Sylus at her words. He smiled at her softly, “And you’re my everything.” 

After basking in the afterglow, Sylus pulled out and watched in fascination as the cum leaked and dripped out of her sopping pussy. It stirred a primal feeling inside of him. 

Once they were all cleaned up, the both of them laid in each other’s arms, tucked in the covers as the signs of sleepiness made their way to their body. 

She snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat as his arm wrapped around her. “You won, kitten. I’ll admit, I feel like I’m about to doze off in a sec.” He spoke after a minute of comfortable silence.

Her gaze shifted towards him, smiling, “See? I told you. My method to put you to sleep always works.” She remarked smugly, to which, Sylus had no choice but to chuckle at her cuteness. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I never doubted you, sweetie. I’ve always known you are incredible at anything you do.” 

Those words made her heart warm, to know that her lover feels as deeply as she does. She embraced him tightly, “I love you, Sy.” She muttered softly. 

“I love you too, my love. More than everything and anything else. You are my whole world.” 

Sylus then fell asleep, listening to the sounds of her breathing and basking in her warmth. He no longer dreams of bloodshed and pain with her in his arms.