#I’ll be your roof caving in?

[lvl1l1]

How the LaDS men react to you leaving a note in their lunch

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x F!Reader(separate)

content: corny puns(i’m sorry), tiny bit suggestive, mostly fluff, mentions of meals being skipped in caleb’s

a/n: caleb’s and sylus’s a teensy bit longer bc i got carried away at end oopsies

Xavier

You and Xavier usually ate lunch together, be it after a mission or after training. Perks of being partners at work.

Today, however, was different.

Xavier had to join the analytics department for a debrief after a special solo mission.

He originally planned on flaking and leaving with you as soon as you had wrapped up your work.

But once you had persuaded him a bit with promises of spending the whole day together tomorrow and a long cuddle session tonight, he caved.

You patted his head as he was pouting at you and pressed a small box to his chest, before turning around and waving goodbye.

He barely registered the tupperware he was holding, as he longingly stared at your retrieving back.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at what exactly you had given him.

Taking in the silver box, he smiled to himself.

The corners of his lips turned upwards and he went to sit down on the nearest chair.

You expected him to eat it during a short break during the meeting, but he couldn’t wait that long, knowing you prepared something for him.

He was contemplating taking out his phone and telling you to come back and join him right now, eat the food you had made for him, together.

He stopped that train of thought, thinking to himself that he didn’t want to drag you back here.

With a slight shake of his head and sigh escaping his lips, he went to open the box.

The first thing he noticed was the amazing smell of whatever you had packed him, the second wasn’t the food but a little yellow note stuck to the roof of the lid.

“Hang in there, Xavie.

I’ll make it worth your while tonight ;)”

The tips of his ears turned red, he stared at the note before breathing out a chuckle.

You really knew how to motivate him, didn’t you?

Before he could linger on the note for too long, he heard a chipper voice behind him.

“Oh, hey Xavier! Mind if we join you?”

He saw Tara and Simone put their bags on the table he was sitting at.

He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement, immediately tuning them back out again after.

He hid the note in his pocket, thinking about how to repay you later.

Zayne

Zayne was used to you preparing his lunch for him, he considered you bringing him his lunch during his breaks as part of his work routine.

He loved getting to see you amid his packed schedule, finding a way to sneak in some extra time for you two to spend together.

Unfortunately, today you couldn’t drop by and bring it to him in person, since you had to go on a mission outside of town.

Instead, you had handed him his lunchbox this morning, kissing him on the cheek before heading out.

He usually looked forward to his break because he knew he’d be able to see you.

Today, that perk fell away, so once his break time rolled around, he kept on working on some reports.

Until he heard the notification sound he put specifically for you,

“Don’t forget to eat, Dr. Zayne!”

“I miss uuuu, can’t wait to see u later”

A small smile graced his lips, an expression you easily brought out of him.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be alright, as long as you’ll return in one piece later.”

Once he saw you were offline again, he put his phone away, finally taking out the lunchbox you had prepared for him this morning.

He placed it on his desk, taking the lid off.

He immediately noticed the small sticky note you had left.

“I’m “nuts” about you ;D enjoy your break, my love.”

Zayne silently quirked a brow as he read the message you wrote for him.

He shook his head as a quiet laugh escaped him.

His face went back to its usual deadpan expression.

If anyone were to walk in, he’d appear the same as he usually did. You’re the only one who would’ve been able to make out his hidden amusement.

Before he went to eating, he quickly pressed the sticky note to the frame of the picture he had of you two on his desk.

He was looking forward to welcoming you home tonight.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been whining all morning.

He was being forced to meet up with some art brokers outside of Linkon.

He had come up with 10 different excuses and 7 different plans on how to get out of this, yet all of his attempts were shut down. By you.

Talk about betrayal.

You had spent the entire morning talking him into going, saying how it would benefit him and how he should just make Thomas’s job easier for once.

Why couldn’t you understand that he just wanted to spend as much time with you as he could!!!

The next best idea in his mind was coaxing you into coming along.

Too bad for him, you already had plans for the day.

“Just get going already, you big baby.”

You had said to him.

“The sooner you get there, the sooner you can come back. Probably.”

You paid no mind to his heart clenching pout(self proclaimed) and just pinched his cheeks.

Before he could attempt anything else, like tripping over a brush and pretending to have broken his back, or blowing up his car(who knew what lengths he was willing go to, just to get out of work? You certainly didn’t want to find out.) you pressed a chaste but sweet kiss to his lips.

“Have a good day, Rafayel. And be nice to Thomas!”

And before he knew it, you were out of the door.

A groan left his lips, as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He was willing to go along with anything you had planned today, he just wanted to be with you a bit more.

Finally, wrapping up his sulking once he realised you weren’t coming back and he really did have to get going.

He grabbed his bag and left out the door you had disappeared out of, minutes before.

Fast forward a few hours later, he’d been sitting in some stuffy office, barely paying attention to what Thomas and the man sitting across from him were saying.

“Alright, let’s take five.”

At that, Rafayel perked up.

Immediately getting out of his chair and walking towards the door.

“Always nice doing business.”

Thomas gave him a pointed look,

“Rafayel, we aren’t done here yet. You better not take too long.”

The purple haired man hummed without looking back and left the building as quickly as he could.

While he knew Thomas was probably gonna think he left, as soon as he couldn’t find him inside, he didn’t care.

He got in his car and rested his head against the steering wheel.

He stretched and went to reach into his bag to grab his phone to text you, when he suddenly saw something he hadn’t noticed before.

There was a silver box sitting in his bag.

You sweet, cunning little thing.

He immediately pulled the lunchbox out, a look of intrigue in his eyes.

Of course, you wouldn’t just cruelly send him into hours of boring work, without rewarding him!

He took the lid off, being met with another sweet, sweet surprise.

Your handwriting immediately caught his attention.

“You’re doing amazing, baby!”

A chibi you doing a thumbs up next to the message,

and on the bottom you drew two stick figures holding hands, surrounded by hearts.

He chuckled quietly and if anyone told you about the lovesick look on his face as he stared at the tiny note, he would’ve sworn they were lying.

He reached back into his bag to grab his phone, snapping a picture of the note,

“seems like ur down bad for me lol”

You didn’t have to know about the goofy grin on his face as he ate whatever you had prepared.

Sylus

Whenever he could, Sylus would make sure you and him shared at least one meal together.

He knew, that due to your conflicting schedules, that wasn’t always possible.

By the time you’d wake up, Sylus’s day was slowly drawing to a close,

by the time you’d have lunch, Sylus would be fast asleep,

and by the time he’d wake up, you were finishing up the last of your work.

Yet he’d make an effort regardless.

Whether it be having breakfast, while you were eating your last meal of the day or keeping you company while he brought you breakfast, simultaneously getting ready to wind down after a night of work.

Obviously, that didn’t always work.

Sometimes you two would barely be able to see each other, missing one another due to your complicated relay race of a sleep schedule.

Today was one of those days.

Yesterday was your day off, but you had to get up early today to get to the Hunters Association on time, so you decided to catch up on some sleep and hit the hay early last night.

As Sylus had to get ready to leave, you had finished up your dinner.

Just as you got into the bedroom to call it a day, Sylus was heading out to tie up some loose ends.

With murmured declarations of love, you bid each other farewell. A quick kiss on the cheek, a soft peck on the lips and out the door he was and you were settling into bed.

Morning came rolling around, Sylus was taking longer than usual.

Before you knew it, you had to head out of the door, taking one of Sylus’s many cars to drive back to Linkon City,

not before sending him a quick text, though;

“I’ll get going now. Rest well, Sy!”

By the time he had gotten back to the base, you had long been gone.

He rubbed his eyes as he read your text.

Feeling groggy, he decided to skip his last meal and texted you back a good night message.

Once he had woken back up, he was half expecting you to be back, laying next to him but to his disappointment, you were no where in sight.

He headed to the kitchen as he checked the time.

5 pm. Surely you’d be coming back soon.

Sylus found Luke and Kieran lounging around the fridge and he quirked an eyebrow at them,

“You two usually don’t show your faces here, unless it’s time to eat.”

The twins looked at him, Luke scratching his neck and Kieran going back to looking around the kitchen,

“Well, boss…”

“Your bad luck struck again.”

“Very unfortunate, indeed.”

“Mhm, mhm!”

Sylus looked at them unimpressed, waiting for them to elaborate.

Luke and Kieran looked each other, silently trying to get the other to break the news to him.

“You see,”

“You might’ve just missed…”

“Miss hunter, boss-man.”

“Mhm, you totally missed her, boss.”

“She just left actually.”

Sylus could feel a headache forming, squinting his eyes at his henchmen.

“She was here? Why would she leave so soon, then?”

The twins shrugged in unison. Mumbling something about how unpredictable hunters were.

“She actually got here a few hours ago,”

“Said she didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Something about you needing the sleep.”

He heard one of them snicker, he couldn’t care enough to glare at the one who did.

Sylus ran a hand through his hair and a pointed look was enough to send the twins scurrying off.

He made a mental note to subtly complain to you about this later.

His mood souring after finding out he just missed you by a hair, he decided to have someone bring his breakfast up to his office, as he turned on his heel.

He spent the day in his office, working through a pile of reports and modifying Mephisto.

He sent you a few texts in between but gathered that you were busy, considering the lack of responses.

He was starting to think he shouldn’t have worked on Mephisto today, curious to see what you were up to, that was so much more important than answering his texts.

At around midnight, a knock resounded on his door.

“Come in.”

His hopes that it might just be you crushed, as he saw one of the twins walk in.

“Yo, boss-man, we were told to make sure you take a break. Instructions from the boss of all bosses.”

He placed a lunchbox on Sylus’s desk and disappeared as quickly as he had shown up.

Mephisto started cawing, reminiscing a laugh.

Sylus shut him up with a flicker of his gaze.

He reached for the black box and opened it.

His lips curled upwards into a half smirk as his eyes landed on the post-it note.

“The anticipation of seeing you later is driving me crazy.

Now, eat up!”

He could read you like an open book, even when you weren’t with him, yet having you be so open about your feelings made something inside of his chest bloom.

Even when you were busy, you still made sure to leave your mark on his day one way or another.

The soft look in his eyes was only ever reserved for you and he couldn’t wait to show it to you.

Don’t think he’ll forget about how you didn’t answer his texts, though.

Caleb

Growing up, Caleb always packed your school lunch.

He would cook for you whenever you were home.

And even when he wasn’t home, he’d make sure you were fed one way or another.

That habit never stopped as you two got older.

He loved cooking for you, it’s the reason he learned how to make all of your favourite dishes.

You always wanted to return the favour but a good moment never presented itself.

From starting college and becoming a pilot to becoming the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, his discipline only increased and so did his love for you.

Just when on earth could you find the time to make food for a man who got up at the ass crack of dawn to work out and make you a nutritious breakfast.

Well, once you found out that this same disciplined man skipped his own meals in favour of getting his work done, you decided to step your game up.

You had it all planned out, you’d take a few days off without telling him, meal prepping for him and getting to his apartment in Skyhaven without telling him.

As you arrived at his place and unlocked the door, stepping inside, your phone vibrated.

“Whatcha up to, pips? ;)”

You squinted around the room trying to see if he had any cameras inside.

Arriving at the conclusion that he probably(hopefully) just got a notification from his door being unlocked, you texted him back.

“Got the day off, gonna wait here until you come back.”

You felt your phone vibrate a few more times after you tucked it back into your pocket, you made your way to his fridge.

Wishing he could see your face of absolute disbelief at the sight of his pathetic fridge.

Empty. Entirely empty, aside from a few apples.

Who lives like this?

Does this man live off of apples?!

You placed all the tupperware you had prepared ingredients in, in his fridge.

Some rice, boiled veggies and proteins.

You’d have to give him a good talking to about this later.

A weird feeling settled in your chest, realising he only really takes good care of himself when you’re around, which is also just a by-product of him taking care of you.

With a sigh you closed his fridge, one more lunchbox remaining at the bottom of your bag.

Still ignoring the messages he had sent you, you left his apartment again.

Caleb was lounging in his office, he still had some time before he had to attend another meeting with the other Colonels and their subordinates.

He was wondering why you weren’t answering him, he was about to check the cameras around his apartment, when a knock resounded in his office.

He put his phone away, knowing he was about to get busy again.

-

His authoritative steps echoing through the emptying hallway.

The nurses and soldiers hurrying off after seeing his annoyed expression.

He paid them no mind, as he unlocked the door to his office.

As soon as he stepped inside, he took his hat off, running a hand through his hair.

Caleb couldn’t care less what the other people working there thought of him.

He gets his work done and he gets it done well.

Nothing else mattered, yet he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at these stuck up old men who dared to doubt his capabilities, be it out of sheer jealous or fear.

They got another thing coming, if they think they could mess with him.

He doesn’t take lightly to his duties, and he doesn’t take lightly to protecting you.

You. That’s who all this was about.

He would put up with about anything, as long as it meant you’d be safe.

Because you were everything to him, his sweet pipsq-

He lost his train of thought as he spotted the silly lunchbox sitting on his desk.

A pattern of red and green apples on it, decorated with stickers that had started to wear off.

It’s your old lunchbox.

He looked around his office, a grin finding its way onto his lips.

You’ve always been a sly one.

He sat down in his chair, inspecting the childish box.

As he took a look inside he was hit by the smell of braised chicken wings.

But he immediately lost interest in the food as soon as he saw the note you had snuck inside of the box.

“Learned from the best.

Eat well and rest well, Caleb.

Or you’ll have to face my fury >:(“

He chuckled to himself, you managed to get into his office undetected, just to drop off some lunch for him?

Caleb loved taking care of you.

It’s what he lived for, but he couldn’t lie.

He liked the feeling of you looking out for him as well.

You always manage to make all his doubts and worries disappear.

He’ll have to get creative with thanking you later.

[solxamber]

1800-Curse-Control || Lilia Vanrouge

You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.

“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”

Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”

You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”

“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”

“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”

“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”

You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.

“…How much are we charging?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”

“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”

“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”

Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”

By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.

You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.

The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.

“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.

With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”

“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”

You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”

“Okay, and?”

“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”

You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”

“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”

“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”

“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.

When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.

“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”

Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”

You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”

“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.

“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.

He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.

Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”

“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.

Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”

Riddle’s death glare answered that question.

“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”

Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”

Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”

The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.

You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”

Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”

You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”

“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.

You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”

“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”

“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”

“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.

Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”

Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”

“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”

Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”

“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”

“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”

“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”

The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.

“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”

“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”

“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”

The orb started vibrating violently.

“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.

You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”

When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.

“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”

Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”

Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”

Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”

You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.

“This should work,” he said cheerfully.

The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.

“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”

Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”

The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.

“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”

Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”

Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”

“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”

“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”

“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”

“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”

Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”

You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”

A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”

“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”

“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”

“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”

“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”

“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”

“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.

Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”

“But of course!”

“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”

“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”

“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”

Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”

“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”

You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”

“Anything!”

“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”

“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”

“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”

The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.

“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”

Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.

"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."

You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"

"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."

Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"

Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."

Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"

You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.

Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.

Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.

"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.

"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.

It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.

Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.

It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.

"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"

Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.

"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.

"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."

But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?

He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."

"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.

Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."

"Shut up, Jamil."

It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.

As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.

"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"

"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"

"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.

Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.

The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.

“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”

“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”

Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”

Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”

“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.

Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”

“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”

You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”

“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.

Deuce nodded frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”

“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”

The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.

Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.

You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.

Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”

“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”

Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.

Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.

“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.

“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”

Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”

When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”

You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”

Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”

Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.

Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.

But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”

Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”

He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”

You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.

Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.

“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.

“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.

“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”

“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.

“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.

The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.

You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.

You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.

Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.

Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.

Wait, what?

You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—

Oh, no.

“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”

You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”

Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”

Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.

“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”

Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”

“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”

“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”

He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”

Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.

After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”

You froze. “What are you saying?”

Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”

You stared at Malleus in horror.

“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”

“Precisely.”

“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”

Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”

You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.

You groaned. “I’m going to die.”

And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.

“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.

Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”

The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.

For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.

Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”

Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”

He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.

He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.

“Run!”

You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.

And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:

I want this forever.

Masterlist

[giuli4nna]

MAKE ME A BETTER MAN

— boxer!hamzah can’t handle losing so much at once. continuation of cheer me on

he doesn’t speak when you get him into the bathroom. he lets you sit him down on the edge of the tub like a child who just skinned their knee.

his head hangs low, blood dripping from his nose in slow, steady rivulets. his left eye is already swelling, a dark bruise blooming beneath it. his knuckles are torn up again - worse than usual.

when you peel his gloves off, he flinches. not from his injuries, but from the shame of losing in front of you.

you wet a towel under the tap, wring it out, and crouch in front of him. his eyes follow you, glassy and unfocused. you dab at his busted lip, keeping your touch gentle as he winces and sucks in a sharp breath.

“i shoulda seen that right hook coming,” he mumbles. “i was slow.”

you pause, pressing the towel to his nose. “you were distracted.” you reply. a weak attempt to soothe him.

his eyes flicker to yours for a moment. “no. i’m just-“ he shakes his head, frustrated. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

you lower the towel and rest your hand on his jaw. his skin is hot and flushed under your palm. “hamzah..” you sigh out his name, almost like a warning, for him to not go on a tangent of self-consciousness.

one thing always turns into another - and soon enough, he’ll be twisting this into a conversation about your relationship instead of staying on the topic of the fight.

“i always win,” he mutters. “i haven’t lost all year.”

“maybe you needed to,” you say before you can stop yourself.

his eyes lock onto yours, wide and startled, but the shock fades just as quickly as it appeared. something breaks in his expression - revealing fragility. his lip trembles.

he doesn’t look like a fighter. he looks terrified. of what? you’re not sure. all you know is that he’s slowly ripping apart at the seams.

“seriously, what’s wrong with me?” he asks. it’s sudden, but you anticipated him saying something like it anyway. “why don’t you look at me the same anymore?”

“hamzah,” you murmur, reaching to cup his cheek. “it’s not that simple.”

“then explain it,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “i don’t know what i did. i’ve been trying so fucking hard. please, just - tell me what to do, and i’ll do it. i’ll be better for you.”

“stop,” you say softly, but it comes out too late.

“i’ll quit if you want. i’ll stop fighting. i wanna-” he bites down on the words like they’re burning the roof of his mouth. “i wanna know what would make you love me again.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. “don’t say that.”

his voice crumbles. “why not? it’s true. i see it every time you look at me - it’s like you’re a ghost. you’re barely even there,” he sounds utterly weak and breathless. “but you won’t say it. you won’t tell me what you’re actually feeling.”

“i don’t know what i’m feeling,” you admit, and it’s the ugliest truth you’ve told him in months. “i don’t know why. i wish i did.”

he sags forward, forehead pressing to your shoulder, his body trembling.

“i wanted to win for you,” he whispers. “i wanted you to be proud.”

“i am,” you insist, but your tone is thin and empty.

“no, you’re not.”

his voice cracks and he starts crying before you can even respond. it’s like his whole body caves in on itself. his sobs are quiet yet deafening to your ears.

you pull him into your arms. it’s the only thing you can do.

he holds onto you like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him from slipping under. his blood is on your hands. his tears soak your shirt.

eventually, you coax him to bed. you tug his weak limbs upwards and all the way out of the bathroom towards the matress, pulling the covers over his shaking form once he lies down.

when you slip under the sheets next to him, he curls into your side without hesitation. his face presses into your collarbone, his hands grab fistfuls of your shirt.

“i’m sorry i’m not enough,” he mumbles.

“hamzah,” you whisper, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “it’s not about being enough. it’s not you, i just..” you sigh softly. “i don’t know why i can’t feel anything anymore.”

his voice comes out so small it’s hardly there. “then why are you still here?”

you’re silent for a second too long.

“because i want to feel like how i used to,” you admit. “i keep hoping i will.”

he doesn’t say anything for a really long time.

“maybe i actually should stop.” he finally whispers into the still darkness of the bedroom.

“stop what?” you reply.

“boxing.” he murmurs. “to be better for you.”

you mull it over for a second before nodding. “okay,” you sigh softly. “that could help.”

he holds you tighter, snuggles a bit closer into your body. “i promise.” he mutters into your shirt. “i told you i’d do whatever it takes.”

he falls quiet after that. for the first time tonight, the weight of his pain sinks beneath the surface, no longer clawing its way out in desperate pleas or tearful gasps.

you thread your fingers through the roots of his hair and stare up at the ceiling. the silence isn’t peaceful. it’s thick and anxious - like a storm that’s passed by, yet left miles of destruction in its wake.

hamzah shifts a little, his nose brushing against your collarbone. his lips part, like he might say something else, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. exhaustion is beginning to creep in; his body is tired and his soul even more so.

“i hate that i made you stop loving me,” he says suddenly, barely audible.

you close your eyes. “that’s not what happened.” you reassure him.

he doesn’t believe you.

“just go to sleep, hamzah.” you whisper.

you don’t know what else to say. how do you tell someone you love the memory of them more than the version that’s right in front of you now?

you pull him closer instead of elaborating further. he doesn’t ask any more questions, because deep down, he wouldn’t be able to stomach the truth. you let him bury himself in you like he always does.

eventually, his breathing evens out. you feel the last of his tears dry on your skin, his grip slackening as sleep claims him.

once he’s fallen unconscious, you finally allow yourself to cry. a few stray, salty tears paint a stream down your cheeks.

you lie awake, staring at the dark ceiling, silently pouring yourself out until you have nothing left to give. you hold him while he sleeps as if you’re the glue that’s keeping the shattered pieces of him in place.

a/n: #ihatemybf final boss (jk)

not the proudest of this one but i hope u like it nonetheless

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @thevoicelikesmartydoes @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @a1exaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll

[girllblogging777]

𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (best friends, flirting)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.4k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : exploring a haunted house isn’t very pleasant… except when your flirty best friend mattheo is with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you never should’ve let the boys convince you to sneak out after curfew.

the slytherin common room had been buzzing with energy earlier, filled with laughter and stories about the supposedly haunted house at the border of the forbidden forest. you’d been reading your book, half listening to what your friends were saying as they argued about whether or not they believed in these rumours, or if it was just another one of the castle’s unsolved mysteries.

“it’s not even that far,” theo had said casually, grinning. “we’ll be back before anyone notices.” and of course, you didn’t wanna be the only one to back out. not when you were the only girl in the group, always trying to prove yourself to them. not when you wanted to keep that confident and fierce image you had. and especially not when mattheo riddle was watching you with that usual smirk of his, his dark eyes practically daring you to say no.

✩✩✩✩

so here you were tonight, standing outside some old crumbling building that once had been called a house. the full moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows around you and the boys. the air was colder here too, sending shivers down your back and under the knitted sweater you were wearing. but, of course, you weren’t gonna let anyone know that.

enzo and blaise were already thrilled when they pushed open the door, making plans and chatting excitedly about the little nighttime adventure you were having. draco and theo strode confidently behind them, following them inside and leaving you standing next to mattheo, who was staring at you with crossed arms, looking calmer than you’d even seen him.

“scared yet ?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you rolled your eyes and scoffed, pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart rate sped up - from the alluring boy or the frightening house next to you, that you didn’t know. “please. this place is barely standing. the only thing i’m worried about is the roof caving in.”

he chuckled at your answer and leaned closer “don’t worry. if it does, i’ll protect you.”

your stomach flipped, and this time you knew it had nothing to do with whatever ghosts were inside that house. the brunette boy was the only human being who had such an effect on you, and you hated it. “ghosts be damned,” you muttered, shaking your head as you followed the others inside. “i don’t need your protection.”

“that we’ll see, love” mattheo said behind you, barely above a whisper.

inside, the house was somehow creepier than you’d imagined. there was dust everywhere, and when the floor creaked beneath your steps, you understood why all these rumours had been invented in the first place. despite the darkness, you could see the faded paintings on the wall, following you as you walked down the narrow hallway. at some point you could’ve sworn one of the figures on the portraits moved, but when you turned to look at it, nothing.

a couple of feet away, blaise was laughing at something draco had said, but you were too busy scanning the dark corners of the house to listen to their conversation. theo was already taking about splitting up, which of course, only managed to make the anxiety tighten in your chest.

“everyone, make groups !” the boys declared, clearly excited and proud of their idea. “makes it more fun”

before you could protest, mattheo was at your side again. you’d been hyper aware of his presence behind you for the past couple of minutes, and now there he was, grinning down at you as your shoulders brushed. “well, looks like we’re partners, then.” you shot him a look. “convenient.”

“hey, you’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, and it took everything in you not to make another sarcastic remark. still, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved now, knowing you wouldn’t walk through this scary place alone.

the two of you silently ventured down another hallway, away from where the others were heading. the floorboards creaked with every step you took, the shadows of your tall figures stretching out against the wall as you moved deeper into the house. it was unnervingly quiet, but the sound of mattheo’s steady breaths and confident footsteps reassured you a little.

the brown eyed boy glanced at you, his pupils gleaming with amusement. “you’re quiet, getting nervous ?” you muttered a barely audible “i’m fine” though you couldn’t ignore the quickening of your pulse. you hated haunted places, or even darkness in general, but you’d rather get crucio-ed than admit that to him.

he moved closer, his warm breath hitting your neck, and you found yourself unconsciously leaning towards him when he spoke, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” you glared at him, grateful the obscurity of the scene hid the blush on your cheek, “in your dreams.”

he laughed softly but he didn’t push it, still, his presence was oddly comforting. it made you feel a little less like something was about to jump out from the shadows, and a little more like you wanted him even closer.

somehow, the air in the house seemed to grow colder the further you walked. every once in a while, you’d hear something : a creak, a whisper, maybe just the wind, but it sets your nerves on edge.

suddenly, a loud bang echoed from one of the rooms down the hall and you jumped, grabbing mattheo’s arm without even thinking. your heart raced, and you cursed under your breath when you realised what had just happened.

“told you” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face as he looked down at where your hand gripped his hand. you scowled, quickly letting go. “that was just instinct.” still smiling, he nodded “sure, sure…” but then his gaze softened, and his voice dropped. “don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

something in his tone made your breath catch, and for a second, you forgot where you were. the haunted house, the cold, the creepy portraits, all of it faded as you stared up at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if this was more of his usual flirting.

before you could say anything, another loud sound echoed from upstairs. this time, it wasn’t just a bang. it was footsteps. slow, deliberate footsteps moving across the ceiling. you froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you looked up. riddle stepped in front of you, his usual playful expression gone and replaced by something more serious.

“stay close,” he whispered and you nodded as you followed him up the creaky stairs , ignoring the tightening in your throat. each step felt heavier than the previous one and the closer you got to the top floor, the louder the sound became. you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching you.

mattheo’s hand brushed against yours again, and this time you didn’t pull away. you were too focused on the shadows that seemed to move on their own, on the way the cold seemed to press in on you from all sides.

“do you trust me ?” he asked quietly. you looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his voice. he’d always been flirty and playful when it came to you, blurring the lines between friendship and more. however, tonight, things felt different. despite everything, you nodded “yeah…”

he squeezed your hand lightly, his hand never leaving yours. “good, because i’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“oi !” theo’s voice echoed through the hall, startling the both of you and shattering the blissful bubble you were in. you quickly dropped mattheo’s hand and stepped back, but it was too late.

theo was grinning, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking far too amused for someone in a haunted house, and for your liking. “well, well, well… look at you two getting all cozy up here.” your face heated up immediately, but mattheo just smirked, clearly unfazed. “jealous ?” theo proceeded to snort, “of you ? never.”

he glanced between the two of you, and the teasing look in his eyes made you wanna disappear. “we’re heading back, this place is more boring than we thought it would be. meet us downstairs and don’t get lost… or, you know, distracted.”

with that, he turned around and disappeared back down the dusty stairs, leaving you and mattheo standing there in awkward silence. you could feel your chest thumping as you tried to figure out what to say, looking at the old wallpaper that was falling apart instead of meeting his gaze.

“see ?” he whispered, leaning down just enough for you to hear. “told you i’d protect you. even from theo’s terrible sense of humour.” you groaned and pushed him slightly, the banter between you settling back down, “shut up !”

you may have hated haunted houses, but the truth was, you kind of liked the way his hand felt in yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : hey ! this is me making my weekly appearance on this app, cause i just HAD to write about this request

please comment and reblog ! tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs

[neferaskingdom]

♡ So Kiss Me | OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: McLaren's annual Christmas party means failed gingerbread houses and confessions in the snow.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The McLaren Technology Centre was buzzing with excitement. Fresh off the high of their constructors’ championship win, the annual Christmas party was in full swing. The sprawling MTC was unrecognizable, decked out with garlands, fairy lights, and a massive Christmas tree standing proudly at the entrance. It was festive, loud, and decidedly not where Y/N wanted to be at the moment.

She leaned against a high-top table near the edge of the room, nursing her drink and watching the crowd. As a PR coordinator for McLaren, she’d spent months working tirelessly managing their socials and was supposed to be enjoying herself. Instead, she was contemplating the pros and cons of sneaking out early when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Y/N, you’re not entering the gingerbread contest?”

Caroline. The thorn in her side. Caroline worked in marketing and had perfected the art of weaponized politeness. Tonight, she was wearing a sparkly red dress and an infuriatingly smug expression.

“Nope,” Y/N said flatly, hoping the conversation would end there.

Caroline tilted her head, her smile sharpening. “Oh, I see. I guess some people just don’t have the creative touch for it.”

Y/N’s grip tightened on her glass. She didn’t care about the contest… except now she absolutely did. Caroline’s subtle digs always had a way of lighting a fire under her.

“Actually, I’ve decided I’m entering,” Y/N said, forcing a smile.

Caroline blinked in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, how fun! Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

As soon as Caroline walked away, Y/N’s bravado crumbled. What was she doing? She didn’t even have a teammate.

She scanned the room, hoping to spot someone who wasn’t already paired up or too deep into their drinks. No luck. Her usual work friends were either tipsy or engrossed in other activities. After a fruitless search, she retreated to a quieter corner of the room, sulking.

“Why do you look like someone stole your Christmas cookies?”

She looked up to see Oscar Piastri standing in front of her, hands in his pockets and a curious smile on his face. He looked effortlessly good in a suit, the tie slightly loosened around his neck.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, not wanting to admit her predicament.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on, Y/N. Spill.”

With a sigh, she relented. “Caroline made some snide comment about me not entering the gingerbread contest, so I decided to prove her wrong. But I don’t have a partner, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to embarrass myself.”

Oscar’s brows lifted in amusement. “That’s it? Easy fix. I’ll be your partner.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No way. You don’t have to do that. This is your party. You should be… I don’t know, celebrating.”

“I am celebrating,” he said with a grin. “And what better way to celebrate than helping you crush Caroline?”

She hesitated, but the sincerity in his eyes won her over. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m terrible at this stuff.”

“How bad could it be?”

Very bad, as it turned out.

“This wall won’t stay up!” Y/N groaned, holding a piece of gingerbread that stubbornly refused to stick to the icing.

“Maybe we didn’t use enough icing?” Oscar suggested, frowning at their rapidly deteriorating structure.

“I think the problem is that we’re bad at this,” she said, trying not to laugh.

“Speak for yourself,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “I’m an innovator. This is modern architecture.”

“If by ‘modern’ you mean it looks like it’s about to fall over, then yeah, you nailed it,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

They both burst out laughing as the roof caved in, sending a handful of gumdrops skittering across the table. Around them, other teams were building masterpieces: sleek houses with intricate frosting designs and perfectly placed candies. Meanwhile, theirs looked like it had survived an earthquake.

“This… this looks like something a five-year-old made blindfolded,” Y/N said, choking on laughter as she gestured at the crumbling mess. “It’s somehow defying gravity in all the wrong ways!”

Oscar wheezed, leaning on the table for support. “Hey, it’s abstract. We’re pushing the boundaries of what a gingerbread house can be.”

“Right, because ‘falling apart’ is such a bold statement,” she teased, wiping tears from her eyes.

They tried to salvage their creation, but every attempt made it worse. Oscar’s attempt at adding a candy cane chimney resulted in the entire roof collapsing again, while Y/N’s decorative icing turned into an unintentional Jackson Pollock painting.

“This is a disaster,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t stop laughing.

“The best kind of disaster,” Oscar said, his tone warm. “Seriously, who cares what it looks like? We’re having fun, right?”

Y/N looked at him, her laughter fading into a softer smile. “Yeah, we are. Thanks, Oscar. You’re a really good friend.”

His expression shifted slightly, like he wanted to say something more, but the moment was interrupted by Caroline sauntering past with her flawless gingerbread mansion.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s so cute that you’re trying. It’s all about having fun, right?”

Y/N forced a tight smile as Caroline walked away. “I hate her.”

“Hey,” Oscar said, nudging her gently. “Forget her. Look at what we made. It’s got… personality.”

Her smile returned, though it wavered slightly as she glanced at the crumbled mess of icing and gingerbread. “Personality is one way to put it.”

Noticing the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, Oscar leaned in, his voice lower and more earnest. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth it.”

Y/N gave a half-hearted shrug. “Easier said than done.”

Oscar studied her for a moment before straightening. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for a bit. Fresh air might help.”

The chill of the night air was sharp against Y/N’s cheeks as she and Oscar wandered the grounds of the McLaren Technology Centre. The party noise had faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sounds of leaves crunching beneath their shoes and the soft rustle of wind against the nearby trees. Y/N hugged her arms around herself, her thoughts drifting as she glanced over at Oscar. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive.

Oscar broke the silence first, his voice warm and conversational. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Just… everything. The party, the season, life. It’s been a crazy year.”

“Tell me about it.” He shot her a small grin. “But hey, at least we’ve survived.”

She laughed. “Barely. Some days I wasn’t sure I would. Between the endless PR work and trying to keep up with you drivers, it’s a miracle I’m still standing.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased. “You love it. Admit it.”

“I do,” she admitted, her tone softening. “It’s exhausting, but it’s worth it. Especially when I get to see moments like tonight. You guys deserve it, you know?”

Oscar’s smile turned bashful. “Thanks. It still feels a bit surreal. I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be a dream.”

“If it is, it’s a pretty damn good one,” she said.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation meandering from the highs and lows of the season to lighter topics. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had all night, her usual guardedness slipping away in his presence. It was easy to talk to Oscar, too easy, and she felt a familiar flutter in her chest every time he smiled at her.

Snow began to fall, light and gentle, dusting their hair and coats. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she stopped in her tracks, tilting her face upward. “It’s snowing!”

Oscar chuckled, watching as she spun in place, arms outstretched like a child. Her laughter rang out, clear and bright, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was beautiful, her joy infectious, and for a moment, he forgot about the cold entirely.

“You’re going to freeze,” he called out, amusement lacing his tone.

“I don’t care!” she replied, still twirling. “Look at how perfect it is. It’s like something out of a Christmas movie.”

Her spinning slowed as she stumbled slightly, and Oscar stepped forward instinctively, steadying her with his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, her breath visible in the cold air, and suddenly the world seemed to shrink around them. The snow fell quietly, the moment suspended in time as their eyes met.

“You’re shivering,” he said softly. Without waiting for a reply, he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His hands lingered for a second, his touch warm against the cold fabric.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart raced as she stared at him, the closeness between them making her acutely aware of every small detail—the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his breath hitched slightly as their gazes locked.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of emotions. She’d always felt something for Oscar, but she’d buried it under layers of professionalism and self-doubt. Now, standing here with him, she couldn’t deny it any longer. She liked him. She more than liked him. And judging by the way he was looking at her, the feeling might just be mutual.

Before she could overthink it, Oscar leaned in. The kiss was sudden, catching her completely off guard, but she melted into it almost instantly. His lips were soft, warm against the chill of the night, and the world seemed to blur at the edges as her heart pounded in her chest.

When they broke apart, her breath came in shallow gasps. “Oscar…” she began, her voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back slightly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” she interrupted, reaching out to grab his hand. “Don’t apologize. I… I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I just didn’t think you…”

“Are you kidding?” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just didn’t want to mess things up.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a giddy rush of joy that made her want to laugh and cry all at once. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she said, her tone playful.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m your idiot, if you’ll have me that is.”

She didn’t reply with words. Instead, she pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent. His hands found her waist as hers tangled in his hair, the world around them fading into insignificance. She pressed against him, her back meeting the rough bark of a nearby tree as their kisses grew more heated.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed despite the cold. Oscar rested his forehead against hers, his hands still on her waist.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “do you want to head back to the party, or…?”

She hesitated, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But this is your celebration party. Everyone’s here for you.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’d rather celebrate in a different way.”

She stared at him, half in shock and half in amusement, before bursting into laughter. “Oscar Piastri, I didn’t know you had game.”

He laughed with her, his hand slipping into hers. “Come on,” he said, tugging her gently toward the parking lot. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they walked away, hand in hand, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in quiet magic. For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

You break down into tears and tell them: "It’s been so long since I’ve felt this happy, I think I just got overwhelmed. You make me happy.” 

Heartslabyul dorm; Savanaclaw dorm; Octavinelle dorm (here); Scarabia dorm; Pomefiore Dorm; Ignihyde Dorm; Diasomnia Dorm

Jade Leech – The hike was a grueling one, and late as well. You understood now why you had to pack a tent and sleeping bag for this one, thought he cooling air was helping with your sore feet.  

When you had arrived at the clearing, he had the two of you quickly set up and then led away to a hidden entrance. It was a cave where he kept his more dangerous mushrooms, the soft glow of the moon entering through holes in the roof reflecting the stalactites above with dew like a knives edge.  

He’s whispering softly, as if too loud of a sound will disturb them. Maybe that’s why the hitch in your breath seems to echo.  

He only grows more confused as you explain. Is this a land dweller reaction? No, no he had never seen something like this before, even in his short time interacting with others.  

He gives that polite smile that’s just on the edge of something softer, using his gloves to wipe them away before lifting your chin.  

“You must expect more from life,” He tells you, the words echoing divinely. “And if you cannot find it, cultivate it. All things can thrive, under the right conditions. That includes us.”  

Floyd Leech – Azul doesn’t like it when he does experimental dishes in the Monstro Lounge kitchen, which is silly, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the fight right now. So he just breaks into Ramshackle to cook in yours!  

You don’t mind really, they be experimental but they are usually tasty, sometimes even pretty, though you always double check that something like shellfish or shrimp is cooked to human temperatures. You two had learned that the hard way.  

He laughs at your scrunched up nose as you sip the broth from his spoon. He doesn’t see the way you just stare at him a moment, turning your face to hide.  

As he listens, his hands clench. That’s fucked up. It can’t-it shouldn’t- but it is. You can’t always do what you want when your shrimpy size. He can’t even do that at his size.  

He picks you up and twirls you around the kitchen, squeezing until you start laughing again.  

“I’ll just have to steal Shrimpy away more often,” he says, “And we can both be happy together. No more tears though. Lots of people deserve to cry, and Shrimpy isn’t one of them.”  

Azul Ashengrotto – It was a small debate, with you defending local business and him defending corporate business. It was something the two of you had done before, matching wits and parries, but something felt different this time.  

You just stare a moment, a soft smile until he saw it. A small tear quickly wiped away. Azul immediately wipes it away, asking what he did wrong, only to find the opposite. He simply makes you happy.  

He starts crying with you, the both of you a bit hysterical. He never imagined this. Somebody just being there to be there, how he values your opinion and thoughts, how you can debate like this and it not get too heated. The urge to collect and keep is so strong. To simply gather you into a cave and feed and gift you everything you could ever desire. But you wouldn’t take it and he knows it.  

So he settles with wiping your years with his embroidered handkerchief, appreciating the way the lavender contrasts with your skin.  

“Well, angelfish, the solution to your problem is simple.” he declares, tucking the handkerchief into your dorm pocket, “You must simply stay by me.”  

[evergone]

Being Two Superheroes in Love

Tim Drake x superhero! reader

Warnings: f! reader, implied POC reader but also not enough for me to say you shouldn't read this if you aren't a POC, swearing, fluff to small angst to fluff again.

Description: The reader's boyfriend, Red Robin, knows everything about her, and she just wants to know one thing about him.

Red and blue lights flashed on each of your faces, illuminating your skin and eyes as you watched the goons get loaded into police trucks. Alarms blared through the eerie alleyways of the rougher outskirts of Gotham, signalling a fire that was in the midst of being put out just a couple doors down from the roof you had removed yourselves onto to watch the scene come to a close. The sharp whistle of a cold, whipping wind, broke through the intense jumble of noise, and sent a shiver down your exposed back.

“You’re gonna need another costume for winter,” said Red Robin knowingly.

With a hum, you replied, “I was thinking of adding long sleeves, a halter neck, and some stockings. What do you think?”

You opened your arms wide in preparation to give him a twirl so that he might be able to take in your current costume and imagine it with all the additions, but decided against it when the chill covered you with goosebumps. Crossing your arms again, you hoped he could see enough of your black battle dress already: the stringy straps, the slit in the skirt, the thigh-high boots. Noticing your discomfort, he unclipped the black and red cape from his shoulders, and draped it over yours. Instantly, you were surrounded by warmth.

“Wanna head home?” asked Red Robin, then he quickly added, “We’re having seafood boil for dinner.” To entice you to join him.

“Your family’s the bland kind of white, Red. I don’t know that I trust them to be able to cook something as flavoursome as Cajun food,” you teased with a laugh.

“Half my family isn’t white,” he said, a pleasant smile on his lips as he stared into your e/c eyes.

“I think ‘half’ is a bit overkill… Can I eat upstairs?” you asked.

“You aren’t allowed yet, Y/n/n.” The sweet sound of your nickname on his tongue almost deafened you to the refusal of your request. “I’ll get someone to bring it to the Batcave for us.”

A huff left you, and you rolled your eyes knowing there was no use in trying to convince him since it wasn’t his rule, but Batman’s. Still, you climbed down the fire escape after him, and let him hold your hand as you tried to remember where he had parked his motorbike before the fight. Once you found it, you hopped on behind him, and planted kisses on his back the whole ride to the cave, knowing very well that he could feel each one pressing on him through his suit.

“You know what?” you shouted as you sped through the Friday night traffic.

“What?” replied Red Robin, just as loud.

“I think it’s so unfair that you know my name, and where I live, and all my family member’s names, while all I know about you is the Red Robin stuff,” you said in annoyance.

“That’s your own fault for not having a code name, and inviting me over for a seance, and I already knew all your family because most of them are Leaguers, so that one’s especially not on me,” he chuckled, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, one of my family members is called Damian.”

“You have, like, a billion siblings!” you scoffed and tried to push his body away from yours, only to freak out the second you weren’t completely touching and wrap your arms around him again. “Surely you tell me your name. Or - or if not that, then your mother’s name.”

“Her name was Janet,” he said softly.

“Oh, she’s passed away?” He nodded, and a grave look came over your face. “I’m so sorry, Red. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman, because her son is such a wonderful man.”

At this, he leant back into your hold as you placed a kiss on his helmet where his cheek would otherwise be. You hid your nose in the dip between his neck and his collarbone for the remainder of the ride, all the while complaining about how your ears were freezing, and how dangerously he was driving, and how hungry you were.

Upon your arrival at the Batcave, he rummaged through the large box of unclaimed clothing left there by both family and visitors until he found a hoodie for each of you to pull over your costumes. When you were sufficiently warm enough, he sent a text to one of his siblings to bring down two plates of food, and you made yourselves comfortable around the table typically used for mission debriefs. You kicked your feet up on the armrest of Red Robin’s chair as you slipped into friendly conversation, but at the sight of Signal’s bright yellow suit, and the scent of garlicky seafood, you stood up excitedly.

“Next time, just come upstairs,” said Signal with a tired sigh, “I’ve got school tomorrow, man.”

You took the plates from him, and placed them on the table before you pulled him in for a short hug, and informed him of your not being allowed upstairs. Batman’s orders. You separated from him as you eagerly dug in to the meal. The blend of herbs and spices exploded on your tongue, you could taste smoked paprika and cayenne pepper on top of the obvious garlic and butter, and you had to admit your fault in thinking it wouldn’t be good.

“My compliments to the chef,” you smiled sweetly to Signal.

“I’ll let him know,” he said, and retreated upstairs.

Meanwhile, Red Robin had been watching the way you interacted with his brother, and it wasn’t lost on him how well you had taken to him, just as you had taken so well to the rest of his adoptive family. A small, almost undetectable smile had crept its way onto his lips, and you raised a brow at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he responded avoidantly, and raised a forkful of food to his mouth.

You placed a finger on the fork, intercepting its journey, and exclaimed, “You’re making me nervous, tell me!”

“It’s really nothing!” He laughed, and shook his head.

Squinting your eyes at him, you released his fork from your hold, and you went on eating quietly for a while. It wasn’t long, though, before your talkative nature got the better of you, and you pressed him further on the same subject.

“I promise you, it was nothing,” he reiterated.

“Stop it! Just tell me!” you added, “Whatever it was, I won’t judge you, or be weird about it. I just want to know. You know how much I despise secrecy.” With a poke at his domino mask.

He grabbed your finger before it managed to move out of his reach, and opened your palm to hold his. Another of the night’s many complaints was made, this time arguing that you wouldn’t be able to eat if he kept your right hand trapped as it was since you were absolutely hopeless at using your left for anything. But, not wanting to let go, he discarded his own meal to help you with yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a bemused laugh when he started to move your fork towards you making aeroplane noises, and when he happened to miss your mouth with the food, covering your cheek in sauce.

“Allow me,” he said, and licked the sauce off your face.

“That’s so gross,” you cringed, but he just shrugged and used your closeness to plant a kiss on your glossed pink lips.

Blushing, you turned away from him, letting your hair fall over your shoulder. He smoothly took your hot cheek in his hand, and wiped off all the excess sauce while he lost himself in you.

“If you won’t tell me your secret,” you started quietly, still bright red, “I’ll tell you one of mine.”

“And here I thought you despised secrecy,” he said, every word dripping with sarcasm.

A shake of your head, and then, “I’ve always wished to know what colour your eyes are.”

A pang hit his heart at the softness with which you had spoken. Your gaze drifted from him to the table as if you were ashamed of what you had said, and in that moment, when your perfect e/c eyes were concealed from him, he understood completely the weight behind your words. The crown of his mask came together in a frown as he dropped to his knees in front of you, the picture of a disciple at the foot of his god, and encased your hands entirely in his.

It was part of his training to be hyperaware of the way that people breathed, and it had become second nature to him to always be listening or feeling for it. So when the rise and fall of your chest began to speed up, and he could hear the sharpness of every intake of air, he knew you were on the verge of sobbing.

“I shouldn’t have said anything, I know it’s Batman’s rule—”

“Fuck Batman’s rule.” You snapped your head around to look at him, and he sighed a sigh of relief to see that there weren’t any tears yet. “They’re my eyes, and I’m more than willing to share them with you.”

Unable to let any more time pass, Red Robin peeled off his mask, and deserted it on the floor of the cave. Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut until he coaxed you to open them again at which point you were met with the most magnificent blue you had ever seen in your entire life. It rivalled the sea and the sky. It wasn’t cold like crashing waves or storm clouds, but rather, it was the kind of blue seen in the very heart of a fire, right there where it burns the hottest. Framing this excellent display of artistry were long, thick lashes sat under similarly thick, black eyebrows, which were quite well sculpted for a man.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered in astonishment.

Now, it was Red Robin’s turn to blush. The rosy colour coated his ears, and touched the lines under his eyes that you had never seen before. You could do nothing but stare at him as you admired the small sliver of space that was so new to you.

[superbat-lmao]

Tim and Jason AU

Scene 1

Jason makes it look like he’s doing something shady on a nearby roof, something that Tim thinks the Bats would want to hear about. And only Tim notices. He wants to be useful.

He starts to follow Jason and there are some mechanical closets on the top of the roof, and Jason is being very obvious in his direction, so when Tim turns a corner he isn’t expecting Jason to be behind him suddenly.

He’s not dressed in any sort of identifiable style, definitely not League or gang affiliated and not a mask. Tim doesn’t scream and Jason picks him up by his jacket and shakes him in minor frustration.

“I swear you had better instincts than this. Seriously kid, tell me you’re not this reckless. I’m surprised the Bats haven’t already had to clean you off pavement.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Bzzt, wrong question. Actually, no questions, you shouldn’t be up here and following a shady guy in the dark.”

“What’s the right question?”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Tim freezes, maybe sinking in a bit how stupid that was but the guys seems to be asking himself more than telling Tim that was the question.

“That’s the right question?”

“What? Yes, if your cover’s blown it’s important to assess how you’ll be appraised and know what the person will do with you. Also called a secondary cover or ploy. Always make sure you have a plausible reason for where being somewhere you shouldn’t be. And if you can’t, have a quick escape.”

“Why would you tell me that?”

“Second tip kid, the questions you ask a suspect inform on what information you have. Don’t get too close to the topic you’re most interested in or you’ll give yourself away.”

“A suspect?”

“How else would you describe me?”

The guy’s grip changes and Tim feels something sharp prick his neck. He feels true panic and hears vaguely, “control your response next time because adrenaline makes your heart spread a sedative in your blood stream faster if you’re panicked. You’ll thank me later, kid.”

When Tim wakes up, it’s to two gloved fingers pressed beneath his jaw. Checking his pulse He can’t get his eyes open yet, but he can hear voices.

(Jason tied Tim up, lit the batsignal, and left a flash drive pinned to Tim’s chest. It explains his home situation, how long he’s been following the Bats, and that he knows their identities.)

*Scenes from a fic I’ll probably never write. Mostly just notes app things. Outtakes below the cut.

“Seriously?! The Batsignal?!

“It was that or leave you in the cave for Alfred, and the Batsignal was less confrontational.”

“And lazy, what, you couldn’t wipe the feed?”

“I can wipe the batcomputer faster than you, I’ve been hiding shit from Bruce since before you were in spandex. But tipping our hand that early? You’re not usually this stupid, Timmy.”

“Just shocked by your self control by not picking the most nuclear option.”

“The most nuclear option would have been holding you hostage and having a good ol’ fashioned stand off with the Bat. Maybe mail him your spleen as motivation.”

“Fuck you. I already took care of Ra’s - he’ll keep his spleen this time.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

[bertoltblecht]

On Call - One

Characters - Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x OFC , Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Frank Langdon, Dana Evans, Jack Abbot

Summary - Rose Reilly is a surgical resident specializing in trauma medicine under Drs Robinavitch and Abbot. A series of scenes involving Robby and Rose.

Word count: 1874

Rated: Mature

Tags: Angst, Mutual Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Tension, Very Light Suicidal Ideation, Sex, Mutual Pining

A/N: Hello! Sorry if you know me in real life and this is weird. Enjoy! This is already 4 chapters deep on Ao3 but I don’t want to flood tumblr like a jerk so I’ll post them over a week here to get caught up. Let me know what you think, please be gentle. Writing is someone’s emotional back window, don’t snipe me. There’s going to be some more of this, not sure how much.

—————————————————

In order to work in the emergency medical field, you have to be able to keep all your shit in neat, tidy mental boxes. Rose had taken a while to adjust to needing such thick walls between her surface emotions and the impossible frustration of their day to day lives.

She did her surgical specialization in the Pitt, trauma medicine. All the other residents conceded none of them wanted her fellowship under Dr. Robby. Idiots. Not only was he the most experienced doctor in the hospital, but he had a commitment to educating the doctors around him. He had certainly committed himself to her education.

It had been more than a crash course in emergency medicine. He’d also caved to her earnestness, her intelligence, and her desperation. He had shown her how to manage the excess of everything that built up inside her and threatened to destroy her. Robby’s boxes were taped shut, he’d been doing this long enough that even when the bones in the closet started to clamber to life, the locks stayed tight. He was impressively good at looking sad but soldiering on and Rose... felt too much for a long time.

Long before things became personal between them, Robby had looked out for her in a way she’d never had a boss look out for her. He was that way with all the people who worked with or for him, she assured herself. And he really was for the most part. After one particularly long, terrible shift, an intern told Robby that Rose was MIA for final rounds. Dana had tried to cover for the girl but pointed the senior attending subtly in the direction of the stairwell to the roof.

It wasn’t like it was high or anything. It was just the trauma center roof which was only three stories. The main hospital was taller. Furthermore, it wasn’t like Rose was thinking about that at all. Well, she was but just in the way she thought about a lot of things - theoretically. It would just be such a huge hassle for her coworkers downstairs and she’d be in, like, a ton of pain. That wasn’t at all why she’d come up here. She just knew after that shift no one would want to climb the stairs to find her and she needed to breathe. Rose needed the locker room to be empty after the shift change so she could change alone and not have to be a human being in front of everyone while they were all exposed, exhausted nerves.

“Dr. Reilly.” Hearing her name from the door wasn’t entirely what surprised her, it was the sharpness with which it left Dr. Robby. The sight of her at the railing of the roof clearly affected something in him. Rose felt something she thought might be guilt bubble up in her at having been up here and inadvertently thinking those thoughts, sending off that energy. Her head was full and sluggish and overwhelmed all at once.

Dr. Robby repeated her name again, his tone more gentle but it still made her go wide eyed for a moment all the same - just long enough that his expression softened as she turned and moved away from the railing to walk toward him.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Dana said you were up here, you missed rounds.” His tone was light. It wasn’t a question or an accusation.

“I know, sorry. I don’t know why today got to me so badly,” Rose admitted softly. But it wasn’t just that day. It had felt like it had been creeping up on her for a while. They’d had a series of bad weeks in the trauma department. It was easy to admit she was run down that day, and the sentiment didn’t convey any of the devastation lingering just below the surface, the waves thrashing her against the rocks.

“It won’t happen again.” She sounded like she meant it, and he was inclined to believe her. For a moment though, he scrutinized her in a way that made her want to fidget nervously. It felt like having someone glance around you at your front door, peeking to see what you were hiding with the door propped open just so.

Rose lost the staring contest and dropped from his intense gaze. But he seemed satisfied that she was at least going to make it another day, so he nodded. “Try to get some rest. Good work today. I know they aren’t all easy days, but your progress and contribution here is obvious.” The sentiment sounded so genuine, it made her eyes well and her throat tightened in an annoying way.

The earnestness made her feel itchy. “Thank you, Dr. Robby. It means a lot. I’m built for this, I know I am. It’s just taking some time to…put everything in its proper place, label all the boxes to pack the trauma in.” He’d laughed at her joke and hadn’t gone back inside until she had.

After that, it was obvious that Robby was learning things about her as they went, and Rose tried not to be too aware of it. It would be ridiculous to assign too much significance to the person she spent hundreds of hours with remembering things like her tree nut allergy or knowing that if he just talked absently long enough about recent medical studies in the locker room that eventually Rose would stop picking her cuticles and staring at the wall and actually leave the building. He would even walk her to her car, keeping her from getting stuck sitting on the bench outside the ER for another hour, perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t like she was keeping track - maybe he had a whole mental diary of things about Frank’s intricacies and tendencies. He was certainly considerate of everyone she saw him interact with. Making people feel seen was easily something he could be commended on.

Rose couldn’t honestly tell you what it was about her that pulled him in. It wasn’t like she had launched a seduction plan. She had tried not to think about how his attention felt like warm sunshine and it was easier to leave the building when he was beside her. He was married though, so Rose had kept her thoughts and hands to herself. Even when she’d overheard the nurses discussing his separation and divorce proceedings. No one had any real intel, just that they’d heard him on the phone with a divorce attorney and a real estate broker for a new apartment.

The area was deeply grey when they’d finally crossed the line. Her separated-from-his-wife senior attending had closed the gap when they were a touch past tipsy at a bar across town. They’d been stranded by an ambulance that needed to leave them behind and their shift had been over anyway. The details of how they had ended up in the bar’s bathroom sort of escaped her, but the memory of the actual event was captured in stunning technicolor in her mind’s eye.

It was so much easier to sleep after a terrible shift when Rose was well fucked and beside someone who didn’t ask her if she was okay. Sometimes Robby asked it with his eyes, but they were sides of the same coin - of course neither of them were okay.

So for a few months, they stole nights together in her studio apartment, cooking dinner, turning on an audiobook, or listening to jazz records. She took comfort in his warm, quiet presence. Especially after long days of talking endlessly to people, neither of them much wanted to communicate verbally. So they didn’t most of the time. It was easy because neither of them wanted very much from the other.

A single close call had been enough to spook him though.

Robby was in her kitchen making a mushroom risotto when the resounding crack of IKEA particle board against her skull brought him running. “Jesus, shit, fuck, ah!” she hissed, her hand going to her hairline to catch the blood from dripping down her forehead. It broke the skin of her scalp and the resulting bump was already bruised.

“Shit, what happened?” Robby asked, gently nudging her hands away to look. Rose inhaled sharply as his fingers prodded and he murmured an apology as he tipped her head up. “It hit me in the head,” she said, clenching her jaw petulantly and making him raise his eyebrows.

“You need stitches. So we get to go back to work.” He hadn’t sighed but he also couldn’t hide the weary disappointment at the direction of their evening.

The night didn’t improve from there.

Rose slipped into an unused consult room while Robby grabbed a suture tray. He’d been caught by Dana though and even though Rose couldn’t hear through the door, the look shared between them made it clear the woman had not bought whatever answer Robby gave about what was going on.

More than that, the guilty look on Robby’s face spoke volumes. When he shut the door to the consult room behind him, he was Dr. Robby her boss again. It was amazing that just a half hour prior he had been making her dinner and now… he was going to very professionally stitch up her forehead and then quietly break her heart. It was almost like she could watch it happen in slow motion. He finished up the sutures and Rose cut him off before he could say anything. “Well at least I don’t have a concussion. Means I can head home and get to bed. Don’t need to worry about not waking up like Attila the Hun…” Rose trailed off, not making a good case for the lack of concussion. “So if you want to.. also head home. I would just see you tomorrow evening for the start of overnight shifts,” she added, offering him the exit that his posture was all but begging for.

“I think Attila the Hun died of a nosebleed in his sleep,” Robby replied, tying off the last knot. “You really should get some rest and if you have a headache tomorrow take the day.”

Rose nodded, allowing a soft laugh to leave her. What was she supposed to do? Be mean to him? He was protecting himself… his career… her career. To his credit though, he didn’t just speed down the shoulder to the exit. Robby caught her gaze and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry to just...bolt. I let myself do this without thinking it through. And that’s not fair.”

Robby wasn’t an asshole though. He drove her home, got her settled and, once she was in bed, he cleaned up the mess of half made dinner and built the offending bookcase. The finished product standing beside her couch was the only real evidence that he’d been there at all come morning. That he’d ever been there, for that matter.

Something else to pack neatly away.

They went back to the vaguely defined boundaries that existed before the bathroom hook-up. Robby was still attentive at work, and Rose kept her head down and focused on her residency. That’s what they were really best at anyway. The work.

next

[noicevibes]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧?

originally a commission, repurposed for readervision! writing about the ladies is fun and i should really do it more often, mhm.

notes -> pls i always forget she's 6'1", that's so frickin hot, my gawd

pairing -> quanxi x afab!time-traveler!reader*

warnings -> nsfw (18+, mdni), praise/nicknames used (*good girl), thigh riding, oral sex (reader receiving), orgasm denial, scissoring/tribbing; partial inebriation (alcohol consumption); light editing.

wc -> 4.5k

The modes of transportation in this place are… dated.

So used to seeing the various Tesla models zipping about, or the suddenly extremely common Honda Civic models, you found yourself staring a little harder at the ones that lined the street. All too obviously, the dilapidated street signs around you indicated your new location being somewhere in China. Still, there’d been an aged familiarity about the place, about all of it, from the specific way the splits in the sidewalk crackle from one end to the other, to how the trees willow overtop of them like old, gnarled hands. The glow from the street lights are all equally dull, and do little to highlight the filth the asphalt roads hold. The houses, in their decaying, years left untouched glory, are still cookie cutter enough to say that it once might’ve been a place that people both lived and thrived in— if anything, they might just exist there now. The bare minimum for any species.

But then you look in the distance, past the caved-in roofs, past the loose, swaying electrical lines and through the smog, find the fluorescent lights of the city resting just outside the horizon of this dystopian suburbia, and find that you feel at home, your own having been bright just like that. 

You suppose that being at arms with a stranger in the middle of what you can only deem some kind of cacotopia must not be real. A dream or a hallucination— a nightmare, perhaps. The fact that you’ve never been to this place, this time or era, and yet, it’d been familiar. This partial hell scape with its scarred roads and patchwork housing, stuck in its darkened stasis of a temporary ceasefire? Wondering what kind of dream beasts this realm holds was unavoidable from the start, but at the very least, it still includes those in human form.

Your foe is formidable-- or, your predator, you should say. Armed thrice and practically naked in consideration for their lack of armour, wearing a thin shirt that exposes her midriff and tight black trousers, and with their one eye obscured by an eyepatch, they’re still as swift as a shadow when they charge forward, one blade extended, the other held in reverse against their forearm— usually a predictability. But they’re enough of a threat to you that you don’t bother to analyze much else any further.

If not for obeying modern physics, the stone at your feet would’ve split from the impact of your own harsh landing— without a weapon or defense of your own, you scamper out of the way of the woman’s sword, gasping at the close call. If anything, being in this strange place for so long, and being targeted by strange looking creatures and even stranger humans, has made you adept at avoiding harm.

You’re not entirely sure you can avoid it any further. You watch the attacker sheathe their defending sword and reach up toward their one exposed eye to— to… extract an arrow from within her skull, so easily as if it’d been normal to “store” it there.

“Don’t lose focus now,” they call — she calls, you finally learn, from your own language; she’d recognized it when you’d cursed at her earlier. A couple of obvious tonal sounds and inflections double down on you being somewhere in China. “I’ll be disappointed if you suddenly let me kill you, stranger.”

Slim, yet muscular. Long blonde hair. A gaze most distant, yet she still smiles, even in the middle of battle. Human? With that ability of hers, it’s unlikely; you’ve learned to differentiate that much, as short a time as you’ve spent here.

Amidst their game of cat and mouse, you can’t help but wonder if the area had been evacuated prior to Quanxi’s arrival, as if she’d been prepared to give chase, or even worse, as if she’d been prepared to fight. You don’t doubt the possibility of the woman having some kind of pull or authority in this time; as perhaps unprepared and bare as she appears, her skillset had quickly been proven. Being locked in at a coward’s stalemate for as long as you’d been, Can’t this end already?

“Please,” you pant, a hand poised in a pleading gesture. “Please stop.” The woman’s one visible eyebrow raises, her expression remaining placid. A moment later, she’s sheathing her blades.

“That’s fine with me,” she says, straightening up. “I’m pretty fond of this outfit and I’ve already scuffed the knees; it would be a shame if I tore anything else. You seem like… the civilized type, when you’re not running away. And if that’s the case, we should introduce ourselves.”

You give yours first, eager to catch your breath. The woman smiles.

“I am Quanxi. Now, tell me. The name of the Devil you’ve contracted with.”

Your expression hardens. “Devil?” you repeat. 

Quanxi does not doubt further the woman’s seemingly earnest confusion. She already looks like she’s not from the area, and certainly not necessarily a native from China, either. In fact, it’d been more like she’s stepped out of one of those futuristic, science fiction movies. Your entire existence did not belong here.

Your tired vision sweeps along the street before rising to stare at Quanxi. “Where is this place?”

Testing, “Do you mean this street? This… neighbourhood? Or this world?” You don’t answer, unable. The silence, accompanied with the difficult read on the foreigner’s partial expression, is an answer enough. “It’s called Earth.” 

“I know this is Earth.”

Quanxi’s lip quirks. “Then this place that you’re currently standing in, is in China. And this street, well… I’m not sure the name matters anymore. No one’s lived here in years.”

She watches you, a silence spread taut like a fishing line through the middle of your conversation as you ponder, before cutting it. 

“Listen. I’m glad you decided to stop running away,” your lip curls slightly at the curtness in her words, but you don't interrupt, “but since we’ve established that you’re not from the area, and since I don’t see a… spaceship… parked anywhere… you’re probably not an alien. But, you’ve also probably got nowhere to go, hm?”

“… that’s, unfortunately, correct,” you murmur, sighing. What a headache…

“And it doesn’t seem like you’re looking to cause any trouble. Right?”

“I’m kind of in some trouble of my own, if you haven’t noticed,” you point out.

“Fair enough. Then, I’ll do you a favour. If you’d be reasonable enough to not do something as stupid as try to murder me in my sleep, I’ll invite you into my home.”

Try? I could barely run away from you. 

“I’ll have to attend to some business in the morning outside the country, but, if you’re a good girl tonight, you’re welcome to stay there while I’m gone.” Your lips part to speak at the woman’s condescension, but by the absurdity of your situation, you find yourself unable to spit the words dancing behind your teeth back at her. Good girl?

“Do you need a physical invitation?” Quanxi says; you hadn’t realized she’d already begun to walk, and soundlessly trails after her. “Good.” Again? “I’ve parked several blocks north of here; it’s about a five minute walk if you’re fast about it.”

“Okay.” True to her estimation, once they’d picked up their pace, they found a sleek black automobile awaiting them only four blocks away. Compared to the older modeled cars you’ve passed, this one is at least twenty years ahead of their design.

Quanxi enters on her side before you can even open the passenger side door, and by the time you sit and shut the door behind you, the car has already belted to life, a soft rumbling heard from within its metal shell. A gear shifts, and they move.

The drive out of the dark neighbourhood where you first appeared, and into the glowing city you’d seen from afar is about three times as long as the walk had been. The luminance of the artificial light happens to be intense enough to make you squint so hard that your eyes become slits.

“Depending on how long you’re here for, you might end up getting used to it,” Quanxi says. You turn your head toward her. “Ah, well, I shouldn’t assume you don’t have these in your own home; apologies. Just, don’t stare at these ones directly. They’re definitely not up to code.”

You nod, glancing forward again.

“You aren’t very… chatty, are you,” Quanxi speculates, lowering one of her hands from the wheel to rest in her own lap.

“It’s… hard to think of something to talk about in my situation,” you say, wringing your wrists a little. “Small talk and idle conversations… is even harder.”

“You could always ask more questions.”

“I… can’t think of any.”

“Or ask if I know of a way to return you to your home.”

“And do you?”

“No. I can do a lot, but time travel?” Quanxi scoffs lightly. “Science fiction, for now. Maybe there’s a Devil out there that can do that. But, you could still have bothered to begin that conversation to see if I did.”

You pause. “Is this all a condition of me staying with you? Talking, asking questions…”

“Not at all. Simply makes for better company.”

You scoff, too, and fold your arms over your chest. “Aren’t you worried I’ll destroy your home while you’re gone? Or rob you?”

Quanxi chuckles. “Not at all. You might be lonely when I do, however. By how you greeted me earlier tonight, I should at least make sure my housekeeper doesn’t spook you away into, I don’t know, jumping out the window.”

“If I didn’t value my life, I wouldn’t have run away from you like I did. Why would I jump out the window…” The question hangs in the air, apparently a rhetorical quip.

The rest of the drive is completed in one-sided silence, Quanxi filling it with her own voice when she explains, unwarranted, the existence of Devils and what she’d meant when she’d asked you about a “contract”. It does make sense (and perhaps your interest in the subject did prove that you did have some curiosities), but you still had found yourself verily unwilling to engage in conversation, leaving your thoughts to race wildly beneath your skull.

In contrast to the surrounding buildings, Quanxi’s is not nearly as vibrant. The only lights come from the large fixed windows pressed tight between the dark brickwork; signs of life that neighbourhood from before had sorely been missing. Even the streets, despite the time, are flooded with chattering humans.

“We’re here, get out,” Quanxi says, putting the car into park and exiting it, herself. You join her on the sidewalk, where she’d just given a man a set of keys. In the corner of her vision, you watch him replace where Quanxi once sat, and drive off with her car, while the two of you enter the building.

“I’m on the penthouse level,” she tells you after pressing a button on the wall of the elevator. “It’s nothing fancy. Comfortable enough when I come home from an assignment, and for my—” Quanxi goes silent. You notice, but don’t press. The elevator chimes, announcing their arrival to the topmost level, and the doors open. “This way.”

There’s a keypad on the door, for which Quanxi types a particularly long code into before it beeps at them to enter. Whereas you take off your own boots and set them aside, Quanxi toes hers off and kicks them to the side, knocking yours over.

“A drink?” Quanxi offers.

“… water is fine.”

The penthouse is minimalist and simple, as its owner mentioned it would be. A simple living area full of couches and irregularly shaped chairs; a simple bedroom, raised up, across the room in a loft space. The bathroom and kitchen end up being the fanciest of the space, full of shining metal appliances and smooth surfaces, as white as the moon, itself.

There are but a few adornments and decorations, and you find that across the apartment, there are only a handful of photographs framed and sitting atop a long cabinet, two of which had been turned down— you recall Quanxi doing so as she’d entered ahead of you. Not one to pry — you know just as well as anyone what dredging up old memories does to a person — and with Quanxi busying herself in her kitchen, you cross over to them and quickly tip them up. Both have the woman pressed between four other girls, all with varyingly unexplainable appearances — why are her brains exposed? — but they all easily express their fondness for Quanxi.

“It’s like you’ve never been invited into someone’s home before,” Quanxi suddenly calls from around the corner. You flinch, and without making eye contact, set the frames back down with care. “It should go without me having to say the words “don’t touch anything unnecessary”.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Quanxi sighs, and extends her arm to hand the stranger a glass of clear liquid. “It’s fine. Just don’t touch them again. And try not to get curious enough that you want to ask about… them.”

You accept the glass, nodding, and take a generous gulp from it, immediately reeling.

“This isn’t water,” you say, swallowing thickly, your throat catching from the burn.

“It’s baijiu. Figured you could probably use some to relax while you’re here.” You instantly cough.

“Relax?”

“It’s not like you’ll be able to figure anything out tonight, not this late. And, not if you’re still wired into fight or flight mode. Drink this. If you’re hungry, there’s food in the fridge you can help yourself to. The bathroom is around the corner. Go and shower. I’ll grab you a change of clothing.”

Not that it’d been so severely important to, but you silently admit to her observations. Being sent stuck here and almost immediately thrust into one-sided combat against this strange woman, to being invited to her home for reprieve, has kept you tiptoeing on a jagged edge, teetering more to one side than the other. It’s discomforting. Unfamiliar.

You down the clear liquid in the glass before stalking into Quanxi’s bathroom, quick to strip yourself of your clothing before stepping into the shower. Beginning to scrub away the day’s grime from your body with a sudsy cloth, you realize you’ve yet to feel this calm thus far— must be the baijiu, you assume.

With the glass of the shower all fogged up from the steam, you don’t notice Quanxi standing in the doorway when you finally exit it. Unfocused, you jump, the towel in your hand almost slipping out of your grasp.

“I’m beginning to think,” you start, huffing out a flustered breath, “that you’re the lonely one between us.”

“Perhaps I am.” The ice in her own glass clinks against it when she takes a sip, watching you start to pat yourself dry. “I won’t argue with you. I never thought I would feel like this, even after losing them. They were only Fiends, after all. Not entirely human.”

“... does one have to be “entirely human” for someone to love them?”

“… I forgot who I was saying this to,” Quanxi muses, mostly to herself. “You’re young, after all. Insightfulness comes easier to each new generation of life.”

“Something like that,” you halfheartedly confirm, dragging the towel down each of your legs. You sigh— avoiding certain conversations may not be as easy as you’d once thought with this woman, the involvement of alcohol perhaps making it even more of a difficult probability. “Where I’m from… in my time… in my version of Earth, we don’t have different species of humans. But to be loved by anyone, by anything, even by someone non-human, is a joy, and an honour. Don’t justify them being Fiends so you don’t have to grieve over them. And… just be glad you can remember everything about them.”

She smiles back, but it’s distant; spurious. You know full well what the look is for, and decide it’s unfair to call the woman the only lonely one between them, after all.

Quanxi pushes herself off the door’s frame, stumbling very slightly out of her awkward stance.

“I was only in here for ten minutes. How did you manage to get drunk so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk,” Quanxi swears. “This is my first glass… and I’m a bit of a heavyweight. I just figure I should share some of my vulnerability with you since you’re naked in my home right now. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

You look up at her, having wrapped your head in the towel, and around the washroom.

“Your clothes. Right. I forgot to bring them in. They’re out here.”

“Could you go and grab them?”

“You’re coming back out here anyway, right? Just come and change out here.”

Your eyes narrow. The woman’s already seen her as nude as the day she’d been born, and from her own words, she now lives alone, the existence of those four girls in the photos seemingly otherwise erased from the apartment save for those photos. Being on the penthouse level on one of the tallest buildings around, it’d be unlikely for any of the neighbouring buildings to see—

“You’re overthinking it,” Quanxi calls out. “Is that something you do when you drink alcohol?”

Your attempt at sliding past her in the doorway fails, the taller of the two having lifted her arm to stop you.

“Is it?”

You sigh. Quanxi’s lip lifts into a small smile, and she drops her arm to let you pass and enter the kitchen.

“Is this where you assert yourself on me, and I lower myself into showing you my “gratitude”?” You slip on the folded burgundy tee from the counter, mentally cursing at the woman for supplying you with such a useless piece of fabric, the offending material barely reaching your navel; you shiver. “I’ve read enough fiction in my lifetime to recognize this cliché.”

“Then you must’ve read a crazy amount of sapphic erotica throughout your journey across the stars.” You shake your head and reach for the pants, ignoring Quanxi’s presence at your side. “No,” she answers, “though, I’m glad my intentions go without me having to say anything. A harmless, wordless invitation to share in a little bit of skinship with me. I won’t force you into it, but…”

In still being bare from the hips down, Quanxi dares to smooth a hand across your waist that curls an arm around your middle, and you freeze, your cool skin quick to grow warm under her touch.

“Quanxi—””It’s not lowering yourself to enjoy yourself,” she muses, right next to your ear. You blame your immodesty for the chill that sweeps down your spine. “Let me take your mind out of the stars for the night.”

It’s the alcohol. You’re drunk, too. That’s the only reason. Trying to rationalize your acceptance of the situation with false realities only embarrasses you further— you aren’t drunk. You can’t even call yourself slightly inebriated, not yet. 

Then perhaps it’s your subconscious telling you to cave to Quanxi’s suggestion. To give into the strange offer of reprieve this Earth finds itself willing to give to you.

Her hands travel, soft and featherlight, across your now scalding flesh, and beneath the waistband of the sweats she’d intended on giving you. Loosening them from around your hips, she pushes them down until they slip around your ankles, and with a hand poised at the toned sculpt of her abdomen, she presses you into leaning against the counter behind you.

“Just stand there and stay pretty for me.”

Quanxi doesn’t waste another moment; not particularly keen to stop her, you lean into the hand that cups your jaw, allows her to fit her lips between yours, tries to remember the last time you’d ever kissed or had ever been kissed, and fails. With no other thoughts to keep you tethered to creating distractions for yourself, you keen forward and shift your weight onto a single foot. A small laugh huffs against your lips.

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you,” she murmurs. You’re about to argue the opposite, that you’d only been acting agreeable for their best interest, and open your mouth; ever the opportunist, Quanxi is quick to curl her tongue to sweep along the inside of your lips before you get the chance to utter a single word. You flinch, but your own hand stays holding Quanxi’s hips against your own.

Her thighs are thick, discovering them to be more muscular than you’d first presumed when one of them press between your own and shift upward. You gasp, a soft sound, when the coarse material of Quanxi’s denim begins sliding back and forth along your bare clit; you tremble, and grips her sides just a little firmer.

“Ah, see? You don’t have to use your words to show it.”

A hand slips around to hold your neck, Quanxi pulling her mouth hard against yours, and you moan, your breaths shared with each tilt of their head and each swirl of their tongues around the other dense, purposeful. Was it the alcohol making your mind fuzzier? Making your judgment clouded? You hadn’t yearned for something this hard in much too long a time, though it did go without saying— yes, I’m enjoying myself.

You shiver at the sudden soft pecks and harsher licks at the curve of your neck, and Quanxi grinds your crotch against her bouncing thigh a little more insistently when you’d begun to shudder.

“You’re close, right? So soon?” Reluctantly, you find yourself nodding. Quanxi hums. “Not here.” She lowers her knee almost too abruptly, and releases. Your head snaps her way, frowning.

“This isn’t how I want you to come,” she explains, decidedly tugging down her own pants and kicking them away. “Too simple.”

“Why did you stop?”

“It’s only for a moment,” Quanxi assures you. She takes one of your hands and begins pulling you toward the staircase to the loft, quick to guide you along to sitting at the edge of her plush bedding. “Don’t look so frustrated, hm?”

You scoff, but it’s choked, heart still racing from your formerly impending, now lost, orgasm.

“More condescending words of yours,” you mutter, “just like earlier.”

“Condescending words from earlier…” Quanxi pauses. “Do you mean when I called you a “good girl”?”

“Yes. It was patronizing.”

“And… if I were to call you a good girl now?” Quanxi releases her hold around your wrist and, before you can pull them back (whether you were going to or not), fits her fingers through both of yours and kneels between your legs, spreading them further apart with her shoulders. Your entire body flinches, and your arms both jerk upwards with nowhere to go. “Is that still me being condescending? Or…” Quanxi tilts her head forward once more, and licks a stripe upward against your quiver. “… maybe it’s patronizing now?”

“Y-You’ve… well surpassed the definition of both of those words,” you groan.

“Maybe.” Quanxi’s tongue curls, catching on the hood of your clit. You gasp. “But look at you, my little time-traveling friend, behaving so well for me. I think this deserves a little bit of praise; a small reward.”

“Stop talking about it and give it to me, then.”

Quanxi doesn’t speak again, having suddenly busied herself with the wet kisses she supplied to your cunt. Your eyes fly upward to meet hers, tongue flicking so frustratingly calculated between your folds. You stir, arms twitching impatiently in her hold with nowhere to go— until she releases them again. Unable to help herself, you lurch forward, one hand pressing the woman between your thighs deeper into you, the other clawing at the sheets beneath you. When Quanxi goes to mumble something, not bothering to remove her tongue from against you, you send a hazy glare her way.

“Don’t talk, j-just—!” Quanxi’s grip shifts, instead to wind her arms around your thighs when your squirming becomes too uncontrolled. You cry out, a sharp noise that ends up startling you back into biting down on your own lip, as Quanxi suckles on your swollen bud. It’s impossible to stop her, to want to stop her; your hold on her head lessens, though it’s only when your legs begin to tremble in their attempt to fold shut, and when your voice catches in her throat that Quanxi finally pulls away, lips and chin glistening under the moonlight and hair slightly disheveled, and you groan again, a noise that grows progressively louder and more frustrated as the blonde rises back onto her feet.

“I never specified if you’d be the only one getting rewarded,” Quanxi points out, chuckling. “Keep your legs open.”

You manage a frown, but still hold your thighs apart for Quanxi to straddle you. Your hips buck, feeling the sudden pressure, the sudden heat and slick press against her; Quanxi doesn’t waste another moment, having been denying even herself the pleasure she’d now twice ripped away from you— punishment for the frustratingly short answers you’d provided throughout the evening.

Hands falling next to your head to grip the blanket, she rocks forward, lower back instinctively arching upon the friction finally reaching her— Quanxi moans, and you, impatient and shuddering once more, reach behind Quanxi to grab at her ass to pull her tighter into you.

“So eager,” Quanxi groans. Jerkily, she forces your shirt up over your breasts, nipples pert from your arousal, and dips her head down to wrap her lips around one, tongue swirling.

“Quanxi, I—” she pops away, gasping, hips still gyrating and pelvis grinding into yours with such a desperate fervour; she suddenly swivels herself and takes hold of your leg from under her knee, bringing it upwards. “Quanxi—”

“Go on, then,” Quanxi pants. Both mouths dripping, she takes her tongue and drags it up your calf. “Come for me, my little time-traveler.”

You choke on your breath, and your hands seize for Quanxi to hold her in position while you suddenly flip her around, grinding down on her, instead. Teeth gritted, Quanxi pulls and tugs at the sheets, moaning with the sweet relief of her own orgasm, and you tremble, crying out soft and low from the washing over of — finally, finally — your own pleasure.

Spent, you huff at the one-eyed woman when you lower herself down fully onto her pelvis. “Don’t… call me that ever again.”

Quanxi’s laugh is one of disbelief, and has you reddening above her.

“I was supposed to have an early night… I can always sleep on the plane.”

© nc-vb 2024 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You stare out the window as time ticks by. You’re restless. You can’t go far out of your room for fear of running into your brother-in-law and you’re in no hurry for Walter to follow through on his promise. It doesn’t matter that you said no, he’ll be back. Just like everything you say, no one hears you. 

The job boards leave you even more deflated. You’re about to give up. Every email is spam or the notification that a posting has closed. That means you didn’t get that either. You barely even both opening the new messages. 

You watch how the sun casts a shadow of the tree branch and leaves. The rustle is dreamy and your head is hazy with detachment. You close your eyes and drop your head. Andy’s right, you’re just a burden. You owe Rhiannon so many apologies; for being useless, for crashing her newlywed year, for being her sister. Chance has cursed her with you. 

A thump comes at the door, “get out here.” 

Andy’s voice has you on your feet. You grab your satchel and your phone. It’s 6:23pm. You open the door and meet his icy glare. 

“That loser is here. Heh, you might be a better match than I thought,” he taunts. 

“Thanks,” you step out and go to pull the door shut behind you. He reaches past you and stops the door, closing in and forcing you to press your shoulders to the wood. 

“Hiding something in there?” He challenges with a flick of his lashes. 

“No,” you babble, “I’m just...” 

“What do you even do in there all day? Like a troll in a cave,” he mocks. 

“I... nothing.” 

“Nothing. Obviously,” he scoffs. “As always.” 

“Please,” you look past him. “I’m trying to leave.” 

“You live under my roof, you go when I say,” he sneers. 

“I don’t... understand,” you eke out. 

“Understand this,” he pulls back and wags his finger in your face, “you stay out past midnight and don’t wake us up when you get home. Hell, if you hear us, plug your ears.” 

“Right, I... I’ll be quiet,” you whisper. 

He narrows his eyes and hovers his finger before you. His gaze slowly descends and he touches the strap of your satchel. He follows it down, just next to your chest. He reads your tee shirt. 

“You dress like a goddamn teenager,” he flicks your tit cruelly and you wince, letting out a yelp as you cup your chest, “act like one too.” 

You’re in disbelief. You can’t believe he touched you there. Sure, it was mean. It hurt. Yet it feels like a violation. 

“Honey,” Rhiannon’s voice trills through the house and Andy blanches. He wipes the anger from his face and raises both hands, lowering his arms slowly as he backs up. He stares you down as he puts on his mask, “hey, Walter is waiting outside. Did you have to go to the station?” 

Your sister appears in the kitchen archway and you glance past Andy as she looks around. She sees you and smiles. She wears a polka dot wrap dress that hugs her figure. 

“No,” Andy backs up, “he’s waiting on her. I was just dragging her into the light.” 

“Oh?” Rhiannon’s face brightens up, “for you!” She claps and flutters over, “that’s wonderful. Is it a date?” 

“No,” you utter. 

“She’s being modest,” Andy snorts, “of course, it’s a date. You always said it’s about time she gets out, finds someone, didn’t you, honey?” 

You frown. Of course she would say that. She wants you gone too, she’s just too nice to say so. 

“I’ll just... go,” you sidle out from between Andy and the door. 

As you do, he reaches past you and pulls it shut. You wince. He doesn’t make sense to you. If he hates you so much, why is he bothering you? You mind your business, stay out of his way, but he’s always lurking, ready to torture you. 

“Oh, do you need to take anything with you? What are you doing?” Rhiannon buzzes with excitement as she blocks the doorway. “Ooo, do you want a dress?” 

“No, this is fine. We’re just... having burgers, or something. I don’t know,” you explain flatly. 

“How about dessert? I made some cookies. Oh, wait,” she twirls and floats across the kitchen. She slides a pink bottle from the wine rack and brings it to you, “here. You can’t go over without a gift. Right, Andy?” 

“Sure, it is the courteous thing to do,” Andy agrees, “rude to show up empty-handed.” 

You don’t miss the insinuation. What did you bring with you to his home but a grey cloud and failure? You thank Rhiannon and take the bottle. You don’t want to argue. She’s so happy, you can’t bring yourself to insist that it’s nothing. Like Andy said, Walter is just trying to get to him. You’re not that interesting. 

“Have a great night,” Rhiannon sings and surprises you with a hug, crushing the bottle against your stomach, “I hope you have so much fun! Eeh, tomorrow, I’m taking you to lunch and you’re going to tell me everything.” 

“Okay,” you agree with a squeak, “um...” you glance through the archway, “he’s waiting.” 

“We won’t wait up,” Andy assures you and steps up next to his wife, slinging his arm across her shoulders, “have fun.” 

You leave them and make the death march down the hallway. The only positive you see is that Andy won’t be around to stomp your spirit into the ground. You stop to step into your Vans and open the front door. You emerge into the evening sunlight and blink around the yard.  

Walter waits with his arms crossed as you descend the steps, not looking at him as you slouch. He comes closer and drops his arms, “thought you didn’t drink.” 

You shrug, “my sister sent it.” 

“Ah, she is a sweetheart,” he says, “here, let me carry it.” 

You don’t resist as he slips the long-necked bottle from your grasp. He turns and gestures you toward the gate. You precede him through the open picket floor and he shuts it behind him as he follows. He comes up parallel to you as you head down the sidewalk. 

He holds the wine out to read the label, “rose. Hm, should go with chicken burgers.” 

“I don’t know,” you mutter. 

“Hmm,” he hums and lowers the bottle. 

You walk along in silence. You’re too hot in your denim and cotton. He’s changed. His hair is slightly tidier and he wears a short-sleeved button up with shorts. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t even both to put on a different shirt. 

“Must be hard living with that jackass,” he scoffs, “working with him is a pain in the ass and a half.” 

“Huh?” You blink against the angle of the sunlight. 

“Andrew Barber. Asshole at law,” he sneers, “always wondered about your sister. Seems too nice for someone like him. Young too.” 

“I guess,” you agree. “He’s... She loves him.” 

“You don’t gotta lie to me,” he insists, “but we don’t gotta spend all night talking about him either. I’m sure you’re happy to get outta there.” 

“Sure.” 

“Woman of few words. Respect that,” he comments, “so, what do you do? For work?” 

“Nothing, er, right now. Looking.” 

“Oh yeah? Well, what do you usually do?” He asks as you feel him look over at you. “Don’t seem the secretary type.” 

You stroll by one of the blonde women from Rhiannon’s club in her front yard. She waters lush roses as she fails to hide her intrusive stare. You twist the strap of your bag as you watch the lines in the pavement pass beneath your soles. 

“Woodwork. Carpentry,” you answer. “Tryna get in at a shop.” 

“Oh, good with your hands,” he chuckles, “I like that.” 

“I... guess,” you bring your hands together and mash your palms against one another. 

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” he laughs again, “well, if you’re still looking for a while, you any good at shelves?” 

“Shelves?” You echo. 

“I’m redoing my garage. Making a mancave. My daughter likes to have her friends over and I try to stay outta their way so.” 

“I can make shelves,” you answer. “Not hard.” 

“Install?” He wonders and you nod. He’s quiet. “Great, what’s your rate?” 

“My rate?” 

“I’ll pay materials plus labour,” he offers. 

“Oh, okay,” you chuff out, surprised.  

“We’ll figure all the numbers out later,” he affirms, “oh, and don’t worry. My daughter’s at a sleepover so it’s just us.” 

“I... wasn’t worried,” you say. 

“Sure,” he gets closer and stretches his arm around your back, resting his hand on your hip. You pass another housewife in her garden as she gapes in your direction. You go rigid, feet nearly tripping as he keeps his arm around you, “well, if you were...” 

You want to pull away but you can’t. You don’t want to make a scene or make him angry. Not after Andy’s sheer hatred. So, you stay quiet and walk on, his fingers curling into your hip, one slipping through a loop in your jeans. Your overly aware of the watching eyes of the HOA, you know Rhiannon will hear all about this, even if you don’t tell her. 

[d0youc0py]

Warnings: fluffy, meeting for the first time, making plans for a date, GN reader, storms, too long, not proofread

Maybe renting a cabin in-almost- the middle of nowhere wasn’t there best idea. It had been storming for the past four hours, making it impossible to take advantage of the beautiful world outside. You should’ve brought your rain boots.

You were pacing back and forth across the hardwood when your light flickered twice before going out completely.

“No!” You growled. You flickered the switch on and off as if that would do anything. “Fuck.” With a huff you tugged on your coat and slipped into your shoes, using your phone light to guide you. You went around the back of the house fiddling with the power box. “I better not get electrocuted.”

The thought of that alone was enough to make you close the power box. You turned on your heels making your way to the other rental house down the road.

“Hi Mrs. Collier, is your power on?” You smiled at the older woman as she opened the door.

“What’d your roof cave in?” She questioned, taking in your soak appearance. She moved out of the doorway, silently welcoming you inside.

“It’s been on and off for the past hour.” She sighed pouring you a hot drink. “I’ve got spare clothes in the hall closet- don’t want you to get my carpet moldy.” She shooed you off.

“Thank you Mrs. Collier!” You did as she had told and found a nice oversized shirt and sleep shorts.

“So what do we do? Just wait it out?” You questioned sitting at the counter. She pushed the hot drink towards you, then added another candle to the fifty she had on the counter.

“I do what everyone does when something goes wrong. Call John.”

“Who’s John?” You asked. She looked at you with furrowed brows.

“You’ve been living here for how long and you haven’t met John yet?”

You took a sip of your drink and shook your head.

“Well I guess that makes sense.” She sighed. “He’s in the military- high up I think and he does those special agent type things, Y’know like the things you see on TV- anyways he’s gone a lot, never too long but you can always tell when he is.”

“How so?” You pressed.

“The town falls apart, physically. I almost feel bad for the man, never seems to have time to relax.” Mrs. Collier continued. “Someone’s water heater is always going out, or there’s a storm and one time the Hathaway’s fence completely collapsed- sheep got out all over town. It was quite the sight.” She smiled to herself and you wondered for a minute if she remembered you were there. She shook her head breaking herself out of her trance. “Drink up honey, don’t need you gettin’ everyone sick.” She gave a gentle smile.

Suddenly the lights flicked on. You closed your eyes quickly not ready for the burst of light.

“You alright in there.” A gruff voice called from outside. There was a knock at the front door, before the person outside let themselves in.

“Thanks, John. What do I owe you?” Ms. Collier asked, sliding off the stool.

“I’ll take a muffin if you have any.” The owner of the voice suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. He paused for a moment when he saw you. His face softened and he offered you a polite smile. You were too flushed about his your appearance to return it. “I don’t think we’ve met. John Price. I live about a mile up the road.” (I know he’s British) He extended his hand towards you, not before wiping it on his pants. He wore a black rain coat, with his hood pulled up over a black beanie. The beanie was far too low for your liking, nearly covering his vibrant eyes. As if he read your mind he tugged it up slightly.

“Y/N, L/N.” You shook his hand, pulling away quicker than you probably should. “You said you lived up the road? That pretty cream colored house?” You asked. He chuckled at you. It was warm and inviting.

“Never been one to think my house was pretty, but yes that’d be the one.”

“Order up.” Ms. Collier handed John a large ziplock filled with muffins.

“Thank you, Doll.” John smiled. Ms. Collier let out a giggle swatting at him and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your own face at the interaction. “Where you staying? Need a ride back?” John turned towards you.

“Y/N’s power is out too.” Ms. Collier spoke for you, smirking at your flushed appearance. “They’re staying one house over.” Ms. Collier pointed towards the direction you came from.

“Let’s get you settled then.” John said, nodding his head towards the door.

“Are you sure?” You asked hesitantly. John nodded his head in assurance and you wondered what it was like to be someone with such a comforting aura. “Thank you.” You stood up, grabbing your wet clothes from the laundry room. “Thank you Ms. Collier.”

“Anytime, Honey.”

You started out the door but John pulled you back.

“Umbrella?” He raised a brow at you. You shook your head. He quickly unzipped his jacket, sticking his hand in his pocket and holding half of his jacket above your head. You instinctively shuffled closer. He was warm and smelled like pine- and a little something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but it was smoky. You both began your track to your house, breathing a sigh of relief when you entered almost completely dry.

“Where’s your power box?”

“On the side of the house.” He nodded his head starting towards it. You began digging around your house for some sort of payment for him. He already had some baked goods and who knows what else he earned on his travels. The lights flickered on in no more than five minutes. Heavy footsteps thudded against your porch and John stopped in the doorway, not wanting to wet your entire house.

“Thank you so much!” You praised. “Now I unfortunately don’t really have any food, well anything substantial at least, but I have some cash.”

“Don’t know if you should be telling strangers you have cash in your home, love.” He scolded, shaking off his coat on the porch. You gave him a sheepish smile, to hung up on the endearment to fully take in his words.

“Yeah.” You sighed, still waiting for an answer from him. “So how much?”

“Dinner with me?” He said suddenly. You began to head over to your bag but stopped.

“I’m sorry, what?” You could hardly believe he wanted anything to do with you. Your hair was plastered to your face and you were wearing the worst clothes the 80’s had to offer. “Are you sure?”

He furrowed his brows at you. “Am I sure?” He repeated..“Something wrong with you?” He hummed. You nodded your head, but quickly shook it.

“No. I mean nothings wrong with me. Well that’s not true there’s probably a lot of things- somethings that I’m probably not even aware of. I’m sorry I shouldn’t say there are a lot of things wrong with me but”-

“Breathe, Sweetheart.” He interjected. “I’ll take dinner or you can just call this one free as a ‘welcome to town’ favor.”

“I like dinner.” The words came from your lips before he had even finished his sentence. He chuckled at you again.

“Good, I’ll pick you up tomorrow. 7:30 sharp.” He began making his way down your porch steps, back to his truck.

“Okay!” You shouted after him. “Thank you.” You knew he couldn’t hear you, so you decided it was a thank you meant for the storm.

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕚𝕩: 𝔸𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕞/𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝔻𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

🥀Pairing: Beta! Mingi x Alpha! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: a/b/o au, werewolf au, supernatural au

🥀Trope: poly, established relationship

🥀Summary: one the full moon, you play a game of Find and Fuck, where you hunt down Mingi with only the sound of his noises as he masturbates

🥀Kinks: auralism, sensory deprivation, Dom! reader, sub! mingi, background poly ot8, masturbation (m), cock ring pussy (it'll make sense just wait), getting tied up/restrained

🥀Word Count: 1,243

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seven: Voyeurism

You could hear Mingi masturbating, like a siren call to your senses. The lewd skin slapping noises as his cock fucked his hand had you wet in anticipation. But it was the choked moans, that deep voice echoing in the empty castle, desperately calling for you, that made you struggle in your chains. 

“This is fun,” Wooyoung said in a stage whisper to Yeosang. The other wolf hushed Wooyoung, who made a face of his fun being ruined. 

“Turn the hourglass,” Seonghwa instructed. “Heart, you have exactly ten minutes to break your chains and fuck Mingi. And if you’re not able to do so…”

Hongjoong chuckled darkly. “Then you have to suffer and watch as we have our fun with him.”

Jongho nudged San in the ribs. “Wish you had pulled the short straw tonight, huh, old son?” The younger provoked the older wolf. San silently snarled back.

It was the night of a full moon, but instead of being tortured and pulling your clothes apart to be free in your wolf form, your pack played a game. “Find and Fuck” is what Yunho crudely called it but really it was a game of strength and skill. The beta’s of the pack volunteer if they wish to play, consenting to  being the prey for the night--and all the sex afterwards. As the predator, you need to break free from the titanium steel chains, and with only your sense of hearing, you were to track down your ‘prey’. Tonight it was Mingi and now you knew why; everyone in the damned ruins would be able to hear that wolf while he pleasured himself. 

You focused inward, connecting with your wolf side and poured that supernatural strength into your human body. The links on the chain began to groan in protest. But it still wasn’t enough. 

To make matters worse, Mingi was getting more and more vocal. “Oh, yeah, Heart.” With your evolved hearing, you could even hear his frenzied swallowing. “Fuck me just like that, yeah, you feel so good, hnnnnn, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You growled deeply, making the chains twinkle to the vibrations. “I’ll show you squeeze.”

“Time’s ticking,” Yunho taunted you.

“Just thinking about those plush lips around my cock is getting me hard,” Yeosang commented. 

“Oh yeah mmmmmm gonna cum, gonna cum for you Heart,” Mingi cried out, “Make a mess of me, make me squirt inside of you, hnnnn, that’s it--yesssssss.”

That was the last straw, with a howl, your head cast back, you broke the chains and then you were dashing down the hallway. You’re practically skidding around corners, banging into the walls and then launching yourself more. You follow the beautiful moans of Mingi until you finally locate him in a room where the roof caved in and the moonlight focused on Mingi, making him glow. There was a blindfold around his head, empowering his anticipation of either you finding him--or the other’s gangbanging him. 

“Heart!” Mingi, who clearly caught wind of your smell, smiled lazily at your approach. You saw his cum all over his hand and the ground. 

You didn’t know how much time was left in the hourglass but you needed to get Mingi inside of you as quickly as possible. You grabbed his wrist and yanked him upwards. Naked for everyone's pleasure, Mingi gasped when his ass kissed the cool stone of the castle ruins. You took his wrist and pinned it above his head. You then used your free hand to grab his cock and then crooked your leg around his waist. Your underwear was impatiently pushed to the side so that you could take Mingi’s length within you. 

“I love it when you’re rough with me,” Mingi admitted.

“Because you’re a little beta whore,” You growled.

Mingi’s tip was barely inside of you when you started to rock your hips to work him into you. He moaned loudly and you could hear a hoot from the other side of the castle. You must have arrived within the ten minutes you had been allotted. 

You pushed Mingi’s face towards his arm being pinned against the wall and then started to nose his neck. Mingi always smelled like the deep scent of the evergreen tree to you, accompanied by the sweetness of the citrus fruits. He was clean and fresh and simply delectable. 

You squeezed your cunt around Mingi, pulling fresh moans from his plush lips. “Heart!” he cried out for you.

“I’m going to make you cum so many times, Mingi, you’re going to be begging me to stop,” You threatened.

“Hhhhnnn,” Mingi whined, “Don’t threaten--oh fuck--me with a--yes, just like that!--good time!”

You bite down on Mingi’s shoulder, careful to not draw blood, but enough to make his dick twitch inside of you. You growled and then uttered, “Mine,” against his skin.

“Oh, yes, make me yours,” Mingi begged. You expected him to act out, to buck up into your heat, but his ass stayed against the stone’s, like a good little beta was supposed to. He wasn’t like San or Wooyoung. 

There was a rope hanging from some broken rafters, and quickly wrapped them around both of Mingi’s wrists. Then you grabbed the rope to hold your weight as you braced both of your feet against the wall and started to work overtime. The new lewd noises of your ass against Mingi’s pelvis was exactly what you wanted.

But the deep, desperate noises of Mingi’s, the small puffs of air hitting your neck as he buried his face there, that was truly what kept you going. The fact that your beta couldn't shut up about how fucking good it felt while you fucked him urged you on. 

Mingi truly was the perfect submissive for an alpha. 

“Oh shit,” Seonghwa hissed as he entered the room. 

“I told you she was going to be fucking him into tomorrow,” San sulked.

“Don’t make him raw,” Hongjoong cautioned you.

“Fuck off,” You cursed at the other alpha. 

As your own orgasm approached, Mingi’s long cock hitting that good good spot inside of you, your female alpha anatomy kicked in: a ring of your vaginal muscles clamped down on Mingi, to stop him from ejaculating inside of you. You were an alpha, not a body to be bred, but to rule. So this was nature’s response to halt such progress. 

You howled again, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. The pleasure washed over you, and soon all you could hear was your own heavy breathing and Mingi’s disappointed whimpers. 

“C-can I still cum?” Mingi softly kissed your neck, begging, pleading with you. 

Eventually your ring of tight muscles released Mingi, and still he held himself in place. You carefully untied him and climbed down. Yunho approached behind you and you sent him a look of warning. He was not about to claim your prize when you had won the contest. 

You pulled off the blindfold around Mingi’s head and felt a need to take care of the beta. His eyes were so very big and pleading. You ruffled his hair. “I’ll let you cum in my mouth, how about that?”

Mingi’s face broke out into a sunshine grin. “Really?!”

“A good beta should always be rewarded,” You replied.

Mingi folded himself into your body, and you were thankful for your supernatural strength. “You’re the best,” he whispered in your ear.

“Hey,” Yeosang protested half heartedly, “We heard that.”

🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seven: Voyeurism

[moxfirefly]

"Of course I want them. I want them so much I can barely breathe but I'm not going to force it. If they come to me, it'll be on their terms. Not mine."

For Donnie or Mikey x reader (F) please? Maybe reader is the one saying that line 👀 jealous, fluff or smut scenario, you can choose! Thank you for opening your requests, you always deliver great pieces! ♥️💫

Oh this line hits! And I think Mikey is the guy for it and I think I’ll tweak it a bit if you don’t mind. Thank you for your kind words! Means a lot 🖤

Rated Feels

Mikey wanted to believe that his eyes were deceiving him at most, maybe not working at worst.

Because he really saw some peculiar stares on your behalf.

This whole crush thing was trickier now as an adult. When he was younger, crushing after April had been easy and fleeting.

Now? Some days he couldn’t chase away your scent to safe his life, he couldn’t remember what life before your proximity to him used to be. When had a song sounded better than the ringing of your name, carefully collected consonants and vowels crafted to melt on his tongue.

What had life been before the ache of watching you leave? The insane joy of watching you come home to grace his presence with honeyed bliss?

He felt silly, somewhat dumb, over all hopeless.

This all felt like a curse some days too. Not having the luxury of being topside with you, getting to experience the city night through you.

The wind picked up, cold little pin prick reminders of what he was. Mikey was fond of this roof, maybe because your building was across it, maybe because if he squinted hard enough he could see what your little life in your little apartment was like, and how he could fit into it.

“You plan on sulking all of patrol?” Raph’s deep baritone carried the chilly air as he sat on the ledge.

“I’m not sulking, that’s your job bro.” He was hugging his knees, chasing away the chilly air or maybe because he was truly sulking.

“That broad’s got you bent outta shape, you never got like this with Ape.” Because that had been childish puppy love, and somehow Raph couldn’t see that this ached for real.

It especially ached because there were too many moments where he swore you’d say something first, that you’d cave in and say something about the elephant in the room.

“I like her, she’s—she’s different.” It doesn’t do it justice but he doesn’t want to get mushy with Raph right now, not when his head isn’t cooperating and his heart feels heavy.

“Different alright, wants to hang around with a brat like you, laughs at your shitty jokes, caught her staring at your biceps once.” Raph numbered the facts on each of his fingers, nonchalant but aware of the gas he was pouring.

“Where ya going with this dude? Aside from giving me hope.” And hope was a tragic little word for their kind, something more akin to a light sprinkle of salt on a small wound.

“What I’m saying is, just go after her, tell her the truth. Ya want her, right? She probably wants ya.” Raph popped a toothpick in his mouth, an old habit dying too slowly.

“Of course I want her. I want her so much I can hardly breathe but I’m not going to force it. If she comes to me, it’ll be on her terms. Not mine.” It hurt to say it, it hurt to admit out loud that this was a luxury he couldn’t afford due to what he was.

Raph’s gaze soften, it wasn’t fun seeing his baby brother going through something that had his head spinning this badly. He reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder, an affectionate squeeze of sympathy.

Mikey watched the building, swore he saw the light on your apartment come alive. Flooding the modest little living room, he could picture you tossing your stuff with a huff and a sigh, before settling into the normalcy of your routine. He felt his phone vibrate, pulling it out to see your name on the screen. It was enough to lift the black cloud.

Not enough to chase the storm away in his chest.

“Hey, angel, outta work finally?” He greeted you, that perfectly timed sigh of ‘fuck yes’ not (yes) sending a jolt through him.

“Are you still out on patrol? I got those disgusting heart attack inducing burgers from the bodega you like, wanna come over when your done being a superhero?” You cooed affectionately, he could hear the rustling of the bay.

Raph watched the smile, a smile only you were capable of sculpting out of Mikey.

He hoped, he hoped for a chance.

A chance at you two enjoying this little life.

[hidden-ember]

homecoming

🗯 pairing: captain john price x gender neutral reader

🗯 tags: nsfw - mdni, oral sex, penetrative sex, biting kink (giving), teasing, praise

a/n: baby's first fic!! i've been a long time smut and fic reader for several different fandoms, but thanks to captain price brainrot i have finally caved and started my own writing journey with this one. any feedback is welcome.

Captain John Price of the SAS found himself homebound after what was supposed to be a low stakes intel gathering operation went south and left him injured. The injuries he sustained were thankfully non life-threatening but were going to keep him out of commission for a while regardless. After nearly two months away from home, the captain was more than willing to take the excuse to be reunited with you. 

Flashes of light occasionally illuminated the otherwise dark room, television tuned into the late night news as they reported a convenience store robbery in the town over, warning about a potential spike to cases of theft as the holidays were approaching. Rain thrumming on the roof and the low droning of the news anchor threatened to lull you to sleep. You stretched your arms and legs, hoping to shake off the sleepy feeling, knowing your boyfriend would be home any minute now.

The sound of a car door slamming pulled your attention away from the television. Headlights beamed into the window as a taxi rolled away from your flat. Heartbeat pounding in your chest, your eyes locked onto the door expectantly. 

The knob twisted and in staggered your boyfriend, looking weary from travel. His cheeks red from the cold, beanie pulled over the tips of his ears, you couldn’t help but find the state of him pitiful as he dropped his bag on the floor with a thud. He carefully closed the door behind him, gentle eyes taking in your form as you rose from the couch.

“Thought I told ya to keep this locked when ’m not ‘round, hmm?” he murmured. The sound of Price’s familiar, gruff voice felt like it was actively soothing the ache in your heart that formed whenever he went away.

“Was expecting someone,” you smiled brightly, pattering over to him.

“That so?” The corner of his lips curled upwards, his own smile growing the closer you got to him. 

“Mhm. And a pretty special someone, I might add.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, drawing him nearer.

“Lucky someone, more like,” he replied, his voice cracking, tears welling in his eyes as he felt your touch for the first time in weeks. Slightly chapped from the harsh winter air, but soft and warm all the same, his lips came crashing down onto yours. The taste and smell of tobacco filled up your senses as Price’s tongue made its way into your mouth.

Within minutes of his arrival you found yourselves on the couch hastily stripping each other of clothing. You placed sloppy, errant kisses on each newly uncovered area of skin until all of your clothes lay discarded on the floor. Your eyes roamed his naked form, mouth slightly agape as if you were in disbelief that he was actually sitting next to you right now.

Price couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you ogled his muscled chest like you were seeing him for the first time. Taking your time to study the peaks and valleys of his toned torso, your fingers ran lightly through his chest hair. You noticed him not-so-subtly flexing his muscles under your touch, and your eyes darted up to meet his.

“Conceited bastard,” you shook your head, laughing at him. 

“I’ll have you know I prefer the term egomaniac.” He matched your playfulness with a smirk. “Besides, ya seemed rather pleased with the show. Now c’mere, you.” 

You clambered onto his inviting lap and his smirk split open into a delighted grin. Wrapping his good arm around your waist, he pulled you tightly against his torso. 

Feeling his warmth surround you, your body began to ache for more of him. As if sensing your thoughts, his erection throbbed from where it sat wedged between your stomachs.

You kissed him with purpose now, tongue slipping between his parted lips. Before long you were lowering yourself onto his engorged cock. The sounds of your simultaneous moaning drowned out the television as the head of his cock pushed into your entrance. 

Warm hands grasped your hips with such strength it caused you to let out a gasp. He guided you slowly down his length, praising you all the while for how good you were taking him, telling you how adorable you looked when his words of approval caused your cheeks to flush.

Price thrust up into you lazily, matching your pace as you rode him. Not wanting to be too aggressive with your injured boyfriend, you braced yourself on the back of the couch, nails digging into the cushions.

Price could practically feel his exhaustion dissipate as he lost himself to the sensations. He was home now —  deep inside of you, your walls enveloping him better than any house could. Neither of you lasted very long before you felt your climaxes rapidly approaching.

Your eyes slammed shut once your orgasm hit, moaning in ecstasy as you felt his body tense beneath you. Price groaned as his thick, warm seed spilled out of his cock.

“Did so good,” he managed between breaths.

Chest heaving, you buried your face into his neck. He cradled the back of your head with his large hand, fingers splayed through your hair. His hot breath tickled your ear as he whispered to you affectionately. 

“Missed you somethin’ awful, darlin’.” Your heart swelled at the sound of your favorite pet name, and in that moment you were certain you would never tire of welcoming him home like this. 

After reluctantly pulling out and disentangling his body from yours, Price awkwardly reached down to the floor for something out of your view. He sat back up with his crumpled boxers in hand. You let out a sigh of contentment as he gently patted your entrance, carefully cleaning his spend from you so as not to make a mess on the couch.

Once you had caught your breath and the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, you anxiously looked him over. You asked him several times if he was alright and if you had hurt him, not stopping until he grabbed your chin, angling your face to have you look directly into his eyes.

“Stop worryin’, okay? I’m not so fragile, love.” He spoke the words with confidence to reassure you, but the look in his eye suggested he needed the reminder himself. 

Price stretched awkwardly, letting out a big yawn as he stood up from the couch. Some of his joints cracked as he extended them. He reached down to gather his clothes, handing you his t-shirt before tugging his sweats back on. 

A puzzled expression spread across your face as you looked down at your own clothes strewn about the floor. Price followed your gaze, letting out a hearty laugh at your confusion.

“No need to bother with those. ‘M not done with you yet, pet” he winked, pushing the shirt further towards you. “This’ll do for now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his insistence. The intensity of his gaze while he watched you pull his t-shirt over your head sent shivers running down your spine. Your lover gave you a once over, giving a satisfied nod as the shirt fell to just above your knees.

He tugged delicately on your hand, pulling you along behind him before letting go to grasp the railing as he started up the stairs. You watched nervously as the old stairs creaked, Price relying heavily on the railing for support when his braced knee threatened to buckle under his weight. 

It hurt your heart to see the man in such a state. No matter how minor the knee sprain and dislocated shoulder were, they were reminders to both Price and yourself that he was not as invincible as you’d like to believe. 

Perhaps even worse than the physical damage was the hit his pride took. You knew he needed to take it easy and had the perfect idea for tending to his bruised ego.

Price was a dominant man, both in combat and out. Giving him head normally turned into a sloppy mess, tears and drool streaming down your face as he stuffed your throat with his thick cock. 

He wasn’t the only one who initiated these kinds of blowjobs; you quite enjoyed getting your face fucked— as often as Price was willing, as a matter of fact. The way the older man would take control of you, holding your head still as he took what he wanted from your obedient mouth turned you on to no end. 

Price always returned home from deployments worked up and desperate for your attention, unsatisfied until he had used each of your holes. As thrilling as a rough face fucking sounded after going weeks without it, you settled for suggesting he lie back and let you suck him off. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, an eyebrow raising at your proposition. Price brought his uninjured arm up, fingers running through his thick facial hair as he scratched his chin, as if deep in contemplation over the matter. 

“Well, love, if that’s what ya really want then what kinda boyfriend would I be to not indulge you?” His amusement reached the corners of his eyes, highlighting the crow’s feet that you had come to adore. He shuffled backwards further onto the bed, the strain his movements placed on his injured limbs causing him to wince slightly. 

Your brows furrowed with concern, but he cut you off as you opened your mouth to check on him. 

“‘M fine.” He gestured with his head toward the bed, “Get over ‘ere.” 

The mattress dipped further under your weight as you crawled up to him on your knees. You placed a soft kiss on his lips once you reached him. Price hummed contentedly when you broke the kiss, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. 

He tugged his t-shirt off of you before tossing it onto the floor. 

“Now that’s a better view,” he winked at you.

Taking care to not disturb his injuries, you planted your hands on his bare chest and pushed him back into a lying position. 

As you lowered yourself down to his abdomen, he lifted his hips at an awkward angle, trying not to place too much pressure on his injuries. 

Making quick work of pulling sweats down to his knees to spare him any unnecessary pain, you eagerly watched as his semi-hard cock fell free from its confines. 

“Someone’s excited,” you teased before bringing your mouth to his happy trail. You planted tender kisses along it, slowly working your way lower. When you reached right above his hardening length, you nuzzled your face into the coarse hair. 

You were very grateful that your boyfriend was not one for “manscaping;” the thick hair running from his belly button down to his genitals was one of your favorite features of his, and you let it be known on numerous occasions. 

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” Price let out a low long breath as your lips trailed lower, your pace tantalizingly slow. 

To his credit, he remained patient for quite some time as you lost yourself in the sensation of his body hair prickling your face, but when you showed no signs of beginning the blow job you promised, his restraint faltered. 

“More,” he groaned — the word a command rather than a request. 

“Be patient, baby,” you hummed softly against his skin, planting a firm kiss on his pubic bone. 

Price’s breath hitched as your gaze met his. He brought his large hand down to grab a loose fistful of your hair, urging you on.

“You’ve had enough fun now,” Price grumbled before softening his tone in an attempt to level with you. “Please.”

“Oh, you sound so pretty when you beg.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you echoed words you’d heard from him several times before. 

Price would argue that the way his face flushed red was due to his frustration, but you knew he was blushing from being called pretty. 

Turning your attention to his inner thighs, you nipped lightly at his sensitive flesh, earning another moan from your beloved boyfriend. You kissed the spot softly in an effort to soothe the now tender skin, glancing upwards to meet his gaze. Icy blue eyes shot daggers back at you. 

In your periphery you could see his now fully erect cock standing at attention, but you weren’t done playing quite yet. You grinned wickedly once more before burying your canines into his thigh, this time using more force. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Price arched his back off the bed, his hand moving from your head to grip the sheets tightly. His cock twitched expectantly, beginning to leak pre-cum.

“Come now, darlin’,” he panted, voice ragged with need. 

“We both know those pretty little lips belong wrapped ‘round my cock.” 

It was almost enough for you to give in. Almost. 

You chuckled at his attempts at flattery and grabbed his thighs, taking care to not disturb his leg as you spread them further apart, granting access to your mouth’s next target. 

You brought your lips to his scrotum, sucking on the bit of skin between his testicles before popping one into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around it as you sucked gently on the sensitive appendage. 

“Aaahhh, fuck," Price moaned as he felt your warm mouth wrap around him, though it wasn’t where he wanted your mouth most. "Don't tease me like this, darlin’.”

You chuckled, sending vibrations through his balls. It startled you when Price let out something similar to a growl, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Eyes widening, you pulled away from him, a string of saliva trailing behind.

“Okay, okay,” you surrendered as you could sense his frustration threatening to boil over. 

Grabbing the base of his shaft, you moved to lightly swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. The lack of pressure was killing Price. His hips jerked upwards, begging for you to take him into your mouth.

“Ah ah,” you tutted, pushing him back down onto the mattress. 

“Don’t strain yourself, baby,” you said in mock concern. 

You let go of his cock and placed your tongue at the base of his shaft before slowly dragging it up his length. Halting at his slit, you held your tongue in place while looking up at him teasingly.

Price’s hand shot up to grasp the headboard behind him, knuckles whitening and jaw clenching.

“Sweetheart, you’re not bein’ very nice,” he hissed, ignoring the pain in his leg as his hips bucked again.

He began rutting against your tongue, the tip of his cock pushing against your top lip in a steady rhythm. 

“Be good for me, won’t you?” He pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire.

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Price stopped his movements, allowing you to start to slowly take him into your mouth.

Teasing him was fun, but above all else you wanted to please him. You loved when your boyfriend would praise you and were determined to earn them the best way you knew how. 

Your eyes never left his as you continued to wrap your mouth around his needy cock. His hand found its way down to grasp your hair once more, this time gently holding the back of your head as you lowered yourself down his shaft. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Price whispered, head falling back onto the pillow as he felt you start to take his cock into your throat. 

Price’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt your warm, wet mouth engulf him. His hips bucked, this time meeting no resistance from you.

Tears welled in your eyes as he bottomed out deep in your throat. Holding your lips against his pubic bone, you moaned softly.

“Oh, god, yes,” Price groaned, the sensation of your moaning caused a shiver to run through his body. His hips jerked again and you gagged around his length, which only drove him more mad.

“Just like that,” he grumbled as you began moving your head once more. His hands slid down your back, gently kneading the flesh while you bobbed up and down on his cock. 

Price’s reassuring touch and words of encouragement fueled you further – you sucked more aggressively now, increasing your pace.

Unable to hold back any longer, the sound of Price’s rhythmic grunting filled the room as you continued to milk him. You enjoyed hearing how vocal he was becoming, enjoyed the power you held over him when you worked his cock like this. 

When you reached his head once more, you paused, briefly removing your mouth to catch your breath. You ran your tongue around the tip rapidly as you held Price’s gaze. The change in pressure and the sight of your drool running down his cock caused his head to start spinning. 

“Goddamnit,” he hissed. His hands quickly returned to your head. You shot him a look as he started to push your head down his shaft, but you obliged, taking him deeper.

Reaching your hands beneath him, you dug your fingers into his glutes with a firm grip as your mouth kept a steady pace on his cock.

A strangled moan left Price’s lips as he felt your fingers digging into his toned ass. It was the perfect combination of pleasure and pain, driving him closer to the edge, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

Price felt the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, the one that always signaled he was about to lose control. He thrust his hips wildly against your mouth.

“‘M close,” he rasped. “Don’t stop.” 

“Swallow it, yeah?” Price asked, his voice strained as he watched you obediently suck him off.

You hummed in response and you felt his body tense in your grasp. The tears flowed freely down your face now as you took him deeply time and time again.

Price’s body went rigid, his muscles tightening, eyes slamming shut. His hips jerked once more, pushing himself as deep into your throat as he could before he finally erupted with a long, low moan. His hot seed filled your mouth, his moans turning into gasps for air.

You swallowed, your throat working to accommodate the thick, warm flood of his release as his cock twitched. When he was finished, you didn’t pull away. Instead, your mouth moved up and down his shaft, cleaning him off until he was fully spent, his body shuddering.

His eyes opened slowly, meeting yours through the haze of lust and pleasure. 

“My god…” he groaned as you lifted your mouth off of his cock with a loud pop. “You’re incredible, love.”

You released your hold on his backside, moving to lie on his chest as he pulled you into a warm embrace. Price planted a kiss on top of your head before relaxing back into the pillow as he caught his breath.

“Welcome home, baby,” you murmured, nuzzling further into him. 

Price let out a small sigh of contentment, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your back. He was sure to be sore in the morning after tonight’s exertion, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. Your boyfriend knew you’d have him back on the mend in no time.

“S’good to be back,” he whispered softly, feeling the exhaustion of the day and the aftermath of his release catching up to him.

He made promises to return the favor to you before drifting off into slumber, holding you tightly as he felt your warmth seep into him. The sound of Price’s slowing heartbeat and the rain falling lightly on the roof lulled you to sleep shortly after. The mess the two of you had made and his unpacked bag remained downstairs, now long forgotten.

[roguelov]

y/n playing minecraft with hob while dream watches them?

hob would go out and do all the farming for materials and slay the mobs and stuff while y/n just stays at the base and wastes all the material hob gathers on making a bunch of builds and getting as many pets as possible

(if it was me he'd also come save me all the time because I always get lost lol)

dream is just sitting there amused, watching hob fighting for his life while y/n is just chilling with the animals lmao

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO FUNNY AND ADORABLE

Dream is so amused as he watches you and Hob, he sits comfortably between the two of you watching the split screen. Hob who is deep in the caves mining trying to avoid skeletons and creepers meanwhile you’re humming a tune as you build a cute house. You already have a massive farm for all your animals along with what seems to be an army of dogs (each one with a different color for their collar and named too). You will have cats but you keep grumbling about how much fish they need and that they are being greedy.

…

“Love, where is all coal?” Hob asks.

You wince then peer around Dream, giving Hob a sheepish smile. “I used the rest to make glass.”

Hob’s eyebrows shoot up. “All of it?”

“… well I made a sun roof for our home … and a small sky light for the barn.”

Dream chuckles remembering your hesitancy when burning the last of the coal. He also remembers you leaning over and whispering to him, “Don’t tell Hob.”

…

“Where are you?” Hob asks. His eyes flicker to your side of the side, utterly confused.

“You said there was a small cave over here,” you said happily and continuing on your adventure.

“… love, it’s in the other direction.”

“…”

“Do you -“

“Yes please come find me.”

…

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Hob swears under his breath. Dream’s cool eyes slides over watching him. Hob is fighting for his life as he tries to avoid more mobs.

“Hob, you seem to be in some trouble,” Dream points out.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock - fuck!” Hob quickly seals himself in a hole eating as much food as he could to regain his health.

“… do you need some help?” You speak up. You are currently putting paintings up on the wall, and breaking them until you get the perfect one.

Hob sighs, “I’m fine, I’ll be home in a second. I just don’t want to lose all my stuff.”

You smile at him, “Ok.”

Dream held back his amused smile.

…

“Hob! Fuck where are you,” you shriek. Your character ran past a spawn of creepers.

“I - uh … hold on I’ll find you!”

Unfortunately for you, you and Hob accidentally split off in this cave leaving you alone and surrounded. Not to mention little food.

“Ok, I’ll just -“

A familiar hiss followed with a boom made you and Hob wince. Dream glance over at you. You let out a long heavy sigh. His eyes look back at the screen seeing the respawn button.

“Did you die?” Dream asks.

“Yup.”

Hob begin, “And your bed -“

“I brought it with me.”

“Should I -“

“Please find my stuff and come find me I have no idea how to get back to the house.”