#Weekend Silent Retreat

[emmauscentrett]

Benefits of a Silent Directed Retreat

Benefits of a silent retreat

Participating in a silent retreat can have a number of benefits, including:

Strengthening your spiritual practice and deepening your relationship with God. This retreat has the benefit of spiritual direction from an experienced Spiritual Director.

A greater sense of clarity and insight.

Reducing stress and anxiety as you place your faith in the One who holds you in the palm of His hands.

Helping you remember to call upon God in silence and listen for his voice as you learn to lean into quiet moments.

Take action

Whether it is Ordinary Time or a special feast, we should always seek to deepen our connection with God. Consider signing up for the Emmaus Centre Weekend Silent Directed Retreat, a new type of Silent directed retreat that is specially designed for persons who are unable to attend a weeklong retreat due to work or other commitments.

Whether you're just beginning to explore your faith or have been on the journey for a while, the Emmaus Retreat Centre Weekend Silent Directed Retreat can be a transformative and enriching experience. Don't wait - find out how you can sign up for the retreat today to experience the transformation that awaits you. Call 1-868-667-3576, 1-868-667-5365, 1-868-767-1706, 1-868-379-8217 or 1-868-737-9084.

[xo100]

Unwrapped feelings - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: At their birthday celebration, you feel upset when none of the gifts are for you. Lando reassures her of his love, making her feel cherished despite the oversight.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1494

୨ৎ

Lando Norris was the sun in her life, a constant, warm presence that filled her days with joy. She loved him deeply, and after three years of dating, her heart still fluttered when he looked at her the way he did. They were each other's best friends, sharing everything from their quiet nights at home to the busy life he led as a Formula 1 driver. Lando loved her, too. There was no question about that. He made sure to remind her with every touch, every soft kiss, and every whispered word when they were alone. But no matter how much love existed between them, there was a silent, looming cloud that she tried so hard not to notice. His friends.

They never liked her, and she couldn’t quite understand why. She wasn’t arrogant or boastful. In fact, she was quite the opposite—introverted, sweet, and often quiet, especially around large groups. She wasn't overly outgoing or dramatic, and she certainly wasn’t trying to steal Lando away from his friends. But still, whenever they were together with his friends or the rest of the team, she could feel their subtle distance. The sideways glances when she spoke, the quick change of conversation when she joined a group—it all added up.

It wasn’t as though she had never tried to bridge the gap, either. Early in their relationship, she had gone out of her way to be friendly, to make conversation, and to show interest in their lives. But the more she tried, the more it felt like she was only getting further away from them. Over time, she stopped trying so hard, and she retreated back into the quiet comfort of just being by Lando’s side. After all, he was the one she loved. As long as they were okay, nothing else should matter, right?

But it did. Even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, it hurt that the people closest to Lando—the ones he spent so much of his life with—didn’t seem to care for her. And that quiet hurt always seemed to linger at the back of her mind.

This weekend, however, was supposed to be special. A day for both of them, a moment to celebrate not only Lando’s birthday but hers as well. The idea to celebrate their birthdays together was something Lando had insisted on. They were only a few days apart, and since Lando had such a busy schedule, he suggested one big party where they could celebrate together. He even offered to host it at the McLaren Technology Centre, a place he called home and wanted to share with her.

“Everyone will be there,” he had said, his excitement bubbling over. “My friends, the team, some of the drivers. It'll be great!”

She had nodded with a smile, her heart hopeful that maybe this would be a chance to connect with everyone on a different level, in a more relaxed and festive atmosphere. Her own friends, though invited, couldn’t make the trip to England, and while she understood, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit lonely knowing she wouldn’t have her usual support system there. Still, this was about Lando too, and she wanted to focus on making sure he had the best time.

The night of the party had been a whirlwind. Lando was glowing, his energy infectious as he mingled with everyone, laughing and sharing stories. She stayed by his side for most of the night, smiling softly at his friends and the team members who came over to greet him, though she noticed the conversations were always directed toward him and never her. It stung, but she pushed the feelings aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

After hours of laughter, music, and food, the party wound down, and as the guests began to leave, Lando took her hand, guiding her toward a large table piled high with presents.

“Look at all this,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling as he took in the sight. “I think we’re going to need all day tomorrow to open them.”

She chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. There were a lot of gifts, far more than she had expected. She didn’t think either of them would need much, but it was still heartwarming to see how much effort people had put into celebrating them.

Or so she thought.

The next day, after a lazy morning spent in bed, they finally sat down to open the gifts. Lando was practically buzzing with excitement, while she was content to sit beside him, happy to enjoy the moment with him.

The first few presents were exactly what she had expected—personalized items for Lando. Some McLaren-themed memorabilia, a few playful gag gifts from his friends, and even a sleek, custom helmet from one of the drivers. She watched with a soft smile as he unwrapped each one, his grin widening with every thoughtful present.

But as more and more gifts were opened, a realization slowly started to creep in. Every single present was for Lando.

She tried not to let it bother her at first. After all, Lando was the one who had more friends here, the one with the larger circle. It made sense that most of the gifts would be for him. But as the pile grew smaller and not a single gift was addressed to her, the hurt became harder to ignore.

There wasn’t a single present for her.

Not one.

By the time they reached the last box, she felt her heart sink. She had tried to stay positive, tried to convince herself that maybe someone had forgotten to label a gift, or maybe they’d gotten mixed up in the rush of the party. But no. Every gift had been intentionally for Lando, and her name hadn’t even been a second thought.

“Wow,” Lando breathed as he looked at the collection of gifts surrounding them. “That was… that was a lot.”

She nodded quietly, trying to keep her smile in place. Her hands fiddled with the ribbon from one of the opened boxes, trying to distract herself from the growing ache in her chest.

“Hey,” Lando said softly, noticing her quietness. “You okay?”

She glanced up at him, his blue eyes filled with concern. She could see how much he cared, how much he genuinely wanted to make sure she was happy. It wasn’t his fault that his friends had overlooked her. It wasn’t his fault that she felt so out of place among them.

“Yeah,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I’m just… happy for you. You got so many cool things.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced by her answer. “But you didn’t get anything.”

Her stomach twisted, and she hated that she was the one bringing down the mood. “It’s okay, Lando. Really. Today was for both of us, but I know how important you are to them. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine, and he could tell. His brows furrowed as he scooted closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, lifting her chin so she would look at him. “It’s not fine if you’re upset. You’re important too. To me.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry, not over something as silly as gifts. But the hurt wasn’t just about the presents. It was about everything—the way his friends never really accepted her, the way she always felt like an outsider in his world.

“I just…” She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just feel like they don’t see me. Like I don’t belong here. I know I’m not outgoing or loud or… like them. But I try, and it never seems like it’s enough.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. But I promise, you do belong. You belong with me.”

His words were warm and comforting, but they didn’t erase the ache entirely. Still, being in his arms made her feel a little better. She rested her head against his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re the most important person to me,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “And if my friends can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their loss. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for him. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even when the world around them felt like it was crumbling.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. The gifts, the party, the friends—they all faded into the background as Lando held her close, reminding her that she was loved. And in that moment, that was enough.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it. If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[spokanefavs]

Silent Weekend Retreat for Men and Women 6 p.m. Friday to 1 p.m. Sunday.

See more about the event.

[4ranghaes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd when they’re jealous

ot6!bnd x reader [mostly fluff, some smut, separate classifications for each]

sungho 🎀 [suggestive, members talking about reader sexually, fem!reader, mentions of: daddy kink, stealing panties, photos taken during sex]

“morning,” sungho greeted his members, walking into the kitchen with his hood up, his feet heavy on the ground as he walked off his hangover.

“morning hyung,” leehan greeted. four of the members were sat around the kitchen table, apart from woonhak, who had gone to visit his parents for the weekend when the legal members decided it’d be a good idea to have a night out. or a night-in drinking after eating in a restaurant, as idol life would have it, with you supplying bottle after bottle from trips to the gs25 over the road whenever you ran out.

“how’s y/n?” jaehyun inquired, sungho shrugging with a laugh.

“passed out still,” he chuckled, sitting down after making himself a bowl of cereal, “she can’t handle drink very well. don’t worry about noise though, she sleeps like a baby.”

“i’m sure after what you put her through too,” riwoo snorted, sungho looking at him shocked, almost offended.

“what?!”

“he doesn’t remember,” taesan sniggered, slapping him on the shoulder blades, “watch your mouth when you drink next time, hyung. or should i say daddy?”

the boys all burst out laughing, sungho’s mouth dropping open as he looked between all his members, not a single one saving his dignity.

“ah it’s okay, yeppi,” jaehyun said, holding back a laugh as sungho looked up at him, scared of his next words, “we washed your girls’ panties for you, by the way, thought you should give them back clean before she discovers them.”

“what?!” sungho yelled, grabbing the material that riwoo was dangling off his finger, taken fresh out the washing machine.

“what, hyung? it’s not like you didn’t volunteer this information yourself!” leehan chuckled, “shame you passed out before you could show us your hidden folder, though. next time.”

sungho was raging now, standing up from his chair and slamming his bowl into the sink before standing before his members, his hands shaky with rage. “i’m fine with teasing. and i know this is my fault. but one more single word about my girlfriend and i will ruin you guys.”

“sungho?”

“y/n!” he exclaimed, his voice turning bright again as he spun on his heel to face you, your sleepy figure appearing out his bedroom, his sweater covering your body, “i’ll be there in a minute, sweetie, go back to bed.” you grunted, retreating back into his bedroom as sungho looked back to his members with a threatening look.

“anything to say?”

they all shook their heads, sungho sighing in response and walking back to his bedroom, his hangover headache returning tenfold. you were bundled on in the blankets, a sleepy smile on your face and one eye open as he walked in.

“yeppi!” you murmured, opening your arm to come into your embrace, which he did without complaint, “were they crucifying you for everything you said about our sex life?”

“you know?!”

“you were very drunk, sungho darling,” you chuckled, rubbing his back comfortingly, “it’s okay. i don’t mind, you’re still my yeppi.”

sungho snuggled into your body, pouting with a sigh, “my girl.”

riwoo 🦦🍡 [fluff, bsf!riwoo, reader has a crush on someone else]

“bye taehyung!” you exclaimed, waving. riwoo, stood next to you, watching silently. you elbowed him in the ribs, “say bye.”

“bye taehyung!” riwoo over-exaggeratively waved as you rolled your eyes.

“i don’t get why you hate him! i mean, he walked me here, how sweet is that?!” you gushed, riwoo rolling his eyes and wincing, preparing for the usual monologue, “i didn’t even ask him too, i mean i kept saying no! he’s just so sweet, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer… ah! i can’t—”

“a red flag, no?” riwoo hummed, sitting down and flicking the tv on, “not taking no for an answer?”

“well– i mean in some situations! but not this one,” you sighed, sitting next to him, “seriously, sanghyeok-ie, what has he done to you? why do you hate him so much?”

riwoo sighed, looking at you before shaking his head, “nothing. you know how i am. i’m just a hater!”

you chuckled, shrugging with a nod in non-committal agreement before relaxing into the sofa to watch tv.

“but i do have one thing…” riwoo started, before shaking his head, “no, nothing.”

“no, what?!” you said quickly, sitting forward and grabbing his arm, “i want to hear! sanghyeok, you’re my best friend, if you don’t like someone i might date then i need to know why!”

riwoo swallowed, the words ‘i might date’ piercing his heart. he could feel it deflating like a balloon. “it’s really nothing. i was just gonna say, if you’ve liked him for 5 years, why have you not confessed yet?”

“oh,” you said suddenly, shocked at the sudden confrontation, “well… i don’t… i don’t really know. i’m always like this, you know me.”

“no,” riwoo disagreed with a curt shake of his head, “you always used to confess.”

“yeah, and i was always turned down!” you laughed, taking the remote from him as you flicked through the channels, “anyway, this is not about those confessions. this is about taehyung, i mean why would he ever like me?! it’s more of an admiration thing than anything, i think.”

“hey,” riwoo said sternly, “don’t say stuff like that.”

“but it’s true, isn’t it?!”

“no!” riwoo exclaimed, shaking his head as he looked at you incredulously, “no, absolutely not! any guy– and especially he— would be lucky to have you!”

you chuckled, furrowing your eyebrows a little in confusion, “thanks, hyeok.”

“i’m serious, y/n,” riwoo looked at you sternly, his body now sat forward too, his hold on your arm strong, “i need you to know that no guy on earth is good enough for you, okay? you’re the kindest person i’ve ever met and you’re funny and sweet and beautiful, and he is just some fucked up boy in a band, who happens to have a pretty face, okay?! please.”

he flopped back against the sofa with a loud sigh. you laughed with shock, “sanghyeok-ie. do you have something to tell me?”

“yes, i like you, y/n,” he sighed, “but this is not about that, not even i am good enough for you, okay?! but especially not him.”

you laughed, leaning into riwoo’s body, “i know why you never liked him now.”

riwoo was frozen in place, half shocked and half regretting his rushed confession, coming from an ugly place within him. he sighed, “why?”

“cause you were jealous, baby,” you teased. riwoo’s heart clenched at the nickname.

“y/n, please don’t tease me about this, we can just move past it,” he sighed, going to leave before you grabbed his hand.

“what if i don’t want to?”

jaehyun 🪻🐕 [fluff, fem!reader, pouty!jaehyun]

“hi there. what are you doing here all alone?”

your eyes widened at the sudden figure in front of you, “um… hello. oh i’m just–”

“got stood up?” the man asked, sighing and shaking his head before he took your hand, “well it doesn’t matter, i’m here now.”

“what?! no! i—”

“ya!” jaehyun’s voice rang from the other side of the café as he exited the toilet.

you giggled, watching his over-exaggerated behaviour as he ran through the café. your hero.

“what do you think you’re doing?!” he exclaimed, looking at you.

“me?!” you yelled back, “w-what— i didn’t do anything, he came over to me!”

“oh?!” he yelled, turning his harsh gaze to the guy sitting in what was jaehyun’s seat, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s arm, hiding behind his body, “then what even are you?!”

“excuse me?” the man asked.

“hitting on my girlfriend,” jaehyun hissed like it was a slur, wincing after he said it, “get lost!”

“hey- man, i’m sorry, i had no idea she—”

jaehyun rolled his eyes, looking at the man like he’d lost his mind, “did i not just say get lost?! get out of here! that’s my seat!”

the man held up his hands, apologising to you quietly as he got up and left. jaehyun continued making faces as though he was still talking to the man, sitting down where he’d just been.

“ah, and it’s warm from his butt,” jaehyun tutted, as you laughed.

“thank you,” you smiled, taking his hand, “i didn’t know what to do.”

“clearly!” jaehyun exclaimed, not taking your hand back, “letting him hold your hand, ugh! i can’t believe it! why didn’t you tell him you had a boyfriend!”

“i couldn’t get a word in!” you exclaimed, “i promise, myungie, if i could have, i would have. anyway. didn’t need it in the end, i have my big strong protector with me, hmm?”

jaehyun scoffed, your words melting his pouty demeanour, “well… i didn’t really do anything.”

“it was kind of sexy you know,” you whispered at a comedically loud volume, jaehyun reacting with a ‘i knew it’ noise and a loud giggle.

“yeah?” he asked, poutiness gone as he took your hand over the table, playing with your fingers, “that was kinda manly, huh?”

you smiled, amused at your boyfriend as you nodded.

“i was like bah! get the fuck out and he was like ugh! don’t hurt me! and i was like bah! that’s my girlfriend!” jaehyun spoke, mostly to himself, reliving his glory days, “ugh, don’t worry about anything, y/n. i’m here.”

taesan 🐈‍⬛🎸 [angsty, bsf!taesan, fem!reader]

“oh my god, y/n! thank god, i was just thinking about you,” taesan smiled, seeing you in the doorway of his apartment building.

“dongmin-ie!” you exclaimed, pulling in your friend for a hug, “oh it’s been so long!”

“right?!” he laughed.

you and taesan had met a few years back through shared a interest in rock music, ending up hanging out with each other for hours on end, just laying about and listening to music. many people thought it was a weird relationship, but it was nice, and peaceful. in the past few months, however, taesan had been busy with composing and schedules, and you’d been busy with, well, his best friend.

“come on then,” taesan smiled, putting in the passcode to the building, furrowing his eyebrows when you faltered, “y/n?”

“sorry, min, but i’m actually here to meet up with leehan,” you smiled sheepishly, “he’s just coming down now.”

“leehan? why would you be meeting leehan?” taesan laughed, seeing the aforementioned man leaving the elevator.

“oh you’re home,” leehan acknowledged his friend before jogging down the stairs outside the building, pressing a kiss to your lips as a greeting, “hey baby.”

taesan’s eyes might’ve popped out of his head if he wasn’t careful, letting out a breathy laugh, feeling as though the air was being ripped from his lungs.

“jaehyun wasn’t awake when i left, tae, can you let him know where i am?” leehan called, smiling down at you and pressing a kiss to your nose, both of you too wrapped up in each other to notice your friend’s turmoil, “okay, bye!”

taesan watched the two of you leave, his heart pounding out of his chest before running up the 12 flights of stairs to get to the lower dorm. he barged into the flat that was not his, finding sungho in the living room playing fifa.

“did you know?!”

“know what?” sungho exclaimed, shocked at the sudden anger.

“that donghyun is dating y/n?!”

“oh, yeah,” sungho nodded, before furrowing his eyebrows, “d-did you not? this started a few months ago.”

“a few months ago?!” taesan yelled, pacing round the dorm, his face scrunched up to fight back tears as he panted.

“what’s wrong?!” sungho exclaimed, “they’re kind of nice together. very in love from what i can see, they’re all over each other whenever she’s round.”

“she comes round?!” taesan shouted, his voice hitching at the end as he stared at the ceiling, “no, sungho, i didn’t know.”

“okay, but still, i don’t see what the problem is here! you know him at least, you can hang out with both of them.”

“the problem is i’m in love with y/n, sungho, you absolute idiot!” taesan yelled, finally crumbling onto the floor, burying his face into one of the bean bags.

“w-what?”

taesan groaned, turning over, “i’m in love with y/n. and i didn’t tell anyone cause i was embarrassed. and now look what’s fucking happened. oh god, i’m an idiot!”

“n-no, it’s okay! i’m sure! the-they’re not that in love, i was just trying to be nice,” sungho scrambled, his hand finding his younger brother’s arm, rubbing soothingly.

taesan sighed, shaking his head, “it’s over, hyung. and now i have to see both of them all the time. they kissed five times while saying goodbye to me… five times!”

leehan🪸🐠 [suggestive, fem!reader, leehan has a scratched up back, jaehyun and sungho being little shits]

“here he is,” jaehyun teased, leehan appearing from his room with a small smirk on his face.

“yeah, shut up,” leehan said pre-emptively, knowing that both jaehyun and sungho had just heard everything that had come from his bedroom, where you were laying, dozing after the evening’s activities.

sungho was sat on the floor playing fifa as he laughed, looking up to his younger friend, “woah!”

“what?” leehan exclaimed, spinning around. jaehyun, who was sat at the dining table, now seeing what sungho was referring to.

“damn!” he yelled with a laugh, “was that sex or were you being attacked by a bear?”

leehan laughed, waving off their comments as he continued to the fridge, getting drinks and snacks for himself and for after you woke up, “she can’t give me hickies, our make-up artist forbid her, i guess this is the other option, why? jealous?”

jaehyun shrugged, getting up and inspecting the marks on his friend’s back, “wow. i suppose y/n does have long nails, hmm?”

“yeah paid for by donghyun-ie, too!” sungho laughed, jaehyun nodding in shock at sungho’s words.

“you’re right!” jaehyun laughed, “wow i’d pay for my girl’s nails too if she did that to me.”

“and everything else,” sungho snorted, returning to his game.

leehan furrowed his eyebrows, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“everything else she was doing to you!” sungho laughed, his eyes not moving away from the screen, “you were moaning like crazy.”

“i just… do that for anything,” leehan defended weakly, taking a crisp from an open bag on the side.

“it’s not like he wasn’t doing it for her too, though,” jaehyun laughed, leehan could see he was revving up for one of his big moments, as jaehyun kneeled on the dining chair, beginning to mimic your moans loudly, “oh! donghyun! oh baby you’re so big! ugh! fuck me, please, donghyun!”

“alright, okay,” leehan spoke assertively, trying to calm him down.

“oh, donghyun!” sungho joined in, “need you!”

leehan’s face was solemn now, turning angry as he looked at his older friends.

“guys,” he said, his voice loud, “that’s my girlfriend, shut the fuck up please.”

jaehyun sniggered, agreeing in a way that pissed leehan off even more.

“you’re just fucking jealous you don’t get any,” leehan hissed, taking a swig of his drink.

sungho laughed loudly, trying badly to cover it up after.

“what?!” leehan yelled, “you have something to say?!”

“yeah,” sungho scoffed, nodding, “i never knew you were so jealous.”

“huh?”

“i’ve never seen you get angry before, donghyun-ah!” sungho exclaimed, excitement laced in his voice, “this is obviously what happens when you get jealous.”

“don’t have sex so loudly if you don’t want us to hear, donghyun-ah,” jaehyun teased, slapping leehan’s shoulder, the boy flinching as his hand landed on fresh wounds. “oh! i’m sorry! i really didn’t mean to.”

leehan’s voice was tight when he spoke, “it’s fine.”

woonhak 🧸 [fluff, poutybf!woonhak, fem!reader]

“ah why?!” you pleaded, tugging on your boyfriend’s arm, “just once! i just want to see!”

woonhak rolled his eyes dramatically, shaking his arm so your grip went with it, “no, y/n! i’m never going to bring you to my dorm, okay? stop asking.”

you sighed, exasperated, “i don’t see why not, woonie, i just want to see, you know i still live with my parents, it’s just interesting!”

“i wish i still lived with my parents,” he scoffed, picking at the tteokbokki the two of you had got from the stall outside your school, standing and eating on the corner as you hid your shivers under your padded coats and each others’ body heat.

“ah please!” you whined, stamping your foot as your boyfriend started to laugh, “you haven’t even given me a good reason why not!”

“come on,” woonhak laughed, thanking the grandma working at the stand as you began to walk home. you sighed, resigning your argument as you walked arm in arm.

“oh!” you exclaimed, slapping your boyfriend’s back excitedly, he looked at you with a shocked expression.

“ah what?!”

“it’s myung jaehyun!” you exclaimed, a shocked smile on your face at the man you’d heard and seen so much about, “oh! and riwoo!”

“stop calling them like that,” woonhak chastised, leaving your side to jog towards his members, “hyungs, what are you doing here?!”

“came to pick you up of course!” jaehyun exclaimed.

“i think we interrupted something though,” riwoo chuckled, seeing you arrive at woonhak’s side and take ahold of his arm again.

you bowed, greeting the two, “hello! i’m y/n.”

“of course,” jaehyun cooed, “we heard so much about you!”

you blushed, “really?”

“our woonhak never shuts up about you!” riwoo teased.

you smiled, the four of you beginning to walk home. jaehyun and riwoo talked your ear off the whole way, as you giggled and gushed over their words of praise and adoration for woonhak, and for you.

“y/n has to go now,” woonhak announced as you reached the top of your street.

“oh, i thought she’d come back to the dorm!” riwoo exclaimed. jaehyun nodded, “hey, come! taesan’s mum cooked a bunch of food for us that we’re gonna have tonight!”

“ah i want to! but woonie said i couldn’t come to the dorms…”

the two hyungs looked confused, turning towards woonhak as you did the same, looking at your boyfriend’s slightly guilty expression.

“it was because of this!” he suddenly burst, “hyungs, this is my girlfriend! let me talk to her at least, god!”

your eyes widened before you smiled, biting your lip to hold in your laugh; jaehyun and riwoo obviously not doing the same.

“i’m sorry, our baby,” jaehyun cooed, squeezing woonhak’s cheek as he protested more, “were we taking up too much of her time?”

woonhak rolled his eyes, suddenly growing embarrassed.

“let her come back to the dorm and you’ll have all the time in the world,” riwoo offered, woonhak sighing as he took your arm.

“come on then.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Six Times Toto Pushed His Luck (part 2)

Part 1

word count: 879

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

Summary: The normally quiet and sweet wife of Toto Wolff shocks bystanders when she sternly calls him "Torger," leaving everyone stunned as they realize even the formidable team principal isn’t immune to being put in his place by his wife

______________________________________________________________

Before the first time it happened, people only saw you and Toto as the perfect, balanced pair. You were quiet, a bit reserved compared to Toto’s larger-than-life presence in the paddock. You were the calm to his intensity, often standing by his side, offering him a reassuring smile or a gentle word during stressful race weekends. To most, you were the sweet, soft-spoken woman who somehow managed to keep the fiery team principal grounded.

Everyone saw how protective Toto was of you, always keeping you close at events, his hand either on your back or holding yours. People admired your dynamic—Toto the fierce, intimidating leader, and you, the gentle, supportive partner.

So when the first “Torger” slipped out of your mouth, it was like the entire room stopped. It was so out of character for you to call him anything other than ‘Toto,’ and the sharpness in your voice made everyone do a double take. The calm, sweet woman who always seemed to balance him had suddenly put her foot down.

It was a shock to the system, especially for those who had never imagined anyone telling Toto Wolff what to do, let alone his wife. The first time you called him ‘Torger,’ eyes widened, mouths twitched, and no one quite knew what to make of it.

1. Monaco Apartment - Breakfast Disaster

The kitchen was now a smoky mess, and as you scolded Toto with the sharp “Torger!” the housekeeper, who had come in quietly to clean, froze in the doorway. Her eyes widened, and you could see her fighting back a smile. She quickly turned on her heel, retreating out of the kitchen, probably off to tell the rest of the staff that even Toto Wolff could get a dressing down in his own home. Later, while cleaning, she whispered to you, “You know, no one ever dares to call him anything but Toto… except you.”

2. Silverstone Garage - Headphones Drama

The garage had fallen silent when you called out “Torger” after his headphone slam. The engineers sitting nearby all exchanged looks, their mouths twitching like they were trying not to laugh. You heard one of the mechanics murmur, “Did she just call him… Torger?” as they shuffled to continue working, pretending not to notice the whole thing. By the end of the race, there was a quiet joke spreading through the team—someone had taped a label on Toto’s locker that read “Torger’s Headphones – Handle With Care.”

3. Vienna - The Overpacking Incident

When you called him “Torger” in the bedroom, you didn’t realize that one of your neighbors, an old friend of his, had arrived to take you both to lunch. He overheard the exchange through the open door, and when Toto stepped out to greet him, his friend gave him a smug grin.

“Well, well, Torger. Overpacked again, have we?” he teased, clapping Toto on the shoulder.

Toto groaned, clearly annoyed that the name had slipped outside the confines of your home. For the rest of the weekend, his friend made sure to drop “Torger” into every sentence just to watch Toto’s jaw tighten.

4. The Paddock - PDA Overload

The moment the word “Torger” escaped your lips in the paddock, you could almost feel the collective stares of everyone around you. The grid was busy, but you noticed Christian Horner smirking from a few feet away. Within minutes, the Red Bull team had gotten wind of the incident, and by the time you made your way through the paddock, Max Verstappen threw in a casual, “Hey, Torger,” with a grin as he walked past. Even some of the photographers were chuckling.

That evening, Lewis Hamilton couldn’t resist a tease. “Torger? That’s a new one. You’re in trouble when the full name comes out.”

5. Home Gym - The Training Competition

When you called him “Torger” in the gym, you didn’t expect anyone to hear, but you had forgotten about the trainer who was supposed to drop off a new set of weights for Toto. He arrived just in time to hear you threatening to send him to the couch. The trainer stood in the doorway, visibly amused.

“You alright there, Torger?” he asked, barely containing his laughter.

Toto shot him a look, and the trainer raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just glad I don’t have to compete against her,” he added, snickering as he left the room.

6. Baku - The Meltdown

The moment you unleashed “Torger Christian Wolff” in the hotel room, Toto’s rant came to a screeching halt. Unfortunately for him, his team had been lingering just outside the door, waiting to discuss strategy. You could hear muffled voices as they clearly caught the name. When Toto opened the door, calmer but clearly embarrassed, the team members were trying (and failing) to act casual.

One of the engineers, James, gave him a sly grin. “Torger Christian, huh? We’ll make sure to update your office nameplate.”

By the time you returned to the paddock, the teasing was relentless. Christian Horner, of course, couldn’t resist. “Torger Christian Wolff,” he greeted, his tone mock-formal. “Nice to meet the man behind the legend.”

Toto groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’ve created a monster,” he muttered to you with a smile.

[kitkat13001]

⋆°• ☁︎ 𐙚 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖

>> l lawliet x reader

>> fluff, established relationship

you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic clacking of L’s keyboard. 

“you know what i wish?” you muse, watching the light coming off his computer brighten and darken as he flicks between screens. 

“wishing is of little consequence,” he replies, almost automatically. “it won’t change the reality we live in.”

you ignore him. “ryuzaki, you want to know what i wish?”

he sighs, knowing you’ll persist anyway. “what do you wish, my love?”

“i wish that we were in a romance manga,” you tell him, clutching a pillow to your chest and letting your head hang off the side of the bed. “and you’d be just a detective and i’d be just me.”

he’s silent for a moment, taking in your words before he responds. “but i am a detective and you are you. where would this divulge from reality?”

“no one would die, because it’s a romance manga and it’s not that kind of story,” you say with a sigh. “the biggest mystery you’d be solving was how to ask me out and the only crime committed was how you’d stolen my heart—” he almost laughs at that part, “—and we could have a beach episode and montages of cute dates and a christmas special and—” you prattle on, excited merely over the prospect as you list off other fantasies. 

ryuzaki listens as he works, used to this dreamy behavior from you (especially when you’re half asleep like this). your ramblings amuse him. 

“i could take you to the beach,” he muses, eyes wandering in thought. 

“hm?” 

“watari owns several private islands,” he says, wheeling around in his chair to face you. “they’re used for different purposes, mostly as safe houses for emergencies. but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind us staying there on a long weekend.”

“are you being serious, ryuzaki?” you ask after a moment, clutching the edge of the mattress to keep yourself upright. your eyes are big and curious and hold a little ember of hope and giddiness. 

“when am i not serious?” he mumbles in reply, clacking away on his keyboard but unable to hide a small smile. 

you clap in delight, letting out a happy squeal. “oh my god! a private island retreat!”

“it’s nothing fancy,” he insists, turning back to his work, “so don’t go thinking this is some grand occasion.”

“ryuzaki, what about a private island isn’t fancy?!” you reply, clambering off the bed in a hurry. you whirl about the room, darting between the closet and nightstand and dresser. “i have to pack all my swimsuits and summer clothes and oh, my sandals! and my hats and sunglasses!”

“i didn’t say we were going now,” he chides, casting you an incredulous glance as he watches you flit about the room. your manic energy is endearing, if somewhat exasperating. 

you straighten from where you’d been bent over the drawers, grinning and sweeping your hair from your eyes. “ah, you said a long weekend. there’s a holiday next week! if we leave in the next couple days, we can beat most of the travel congestion for the break.”

a small smile manages to overtake him at your spindle of logic. “so you’ve got it all worked out then?”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing you

“yes,” you reply indignantly, “now get watari on the phone and tell him i said ‘pretty please with a cherry on top’.”

he huffs with a soft laugh, shaking his head. you aren’t demanding of much, but once you have your sights set on something there’s no stopping you. “very well, my love. i’ll call watari, but that ‘cherry on top’ you mentioned will be for me, accompanied by a significant amount of cake.”

“deal,” you grin, shooing at him to make the call. 

[nightlark100]

The List

I had an idea for a silly fanfic about the teen wolf pack making a list of rules for their pack to follow but i never got beyond the list itself and a tiny bit of story. So i thought i'd post it here.

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

It had started as a joke. After another brilliant Scott plan gone wrong, Stiles had scribbled 'SCOTT IS NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE PLANS' in big letters on a piece of paper which he then stuck beside the front door.

"This is ridiculous," Scott protested, moving to take it down. "My plans aren't that bad"

"Yes they are. And no touching the paper! That is an official document"

"What."

Derek, drawn by the discussion, hovered in the doorway to the living room.

"Stiles… what is that and why is it on my wall?"

"This is the official Hale pack list of rules. We must all abide by it."

Scott scoffed and looked to Derek, expecting the alpha to side with him. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes before nodding.

"Alright"

"What?! But… Derek!"

"Sorry Scott. It's on the official list of rules, we have to follow it. No more plan making for you"

Scott is not allowed to make plans

No one mentioned the list again for a while and when they did, it was in a teasing way whenever Scott tried to suggest something, whether that something was what they should do that weekend or how best to combat a flurry of pixies in the preserve. The reminder of the ‘no plans’ rule was met with a good natured groan and an eye roll from Scott but little else.

One day however, Stiles was brought out of his latest research binge by the lid of his laptop being sharply closed. He looked up, blinking a few time as his eyes adjusted to the room after hours of staring at the bright screen.

“What the hell?”

The rest of the pack was sitting nearby, having been occupied by their own activities, with Isaac hovering uncertainly beside Stiles’ chair with a sheepish look on his face.

“Isaac?” Stiles prompted.

“Sorry Stiles but you’ve been researching for a day straight.”

“And?”

“Well… i mean… it’s on the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The official pack rules. By the door.”

Their conversation had drawn the attention of the others, most looking confused. Stiles set his laptop aside and went to the door. There beneath his scrawl was a new addition. 

2. Stiles' laptop and phone must be taken away after 24 hours of continuous research.

“Who put that there?” he asked. The others stayed silent. Scott looked slightly smug but Stiles knew that wasn’t his writing. He let out an irritated noise and fished his phone from his pocket, intending to retreat to his room. If Isaac wouldn’t let him back on his laptop, he could still access his work that way.

Derek reached over and plucked the phone from his hand.

“Sorry Stiles. It’s on the list. You can have them back tomorrow.”

“Derek! Come on!”

He moved to grab at the phone but was struck with a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling. Hands reached out to steady him, he wasn’t sure whose.

“Stiles, when did you last eat?” Lydia asked.

“Ermm… breakfast maybe?”

“Today?”

“No… yesterday…”

“Hmm. And drank something? That wasn’t full of sugar?”

“Errr…”

“Kitchen. You’re going to eat, drink some water and then you are going to get some sleep.” She guided him out of the hall with a firm hand, pushing him into a chair at the kitchen table while Isaac retrieved some leftovers from the fridge and filled their largest glass with water.

Both of them stayed in the kitchen with him until he was suitably fed and hydrated, then Lydia took him upstairs and put him to bed, giving him a dark look as she promised that if he got up to get one of his books instead of sleeping there would be consequences.

Stiles reluctantly obeyed.

He wouldn’t admit it but he did feel better the next morning. Until, as he headed downstairs, he noted a new line had been added to the paper by the door. 

3. Stiles must be made to eat something and drink water after 6 hours of continuous research

After the first few additions, it seemed that some kind of dam had been broken and the rest of the pack didn’t hesitate to implement their own rules (although no one would admit to putting the limits on Stiles’ research time)

4.  Newly turned betas are not allowed to partake in team sports until they have proven they can control themselves (e.g. no eye flashing, no claws, no fangs, no doing backflips over other players or any other feats of sudden athletic ability that may draw attention to the pack)

5.         All of Derek's dates must be vetted. THOROUGHLY

“That's it. I'm putting a ban on Derek dating” Stiles said, picking chunks of viscera out of his hair. “This is the third time! At this point it's just negligent of us not to investigate anyone inviting you out.” A thought occured and he spun around to face Derek. “oh my god. You're a Xander!”

“What?”

“A Xander! Right Peter?”

“I would have to agree. He does have Xander like qualities when it comes to dating.”

“Again I say… what?”

“Buffy the vampire slayer. Peter and I have been watching it together.”

“Really Peter?”

“It's good!”

“It has its moments”

“Yeah you're just mad cause they got rid of Ethan. Who is 100% you. Just in it for the chaos.”

“Would that make you the Giles?”

“No! Why?”

“Oh come on, they were definitely a couple.”

“If i’m anyone, i’m willow.”

“Wouldn’t Lydia be Willow?”

“No, Lydia is Cordelia.” he glanced around, fearing the redhead would appear and yell at him. “On the surface, superficial cheerleader type. But goes through a bunch of character development and has a power that sucks.”

“Flawless logic. Why are you Willow?”

“Magic. Bi. Brief fall to the dark side. And then Scott would be Xander,”

“I thought I was Xander?”

“No, you’re just Xander when it comes to dating. Scott’s Xander the rest of the type.”

“And I suppose Allison is Buffy?”

“Noooo… Allison is Faith. "

6. Peter and Stiles are not allowed to watch Mythbusters anymore 

“Really Derek?”

“Yes. Really. Last time you watched that show, you ended up building a trebuchet.”

“I believe it was just Stiles who built the trebuchet.”

“Yes but you helped load it.”

7. No Sex in the common areas! Erica this means you! (poor Isaac)

8. When offered a boon by a faerie BE SPECIFIC

9. Stiles is not to be left unattended in the vet clinic

10. Stiles is not to be left unattended around witches

11. Stiles is not to be left unattended around magic users

12. Stiles is not to be left unattended

13.  Lydia and Peter are not to be left alone in a room together.

14. In the event that Stiles is transformed into a small furry animal, he is to be given into the custody of the Sheriff or Derek. Or Peter. Most importantly, Erica is banned from going near him (OH COME ON! YOU LOOKED INSANELY CUTE IN THE BATMAN COSTUME)

15. The Notebook is a great film and whoever keeps hiding the disc will stop immediately. OR ELSE. I think the or else was implied here Stiles…

16. Stiles is not to be given coffee

17. Stiles is not to be given extra Adderall

18.  Anyone who gives the Sheriff food not on the approved list will face the wrath of Stiles

19. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Melissa McCall

20. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Chris Argent

21. ~Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Stiles Stilinski~ (Stiles objects to this rule)

22.  When throwing items at people, do not throw any of the books or Peter will eat you

23. No Stiles, having sex with a male werewolf won't get you pregnant. Even if it's an alpha. (That we know of)

24. No one is allowed to drive the Camaro except Derek

25. No one is allowed to eat in the Camaro

26.  Alison is not allowed to take her crossbow to school

27.  Alison is not allowed to take her knives to school

28.  Seriously Alison, stop taking weapons to school!

29. Stiles is not allowed to touch any of Alison's weapons

30.  If you bleed in the jeep, you are responsible for cleaning it

31. Do not enter the kitchen when Stiles is cooking. (This is for your own safety)

32. If you enter the kitchen while Stiles is cooking, do not attempt to steal food he is preparing. Werewolves cannot regrow fingers

33.  If Stiles declares someone is evil, he is probably right and should be taken seriously.

34.  If someone new starts working at the school, they are probably evil

35.  If Peter offers to kill someone for you, he is not joking and it is not okay (no matter how tempting it is)

36. Do not ask Derek about dating Cora

37.  Do not make dog jokes, especially to Derek, Stiles! (Not my fault he has no sense of humour)

38. ALWAYS CALL STILES FIRST IF YOU FIND A BODY

39. Stop asking where our eyebrows go when shifted

40. Stiles is not allowed a pet dragon

41. Stiles is not allowed a pet griffin

42. ~Stiles, stop trying to adopt baby mythical creatures~

43. Peter stop leaving dead animals on Stiles porch seriously dude, my dad thinks I've got a budding serial killer after me ~well, I wasn't technically wrong…~ minus the budding part

44. Stiles is not allowed to use his PowerPoint when telling people about werewolves (I don't care how many slide transitions you put in)

45.  No Stiles, giving your PowerPoint to Peter or Lydia to present is not a loophole (oh come on! I even put a bibliography at the end! it's not my fault you're technology adverse!)

46.  Derek is not allowed to lurk around abandoned buildings. It really doesn't help with the serial killer vibe you give off

47. If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back! We shouldn't kill people at all! I said IF! ~Stiles, please remember I'm an officer of the law~

47B. AMENDMENT TO THE PREVIOUS: If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back AND make sure you dispose of the body so that dad doesn't have to do extra paperwork

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

By request, here is a legend to tell who is writing what:

Stiles

Peter

Derek

Scott

~Sheriff~

Erica

Lydia

Isaac

Allison

Boyd

[petriwriting]

Bad Boyfriends - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: your boyfriend treats you terribly and Theodore comforts you when you finally break up. Then you realize you love him.

A/N: based on a tiktok meme I saw. Reader is a slytherin. Once again proofreading is for the weak and I wrote this on like no sleep. Contains Cheating & Protective Theo. Friends to lovers. Rupi Kaur poetry.

Your boyfriend, Silas was the stereotypical gryffindor guy. He had decent grades, was relatively social, popular. He played quidditch too. From afar the relationship was the perfect ‘enemies to lovers’ trope. You were a slytherin, and he was a gryffindor but despite being in different houses you were in love, or so it seemed to the average person. it was picturesque.

The halls flooded with students preparing for the weekend, some housemates of yours had invited you to a slytherin after party that would undoubedtly take place after your house won the quidditch game that evening. You had a killer winning streak, and tonight slytherin was playing against gryffindor. Silas wasn’t too excited for you to go, so he said you could come to the gryffindor after party instead, which would be “wayyy more fun” he had said. You were torn, but also tired. Silas grabbed your arm out of the busy hall, and pulled you into a slightly more private hall in the corridors. “Heyy,” he cooed. “Excited for my game tonight?” He said in a cocky tone. “We’ll definitely kick slytherin’s ass tonight I can feel it,” he exclaims. You sigh. “Well slytherin has a winning streak right now, so maybe not.” You say jokingly, you truthfully didn’t care who won, you just wanted to relax at a party with your friends afterwards. “Don’t say that.” His tone is blatant, rude. “I want you to wear my jersey tonight as always.” He winked, grabbing your hand and brushing his thumb over it in attempts to be affectionate. “I was going to wear gear from my house.” You uttered.

There is a slight pause, and Silas looks angry, part of you is genuinely scared. but you know that he won’t do anything too drastic if you’re both in public. You silently thank Merlin that the hallway has some students shuffling through every now and then. Not that Silas would get physical, or hurt you. “Absolutely not.” He says flatly. “You can’t control what I wear,” you retort getting frustrated at his attitude. “Come on you can’t support me this once? After all I do for you?” He pleads. ‘After all I do for you’ refers to holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you compliments, and holding your hand in public. All which are things that are in fact the bare minimum. You exhale loudly. “I’m not doing this with you right now.” You say quietly, retreating somewhat.

“Come on, you hang out with lowlife bratty snobby kids who think they are way better than everyone else. Didn’t think it would rub off on you this much.” He snaps back. You’re angered, hurt and ready to spill tears but you hold your composure. “Silas I’m not doing this!” You repeat yourself, more stern despite the break in your voice. “Why can’t you just do what I ask?” He mumbles. “There’s girls lining up to be with me but I chose to be with you instead and you always treat me like I’m some bad guy whose out to get you.” He exclaims. His narcism is shining bright at you.

“Silas I’m unhappy.” You uttered, somewhat scared of the consequences. “Really?” He says, in a condescending tone. “Shocker.” He rolls his eyes. “Did your bitchy friends put that idea In your head?” He snapped again. He’s projecting, and it hurts. You did love him at first, but with the arguements of recently, and his attitude being less and less loving and caring you knew something was up. There was even a rumor that he had been seen getting more than friendly with a ravenclaw girl. Everything just bubbled up in that moment. You had stayed because the relationship looked good but now it was doing nothing but hurting you and you were starting to realize it. All the lake night talks, dates at hogsmeade, passing notes in class, it all suddenly meant nothing. Tears welled in your eyes, you wanted to shake him.

“No they didn’t, and my friends are loyal and look out for each other.” You stated through the tears, anger seeping out. “Unlike yours who blow shit up for fun and barely pass their classes.” You snapped back. “We’re done.” You said, the words came out sharp and cold. “Figures as much.” Silas retorted before storming off. He muttered something about you being an evil snake on his way off.

You stood there for a moment, tears falling from your cheeks your face was red and you were exasperated. Your instinct was to rush back to your room, taking the long way to the dungeons to avoid being seen. You walked fast. Faster. Rushing through the castle. You rushed right past your friends who greeted you, and went to your dorm to cry alone. The door heavily shut.

. . . . . . . .

Later that evening, your friends had convinced you to go to the quidditch game that evening, and as suspected slytherin won with a pretty high lead. You were decked out in your slytherin gear, showing your house pride with your face painted. Deep down you were hurting and upset, but you didn’t let anyone see it. The game was cold, as you stood on the stands cheering and clapping. Your scarf was wrapped around your neck tightly, and you wore a bulky sweater over top a quidditch jersey.

Soon enough the after party rolled around. It felt great to not have Silas dragging you down…

By the time you arrive to the party in the common room it is already starting to become full of students who drink and smoke and laugh. The music is loud, some trendy band everyone’s been listening to with a catchy beat and carefree lyrics. Alcohol won’t make you feel better but at least you are with friends. While Blaise and Draco are off dancing with pansy and Astoria. Eventually the chatter and music is becoming loud so you venture to the corridor just beyond common room for some clarity. You wanted to cry again but you promised yourself you would be okay just for a little while longer.

Outside the common room, you follow the scent of smoke and are quickly lead to Mattheo and Theodore. Theodore has a cigarette lit, he’s been drinking and so has Mattheo. Mattheo was in the middle of explaining some grandiose plan he had to impress a transfer student, while entertaining his friend Theodore, who intently listened. He had always had a dark demeanor, quiet but thoughtful. The two were in your friend group but you certainly weren’t close. You knew Mattheo liked to party and was quite rebellious and that Theodore and yourself shared a potions class together. They both nodded and acknowledged your presence. You awkwardly stood, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to seem desperate either. “Y/N, I could hear you cheering us on from the stands.” Mattheo exclaims. You lean against the wall next to Theodore. “Yeah I’ve been excited for the game all week,” you admit. Theodore was very reserved, he offered you a cigarette, which you accepted. You didn’t typically smoke, though you had before. You took a few long drags and thanked him. “No problem.” He said with a smirk. “Mattie!” Someone called. It was a slightly drunken girl. “If you’ll excuse me…” Mattheo ran off after her. He always liked his mischievous antics.

“So,” Theodore began. “How are you holding up?” He asked. You sighed. Did he know? Did everyone know already? You tried to be discrete and keep it private, but words travel fast. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you knew.” You said, hugging yourself in the chilly air. “Well I don’t, but whatever it was I saw you were pretty upset about it.” He states, referring to the moment he saw you rush past everyone playing cards in the common room to your dorm earlier in the day. Theodore had always been the quiet observer, he saw things but didn’t speak much in comparison to his friends. He was still relatively social despite his mysterious demeanor. For the past year and a half, you always saw Theodore as a friend, but never relied on him much except for notes from class and gossip on occasion. You’d spoken with him a few times here and there. It wasn’t a huge issue that he knew you were dating Silas, the school always clung to the gossip and paid attention to the it couples. Especially Pansy and Draco who were both influential. You had been so wrapped up in trying to maintain your relationship with your now ex boyfriend that you hadn’t seen the signs of Theodore pining over you. He doodled you in class, and always romanticized the thought of asking you out despite never doing so out of circumstance. By the time he had decided to act on his feelings for you, you were together with your ex. So it felt pointless. Nonetheless he still cared for you quite immensely.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you say slightly embarrassed. “I was um..” you stop yourself. “Silas and I broke up. It’s been a rough day.” You admit looking at the ground. “Sorry to hear that.” He says, taking another long drag of his cigarette before putting it out. “It’s okay.” You say. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. The chatter is very muffled and the music is faint from the common room. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. You sigh, and think for a moment. You want to say no and forget about this whole thing and move on, but you also know how good it will feel to get it out, and since Theo was the first person to ask you gave in to his offer. “I just,” you began quietly. “I heard a rumor that he was seeing someone else.” You admitted with a shrug. “And at first I didn’t want to believe it until I saw them in the library one day, this was maybe 2 weeks ago. They weren’t just studying but flirting. I was in denial about it, and today I just finally snapped and broke it off.” You continue. “I loved him but it wasn’t worth staying with someone who won’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated, someone who cheats and lies and hurts me over and over again without a care. Someone that genuinely made me so insecure and sad.” You finalized, sternly wiping your tears. As if convincing yourself the words were true the tears welled up in your eyes again as the wound re-opened. “I don’t want to ruin your night it seems like you were having fun.” You say as your voice softens.

Theodore has now turned towards you with his hands in his pockets. “No no,” Theodore reassures. “My night is definitely not ruined.” He states. “I enjoy hearing you talk. We don’t get to do that very often.” He confesses slightly. He’s right. You barely speak, but his presence and his shoulder to cry on is appreciated and you sniffle and wipe your face. “I’m glad to hear you open up.” He replies.

You sigh and shake away some anxiety from your body. “Thank you for listening to me.” You say. “It means a lot.” “Anytime.” He says quietly. “You deserve to spend your time with people who respect your feelings and your thoughts and time, not someone who hurts you that much.” Theodore says. He’s nervous now, he wants to tell you he’s been looking out for you since you first met and that he’s only just come to the realization that he might be in love with you, but he’s silent in that regard. “It’s good to talk about things sometimes,” he says. You were not prepared for him to be vulnerable with you in reciprocation. “When my mom passed,” he says tenderly. “I didn’t talk for 3 years. I was nearly mute. And when I finally told someone how I felt, it felt so good. Amazing. I know it’s not the same as what you’re going through at all, but hey, we’re here for you.” He says kindly. We, as on his friend group. Your friend group too. You want to turn to thank him, right the but instead you don’t. You wrap your arms around him tightly. It feels strange to do so at first but then you both melt into each others embrace. It’s a sweet moment. “Thanks.” You whisper.

. . . . . . . .

The next few months are spent blissfully happy in your new found singleness. Although it can be lonely you have amazing friends to support you through. And since that evening you had grown much closer to Theodore. He sort of becomes one of your best friends. You had pulled away from that friend group for obvious reasons, although it felt good to have your old life back finally. You could be yourself without judgement. You hadn’t seen Silas nearly at all, avoiding his usual hangout spots and ignoring his buddies in the halls. You were finally over him. The cold air was harsh, and a light dust of snow covered the ground outside the castle and soon enough everything around. You found comfort in the quiet of the common room, and warmth by the fire place. A book was in your lap, a lovely poetry novel. You wore a heavy sweater, and cozy socks as you were curled up reading on the couch by your friend. Theodore had become the perfect person to be around. He had a quiet understanding of your pain, and he shared his own with you and opened himself up which you thought was special. Not even the other slytherins had known about some of the things the two of you talked about. He’s sat beside you on the couch, silently doodling in his notebook between the pages of notes. You yawned, and leaned closer to Theodore. “This one reminds me of you.” You said softly before resting your head on his shoulder to read, it was an affectionate gesture that made your heart race.

The world

gives you

so much pain

and here you are

making gold out of it.

As you read aloud the words come out like milk and honey. “That’s pretty,” Theo says quietly. “I like that.” He admitted. Your head stayed on his shoulder and eventually he had snaked an arm around you. You were both sleepy, as it was getting relatively late. The crackle of the fireplace was just soo soothing. “Thank you.” You said quietly, tempting sleep to take you. “For what?” Theodore asks. “Being here for me.” You explain. “It feels nice to have someone who understands me as much as you.” He smiles softly, you couldn’t see his face flush slightly. He hesitates and says this a bit too late, thinking you’d fallen fast asleep, since you chest rise and fell softly and you had let your book relax in your hand. And sighs a bit, “I love you.” He uttered softly, without a response, you were nearly asleep. It wasn’t long before sleep griped the both of you.

The next morning, you’re met with Mattheo smiling in your faces. “Well then good morning love birds.” He chuckled. “Did you sleep well?” He mused. It’s early enough not everyone is awake yet, aside from Mattheo. You were surprised to not see Draco or Blaise wandering about yet, as the common room was still mostly empty. You yawned and stretched. You had been cuddled up to Theo and when you realized you blushed a bit unconsciously. “Breakfast will start soon if you’d like to accompany me.” Mattheo says. “Yeah, sure.” Theodore says rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “We’ll meet you there, yeah?” He says. Matt nods and wanders off. The two of you share one extra moment practically in an embrace on the couch before you lean in closely and utter a whisper that changed the boys world forever. “I love you too.”

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Sinstagram | L. Morningstar

Warnings: Lucifer being a slight menace to society, Reader is also a fallen angel, fem reader, bestie Angel Dust, mother reader, older sister Charlie, kinda wholesome, Lucifer being a good dad and an amazing husband, semi suggestive(?)

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N — sorry if it's kinda all over the place, I've been stuck in a horrendous bout of writers block and just barely had the motivation to sit down and write for Lucifer, my love 😭

"No fuckin way!" Angel Dust cackled from two rooms over and immediately you heard his footsteps coming towards you. It could be one of two things — Val posted something weird as fuck or he uncovered pictures of the two of you absolutely plastered from three months ago.

"What's up?" You asked, looking away from the paperwork Charlie had you doing for the hotel, while she took her younger siblings out. Some of the stuff she didn't understand, even with the help of Vaggie or Alastor, so you stepped in to help as you were a manager at a hotel when you were sent to earth for work — it was a way to blend in that unironically gave you experience.

Angel stopped before you, a smirk falling upon his face filled with glee and suggestive glances. "You check your phone in the last few minutes?"

Confused, you shook your head 'no' and set down the small stack of papers that had been stapled together so you could view them with ease. "I've been working for the last few hours to make up for being gone with Lucifer all weekend, so it's on silent. . . Angel, what's going on?"

He leaned across the counter and turned his phones screen to face you. It was Lucifer's most recent Sinstagram post. For a moment, you were confused until your eyes scanned the caption.

'She calls me apple the way I be in cider 😏🍎'

Immediately, you blushed and covered your blazing cheeks with your hands. "Oh my." You breathed out. That blush immediately became a flush of mortification when Angel clicked on the picture and it showed that he had tagged you. Your Sinstagram username stared back at you.

"So, you and the short king got down and dirty on your weekend retreat, huh?" Angel Dust smirked, turning his phone back to himself to scroll through the comments that were rolling in by the second.

"Well," you began, unsure of where your words were going to go. "I am his wife. . . It's a natural thing that married and apparently unmarried people do. . . Yes, it's only natural."

Angel snorted. "You ain't gonna hear any complainin' from me, [Y/N/N]. . . So long as there ain't anymore little Lucifer's running around anytime soon."

"About that. . ." You trailed off.

Angel Dust opened his mouth to reply.

As if on cue, the front doors of the hotel opened, Charlie and Vaggie entered, each holding one of your children — the former exorcist angel holding your sleeping daughter. She had your hair but Lucifer's eyes and rosy cheeks.

Your son was wide awake, bearing a striking resemblance to his father and older sister, but with your eyes.

It was clear just by the way he was buzzing that they had gone to LuLu World. He was always energetic coming home from such an exciting trip, whereas your daughter was out cold halfway through the ride back home every time without fail. It was likely a sugar crash.

"Looks like someone had fun." You removed your hands from your face and stood from your seat, rounding the desk.

"We all did. . . Thanks for letting us take them out, [Y/N]. I wish you and dad could've come with us and made it a family day." Charlie smiled brightly at you.

"We will soon, I promise. . . Thank you for taking them while I got some work in."

"It's no problem! I love them — they're just the cutest."

Your son practically jumped out of his sister's arms when you got close enough for him to wrap his arms around your neck. He went on and on about all the fun stuff the four of them had while you finished up working, until he fell asleep mid sentence.

You chuckled lightly and asked Angel to bring your daughter out to the limousine that was waiting out front of the hotel. He arrived a few minutes later and your daughter acted as if she was beginning to wake up, until she was strapped into her car seat and the driver started the vehicle.

"One more Morningstar, huh?" Angel questioned before you could close the door behind you.

You smiled, chuckling slightly. "Just one more. He convinced me this time."

A couple minutes later you were on your way, watching the buildings fly past your window. You decided to check your phone finally. The post had over a million likes and had just over six thousand comments. You liked the post, the blush creeping up once again. At some point you had to stop caring — you were in Hell and there were people doing worse things than being romantically involved with their partners.

It wasn't long before three of you arrived home and Lucifer threw the front door open before the vehicle could even stop. When the driver opened the door, Lucifer was there to see his children after a long day.

"Look at my babies!" He gushed quietly, tears springing to his eyes as he watched them sleep so peacefully.

You snickered and he turned to you.

"And my beautiful wife! Hi! I love you so much!" He kissed all over your face while placing one of his hands on your belly — you weren't showing yet, but would be in the next few weeks.

"I love you too, Luci. . . Let's get them inside. I want them to be in bed before you and I have a talk about what we do and don't say on Sinstagram when we'll be apart for hours." You whispered the last sentence, caressing his cheek.

His eyes widened and he gulped before chuckling nervously.  "You saw that, did you?"

"I sure did. . . Apple." You could've sworn he was gonna pass out from the tone of your voice, but he instead cleared his throat and unbuckled one child while you handled the other.

The two of you got inside and put the kids to bed, silently thanking Charlie for making sure they ate something other than sugar before they came home.

Then there was a lot of talking. Definitely just talking. . . Yeah. . . Talking. 👀

A few hours later, the two of you laid together, Lucifer laying his head on your lower abdomen. "I know I said one more. . . But what if we had more?"

You laughed lightly, raking your fingers through his hair. "How many more are we talking, Luci? I'd consider one more after this, but then we wouldn't have an even number. . . Charlie adores her siblings, but I think another after our littlest Morningstar would be pushing it."

"She always wanted a big family. . . Lots of brothers and sisters she could spend time with. She used to beg Lilith and I all the time for siblings, but I won't push you. I understand your concerns. I'll be happy regardless of what you decide." Lucifer declared, looking up at you with his pretty eyes.

"We'll see. . . I love you, Lucifer. You know that, right?"

"I know. I love you so so so so so so much." He replied. 

The post in question and the image that gave me the idea for this in the first place (the first pic expands more, fyi 🙂):

[oozebrain]

Art x gender neutral Reader. Art and reader are both ND.

Chapter summary: A new neighbor moves into the house beside you. Being the only other kid in the neighborhood, you’re excited to meet him and hopefully make your first friend.

Warnings include: implied child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother), angst, ableism (including r slur), swearing. Minors dni.

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter 1

The sound of a moving truck woke you up. You grumble sleepily and pull your covers over your head. It’s so piercing and loud in the quiet. You look to your alarm clock and it reads six thirty in the morning. It’s the weekend and you were looking forward to sleeping in, but with the incessant beeping it was impossible. Once the beeping subsided, you thought there would be peace, but loud banging and thudding followed after.

Annoyed, you toss your blanket off and go to the window to see what has so rudely woken you up. In the yard you see a tall woman and a smaller figure next to her. He seems restless, looking around this way and that as he soaks up his new surroundings. He looks to be about your age and excitement blossomed in your chest. 

In a hurry you put on your clothes and comb your fingers through your hair. As you enter the living room you see your mother. She is also getting ready, her own curiosity piqued. You were both nosy, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Are we going to see the new neighbors?” You ask, pulling on your jacket. 

“That goddamn truck woke me up. I’m going over there to ask them who the hell moves in at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.”

You hoped she wouldn’t. You desperately want to make a good impression. You want a friend, an acquaintance, anything. Anyone. You try to placate her, “Maybe we can all be friends and have cookouts and stuff.”

She ignores you, muttering to herself as she puts on her own jacket and grabs her purse and keys. You silently follow her out the door, the bracing breeze of the fall morning tearing through your neck. You pull your jacket closer, the thin material doing little to actually block out the cold. You’ve gotten used to it over the years but the breezes always managed to rip you up.

The neighbors are less than a few feet away and the pair turn to acknowledge you as you walk up. The boy turns away and retreats by the garage, away from the group that’s been created. Naturally, you separate as well and migrate over to the teenager.

He is gangly and taller than you are. In the cold morning he is bundled up with a jacket and hat with ear flaps. You could barely see his face from the scarf wrapped around it, which he pulled up over his nose when you walked up. Despite being bundled up, he was still huddled up into himself and withdrew from you when you approached by taking a step back. He eyed you warily so you stopped short, offering a friendly wave.

He doesn’t speak but continues to stare at you with apprehension. He looks down at the ground and awkwardly kicks a pebble out of the way. It scoots over to you and you gently kick it back. He pauses and stands rigid for a moment before looking back to you. He says nothing but kicks the pebble back, this time with more enthusiasm and you reciprocate.

The boy doesn’t seem interested in conversation so you don’t force the subject and continue to play in a silence. You notice he keeps looking back to his mother, and you notice this because you are doing the same. Every now and again you check over your shoulder to see if she is watching you, but she is still talking to the boy’s mother.

You look back to him and offer him a smile. You can’t see his mouth but you see his eyes crinkle slightly in the smile hidden beneath. It seemed like he was shy, just as you were. You idly sway, hands behind your back and fingers fidgeting as you coax yourself through this encounter with a new person. 

It’s difficult to meet new people. You’ve lived here your whole life but can’t name a single person. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so seeing him step out of the car gave you hope that things could change. You tried not to appear over eager but you truly were hopeful you would be able to make a friend.

“Arthur, who’s this?” Comes a voice to your left. You both turn your heads in unison to look at his mother. He doesn’t answer or move, he merely stares with wide eyes, hands in his pockets and huddled into himself. His smile is gone. Again, you notice his behavior because you do the same, your own gaze wide with apprehension now that attention has been drawn to you. 

She closes the distance and smiles down at you, “Sorry dear. He doesn’t mean to be so rude, he’s just retarded.”

You grimace some at this statement. She takes your scowl of disdain as confusion and continues to rub salt in the wound, “Retarded means he’s slow. He can’t talk. I think he can, but someone just doesn’t want to because they like making things hard for mommy, don’t they?”

She punctuated her overly sweet sounding condescension by pursing her lips and looking down at him over her glasses. He averts his gaze and stares at you instead. He is silently saying something to you with his eyes. It speaks loudly to you, it screams, it roars. He hates her. After a moment he looks away to stare off into the distance while she stands over him in her own silence.

“Well I think we’d better be going. It was great meeting you both.” Your own mother cuts in, sensing the awkward tension. You wanted to leave the situation, but didn’t particularly want to leave him. Arthur glanced back at you before dropping his gaze again. He turned and left without a word, footsteps plodding heavy on the concrete steps up to the porch. The metal screen door closes behind him with an angry slam.

Arthur’s mother sighs, throwing her hands up in the air and looking to your mother apologetically, “Kids. You give them everything and they still want more.”

Your own mother says nothing, but a look crosses her face having her own words repeated to her from a stranger. She makes a noncommittal noise and motions for you to come with her. You give a half-hearted wave goodbye and begin your walk home, just a short distance across the yard. 

As you turn to wave you can see Arthur staring at you from the living room window. His scarf is off to reveal a healing lip and your stomach tightens. You really don’t want to leave him here, but if you don’t comply that would be you next. But still, you have to do something, anything.

“Can me and Arthur play later, mom?” You put her on the spot. All the pressure was off you and now rested on her shoulders. She said nothing for a moment, flicking her eyes between you and Arthur’s mother before nodding.

“As long as it’s okay with his mom it’s alright with me.” She agrees and the two of you look to her. She folds her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she thought. You didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was visibly thinking long and hard about something, and you didn’t like it.

After a time she relented, “They have to stay in the front yard. I don’t want Arthur wandering around until we know our neighbors better.”

Your mother seems a little peeved at that statement, taking it as a personal offense, but doesn’t address it. Instead she chuckles awkwardly and motions again for you to follow, which you do. The two of you make it to the house and once you are inside the truth comes out.

“I do not want you hanging out with that kid.” She turns to you, “He’s fucking weird, what if he hurts you?”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t come off as threatening, in fact he was the one who had initially withdrawn when you approached. Arthur didn’t seem like a mean or bad kid, he looked... scared, stressed, absent. He looked the same way you did after a long night of berating, or the look of dread when you heard ‘just wait until we get home’.

“I do not want you hanging out with him. I’m going down there later to tell her you have a stomachache.”

You look at her with a pleading, but angry, expression. Your ears burn and you clench your teeth. You are twelve years old but she manages you like a toddler, “I don’t have any friends, why can’t I play with him?”

“Because he’s a freak. You have no idea what his mom told me, he’s a fucking nutcase.” She sighs, “Kids like him are why they should bring back asylums. You’re not going, that’s final. I am not sending you out with him.”

“It’s just in the yard!”

“You’re NOT going!”

“You never let me do anything!” You scream at her, fists balled and ready to fight back. You were more worked up than you should be, and part of it was your worry for Arthur. You needed a friend, and he needed a friend too. In your short time meeting him, you could tell he understood you, and you understood him. There was an unspoken solidarity. He knew, and you knew. You just wanted a friend, what the hell was wrong with everyone?

“I’m doing what’s best for you, I’m looking out for you. You should be more thankful that I actually give a shit about you and don’t let you run around with fucking psychopaths who hack up animals!” She screams back, taking an intimidating step toward you. 

You aren’t having this, not today. You scoff at her and trudge to your room. The door slams behind you, an echo from just moments before. You lock the door behind you and flop onto your bed, tightly hugging the pillow beside you. The door wasn’t allowed to be locked but you didn’t care right now, that was a problem for later you. You didn’t want to even hear her breathe right now.

Frustrated tears come and you bury your face in the pillow. You were so angry and crestfallen. She always did this, she always agreed to plans in the moment then changed them as soon as you were behind closed doors. Any attempts to make friends had been foiled, and now that it had been so long without a friend you deeply struggled to make connections.

But you felt a connection with Arthur. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to talk to him, to give him someone to confide in, and you wanted someone to confide in as well. After a small cry you sit up on your bed, still hugging your pillow in your lap. From the corner of your eye you can see a small flash of light blinking over and over.

You get up to walk to the window and shield your eyes at the flashlight. Across the way is Arthur framed by the window pane. His bedroom seems to be across from yours. He turns off the flashlight and offers you a small, shy wave which you reciprocate. He flashes the light at you again. You hold up your finger to tell him to wait a moment and retrieve your own and flicker it at him.

And then you see it, a smile. It’s small and stiff, but it’s there. The two of you sit there at the window in the dim morning light, sending nonsensical Morse code that only the two of you can understand. Fate held you both in its hands as it linked the two of you together through these small flashes of light. You were exhilarated, and judging by the growing smile on his face, so was he. 

[7cmdilated]

Maddie's second birth, part 30

Maddie guides the baby out as instructed, applying gentle pressure and tugging. She angles the baby's body upward, keeping gentle support as she helps the rest of the body out.

She imagines the wailing of the mother as she does this. She imagines every tug sending renewed burning through the struggling mother's vagina. She remembers her own desperate struggling as the doctor had done not only this, but a far more brutal ordeal to her as he had reached his whole arm in to turn a breech baby before forcefully pulling him out. How desperately, for hours, had she begged for it to be over, only at the end to realize the magnitude of just what she was asking as the doctor swiftly brought her ordeal to an end through a few seconds of unimaginable agony.

She's glad it happened to her, for what it awakened in her. Her arousal may not be at the forefront of her mind as she practices, but her imagination runs wild in anticipation of performing the real thing one day. Or even experiencing it herself again.

Med school isn't a prudent time for that, of course, and her IUD will surely prevent that from happening soon, as she looks forward to this weekend's date, but after she graduates, maybe she'll settle down and try it again.

***

The baby's buttocks are fully exposed now, stretching Maddie's vagina wide open. Maddie squirms and shouts and wails, legs kicking against the stirrups and head thrashing side to side.

Beneath all the agony, she knows that she needs to push. But her past experience and her professional training aren't going to help her here - no woman can endure this brutal level of agony when it comes time for her to experience it, no matter how prepared she is, no matter how professionally she would handle someone else's ordeal. The memories of the clinical classroom settings, her flawless treatment of the silicone dummies in the simulators, and her pride at having made it through one natural birth seem to mock her with how she's found herself now. Not even the triumph and ecstasy of achieving two climaxes during this labor can mitigate the utter completeness of the wreck she's been reduced to.

Maddie arches her back, hands close to flailing as she desperately tries to grab for something. One hand finds a rail on her bed while the other claws into the bedsheets. Her body writhes, lurching around with her baby still protruding from her.

"Maddie, it's okay. You're so close. Push!"

Heather, still filming the scene, aims the camera between Maddie's legs, shouting her encouragement as best she can over Maddie's cries. Perhaps she should set down the camera and offer her girlfriend a hand, a push in the back, anything. But Maddie wanted her doing this. Heather knows Maddie will cherish this footage after all is over.

Maddie continues to heave and twist on the bed. A nurse presses on her shoulder, trying to ground her back to reality for these last couple of pushes, but she seems not to notice.

"Do you want to take my hand? Come here, grab onto me." Heather moves forward, keeping her camera aimed at Maddie but moving within reach. Maddie seems to be galvanized by this, but she doesn't take Heather's hand, and instead she grabs both thighs with her hands, pulling them back out of the stirrups, and she curls forward with a renewed energy.

Maddie holds still and silent for a few seconds before a helpless squeal bursts through her clenched teeth. But she manages to hold the push still, and her feet draw up in exertion, toes curling tight.

Heather retreats back to the foot of the bed and continues filming. Maddie's thighs quiver as the baby, thrusting out of her vagina, slides forward slightly.

A head-first baby would give her some relief as her vagina would relax momentarily after allowing the full head through. But there's no such salvation for her, and if she doesn't push hard enough, her baby will stay exactly where she is, keeping up the torment on her vagina.

She collapses back and howls. The searing pain in her vagina is relentless. No longer does the pain recede, even slightly, as she releases the pressure. There's no respite anymore as her baby, buttocks and thighs all at once, is fully lodged tightly in her vagina.

"Just a little more!"

Heather urges her on. Maddie helplessly obeys, clawing into her thighs, feet kicking up and twisting. She yells again, a primal, strangled noise that matches her exertion with her pain. She holds the push, even as the burning spikes and needles at her terribly.

Her yell wavers. She can't hold it down forever. Even with the strength she's mustering, it's overwhelming her. She forces herself to yell louder, trying to keep low and controlled, but it breaks into a panicked shriek.

The dam bursts and she collapses back, and thoroughly overcome, she shrieks. She sobs and wails. Her grip on her thighs releases, and instead of going back into the stirrups, she instinctively closes her legs. Two nurses by her side hurriedly pull them back open.

Her hands thrust down toward her vagina, desperately trying to do anything to stop the pain. The nurses by her side take her hands and gently guide them away. Maddie screams uncontrollably, unable to concentrate her strength any further.

And suddenly, she feels merciless tugging, prying her vagina cruelly open. Her repeated screams, shrill and short, coalesce into one long screech. Her body thrashes but the nurses hold her down. Her work is done. It could have been less painful, but she's hit her limit and the doctor has taken over. She can do nothing but endure.

"Get her out! Please get her out!"

It continues. She can feel every millimeter of her opening vagina pulled far beyond its limit. Her thrashing head twists violently before she buries the side of her face into her pillow and muffles her scream somewhat.

"Please! Pull, pull! Pull her out! Please!"

She's barely coherent at this point. The nurses have let her hands go, and she reaches back down to her thighs, pulling them back again. She inches her fingers down her thighs to as close as her vagina as she can, and pulls at either side, trying to open herself wider. She screams into her pillow.

And the haze of pain bursts. She screams for a few more moments, utterly overwhelmed and unable to remember where she is. She starts to feel the gushing of remaining fluid out of her battered, stinging vagina. She feels her belly finally relaxing at long last. She lets go of her thighs and they nestle back into the stirrups. She gasps and cries out as she reorients herself.

A nurse pulls her gown aside and she feels the warm, wet body of her newborn daughter placed on her bare chest. Her gasps turn into sobs of relief and joy. It's over.

[daisystwistedgarden]

the prophecy of the noisy upstairs neighbor always rings true, even unintentionally-- and you are riddle rosehearts' most obnoxious peer in the building.

somehow, he has grown fond of it.

the stairwell to the university apartments is, for as much as tuition is at such a prestigious academy, poorly sound-proofed. noise spills in through unsealed door gaps and thin walls. riddle's mother insisted on him avoiding the housing in central campus where trey and cater live-- something about distractions and other such frivolities-- and thus, here he is, in a less-than-luxurious accommodation far from any of his classes or friends. as expected. after switching his major going into his junior year from pre-med to pre-law, his mother's decisions regarding his education were just as icy as the glares she sent his way over silent dinners on holiday breaks. hearing his neighbors have weekend parties or intimate encounters was his punishment for straying from his mother's grasp in his early twenties.

familiar stomps echo up the stairwell. riddle sighs and peels off his glasses, discarding them beside his textbook. the gold rims glint under warm light from his desk lamp. those footsteps are yours, meaning he's been studying for almost four hours and has not retained a single word.

the minutes trickle by. riddle resolves to at least begin preparing for bed while his mind wanders aimlessly-- the lack of discipline is unusual for him, but, in all fairness, his friends have complained about him going overboard in studying for finals this term. but it feels less lonely to know in some way you have, too. your footsteps have woken him from a restless sleep more than once this past week.

it's a dance, almost. he hears your footsteps above him as he too wanders his apartment to settle in for the night. thumps echo above his living room-- you're in your own, assuming the layout of your apartments is the same-- as he's brushing his teeth before bed. your voice is muffled through the walls. you're always talking to something or someone when you get home. a friend on the phone, maybe? a pet? yourself? riddle wouldn't dream of knocking on your door to ask such a pointless question, no matter how his curiosity eats at him when your laugh spills from your open window on warm mornings. you are simply a footnote in his university experience. riddle cannot spare the time to make new friends-- would you even consider the notion?-- as he works overtime to catch up on classes in an attempt to graduate on time. his pride couldn't handle anything less.

and it's a lousy idea, to settle at his desk once more as your footsteps retreat to your bedroom above his. heavy eyes try in vain to focus on the notes he's scrawled in uniform lines across notebook pages. but then a pleasant tune begins to play from above, melodic and sweet...

it's you. inconsiderate of the time, too, as you abandon common courtesy to practice so late at night. that same violin he hears night after night, the one he's seen slung over your shoulder in a decorated case as you scurry off to morning classes, the siren song luring him into an ill-advised nap, just resting his eyes...

in the morning, when he wakes with a start and a crick in his neck, he'll be far less forgiving of your antics. riddle might even finally stomp up to your apartment and chew you out for breaking the curfew for quiet hours. but tonight, to the tune of the piece you've been rehearsing all week, riddle finally finds a restful sleep.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

Hi elle! I was wondering if you could do some angst in where reader is tony's daughter but shes the forgotten one and tony shows a lot of affection to peter and one day she just loses it. Its ok if you don't want to.

Stay safe and drink water!

i’ve never felt so motivated to write something–

content warnings (18+) — immense swearing, mentions of insecurity and negative outlook, yelling, author possibly projecting?, maybe too many italicized words/phrases.

✨masterlist✨.

3.5k.

You knew your dad loved you. He had to. He said it to you a million times before, and made it a point to remind you of it once a day. However, there were moments nowadays where you began to question it. You didn’t really question whether he loved you or not, but rather, whether he loved Peter Parker more than you.

Tony had referred to Peter as the son he’d never had. He’d taken Peter on retreats and to expos when he hadn’t taken you out on a trip since you were nine years old. He’d bought things for Peter, and fixed things for Peter, and every meme or video or cat picture you found on the internet to show to your father would automatically get the response: “send that to me, i want to show it to Peter.”

Peter this and Peter that. It sent you into a spiral of insecurity that you’d never known existed. You truly felt like Tony was trying to tell you something subliminally. You tried to drown yourself in coursework, go to engineering camps, and help out with the Avengers just to try and gain a better understanding of their bond. Of what you lacked. Nothing seemed to help. It jabbed at your feelings like a knife to the back, presumably left by Peter Parker himself.

And the worst part? You’d never even met the guy. You’d never been introduced to Peter Parker, despite how many times Tony mentioned the fact that he’d “love for you two to meet,” and “you two would get along great.” Yeah, sure. And he’s probably some gross ass dude with an untamed beard in his mid–twenties that your father took pity on. So much pity, in fact, that he’d invited Peter to stay over for the weekend in your penthouse apartment.

Fantastic.

It was such a sudden proposition, and a last second invite, but it happened. And Tony insisted, despite every protest you attempted to give, that you’d both greet him in the lobby.

So when you were face to face with a surprisingly attractive boy your age who had the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen and barely packed a duffel bag, you were thrown off your rocker. You hardly had the composure to speak. Thus, your father did for you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before.

He was barely showing teeth, but you hadn’t seen your father this excited about something in a while. “Kid, this is my daughter, Y/N.” He stated proudly, grasping Peter’s shoulder as he started introductions. “And sweetheart,” Tony addressed you, turning his full focus to you as he gave Peter’s introduction. “This is Peter Parker.”

There was something about him that caused for you to detest him. It wasn’t seen on his clothes, or in his eyes. It wasn’t dangling in the tension between you, or whispered through his silent stares, but it was there. Perhaps, it came from the depths of your subconscious, and the land of your imagination. You shoved that proposition deeper into your subconscious, too.

Because you were certain that you had a hatred for Peter Parker, and his little staycation with the Stark’s would prove it.

The first night was fine. Your dad didn’t make you do any activities together, thank God, but he did surprise you with the news that he had to leave the next morning for a last second Avengers emergency. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but Tony assigned you and Peter with the task of rewiring a circuit board in his lab before he returned.

Being the daughter of Tony Stark, you’d taken the initiative to finish the project yourself. It was your house, anyways. It was a request that your father had made to you, so you intended to do it. You just hated the fact that Peter persisted in being with you in the room while you finished it. You hated the silence he left in the room, and the way he kept checking over your shoulder. God, you just hated him. You were sure of it.

You could feel his presence watching over your hands as they worked. You could feel the weight of his judgment, his breath catching in hesitation. You could smell the fumes of his cologne, and the aroma of his hair products. It was infuriating. It was pressuring. It felt mocking, taunting.

He stepped closer, hands reaching over to where yours were tinkering, yet they didn’t dare to touch your project. “A–actually, you should move the circuit focus closer to the–”

The audacity he had to question you. The nerve he struck with his comment, it filled you with rage.

Wrench and wire were thrown to the table, clanking and clamoring as they caved to gravity’s pull. Their sound was the only thing keeping you and Peter from shared silence. The shared silence of your anger. You turned your head to look at him, hoping that you weren’t physically exhaling flames like you imagined you were.

“Can you just.. not?” The question almost came out as a laugh. You nearly laughed, in disbelief that Peter Parker thought he had any say in how you built a robotic contraption. “Can you just fucking not?”

Walls had been building up inside you, livid and rageful feelings clouding your judgment as you glared at him. You couldn’t see just how shocked he was, thrown off at your irritation. You couldn’t see how puzzled he was, or panicked that he’d done something to upset you so much. You just stared into the eyes of what felt like your replacement. You felt empty, worthless, as your figure reflected back at you through the glistening of his eyes.

“Can I not what? Did I– Did I upset you?” Just the sound of his voice crawled beneath your skin. It felt worse than the sleek of humidity, or nails on a chalkboard. It sounded teasing, coy.

It was the final straw.

Nails dug into your palm as your hands formed fists. One fist pressed to your forehead, almost speaking as a warning to tell you to keep composure, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. “Can you stop being so fucking perfect all the time?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

There were several things that you’d been wanting to say to Peter Parker. You’d wanted to tell him off for a long time, but you’d never gotten the chance. Now, you’d given yourself the opportunity to let the floodgates open and your tongue run wild.

“You’re always making shit competitive and iT’S NOT OKAY. It’s not my fault that my own father loves yOU MORE THAN ME! Doesn’t mean you have to fucking rub it in my face every gODDAMN FUCKING HOUR!!” God, this felt good. “You can just do my job for me!! Fucking move into my rOOM at this point, Tony won’t know the difference!!” You scoffed, “In fact, he’d probably be tHRILLED that you FINALLY REPLACED ME!!”

Peter Parker blinked a few times at you. His mouth hung agape, too scared to say anything and interrupt what looked like things you had been needing to say. The look infuriated you.

“Build the circuit board by your goddamn fucking self and leave me the fuck alone!!” And as you made the final statement, you turned to make your leave. The subtle breeze caught your face, and you felt the air hit your cheeks cold; you hadn’t noticed that you’d started crying.

You also hadn’t noticed the fact that your dad entered the room. You froze dead in your tracks at the sight of him, tears brimming your eyes again when you saw how upset he looked.

Shit.

It wasn’t your intention for him to hear all of that, but you couldn’t take back the truth once it’d gotten out. You took a staggered breath, choking back a sob as you rushed out. You didn’t know which hurt more: to hear your father’s footsteps tread further from you, or to hear him ask Peter about what was happening rather than you directly.

Either way, it was an added punch right to the gut.

It felt like ten minutes of sobbing in your room went by before a knock was placed on your door. You were about to answer, but you weren’t given the chance; your father opened the door as soon as he’d placed the knock, a solemn look coating his face as he looked at you from the doorframe. It was a solemn look that resembled disappointment.

He was disappointed in you.

Your dad was disappointed that you’d blown a fuse in front of your house guest. Disappointed that you’d ruined your chance at a good first impression. Disappointed that you’d shown such weakness. He was disappointed that you didn’t meet his expectations. He was disappointed in you for not making his honorary son feel more welcomed. Your father was disappointed in you for fucking it all up. You could tell.

Tony took careful steps towards your bed, sitting next to you as you stifled your sobs down a bit. “Do.. You want to talk about what happened back there?” His tone was softer than you’d anticipated for someone who was disappointed in you. It almost sounded apologetic, sympathetic; you were certain that your mind was reaching for a false reality.

A sniffle caught your breath as you looked at him, fresh tears framing your face. “How much of that did you hear?” You were almost too scared to ask, but you needed to know. You had to know which bit of air to clear first.

“All of it.” Tony started, “From the part where you asked Peter not to be so fucking perfect all the time..” His tone got a little sharper, almost witty. It sounded like he was trying to make humor of your meltdown. As though he were trying to find a way to cheer you up, or tell you to grow up and get over yourself. You couldn’t tell.

You averted eye contact for a moment, trying not to blow up again. Luckily, most of the anger in your system was boiling down to melancholia. Your tears ran rivers down your face as you tried to find the words to say. “I just don’t understand..” You started, keeping your voice from breaking.

Every speck of humor fled from his face at how upset you were getting. Tony’s brows pressed together, graveness and concern bleeding through his tone of voice. “Don’t understand what, honey?” The gentleness of his tone reminded you of when he’d comfort you in childhood. It took you back to when he’d snapped at you and wanted to apologize, or when you’d scraped your knee and he rushed to patch you up. It started to ease the narrative in your head that Tony was angry with you for your little tantrum.

“I, uh.. I don’t—” A shaky breath cut you off. You weren’t sure how to communicate this feeling lightly. It’d been bottled up and growing inside you for a couple months now. You knew you’d have to tell him at some point, you just despised how raw it was. It was pure vulnerability. “I don’t understand what I did to not be good enough–” You couldn’t even get through the sentence before your lip quivered.

That was when Tony looked at you like the entire world shattered. His entire world shattered. The disappointment flooded his expression once again, but it hit you that it was never directed at you — Tony was disappointed in himself. His eyes held the weight of failing as a father, of making you feel this rejected. He failed by making you feel rejected in the first place. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a suffocating hug; you weren’t sure if he’d ever actually be able to let go of it, yet it was the kind of hug you didn’t want to part from. A hug that shielded you from the entire world.

His lips pressed to your temple, along with a few stray tears he couldn’t catch beforehand. It was rare to catch your father tearful, yet you seemed to lower that guard when you started the conversation. He held you close, letting you cry out the feelings you’d locked away for so long.

“Y/N, you’re more than enough..” He lulled, voice breaking ever so slightly, “It’s my fault you ever felt like you weren’t..” His words were everything you’d hoped to hear. You’d began to believe the possibility that actually hearing them wasn’t actuality. This insecurity had driven you beyond wild, to the point where you believed that your father’s intentions were pinned against you.

They never were.

Tony held you in his arms for the next hour, letting you talk out your growing anxiety. You talked about everything from your fomo towards their retreats and trips, to how thrown off you were that Peter was your age.

“I actually think you two would make a cute couple.” Tony started, laughing at how quick you were to throw a punch at his bicep. The melancholy had worn off both of you, and the room started to fill with laughter. “I’m serious!” Tony threw his arms up to mock defeat before changing the topic a little. “But really, I think he wants to apologize to you for what happened.”

Your face drew a blank, mixing shock and confusion as you blinked at your father a few times. “Parker wants to apologize to me? For my meltdown?”

A shrug caught in your father’s posture. “You two are more similar than you think, hon.” His tone was light and sincere as he chuckled, quietly, “You both put the weight of other people’s mistakes on your shoulders.” His words draped a blanket of guilt over your body. Your own words from said meltdown began to replay through your brain like a broken record; the blame you’d thrown at Peter was wrongfully served.

You knew you needed to apologize.

After rebuilding trust with your father, and mentally rehearsing how to apologize to Peter, you made your way across the apartment to the guest room.

The door was already open, and gave you the perfect view of Peter seated on the edge of the bed. He was reading, fidgeting fingers at the edge of his pages, and chocolate curls shadowing his focused expression.

Now that you’d been able to release the steam of your self–consciousness, you realized that hatred wasn’t the actual feeling you had towards Peter; it was envy. And once you had talked things out with your father, the clouds of your judgment cleared from your vision and you could finally see Peter Parker for who he really was: a boy. A boy your age who needed a place to crash for the weekend.

You felt guilty for interrupting his reading, but at this point, the feeling was a tiny speck to add to your growing pile of culpability. The knock was gentle, and immediately pulled his eyes to meet yours.

“Mind if I come in for a minute?” You had to croak the words out, but still managed to keep a softness to your tone. You didn’t want to yell at him again, or come across like you were about to.

The look he gave you wasn’t one you weren’t expecting; he eyed you like he’d committed an unforgivable crime, or like you’d break if he didn’t hold you together. It gave you reassurance that this apology definitely needed to come out sooner than later.

Peter book–marked his place without looking, keeping his stare fixed on you while he nodded. “Please,” He gestured to the foot of the bed beside him, “Sit. I– uh, I was planning to find you and see if you were alright, but I didn’t want to interrupt your space.”

As you sat down beside him, a smile touched your lips at how thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that, but I–I owe you an apology, Peter..” You never broke your eye contact, but the look in your eyes grew more urgent, pleading. “I am so sorry for speaking to you that way, and–”

You cut yourself off at the sight of Peter waving his hands in dismissal. He mirrored the look in your eyes, “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like I’m here to replace you.” His words held a direness that yours should have. Your dad was right, Peter really was putting the gravity of this into his hands.

To stop his spiral, you touched his arm for a minute, “Peter, that wasn’t your fault. It was mine for assuming and unloading all of that shit onto you. And I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes alone begged you to let him win the argument. “I still could have–”

You cut him off, “Peter, it’s not your fault.” You tried to emphasize your point, noticing the way he read your expression. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, searching for what looked like a sign of your uncertainty. His lips parted to contribute his side of the argument, but one look from you shut his trap pretty quickly.

Peter’s shoulder’s eased, but his eyes still glistened with ambition. He wanted you to understand his perspective a little. “Did your dad tell you how nervous I was to meet you?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting. Your eyes widened a little, shaking your head in response. Peter Parker? Nervous to meet you? The way your dad talked about him didn’t set him up to be that way. Of course, seeing him in front of you changed your perception a little. “No, he didn’t.” You were honest.

He wet his lips, parting them with the warmest smile you’d ever set your eyes on. The laugh that spilt from them was melodic, laced with a bit of nerves. He rubbed a muscle on the back of his neck, suddenly choking up. “Yeah, I was pretty nervous.” His brow arched slightly, complimenting his grin photogenically. “I was nervous ‘cause Mister Stark’s always talking the world to me about his amazing daughter.” Peter’s smile grew in your direction, stirring a hurricane of butterflies through your stomach.

It felt like the two of you were in the midst of a staring contest; though, instead of the intense anticipation glistening in each other’s eyes, you mutually stared at each other in security. You’d both had the immense pressure of making good impressions toward the other on your shoulders.

Peter repositioned himself on the bed, now seated facing you. His legs were crossed beneath him, his knee a hair from touching yours. “You, Y/N, are not only his greatest accomplishment, but you’re his best friend.” His words spread like butter over every worry you’d had, melting away that crippling insecurity with it. “I think he wants to be you when he grows up.”

The laughs that bubbled up your throat brought attention to the tears brimming your eyes. You blinked them away, mirroring Peter’s earnest expression. “I can tell why my dad’s always talking about you.” You told him, “And here I was thinking you’d be some old ass dude living in his mother’s basement, but here we are.”

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t be drop–dead gorgeous.” His cheeks were ablaze with crimson, sending a pink glow of your own to your complexion. “But, here we are.”

Your smile grew, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Alright, casanova. Save it for the love letters.” It felt nice to share laughter like this with Peter. You were glad that you gave him a second chance. Not breaking eye contact, you slid off the bed and rose to your feet. “I’ll let you get back to your reading”

Peter watched you get up to go, looking a little disappointed. You were almost surprised, but likewise, both you and Peter hid the honesty of your feelings behind the curtains of a smile.

“You don’t have to. You could stay if you want.” He started, but a look flashed behind his eyes that was rather telling; he seemed to panic over his eagerness for your company. “Unless you don’t want to–”

Biting the inside of your cheek hurt, but it was the only way to hide how wide your smile grew. “I’d love to, but I need to finish that circuit board.” And thus, the idea struck you. “You doing anything later though?”

His brows pressed together in a curious way. “Not really. You planning something?”

“Yeah. My dad and I usually have movie nights tonight.” You took paces backwards towards the door, but stalled from the moment you’d have to part ways. “You should join us! It’s my turn to pick.”

The sight of his dimples made you realize just how much you’d grown fond of his smile. It was already getting difficult to leave his presence; you knew if you didn’t leave now, you probably never would.

“Well, then you better pick a good one, just for me.” He challenged. You’d make it your goal to satisfy his request.

If even possible, it felt like your grin grew. “I plan to.”

And that said, the three of you met in the home–theater and watched Jurassic Park together. You had Tony on your left geeking out over the CGI technology from the 80s, and Peter on his left geeking out about how accurate the movie was from the book. It made your film decision that much better. It also was the best movie night you’d had in a long while.

Perhaps your dad was right: you and Peter Parker really would get along great.

[lilsoftext]

•~* ARGUMENT T BEFORE BED *~•

-chris sturniolo x female reader

summery : chris and sof had argument before bed

——————————————————————————

The dim light of the living room cast long shadows on the walls, a silent witness to the tension that hung heavy in the air. Chris sat on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the floor. The remnants of dinner sat cold on the table, plates barely touched, as if their argument had sucked all the life out of the evening. The room felt unnaturally quiet without Sof’s usual presence beside him, and the weight of their argument pressed heavily on his chest.

The fight wasn’t even that big, Chris thought to himself. But somehow, like many things between him and Sof lately, it had spiraled into something much larger. It was always the same argument: Sof spent too much time at work. Chris felt neglected, and Sof felt misunderstood.

“I don’t even know how we ended up here,” Chris muttered under his breath.

He sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair, frustration and guilt swirling in his mind. In the distance, he could hear the faint sound of Sof moving around in the bedroom, the soft creak of the bed frame as she settled under the covers. She hadn’t slammed the door, but the quiet way she’d closed it hurt just as much.

Chris played the argument back in his mind. He hated how these moments seemed to unfold the same way every time. He’d approach Sof about how absent she’d been lately, and she’d respond with how much she was doing for them. The look on her face when he’d brought it up again tonight—it wasn’t just tiredness, it was more than that.

"I feel like you’re never here anymore," Chris had said, his tone more exasperated than he intended.

Sof had frowned, crossing her arms as she stood in the kitchen, her back to him. "Chris, I’m working. It’s not like I’m out there doing nothing. You know how much this job means to me."

"I do," Chris had shot back, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. "But it feels like your job is all you care about sometimes. What about us?"

Sof had turned to face him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "I’m doing this for us. To build something for our future. You make it sound like I’m choosing work over you, but I’m not. I just have responsibilities, and it’s not like I can just drop everything whenever you feel lonely."

The words had hit Chris harder than he wanted to admit. He knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it still stung. Every time they had this conversation, it ended with both of them feeling worse, like neither of them was truly being heard. The argument had escalated from there, both of them too entrenched in their own frustrations to see the other’s point of view.

Now, sitting alone in the living room, Chris felt that familiar knot of regret tightening in his stomach. He hadn’t meant to make her feel like she had to choose between him and her career. He was proud of her—more than proud, in fact. Sof was brilliant, passionate, and determined. She’d worked so hard to get where she was, and Chris admired her for that. But lately, it felt like she was always gone. Late nights at the office, weekends spent catching up on work, her phone constantly buzzing with emails and notifications. And Chris missed her.

He missed the small things, the little moments that had once filled their days. Cooking dinner together, laughing at some stupid meme on her phone, sharing a blanket while they watched Netflix. He missed the way her eyes used to light up when she talked about something she was excited about, missed the way she used to fall asleep on his shoulder while they were watching TV.

But more than anything, what gnawed at him now was the fear that their last interaction had been a fight. It wasn’t the first time they’d argued, but this time felt different. Maybe it was because they hadn’t spent much quality time together lately, or maybe it was because the argument had ended so abruptly, with Sof retreating to the bedroom without a word. Chris had called after her as she closed the door, but there had been no reply.

He rubbed his face with both hands, his heart heavy. He hated going to bed with things unresolved. What if something happened in the night? What if one of them didn’t wake up? He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. He’d lost someone before—his older brother, in fact—someone he never had the chance to make amends with. It had been sudden, a car accident, and Chris had been left with a lifetime of regret. They had fought the day before. It was the last thing Chris had said to him. Since then, Chris couldn’t stand the idea of leaving things unresolved with anyone he loved.

Sof knew this about him. She knew that Chris couldn’t sleep after a fight, couldn’t let things sit unresolved, especially not overnight. He’d told her once, early in their relationship, about his brother and the guilt he still carried with him. Sof had been so understanding back then, holding his hand and promising she would never go to bed angry. But tonight, everything felt different.

Chris stood up slowly, pacing the room. He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was well past midnight now, and he hadn’t heard a sound from the bedroom in over an hour. His heart pounded in his chest, the fear and guilt eating away at him. He couldn’t leave things like this. He couldn’t go to bed knowing that Sof was upset with him.

Quietly, Chris made his way down the hallway to the bedroom, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, he could see the soft glow of the bedside lamp still on. Sof was lying on her side, her back to the door, a small, still shape beneath the covers.

He hesitated for a moment, guilt washing over him. She looked like she was already asleep, and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb her rest after such a long, stressful day. But the thought of going to bed without making things right weighed too heavily on his mind. What if one of them didn’t wake up tomorrow? The thought chilled him to his core.

Gently, Chris pushed the door open and stepped inside, the soft creak of the hinges almost imperceptible in the quiet room. He walked over to the bed, stopping just beside her, and knelt down so he could be at eye level with her if she woke.

"Sof," he whispered, his voice soft and tentative. "Sof, wake up."

She stirred slightly, shifting beneath the blankets, but didn’t wake up. He hesitated again, biting his lip, but then reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Sof," he whispered again, a little louder this time.

Her body shifted, and she mumbled something under her breath before her eyes fluttered open, groggy and unfocused. She blinked a few times, clearly trying to shake off the fog of sleep.

"Chris?" she mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness. "What… what is it? What time is it?"

"It’s late," he admitted softly. "I’m sorry for waking you, I just... I couldn’t sleep. Not like this."

Sof pushed herself up slightly, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Like what?"

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t want to go to bed with you mad at me. I hate it when we fight, and I hate it even more when we don’t make up before going to sleep."

Sof looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening as she processed his words. She knew about his fear—the anxiety that something could happen in the night, and that their last words to each other could be angry ones. It was one of the first deep conversations they’d ever had, back when they were still learning about each other’s pasts. She knew how much it weighed on him.

"I’m not mad at you," she said quietly, her voice still laced with sleep. "I was frustrated, but I’m not mad."

Chris felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was quickly followed by guilt. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like your work isn’t important. I know how hard you work, and I know it’s important to you. I just... I miss you. I miss us."

Sof sighed softly, her eyes gentle as she looked at him. "I know. And I miss you too, Chris. I don’t want you to feel like I’m not here for you, but sometimes it feels like you don’t understand how much pressure I’m under at work. I’m doing my best to balance everything, but it’s hard."

Chris nodded, his throat tight. "I know it is. And I don’t want to add to your stress. I just... I just want to feel like we’re in this together. Like we’re still a team, you know?"

Sof reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "We are a team. And I’m sorry if it doesn’t feel that way sometimes. I’ve been so focused on work that I didn’t realize how much I’ve been neglecting us."

He squeezed her hand back, the tension in his chest easing a little. "I just want to be with you, Sof. Even if it’s just for a little while before bed. I don’t need grand gestures or anything. I just miss being close to you."

Sof’s expression softened even more, and she shifted over in the bed, making space for him. “Come here,” she said quietly.

Chris didn’t hesitate. He climbed into bed beside her, and as soon as he lay down, she curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and for the first time that night, he felt a sense of peace settle over him.

They lay there in the quiet for a while, the warmth of each other’s bodies a silent reassurance. Sof’s breathing was soft and even, and Chris could feel her heart beating against his side, steady and comforting.

“I love you,” Chris whispered into the quiet, his lips brushing the top of her head.

“I love you too,” Sof murmured, her voice barely audible as sleep began to pull her back under.

Chris pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, his arms tightening around her. The fear that had gnawed at him earlier was gone, replaced by the warmth of Sof in his arms, by the knowledge that they were okay. That they were still a team.

And as they lay there, their bodies entwined, the argument from earlier felt like a distant memory. Whatever tomorrow brought, they would face it together.

thats all. i hope you enjoyed it. let me know down below if you have any ideas or if you want me to write something that you want.

lilsoftext<3

[miel-ji]

Waiting For You

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst w/ fluff, established relationship 

Pairing: Idol!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: heavy feelings, tears, and a kiss 

Summary: Chan is feeling overwhelmed, and you’re there to comfort him 

A/N: based on this request!! Also I noticed the hearts are pages from the cruel prince 🥰

You had always admired Chan’s hardwork and dedication to his music. You also admired how he was the kindest person you’ve ever met, always taking care of everyone around him. Like with his members, he was always trying to unload their burdens; even though he already has his fair share. When he was diligently working on all his projects, it was common for him to end up sleeping at the dorms that were closer to the studio or even at the studio itself. He had a bad habit of prioritizing his work over himself, so you always did your best to check in on him and take care of him. 

It was harder to do this when their schedules would become busier during promotions. They had crazy schedules where they were constantly creating, practicing, and performing with very little breaks in between. You could tell he was tired. On the nights that he did come home at ungodly hours, he was immediately out cold when his head hit the pillow, and he was already gone when you’d wake up in the morning. You really tried to believe Chan when he told you that everything was okay. You didn’t want to push him, but your stomach would churn with concern when you could see the obvious toll everything was taking on him. 

When you heard that he was getting the weekend off, you were so happy and relieved for him to finally have this well-deserved break. You were sure he needed to use these days to get much needed rest, and you wanted to help him destress in any way that you could. Once Friday night finally came, you had everything ready to give Chan a pampering. The hours were passing by, and you became more and more worried with each hour that you didn’t hear from him until eventually you received a very brief text that said he was sleeping at the dorms.

You decided that instead of being disappointed that he wasn’t coming home, you’d just go to him at the dorms. Changbin had been the one to let you in, being the only other one there since the others had gone home for the weekend and planning to leave himself first thing in the morning. It was almost midnight now, and once Changbin retreated back to his room, everything was still and quiet in the dorm as you made your way to your boyfriend’s room. “Hey Channie, it’s me…” you said, softly knocking on the door. 

The silence stretched on for a moment, and you thought to yourself that he might just already be asleep. You quietly turned the knob and slipped inside, plunging the room in darkness once again as you gently shut the door behind you. Your eyes took a second to adjust to the lack of light, but you could make out Chan’s figure in the bed. He was still very much awake with his hands under his head and staring up at the ceiling. “Baby?” You called out to him softly. 

He looked over at you just then as if he hadn’t even noticed you until now. He silently slid over to make room for you and pulled the covers back for you to join him. You wordlessly slotted your body next to his, your head resting on his bare chest and an arm hooked around his waist. The muted atmosphere settled around you both like a smothering blanket, and you focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under you. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him softly after a while, and you traced soothing shapes into his skin at his side. 

“So much…” he answered, his voice barely a whisper, and you could hear the exhaustion creeping in his tone. 

Your brow furrowed in worry at his words, and the corners of your mouth turned down in a frown. “Want to talk about it?” 

“No…” 

“Chan…” your own voice sounded sad as you pleaded for him to let you in. You wanted to help him, but you knew he always had trouble asking for it. 

He let out a long exhale of breath, and his arms that were wrapped around you squeezed you slightly. You craned your neck to look up at him, and you could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’m under so much pressure all the time…” you listened to him intently as his words came out strained and almost broken. “I just feel overwhelmed, but I can’t feel that way. Everyone is counting on me, and I can’t afford to be like this…” 

“Baby…” you started, but he cut you off. 

“Now, I’ve made you worried about me,” he laughed humorlessly. He removed one of his hands that was against your shoulder, and your body instantly missed the warmth of his touch. “You don’t have to do that… I can work through this alone,” He mumbled with his eyes still squeezed shut. 

You lifted up from his chest to lean over him, and your own heart hurt seeing how much Chan was fighting in his own head. “I know that’s what you’re used to, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore…” You gently coaxed the hand away from his eyes to see his skin glistening under where his eyelashes rested. The silent tears had started to slip from his eyes and over his flushed cheeks. 

He sucked in a harsh breath and shook his head stubbornly at your words. “I can’t- I don’t want to have to unload these things on you…” he struggled to say. 

“Baby, it’s not a burden,” you quickly reassured him, holding his face with both of your hands as you used your thumbs to wipe away his tears. “You’re not a burden… never.” You said softly, leaning in to kiss his blotchy cheeks and feeling him relax a little under your touch. 

Once you pulled away, his eyes slowly fluttered open to look up at you vulnerably. They were a little glassy from the tears that still pooled there. “I’m supposed to be strong all the time, and I don’t know if I can…” he admitted quietly. 

“But you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to let yourself feel these things,” you brushed the hair back from his forehead, and you could see the tension slowly melting from his shoulders. “You’re my safe place, Channie. Let me be that for you.” 

“You are. You already are, baby. I promise,” he said quickly. He gazed sincerely into your eyes, hoping that you knew just how much you meant to him. His fingers buried themselves in your hair as his hand rested on the back of your head. 

“Please, let me in… let me help you…” you pleaded with your voice barely a whisper. 

All Chan had said in return was a small, “okay,” but you knew that it had taken a lot for him to finally give in. His face was etched with heavy emotions, but you could tell there had been a weight lifted from him. You offered him a warm smile as your thumb swiped over his plump bottom lip. He gently pulled you toward him, and your lips softly brushed together. 

The kiss was tender and sweet as you both communicated your trust and commitment to be there for each other. Your breaths melded together as he pressed you closer to him, and you felt as if you’d never be close enough. There was a hint of saltiness to his lips from the tears that he’d shed earlier, but they were still plush and perfect, making butterflies erupt in your stomach with every touch. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, feeling his soft puffs of breath fan your face and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

You settled back on the pillows to lay down with him, and his head was tucked under your chin. The tufts of hair at the top of his head tickled you slightly, and you reached up to smooth them back down. His arms were wrapped securely around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck, and you happily wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him against you. You soothingly rubbed his back, and all the rigidness from before had been thoroughly dispelled. 

The room once again fell silent, but it was no longer suffocating. The darkness that bathed the room now felt like a serene bubble from the world that you and Chan had created together. You relished in the warmth he provided with your limbs tangled together until your hearts were almost beating as one. You hoped Chan felt just as safe and loved in your hold as he always made you feel. 

You only knew he hadn’t fallen asleep from the way his thumb was slowly stroking your skin from where it rested. “Chan?” You called out to him. He hummed in response, and you could feel the rumble as it vibrated in his chest. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’m not,” he answered simply, his soothing voice bringing an absent smile to your lips. “I love this. Just existing with you…” He pressed a small kiss to your shoulder before he spoke again, “thank you.” 

You leaned your head against his. Your cheek was pressed against his hair, and the familiar scent of his shampoo brought you an instant sense of ease. “For what?” You asked, confused as to why he was thanking you. 

“For not letting me be alone,” his voice was muffled against your skin, but the meaning behind it reached you clearly. 

“I’ll always be here for you.” You were willing to be patient and wait for him to talk to you about everything that overwhelmed him, but it was enough for now knowing he would. You soothingly ran your fingers through the locks of his hair until you felt his breathing slow and his hold on you slightly loosened as his body went lax. You softly kissed the top of his head, loving that you could bring him this comfort as you let your own eyes slowly close. You knew that he was now peacefully asleep, but you still whispered, “I love you.”