#and only THEN could I make the final step to getting her to admit her girlhood

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jeongin x girlfriend!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/comfort

♡ Summary: Jeongin's the type of boyfriend who never makes you question how much he cares for you. Still, there's one nagging insecurity you haven't been able to move past: Letting him see you naked. Sick of letting your fear get the best of you, you decide that tonight's the night to finally open up to him and it turns out you might've been afraid of nothing all along.

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: body insecurities, nudity, a lil making out, mentions of sex, jeongin loves to touch your body, praise, and just all around fluffiness otherwise

♡ A/N: This started out as an anon request but I lost the post for that request (brb crying) so now we have a lil I.N comfort fic that will hopefully make my chubby Jeongin biased babes feel good in their skin cause you totally deserve to.

Moments like these Jeongin wishes could last forever. Between touring, appearances, and studio sessions his schedule’s been brutal lately, leaving him with little to no time to spend with the one girl he treasures most in the world—you. But tonight none of that matters. The world beyond the walls of his apartment doesn’t exist. There’s only him cozied up under a blanket on the couch with you cuddled against his body, your head resting on his chest as you lazily play with the strings of his hoodie.

The room’s dark except for the glow of the television. A movie’s playing but neither of you are truly watching it. His eyes are glued to you, committing to memory how beautiful you are from this angle. You seem so comfortable in his arms, so at peace, and the feeling’s infinitely mutual. 

Your own gaze is fixed on the screen but every image and sound you take in is passive. What you’re truly focused on is a thought that’s been cycling through your brain all night. Before you left to head over here you told your roommate not to wait up, you’d be spending the night at Jeongin’s place. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease you, she asked if you needed to borrow a sweater or something to sleep in. You instantly regretted admitting to her over drinks that Jeongin has yet to see you naked, even after months of being together.

Whenever you have sex you keep the lights off and throw your clothes back on immediately after. If you shower and he’s around you always make sure to bring your clothes with you into the bathroom. Even Jeongin, who never wears anything to bed, always has something on when you sleep over to make you more comfortable. 

It’s nothing he’s ever complained about or tried to make you feel guilty for. More than anything he just seems happy to be with you, accepting your boundaries without hesitation. It’s one of a million reasons you’ve come to love him as much as you do. Still, you know that hiding from him isn’t something you can do forever. It isn’t something that you want to do forever.

“Baby” he says sweetly, petting your cheek, “You ready for bed?”

You take a deep breath, making up your mind that tonight’s the night. Your stomach sinks at the thought of how he might feel when he sees your body but at least you’ll know now before you fall for him any harder.

“Mmhmm” you nod, nuzzling your cheek against his chest one last time before sitting up. 

Jeongin hops up and gets to work clearing the snacks from the coffee table. With full hands, he leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. “You can go ahead. I’ll meet you in there in a second, okay?” 

You agree and gather the blanket in your arms, trembling as you shuffle down the hall towards the bedroom. It’s a short walk but it feels eternal. You’ve stepped through this threshold a dozen times by now but somehow this feels like your first. Suddenly the oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that once shielded your insecurities have you sweating like a sinner in church. It’s suffocating.

Tossing the blanket onto the bed, you tug your hoodie off to feel the fresh air kiss your skin. The coolness eases the tension in your body, leaving your hands a bit less shaky as you slip your sweatpants down and kick them aside. You stare down at your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs and your fluffy thighs that are just barely visible in the long t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your chest tightens as you pinch the bottom of your shirt, lifting the fabric little by little. It slides above your thighs, around the contours of your hips, revealing the panties you chose specifically for tonight. They’re silk, rose pink, with a lace trim and a delicate bow in the back and they’re the prettiest panties Jeongin’s ever seen simply because you’re wearing them. 

“Did I, uh, miss something?” Jeongin asks, frozen in the doorway.

Usually when he walks into the room you’re already under the covers waiting for cuddles he’s beyond eager to give you. Being met with this is something new entirely and he can’t help the way his heart races at the sight of it. You turn to find him staring at you wide eyed, shock painting his face. 

“Well, uh, I…” you stutter, fidgeting with the trim of your shirt, “I know you don’t really like sleeping with your clothes on and the weather’s really nice tonight so I thought, maybe, it’d be nice if we did that.” 

Jeongin closes the distance between you, his shock melting into concern. He brings an arm around your waist, stroking your side as he studies your expression.

“Baby, I already told you I’m cool with our clothes being on. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You rest your hand on his, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s okay” you insist, immediately picking up on his skepticism. He doesn’t believe you for a second. You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in them even as they narrow in your direction. “I want you to see me, all of me, I don’t wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what? Did I…”

You cut him off before he can finish, refusing to let him believe for a second that there’s anything he did wrong. “No, Innie, you’re so good to me. It's just…I’m not the smallest girl. Feeling me is one thing but seeing me it’s…it’s…”

Your breath hitches at the sensation of Jeongin’s hands massaging your body. He smooths the plushness of your figure beneath his palms, stopping to squeeze your love handles, your belly, your thighs.

“Seeing you would be a gift” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours. “I’ve felt your body in the dark and I’m already addicted to how beautiful it is. If you take your clothes off or not, nothing will change. I promise.”

There’s no denying the rush that you get from being touched by him. You feel it every time, the impulse to let him tear your clothes off. The longing to feel his gaze dance over your naked body the way his hands do. Typically you fight it, your fears dulling your urges, but tonight you don’t. Instead you sweep him into a kiss laced with passion, guiding his hands to grip the fabric of your shirt. 

“Help me take it off, please” you beg, too cute to deny.

Jeongin nibbles at your bottom lip, “Only if you help me too.”

“Deal” you giggle as he steals your breath away, hungrily pulling you back into the kiss.

Your clothes are shed gently and slowly like the petals of a flower. One after the other, his and then yours. All the while Jeongin’s lips are drawn to yours like magnets. Every break he has to take is a small form of torture. You could kiss him every second of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to drown in it.

He can only bring himself to stop when he feels skin to skin contact. Your naked body’s pressed to his in the bright lighting of his room. He could see you if he wanted to, glance down and delight in the pleasure of something he’s only experienced in his imagination, but instead he focuses on your gorgeous face, his heart set on making sure this is what you really want.

“Can I look?” he asks, fingertips lightly trailing up and down your spine. 

You pause, pacing yourself for a decision you know you can’t turn back from, “It’s okay. You can look.” 

Time seems to stand still as Jeongin takes a step back and his gaze falls below your shoulders where your naked body awaits in all its vulnerability. His is the smooth, toned body that you already know it to be. You’ve caught glimpses of it here and there when he’s changed in front of you. And yours is beyond what he’d imagined during those long nights spent blindly exploring your form beneath the sheets.

At first he says nothing, does nothing. He only stares straight ahead, scanning you from head to toe. But just as the nervousness threatens to return he cracks a smile, his face lighting up, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” He exhales the words as naturally as he breathes. 

You blush, a giggle escaping your lips, “Oh my gosh, stop it.”

“Stop it? How can I? Look at you.” 

Your self doubt wants to tell you that he’s lying—that these words you never imagined you’d hear couldn’t possibly be true—but you can’t deny the way Jeongin’s looking at you or the butterflies swarming your stomach. You try to bring your arms around yourself, a thoughtless attempt at hiding away again, but he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers between yours. 

“I mean it” he whispers, thumbs lightly grazing your skin, “Your body’s gorgeous and I feel lucky that you let me lay eyes on it. Thank you.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you dip your head down, too flustered by his words to maintain eye contact. Jeongin cups your cheek, tilting your head back up. He’s stubborn as always, refusing to let you escape his affection. 

“You think so too, don't you?” he asks, his lips floating back to yours. He almost kisses you, just almost, but lets his lips dance there, teasing you with their warmth. 

“Think what? I don’t…” you begin to speak but the feeling of his hands making contact with your belly steals away what was coming next. You let out the softest breath, bordering on a hushed moan. His touch always sets your soul on fire but this time there’s something different about it. Some new aspect of it that has your head all fuzzy and your knees going weak. 

“Think that I should feel lucky that I get to see you” he says, massaging the plush of your belly, “And grateful that I get to touch you.” 

He glides his palms down to your hips, taking indulgent handfuls of your curves as your body gives into his touch. Your fingertips run up his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles as they flex with every breath. His body shivers, your quiet praise doing to him exactly what his does to you.

“You can’t say things like that, Innie.” 

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I might start believing it.”

Jeongin flashes you that dimpled smile, “Good. I want you to.” 

His lips collide with yours again and it feels like the whole room’s spinning because it is. He closes his arms around your waist, kissing you lovingly as he twirls you towards the bed. Before you know it your head’s resting on a pillow as your body sinks into the softness of the mattress. You can’t tell if it’s the mattress or the euphoria of Jeongin’s tongue tangled with yours but it’s like you’re floating on a cloud.

Jeongin kisses you like it’s the last time your lips will ever meet. His hands explore your body like they’re terrified to forget even the tiniest detail of what you feel like. The affection he pours into you is overwhelming yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop.

He saw you, everything about you, and the only place he ran to was your arms. You feel special, cherished in every way for exactly who you are. All your worries seem like nothing more than silly little things in the presence of his adoration. 

Finally breaking from the kiss, the necessity for air forcing your lips apart, Jeongin curls up beside you, keeping you in his arms as he slips a blanket over your naked bodies. You rest your head on his chest the same way you did on the couch, only now your mind isn’t wandering off somewhere far away. It’s right here with him, basking in the moment. 

“Promise not to hide from me anymore” he sighs, planting the sweetest kiss on your forehead. 

You relax into his arms, smiling as your heavy lids fall shut, “I promise.” 

You thought you’d feel more vulnerable lying beside him with your clothes in a pile on the floor but being like this with him is the safest you’ve ever felt, the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, in your own skin. Hide from him? And miss out on a feeling like this? Never again.

[monzamash]

★ last chance; long live the inbox graveyard! —i pick a long forgotten request in my inbox and write a short blurb or musings

hot tub time machine lando norris x you —no warnings, just fluff "could we get a number 14 (pool/hot tub sex) with lando pleaseeee? so excited that you’re writing again!!" —requested by anon on october 8th, 2024

“happy birthday, sweetheart...”

“i really needed this," he sighed, "knowing i would be home with you for this was the only thing getting me through the last few of weeks.”

lando could feel every single ache and pain wash away as he slid into the hot tub, stomach full of the gorgeous italian spread you’d ordered for dinner. his favourite. he swore you were an angel sent to earth, everything you did for him was heavenly, he could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you.

“you look so happy lan,” you smiled, dropping the kimono you’d worn during dinner as lando’s eyes cast across your body, luring you into the tub.

“i’m very happy - especially when i get to enjoy all of this… c’mere pretty girl.”

a soft giggle slipped from your lips as you grasped his hand, "let me get a bottle of red wine for us to share and i'll join you — do you wanna open the one daniel gave you?"

"ooo, are we entering that portion of the night?" lando asked suggestively as you stood up, shooting him quizzical look.

"what do you mean?" you asked earning a loud laugh from the tub, water splashing a little as lando pulled himself up to the edge, smiling over at you with a look you knew all too well.

"as soon as you start on the red wine, you get so frisky," he stated as if it was a well-known fact, one that you certainly weren't aware of.

"i do not!" you staunchly defended, earning another loud scoff.

"oh, wow," lando laughed, "yes, you do baby and i'm not complaining so crack her open..." he teased as you carefully stepped into the tub, with lando's help of course, eyes still narrowed in annoyance.

"okay so maybe wine makes me a little more amorous than usual but i think i'm just like that when i drink, no?" you pouted, earning yourself a pity kiss from the birthday boy.

"red wine makes you horny and that's okay," he teased again with a cheeky smirk on his face as you handed him the stemmed glass, "ta."

"we'll see then, won't we," you tutted, pouring two glasses of wine while lando chuckled to himself.

"i already know what's gonna happen but sure," he baited with a wink as he slowly dunked his head under the water and emerged with a shake of his wild curls, sending water flying across the room and all over you.

"you are so sure of yourself tonight."

lando's eyes skimmed across your body briefly while you claw-clipped your hair up, not wanting the hassle of having to dry it before going to bed. secretly you knew where the night was headed, red wine or not— it was his birthday after all, but you weren't about to admit that to the man hypnotised by your every move, jaw slack from the glorious view of your cleavage.

lando was a simple man.

"well, i am the birthday boy after all so i reserve the right to be cocky once a year, yeah?" he taunted from the other side of the tub.

"yeah, only once a year..." you rolled your eyes humorously.

the distance between the two of you seemed too far for lando, so he sculled the rest of his drink and carefully placed the glass on the floor before giving you a mischievous smile.

"steady on, party boy," you chuckled as he leaned forward and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm hold.

"i just want to focus all of my attention on you," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your clip, his emerald irises darted over your face, finally resting on yours.

"i missed you a lot, you know."

you took that as an invitation to straddle his lap and rest your elbows over his shoulders, wine glass dangling from your fingers. lando smoothed his hands down your back and and pressed fiery kisses across your chest. his lips travelled back up your neck, along your jaw before finding your soft lips in a slow, passionate kiss. you moved in sync with him, bringing one of your hands up to trawl through his wet, tangled curls. the chlorine always got the best of them.

lando hummed quietly into the kiss before pulling back slightly, "this is the best birthday i've ever had... and i couldn't be more in love with you," he confessed as you took the chance to admire the sweet boy you'd chosen to share your life with.

you grasped his face gently between your hands and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, making sure he knew just how much you loved him, no matter what life threw your way.

"i love you too, darling... happy birthday."

a/n — the first of the end of (f1) season sale!! this hot tub request actually wasn't forgotten, just half-baked so thank you anon for sparking up the inspiration to finally finish it! hope you enjoyed it 😌

[i-like-forcefem]

Being a Forcefem hacker really got so easy since July

Back in my day we had to take over their YouTube account, make it push femboy videos, push TG comics on their twitters, make them win Guilty Gear give always, put Blahaj’s in their carts when shopping for furniture, make up tutorials, cosplay guides, so so much effort for just one cute girl

Now all I do is take over the pc, put on “I watched the TV glow” and it does the rest

[hookhausenschips]

Fingers in His Curls, Heart in Her Hands {LN4}

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Summary: Lando adored how Y/N’s touch in his hair made him feel both relaxed and on edge, unable to hide the thrill her fingers sent through him. Her playful obsession with his curls, especially his new mullet, brought out a tender, vulnerable side in him that he couldn’t deny, leaving them both captivated by each other’s presence.

WC: 5.7k

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

A/N: It’s our boy’s 25th birthday🥹

Lando would never admit it outright, but there was something about the way Y/N’s fingers moved through his curls that made him feel a certain way. He loved it—more than he could say—but sometimes it made him feel a little too aware of her, of how close she was, of the way her touch made his skin tingle. It was like every gentle tug and soft scratch sent a spark through him, making him feel both calm and somehow electrified all at once.

The first time Lando came home with his new mullet, Y/N could barely keep her composure. She sat on their couch in their Monaco apartment, eagerly awaiting his arrival. He’d told her he was getting a haircut, but she’d never expected… this.

When he finally stepped through the door, wearing a cap low over his eyes, her curiosity peaked. As he sat down beside her, he took off his hat with a casual, “What do you think?” revealing the masterpiece beneath. Her heart practically stopped.

Y/N had always thought Lando was attractive, but this? This was another level. His hair, now wild and curly, faded on the sides and left longer at the back, gave him an edge she hadn’t seen before. She felt her cheeks warm up, a flustered grin taking over her face. She straddled his lap, his hands finding home on her hips. Her eyes locked onto his unruly curls. She had no choice—she reached over and ran her fingers through the soft, unruly curls.

"Lando," she whispered, her voice breathless, "I didn't think it was possible, but somehow, you got even more attractive." Her fingers wove through his curls, gently tugging, and he couldn't hide the way his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he melted into her touch.

He grinned, playing it cool despite the way her hands made him feel. "Oh yeah?" he murmured, slipping his arms around her waist.

"You're really that into it?"

She laughed, leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Don't act like you didn't know. This is... dangerously good." Her hands moved up to trace the lines of the fade, grazing his scalp lightly, sending little jolts down his spine. She could feel his muscles tense and then relax as she explored every curl, the sensation grounding them both. "I'm obsessed, Norris. No one can tell me otherwise."

And from that day on, her obsession only grew. Every chance she got, her hands found his hair-whether they were walking around Monaco, cuddling in bed, or even out in public. She'd reach up with a playful grin, fingers grazing his neck and tangling in those unruly curls, and each time, Lando felt a little shiver, a blush creeping up his neck no matter how many times she did it.

He’d act unfazed, jokingly rolling his eyes or pretending to be exasperated, but deep down, he couldn’t deny how much he loved her fingers in his hair. There was something about the way her hands moved through the curls that made him feel completely at ease—and yet, a bit on edge.

One evening after dinner, they were walking hand-in-hand back to their car when she paused, turning to him with a mischievous look. Before he knew it, her hands were in his hair again, pulling him close by the curls at his nape, and he couldn't help but smile, feeling his cheeks warm.

Her fingers finding their familiar place in his hair, her nails grazing his scalp lightly, and he couldn’t help but shiver. “That… feels nice,” he mumbled, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. He felt a flush creep up his neck, and he tried to play it cool, glancing down at his shoes to avoid meeting her eyes.

She grinned, clearly catching on to his reaction. “Does it now?” she teased, giving a soft tug to one of the curls at the back, watching as he tensed up just a little before relaxing into her touch. She loved how easy it was to make him melt, to see that slight blush dust his cheeks whenever her fingers brushed over the sensitive spots at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t get cocky,” he muttered, trying to act unfazed, but he knew she could see right through him. She always did. The truth was, her touch did things to him—made him feel vulnerable in a way that was rare. He was used to being the confident one, the one who could tease her and keep his cool, but whenever her hands were in his hair, he felt that careful facade slipping.

"Oh, you love it," she whispered, wrapping a curl around her finger, her eyes locked on his. His breath hitched, and he bit his lip, trying not to give away how much he was enjoying it, but she knew. She always knew.

The next morning, as they sat in the hotel lobby waiting for his car to arrive, she reached up once again, letting her fingers trail through his curls. He leaned into her touch, eyes half-lidded with that sleepy, satisfied look she adored.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" he chuckled, glancing at her, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

"Not a chance." She smirked, tugging gently on a few strands before smoothing them back. "You did this to yourself, you know."

Lando let out a little laugh, his hand coming up to rest on hers as she played with his hair. "I didn't think it'd make you this obsessed."

"Well, you thought wrong," she replied, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Her hands drifted through his hair, each touch bringing a soft flush to his cheeks, and he loved it-the way she adored every curl, every inch of him.

"Good thing I'm not planning on going anywhere," he whispered, voice low and full of warmth.

“Mhmm, Good thing.” She whispered.

Here’s an enhanced version, adding more descriptive detail and playful tension:

One of Y/N’s favorite things about Lando—aside from the mullet, of course—was how easily she could fluster him. She loved knowing the effect she had on the usually cool and confident driver, catching him off guard with a look, a word, or a simple touch. Today, she was in the mood to see that familiar flush rise to his cheeks, and she knew exactly how to make it happen.

Determined, she set off through the McLaren garage, weaving through engineers and crew members in search of him. First, she checked the garage itself, glancing around the car but not finding him there. His driver’s room was empty too, and she knew he didn’t have any meetings. But just as she was starting to wonder where he could be, she caught sight of a familiar head of curls, bouncing slightly with each scroll of his thumb.

There he was, leaning against the wall in a quiet corner of the McLaren unit. He was dressed in his team kit, the top half of his race suit unzipped and wrapped casually around his waist, revealing the black undershirt that clung to his frame. He was absorbed in his phone, looking effortlessly composed, a picture of calm and cool. But that was about to change.

She stood there for a moment, arms crossed, just admiring him. He hadn’t noticed her yet, but she could feel the anticipation building, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Soon enough, that calm demeanor would be shattered.

As if sensing her stare, Lando’s head lifted, his eyes locking onto hers. A smirk crept onto his face, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Come here often?” he asked, voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with that familiar mischief.

Y/N stepped forward, a playful glint in her own eyes as she approached him, slowly closing the space between them. When she reached him, she rose on her toes, giving him a quick kiss that left him momentarily speechless, before leaning back with a sly smile. “Depends,” she murmured, her voice soft but challenging, “What exactly are you looking for?”

Lando’s gaze flicked between her eyes and her mouth, caught off guard by the spark in her tone. He opened his mouth to respond, but she reached up first, threading her fingers into his curls, her nails gently scratching at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched slightly, his composure cracking as she continued to play with his hair.

She moved her fingers slowly, winding a few curls around her fingers, taking her time. He bit his lip, trying not to react too much, but every touch sent a little thrill through him. “Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out softer, almost like a plea.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of warmth and a hint of playful mischief. “What’s wrong, Lando?” Her tone was innocent, but he could see that knowing sparkle in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “It’s just… well, you know…” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he stumbled over his words. “You’re, um, kind of distracting.”

“Oh?” She laughed softly, looking completely unbothered, which only made him feel more flustered. She slid her fingers back down to the nape of his neck, scratching gently, and he felt a shiver run through him. He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly, trying to regain some composure, but it was no use. Her touch had him feeling like putty in her hands.

He tried to look away, to hide the way his face was flushing, but she tilted her head, catching his gaze. “You’re so cute when you get all flustered, you know that?” she murmured, her smile softening as she ran her fingers through his curls again, slowly, almost lazily.

He tried to gain a bit of composure back. “Y’know, if you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, though his smirk was still there, just a little less steady.

She laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “Oh, is that right? Well, I don’t mind seeing you lose a little control, Norris,” she teased, tugging lightly at one of the curls, watching as a faint blush crept up his neck.

He chuckled, trying to keep his cool but failing as his hand slid to her waist, pulling her a fraction closer. “You know you’re trouble, don’t you?”

She looked up at him with a grin, the sparkle in her eyes enough to undo him completely. “Only for you, Lando.”

His smile softened, his gaze turning from playful to something warmer as he leaned down to kiss her properly, forgetting everything else around them.

One night as they lay in bed, the glow from the city lights casting a soft hue over the room, her hands found their familiar place at the nape of his neck, fingertips grazing the curls she adored. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her touch, his arm wrapped around her, pulling her close.

���Y/N…” he began, but his voice trailed off as she continued, each movement sending a wave of warmth through him. He felt his usual confidence slipping, and for once, he didn’t mind. With her, he could let his guard down, let her see this softer side of him.

“You don’t have to hide it,” she whispered, her voice gentle, her fingers tracing light circles at the base of his skull. “I like it when you’re like this. When you just… relax with me.”

He swallowed, feeling his heart race as he met her eyes. “I… I just…” He hesitated, but her smile encouraged him. “I like it when you do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a bit too much.”

She grinned, leaning in closer, brushing a kiss against his cheek, right by his ear. “Good,” she whispered back. “Because I could spend hours right here, just making you melt.”

And he did melt. He felt his shoulders relax, any lingering tension fading as her fingers continued their soft, familiar rhythm. Each gentle touch made him feel more vulnerable but also more connected to her. It was like she had this quiet power over him, one he didn’t mind surrendering to.

They laid there for a while, her fingers moving slowly, carefully, as if she wanted to savor every curl, every little shiver he gave in response. He felt his cheeks stay warm, the blush refusing to fade, but with her gentle smile and knowing gaze, he didn’t feel embarrassed.

Instead, he felt cherished, loved, and completely captivated by her.

Y/N was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him. Lando Norris had completely captured her heart, but if she were honest, his hair—that mullet—had an extra hold on her. It was a slight obsession, something she couldn’t keep her hands off, no matter how hard she tried. And truthfully, she didn’t even try to resist it anymore.

As they wandered through the hotel lobby in yet another city, his arm wrapped lazily around her shoulders, Y/N couldn’t resist reaching up to tangle her fingers in the familiar curls at the nape of his neck. Her fingertips grazed his skin lightly, sending a delicious little shiver up his spine. She loved the way his curls felt—soft but thick, unruly yet perfectly controlled. They faded short at the sides, then bloomed into that wild mess at the back, each curl begging her to play with it.

Lando chuckled, glancing down at her with an amused, slightly exasperated look. “Honestly, Y/N,” he said in a mock scolding tone, “is there ever going to be a moment you’re not running your fingers through my hair?”

She grinned up at him, completely unbothered. “Absolutely not. You’re the one who had to go and get the best hair in Formula 1.” She gave a little tug on one of the curls, watching it bounce right back into place, as if it too was resisting her, only to keep her hooked. It was impossible to ignore how soft it felt, like velvet under her fingertips.

Lando laughed, leaning into her touch despite his teasing, clearly enjoying the attention more than he was letting on. “I knew this mullet was a good decision,” he joked, but his voice softened, betraying just how much he appreciated her adoration. “Didn’t think it’d turn you into a complete addict, though.”

She tilted her head, giving him a playful pout. “Maybe it’s not my fault,” she murmured, voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. Her fingers traced the line of his fade, then sank back into the wilder curls at the back. “If you didn’t want me obsessed, you shouldn’t have made it so irresistible.”

His smirk faltered for a second as she touched him, his breath catching slightly. “So it’s the hair, not the driver?” he teased, trying to keep his tone light, though his eyes were starting to darken. “I see how it is, Y/N.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” she replied, a spark of mischief lighting her gaze. “I think it’s the whole package. But the mullet? Definitely a bonus.” She slid her hand up to the top of his head, brushing back the longer curls that always fell forward. Her fingers drifted through the soft waves, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring her touch. She loved how his face softened, his lips parting slightly as he leaned into her hand, completely relaxed, a faint blush rising in his cheeks.

Her fingers trailed back down, her nails grazing the skin at his nape, and he let out a soft sigh, tilting his head forward slightly as if inviting her to keep going. “Feels good, huh?” she whispered, her voice tinged with affection as she watched him practically melt under her touch.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, though his eyes remained closed, and the way his shoulders relaxed said far more than words. It was rare for him to let his guard down like this, but her touch had a way of softening him, breaking down his usual playful front. A low, contented sigh slipped from his lips as she kept up her gentle rhythm, his head tilting just so, inviting her to explore every soft curl.

She smirked, leaning in close, her voice teasing as she murmured, “Down bad for me, aren’t you?”

Lando’s eyes flicked open, and he grinned, his own playfulness reemerging. “Says the one who practically has her hands glued to my head,” he shot back, his tone warm. He leaned in, brushing his lips close to her ear. “But maybe I’m down just as bad as you are.”

That was all the invitation she needed. Her hands slid further into his hair, pulling him gently toward her until their faces were barely an inch apart, their breaths mingling. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, his lips just inches from hers, and she whispered, “You don’t even understand…” Her fingers tugged lightly at his curls, feeling the way they wound around her fingers, grounding her. “I think I could stay here forever, just like this.”

Her words seemed to break the last of his restraint. Without another word, he closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a slow, lingering kiss. It started soft, unhurried, but as her fingers continued to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding around her waist, drawing her flush against him. His other hand moved up, fingers brushing along her jaw as if he couldn’t get enough of being close to her.

Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. His lips were warm, gentle yet insistent, a mix of tenderness and barely contained need. She responded with the same intensity, her fingers exploring every curl, every inch of hair that had driven her to distraction, grounding them both in the moment.

When they finally broke apart, a little breathless, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still half-closed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You really are obsessed with this hair,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

She laughed, brushing another curl out of his face, her own cheeks flushed. “Guess I am,” she admitted, grinning up at him. “Good thing it’s all mine.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against her cheek. “Good thing I’m not planning on going anywhere, then.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and for a moment, they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace.

He smirked, pulling her even closer. “All yours,” he repeated, sealing his promise with one last kiss, slow and sweet.

“So the mullet really does it for you. That’s it?” He teased as they pulled apart.

“Lando, you have no idea.” She smiled, catching his hand and guiding it back to her shoulder, so she could reclaim her rightful place in his hair. Her fingertips traced little patterns against his scalp, sending another wave of shivers through him. She loved how responsive he was to her touch, how even a simple scratch at the nape of his neck could make him soften.

They stood there in comfortable silence, her fingers moving slowly, gently, until finally, he let out a low murmur, almost like a purr. “You’re going to put me to sleep if you keep doing that,” he whispered, but he made no effort to stop her.

“Maybe that’s my plan,” she replied, grinning. “Just keep you here, quiet and still, while I play with this perfect hair of yours.”

He let out a sleepy chuckle. “Fine by me,” he whispered, a warmth in his gaze that made her heart race.

—————————

Extras:

1. At the Track

They were waiting for the race briefing to start, and Lando was in full team kit, cap on and all. Y/N leaned casually against the wall nearby, watching as he laughed and chatted with his teammates, looking every bit the confident driver she knew and loved. His cap hid most of his curls, but she caught a few unruly strands poking out at the back, teasing her with every small movement he made.

Finally, as Zac called him over, Lando adjusted his cap, lifting it briefly to scratch his head. Y/N’s breath caught as his curls were fully visible for a moment, wild and free, framed perfectly by the fade on the sides. She bit her lip, trying to hide her grin, but she felt her cheeks warm as she realized she was staring.

After the meeting ended, she found him in the hallway, and her hands went instinctively to his cap, gently lifting it off to free his curls. “There’s the look I missed,” she teased, running her fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, clearly amused by her fascination. “You really don’t get tired of this, do you?”

She flashed him a grin, her hand tangling deeper in his hair. “You have no idea, Norris. These curls… they’re dangerous.”

He leaned down, his gaze softening as he tilted his head so she could play with his hair more freely. “Dangerous? Babe, they’re just curls.”

“To you, maybe,” she murmured, her eyes lingering on each curl as if they were her own personal addiction. “To me? They’re perfection.”

Lando laughed, clearly amused. “You don’t get tired of it, do you?”

“Not even a little,” she replied with a wink, adjusting his cap as her fingers lingered a second longer than necessary. “It’s like you’re a real-life heartthrob, Norris. And this,” she tugged on a curl at the back, “is part of the magic.”

He leaned down, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Just part?”

She nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, the rest of you isn’t too bad, either.”

2. During a Lazy Morning at Home

They had nothing planned, so they were taking full advantage of a slow, lazy morning. Lando was sprawled across the couch, head resting on Y/N’s lap as he stretched, his hair a delightful mess from having just woken up. The soft morning light filtered in, highlighting the curls that tumbled carelessly over his forehead and fell against her thighs.

Unable to resist, she reached down, fingers tracing gentle patterns in his hair. As she began to massage his scalp lightly, he let out a soft sigh, his body sinking further into her lap. “Mm… that’s heaven,” he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Oh, really?” she teased, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. She could feel him shiver slightly under her touch, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

“Yeah, really.” His eyes drifted shut, and a slow smile spread across his face. “If you keep that up, I’m going to be asleep in two minutes.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one obsessed.” She said.

He cracked one eye open, catching her gaze. “Yeah, but let’s keep that between us,” he replied, giving her a sleepy grin. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”

She laughed, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Deal. As long as I get to keep doing this,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his fade before drifting back to his curls.

3. At a Fancy Event

They were dressed to the nines, attending a high-profile event, and everyone around them looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine. Lando was in a sleek suit, his hair styled but still rebellious with a few curls falling out of place, giving him that effortlessly cool look she adored. Y/N, in her elegant dress, was hanging on his arm, but her mind kept drifting to the tempting curls at the nape of his neck.

As they stood mingling with a few of his friends, she couldn’t resist reaching up and brushing a curl back into place, her fingertips lingering for a moment. Carlos noticed, chuckling. “Y/N, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more in love with his hair than with him.”

She laughed, unabashed, glancing up at Lando with a wink. “What can I say? He makes it impossible to resist. Also have you seen him?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur for only her to hear. “You know, if you keep doing that, I’m going to think you’re flirting with me.”

“Oh, I am,” she replied with a playful smile, her fingers grazing the curls again, sending a shiver through him that she could feel. “But I don’t think you mind.”

He swallowed, his voice dropping as he looked at her with a smirk. “Not even a little bit.”

4. A Casual Dinner with Friends

They were out with friends at a cozy restaurant, laughter filling the air as everyone shared stories over drinks and food. Lando was animatedly recounting a funny moment from the paddock, his hands moving expressively, his face lit up with excitement. Y/N watched him, smiling, completely captivated by the way he spoke and the curls that bounced with each movement.

Unable to resist, she reached up mid-story, gently brushing back a few curls that had fallen forward. He paused, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he shot her a look that was half-teasing, half-affectionate.

“Oh, sorry,” she laughed, her fingers lingering as she gently twisted a curl around her finger. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Their friends laughed, nudging Lando playfully. “Seems like Y/N’s got you wrapped around her finger, mate.”

Lando grinned, reaching up to take her hand in his, bringing it down to his lap, though his fingers laced with hers, keeping her close. “Or maybe she’s the one who’s wrapped around my curls,” he teased, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She blushed, biting her lip as she looked up at him. “Touché,” she murmured, squeezing his hand back, feeling her heart flutter as his gaze lingered on her a moment too long.

5. Post-Race Celebration

The race was over, and adrenaline still coursed through Lando as he celebrated in the pits, drenched in champagne and absolutely beaming. Y/N ran over to congratulate him, laughter bubbling up as he caught her in a big hug, pressing her close despite being completely soaked.

“Lando, you’re getting me all wet!” she laughed, but her arms wrapped around him tighter, her hands instinctively reaching up to tousle his champagne-soaked curls. His hair was a beautiful mess, wild and free, and she couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers through it.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, and she reached up, fingers sinking into his wet curls. “You look like a rockstar,” she whispered, giving his mullet an affectionate tug. “A very sweaty, attractive rockstar.”

He laughed, pulling her in for a kiss. “Good thing you’re still into me, sweat and all.”

“Into you? I’m completely obsessed,” she replied, running her fingers through his curls, savoring the feel of them even now, champagne-soaked and wild. “I think I might be a little obsessed.” She said, tipping her head up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. She could taste the champagne on his skin, and as she pulled back, she smiled.

He grinned, brushing a curl back from her face. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

6. Winding Down in the Paddock

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the paddock as they walked hand-in-hand back to the car, the day’s excitement slowly winding down. The light made Lando’s curls glow, highlighting each twist and turn in a way that made her heart ache with affection. Her hand slipped up almost unconsciously, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “You’re at it again?” he asked, pretending to sound exasperated, though she could see the softness in his gaze.

She gave him a sheepish grin, her hand resting at the base of his neck. “Can you blame me? You’re the one who got this haircut and then made it my favorite thing.”

He shook his head, laughing as he leaned into her touch. “I’m starting to think you’re going to be keeping me around just for the hair.”

She pretended to think about it, giving a soft tug to one of the curls. “It’s a strong motivator,” she teased, moving her hand down to trace the line of his fade before bringing it back up to the curls.

Lando’s eyes fluttered shut as she continued to play with his hair, his usual confident exterior melting under her gentle touch. “If you keep that up, I’ll be asleep in no time,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep going,” she replied, her tone playful yet full of affection. She watched as his shoulders relaxed, and a look of pure contentment settled on his face.

They stood there for a few more moments, wrapped up in each other, his head bowed slightly as her fingers continued their gentle rhythm in his curls. She felt a deep warmth spread through her as he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against her forehead.

In that moment, everything felt right—the warmth of his curls under her fingertips, the soft sunset casting a glow around them, and the quiet certainty that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

7. FP1 Madness

It was nearing the end of FP1 in Mexico, and Y/N was keeping up with the session results from afar, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had noticed, though, that every single shot of Lando that day showed him with his cap firmly on his head, the brightly patterned McLaren hat never budging, and she hadn’t seen a single glimpse of his hair. She couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that maybe, just maybe, he had finally cut off the mullet she loved so much.

As soon as Lando was back in his hotel room, they connected on FaceTime, like they always did when she couldn’t be there. He appeared on her screen, still in his orange McLaren shirt and with that same cap on, looking a bit tired but happy to see her. His arms were crossed casually, and his cap was pulled down low, just like it had been all day.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, giving her a small, tired smile, clearly unaware of her suspicions.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, trying her best to look unimpressed. “So… you’re just keeping the cap on all day now? Not even letting me see the hair?”

Lando’s eyes widened in mock offense, leaning a little closer to his phone camera. “What, you don’t like my hat?” he teased, adjusting the brim slightly to cover even more of his forehead, purposely obscuring any chance she might have of seeing his curls.

“Oh, I love the hat,” she said, crossing her arms to match his posture, giving him a playful glare. “But you’ve had it on all day. What’s up with that? Did you…?” Her voice trailed off dramatically, narrowing her eyes. “Did you cut off the mullet while I wasn’t there?”

Lando burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why would I do that?”

Y/N gave him a look, trying to hide her smirk. “I don’t know, maybe you got tired of it, or maybe one of the guys finally convinced you to go back to a normal haircut,” she shrugged, feigning disinterest. “But if you did, you’d be too chicken to tell me.”

Lando leaned back, crossing his arms again and smirking at her through the screen. “You really think I’d get rid of the mullet and not tell you? I’m hurt, babe, I thought you trusted me.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling bratty, pushing him a little further. “I don’t know, Norris, you’ve been hiding under that cap all day. I haven’t seen one curl. Not one.”

He chuckled, clearly amused, but then his expression shifted to a playful challenge. “You really think I’d cut it? How about a little bet then?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, really? What kind of bet?”

He tilted his head, still keeping his cap firmly in place, clearly enjoying dragging this out. “If I still have the mullet, you owe me… a full day of whatever I say when I get back.”

She laughed, narrowing her eyes playfully. “And if you don’t have it?”

“Then I’ll… take you wherever you want for a weekend. No complaints, no caps, just you and me.”

Y/N pretended to think it over, finally nodding. “Alright, deal. Now show me.”

He leaned in close to the camera, holding his finger to his lips, “Only if you promise not to freak out.”

Her eyes widened, a little more nervous now. “Lando… just show me!”

He grinned, clearly savoring the moment, before slowly, dramatically, lifting his cap just enough to reveal the back of his head. And there it was—the mullet, in all its tousled glory, with the sides perfectly faded and the curls at the back just as messy as ever.

Y/N gasped, covering her mouth, then let out a laugh, relieved and slightly annoyed. “You absolute tease! You had me convinced!”

Lando burst into laughter, finally taking the cap off completely, running a hand through his curls with a smug grin. “You really thought I’d cut it off without telling you? Babe, you’re the one who keeps begging me to keep it.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes but feeling a rush of affection. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll admit it, you had me worried.”

“Worried, huh?” He leaned closer to the camera, giving her a smirk. “Don’t worry, babe, this mullet’s sticking around. Just for you.”

She sighed, playfully exasperated, but couldn’t help smiling. “Good, because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to those curls yet.”

He grinned, shaking his head, “Glad to know you’re just here for the hair.”

She smiled back, giving him a little wink. “Maybe I am.”

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

[mraprilfools]

Summary: As Vox's personal Physician it's always been a challenge to get him to take care of himself. Your motives originally may have been professional, but the line started to blend somewhere along the way. Now you're determined to get him to listen.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Vox

Contents: Mostly self-indulgent fluff. Bashful Vox, Doctor Reader, Assertive Reader, Reader has Glasses, Kissing, Lots of Flirting and Banter, Vox is a dork, Vox has freckles he hides

Word Count: 8k

A/N: Dedicated to @6esiree for her Follower contest! Please accept my humble Vox fluff. As for my followers, keep an eye out for tomorrow's Imagine for a very special message from The Heart of a Machine's Vox!

“You need to cut down on your caffeine consumption. Not only are you hopelessly addicted, but your quality of sleep is suffering as a result.” The tests had been taken again, and again, and again at your boss’ request. As a professional, you had standards. You weren’t going to let something as stubborn masculine machismo bother you. But the results on your medical chart had been almost completely static. The metallic nub of your pen rapped against the clipboard over the offending results that kept staring you back in the face.

Vox was hunched over on the examination table, refusing to face you. Already slipping on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I didn’t say that the examination was over sir.” You reminded him, pressing up the glasses hanging on the bridge of your nose.

The artificial glow of that screen finally turned to greet you. The artificial smile he had was so kind to constantly parade in your presence, as obnoxious as always. “I am well aware, but I am saying it’s over. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

A challenge to your ability. A bold one too. There were few doctors knowledgeable enough in both machinery and biology. Fewer fanatical enough to learn the harmonious weaving inside your employer so you found the accusation funny. All but a single, “Ha” came out in a scoff.

Sparks of electricity crackled from Vox’s antennae, and the large crimson pools narrowed into squints. “And what’s so funny Doc?”

“You are Darling. If you wanted to get rid of me, we both know you would have long ago.” You curled your lips in a smirk, a clear defiance of your boss. With only half of his buttons slipped through, he gave up on the rest and rose to his feet. Long legs made quick strides over to you to make a direct challenge. Even when he stood nearly a foot over you, you didn’t feel intimidated in the least. You dropped the clipboard over to the counter, meeting his gaze defiantly, but cooly.

A foot stepped between your legs, and his body came close. You took a step back only for the sake of your balance, then another until he had your back against a wall. His hands pinned you in place while the eerie glow of his screen only grew more intense. There was a false cheer in Vox’s voice even as his smile never dropped.

“You’re cute, Doc. You’ve made yourself valuable, so you’re right. I give you a lot more slack than I would tolerate from anyone else in this worthless shit heap. However…” He pried one hand free to clap around your jaw. Holding you in place when the bladed end of his thumb pressed against your cheek, drawing a bead of blood from the pinpoint. A directed threat, no doubt to remind you that he could kill you at any time.

But he hasn’t.

“More people are falling to hell every day, you won’t be so unique forever.”

“So you admit that I’m one of the few who do know what they’re doing. So, can I count on you cutting down your coffee consumption down to three cups a day?”

His chest rose and fell as the energy left him. Vox pulled his hand away and returned to fixing up the buttons on his shirt. Turning his back to you to fetch the sweater vest thrown over the table, slipping it on next. A zipper on the side turned out to be the secret around putting on clothes when your head was a large television. Having a tailor right in the tower must be quite useful. “I can do the coffee. However, I don’t have time to sleep the full six hours you are recommending.”

“Daily.” You remind him.

He spun back around, uttering a scoff as his hands slipped through each sleeve of his blazer. The pointed cyan claws slid across the lapels. “Daily?! Now you’re just being ridiculous Doc.”

“Have I been known to tell you jokes, Vox?” You lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually. You make jokes about how stupid half of my employees are all the time. The other half you have creative insults about how brutish, boring, or pathetic they are. I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone in the tower...” Vox raised both his brows, sporting that smarmy little grin.

“Because I don’t, save a few exceptions.” You answered. “I’m not paid to like people. I’m paid to keep you healthy.” You pushed off the wall, seating yourself in the single office chair that had been afforded for the office. The leather squeaked with the new weight, wheels shifting from the sudden weight that had you barreling toward your coffee cup. You draped one leg over the other, pressing your back against the chair while you gave your boss your undivided attention.

The cyan eyes rolled within the crimson pools. At last, his bow tie was tied around his neck perfecting the image of the business CEO. Almost a shame how quick he always was to put his clothes back on. The technological and biological nature of his body was a near obsession of yours; even if you never admitted it.

“Is the friendship-making package extra?”

You raised your shoulders in answer. You hooked your fingers around the mug on the desk with your cup of coffee. The irony of it after telling him to cut his consumption didn’t bother you. “Do you want me to make friends Vox? I don’t see how that would benefit you at all.”

“It won’t.” He admitted as he walked by. The chair was sent backward as his claws laid hands on it, forcing you to make eye contact when he lingered from behind. “Only wondering how much I pay you goes into pretending to like me.”

You couldn’t help but break out into more laughter. The sight of which earned a sultry frown and a retraction of the hand that had come so close to him. You caught your glasses, preventing them from careening off your face. “You don’t pay me anything for that sir, you’re one of the few people in hell I do like.”

“You have a weird way of showing it… telling me to take care of myself.” He chuffed, shooting a nasty glare at the coffee in your hands. Unaffected, you took a sip. He could cope.

“I know, I’m a trailblazer. Do you need me to prescribe you sleeping pills or do you think you can handle it?”

Vox laughed, “Doctor, please! I can do something as simple as fall asleep! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Even if you couldn’t see it, you could almost feel that eye roll looking at the back of his head. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with that curt goodbye.

Vox, however, never listened to his doctor. Even IF you were always right. It was a hunch as you were finishing up writing up samples for the night. But the thought came to mind to check on your boss to see if he was heeding your well-intentioned advice. Your employee keycard gave you generous access, only beneath the Vee’s who could go everywhere. So it wasn’t any trouble stopping by that ridiculous office of his.

He was seated before a mural of monitors depicting snapshots of the lives all across Pentagram City. Wires were currently plugged into the back of Vox’s head, absorbed in his… information-gathering activities. Vox was completely unaware of your presence. You breathed a heavy sigh, resigning to the fact that you once again had to get this man to take care of himself. You passed through the bridge without fear, where the circling shark tanks beneath spoke of a deadly fall several floors down. Such a waste of space for an aesthetic. Your polished shoes smacked into the back of the chair, startling the Overlord within.

Arcs of electricity shot out from all angles. Coating the chair and his body as the wires all unplugged from their ports one by one and the frantic man spun around with an intense swirl in his right eye. The claws extended, drawing gouges in the rests beside him. All the fight in him sputtered out the instant he caught sight of you, painted over with annoyance.

“Doc! I did not call for you. What are you doing here?”

With your arms folded across your chest, you answered. “Coming to catch you red-handed. You should be sleeping.”

“Shouldn’t you?” He fired back, hunching low.

Touche, but you wouldn’t admit it. You pushed up the frame of your glasses before you answered.

“It’s not my fault the help I have in the lab is so incompetent. I can’t trust them to do something as simple as label specimens. It would be a terrible safety risk if I left it to them. If anything, I am a hero of Voxtek.”

Vox laughed, leaning back into his chair. It was genuine laughter, unlike that dorky evil cackle he thought nobody ever heard when he was alone. A palm smacked his thigh, with a crooked grin sliding heavy to the right of his screen. “Sounds like we’re both guilty, Doctor. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Tell who exactly?” You asked, striding up to the man. You sat on one of his thighs spread so wide it was practically an invitation. The overlord stiffened, digging his claws back into the plastic armrest, staring a hole at you. “What darling? There aren’t any other chairs and you wouldn’t have me stand the whole time would you?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to try and seduce me.” He answered.

“Ah? And why do you think I am trying to seduce you?” You sent the question back to him, easing until your back pressed against the rest. You threw one leg over the other, balancing yourself by clutching the armrest. Your fingers only brushed against the cyan claws and he instantly yanked them out of reach.

“Oh, do you sit in any man’s lap then? And here I thought I was special.”

“I don’t like most people, Vox. You are special.”

Unexpectedly, the words brought a strange light blue glow to Vox’s face. He was just as shocked as you were, throwing an arm to cover the strange color in his face. There was an attempt to hide it as his face turned away, but he didn’t throw you off so you took that as a victory.

“What do you want?”

“For you to go to bed darling, that should be obvious.”

When he lowered the arm, you could see a deep frown on his display. The technicolor eyes bore into yours, locking you in eye contact trying to force the truth from you. A common tactic as most couldn’t lie while maintaining eye contact. But you were telling the truth so you made yourself comfortable admiring the view until the silence made him give up. With a sigh, he put his hand on your back and forced you back to your feet.

“Alright, I’ll go to bed, Doctor.” Vox shoved you off, forcing you back to your feet. He refused to even touch you, only lurching forward until you were forced to either catch yourself or fall. With a low grumble, you fixed your coat, keeping well away from the ledge.

Vox took two steps toward the bridge when he stopped and turned to look at you. “Do you flirt with all your patients?”

“Well darling, considering that you are my only patient? Yes.”

Vox chuffed, hooking a thumb forcefully into his pocket. The back of the TV greeted you, shoulders rolling as he weighed your answer. “And before I hired you, how many of your patients did you hit on?”

A single digit tapped your chin, which meant thinking back to something that hardly mattered. How often you satisfy your urges shouldn’t matter to your boss. But for the sake of this flirting to keep going you obliged. “Only the hot ones darling. I jump the bones of the ones I want nothing to do with besides their dick. But I take my time with the ones I really like.”

More electricity danced from his antennae. To busy his hands, Vox tugged and pulled at his bowtie. There was a joyful lilt in his tone as he answered, “Interesting. Good night Doctor.”

“Good night, Vox.” You followed right behind him, smiling with satisfaction. You felt happy that you finally got him to see reason, even if it meant flirting a little.

Or so you thought.

The next day, you decided to make another visit to his office to check if he went to bed on time. He was still plugged into the system, in the early hours of the morning. A little more flirting and back and forth was just as effective.

And the next day. There he was far more cold, not passing the buck back to you. But when you tried to excuse yourself, he’d find some excuse to make you stay for a minute or two longer.

And the next day too! Each time conning you into spending a little extra time with him. At first, it was only fifteen minutes. Then half an hour, and then you ended up lingering for a WHOLE hour. That was when you realized that if this got any worse, YOUR work would suffer.

Now that? That was unforgivable.

At this point, you suspected he was doing this on purpose. When you came charging down the bridge that evening, he was already spinning in place to greet you. You were expected. The bastard. The plugs in the back of his head popped free. Vox spun around in time to greet you with a wide smirk on his screen that faltered when his chair ended up swerving a little too far to the right. A heel smacked against the floor, giving him friction to push him back.

“You saw nothing,” Vox said.

“Pretty sure I did, you are up late. Again.”

“I slept yesterday. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Vox bent forward in his chair, looking smug. He was intentionally trying to rile you up now. You didn’t even attempt to hide your sigh. You glanced over to the monitors, still the same old surveillance for the most part. But there was one screen that stood out. The man was on Veddit. You adjusted your glasses to get a better look. Upon closer look, it was some subveddit asking advice about how to tell when somebody has a crush on you.

He was so pathetic it was endearing sometimes. His eyes followed yours, doing a double take when he noticed what you were looking at and smacked the console turning all the monitors off. Vox’s voice came out filtered as he attempted to sound assertive. “That’s classified company information. Nothing you are meant to be privy to Doctor. I’ll have to fire you if you keep looking.”

“I didn’t know relationship advice was sensitive company data. Are you having trouble with men, Vox?”

A faint blue light covered Vox’s screen beneath his eyes, his cyan pupils unable to meet you. Teeth clenched, his fingers rapped loudly against the armrests of his chair. You kept silent, watching him stew under the uncomfortable silence. His knee began to bounce, his fingertips clacking against the hard plastic until at last he groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I could have anyone I wanted in Pentagram City in my bed by the end of tomorrow night if I wanted.”

Laughter spilled before you could help it. The sound inspired a swirl from his right eye, and another tense clutch of his claws gouging his chair. “What’s so funny?”

“You darling. You’re adorable.”

The color on his face grew more intense, as did his frown. He made some incoherent mumbling you couldn’t quite understand, but you were pretty sure at least one of those was an insult.

“How about a bet then, Darling? Whoever can bring a new partner into their bed first wins? If I win, you promise to go to bed no later than 1 AM. And if you win…” You sucked through your teeth, watching as his screen grew even more pale. A cyan claw nervously wove around the bow tie on his neck.

“If I win, you’re all mine for an evening,” Vox interjected.

Now there was a surprise, so he could take the lead. The man was already pushing himself up to his feet, stretching his back as he rose to his full height. “It’s about time I remind you who you work for.” Now he was compensating, with that blustering smile and the way he pulled on his lapels.

“Then it is settled! You can have an entire evening to see if you can make me as obedient as the rest of your employees.” You agreed. Unknown to Vox, you already had a plan that secured your victory. But you let him stew in the joy of his deal a little longer. The way his smile took up half his screen was endearing.

A pointed end met your chin as he forced you to look at him, the harsh artificial light shining a little too close for comfort. “I’ll make you sing for me, Doc. Though you are right… I’d almost miss your backbone. Almost.”

The screen was coming in close, dangerously so. With nowhere to go with that claw currently suck in your chin, you brushed away the mood with a question. “Would my magnanimous boss be willing to walk me home? Things have been rather dangerous in my neighborhood lately.”

Suspicion immediately colored his expression, with arcs of lightning dancing along his frame. Vox whipped his hand away, standing ramrod straight. “Didn’t you want me to go to bed? Trying to get a head start on me Doc?”

You coyly tilted your head. “No? If you’re that worried about that I can get somebody else to walk me. I’m pretty sure I could easily get Papermint to--”

A metallic claw smacked your shoulder, pointed ends digging into your flesh as a strained smile greeted you. Vox’s laughter came out deeply filtered. “That won’t be necessary! That man couldn’t defend you from a paper bag. I’ll be winning our little wager before the night ends, as I said. So I’ll gladly see you home and asleep while I take my victory.”

The pinprick stung, but it was a kind of pain that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand laid over his, feeling the cool skin beneath for only a second before he yanked it away.

That was now the second time he yanked his hand from yours. Curious.

“Not if you are sleep-deprived, Vox. Come on then, it’s a bit of a walk through a bad neighborhood so I hope you aren’t too fond of your shoes.” You spun around first, taking the lead down the bridge. The larger overlord quickly strode over to catch up to you, refusing to let you guide him. Hands behind his back, he continued to stare at you from the corner of his screen, and he was terribly obvious.

“What is it darling?” You asked.

“...Can you stop calling me that?”

“What, darling?”

There was an uneasy shifting as he pushed out his pockets. The electronic door hissed open when the two of you approached by the proximity of the Overlord alone. The two of you took a turn down the hallways, empty and feeling almost haunted at these early hours.

“Yes.”

By how short the answer was, you suspected he wasn’t going to give you a reason why. As confident and blustering the man could be, there were always these little nuggets of insecurity that oozed. He was overcompensating. For most people, they wouldn’t bother to look any deeper. People were far more inclined to see what they wanted to see or to ignore anything that would be far too bothersome to address. A fact Vox relied on far too much.

Because you took an undeniable interest in this man. You knew his body better than anyone as his doctor. Knew how his heart was nothing but to ease his body dysmorphia. How he regulated his heat, how viruses affected his body, and how a simple cold could still lay him low. Initially, you wanted nothing more than to tear him open and learn everything but lately… you wanted to solve the riddle behind the little things. Such as why he wouldn’t let you touch his hand. Or why his screen always got a little brighter when you entered the room.

But if you pushed somebody too hard who didn’t want to be known, you risked pushing them away. This would require a delicate touch.

“Very well, I will have to call you something special then.”

There was another flash of static as Vox pushed the call elevator button. The repeated shifting of his cyan irises was so obvious you had to hide your smile underneath your palm pretending to hide a cough.

“Like what? Voxxy?”

“Voxxy is cute...” You admitted with a shrug, “But that’s not special. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of exes call you that.”

Fragmentation flashed over this screen at that moment, the crimson pools almost comically large in his screen. The ding of the elevator was his saving grace, striding in quickly to save face. “I’ll let you know if you pick something unique then.”

Unique. Most people would likely pick something with his name or his head. Picture Box, Plasma, Sparky. In the silence of the elevator, you leaned against the wall and considered it. A nickname for you alone to call him. Vox joined you. Leaning against the wall almost close enough to touch but you knew better than to reach out and chance him pulling his hand away a third time.

“Dove.”You suggested.

“That’s… uh--” Vox let out a breathy chuckle. “Quite an old-fashioned nickname don’t you think? I think people stopped using that decades ago.”

“Do you dislike it…?”

Claws settled on the rail behind him, clicking against the bare metal. Each metallic noise sent shivers up your spine, seeing them so close but out of reach.

“I don’t dislike it, no. I’m not quite so nostalgic as half of Hell seems to be, but I can appreciate the effort.” The rare gentle smile on his screen was a sort you’d never seen before. Not the fabricated nonsense to disarm viewers or the manic joy when he was doing something comically evil.

Ping

The elevator came to a sudden halt as it hit the first floor. You stepped out first, with your boss lagging shortly behind. Thanks to how early in the morning it was, the two of you weren’t especially bothered by employees or gawking pedestrians. Hell in the early evenings was often when you could find the worst of it. Drunkards, people stabbed in the middle of the streets, demons locked in heat fucking in any half-discreet location they could find. It was a place of sin and debauchery and everyone happily indulged. Vox was a wary individual you learned from watching him.

Despite being one of the most powerful men in the Pride Ring he constantly watched the streets looking for threats. Occasionally he would catch you looking at him, blush, and look away. After the third or fourth time, he scoffed and tugged on his collar.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that? Actually- WHY are you flirting with me so blatantly? Are you trying to get a promotion?”

“Can I be promoted from your personal physician?”

“No.”

“Then the only reason is because I like you.”

There was a question of why, obvious by the way he looked at you full of confusion. “I… wasn’t expecting such an honest answer.”

You laughed. “This is hell Dove, there’s nothing to be gained by being shy. Somebody else might try to sink their claws into you first and I don’t like to lose.”

“Your wager seems counter-intuitive to your goal.” Vox rolled his eyes. Yet at the same time, he was reaching out to you. His claws bumped against your fingertips for only a fraction of a second. They were cold and sharp to the touch, but having conquered the wall put a pep in your step.

“On the contrary, I believe it’s proven quite effective. You are taking me home so another man doesn’t.”

“I-Wait, were you manipulating me?!”

You laughed again, hiding your great smile behind your hand. “I was! But you manipulate all of hell daily so I think you’ve lost all right to hold that against me.”

Vox stopped, narrowing his great big eyes. “I could leave right now, or did you account for that in your plan too?”

“Mmn, no I had planned to drag you into my bed tonight.”

A bright blue blush flashed over the man’s screen, his arm rising to try and hide it. Sparks and electricity danced between each prong. “I--! That’s not what we bet on!”

“No? The bed was to drag a new partner into our beds tonight. I’ve never been with you, so you count Dove.”

Still masking his face, Vox was now wavering, looking behind him as he tried to determine whether to foil your plot now or fall prey to it. Even this game of indecision was fun to watch. He sucked through his teeth, tapping his foot against the concrete.

“Doesn’t telling me your plan ruin your chances?”

“No, to my experience telling a man point blank you want them is far more effective than being shy about it. Am I wrong?” You flashed a smile full of teeth. “Of course, it also has a chance to backfire and make them so nervous they run. But I don’t believe you aren’t quite that timid.”

“Tch, hardly. Fine.” His claw clamped around your wrist. Cold, awkward, and grating against your bone it wasn’t quite what you imagined. You had a strong suspicion it was that exact reason that made him so hesitant to touch you before. He dragged you forward, but after you reached the end of the street he realized that he had no idea where he was taking you. When he looked at you for help, you laughed. As predicted, he sulked.

“Sorry, sorry! You are just so cute! We’re almost there. It’s that apartment over there.” You pointed straight ahead to a sleek modern apartment. It was one of the nicer buildings in the Entertainment district, one of Voxtek’s provided housing. The familiar V on the building clued Vox in.

The walk became closer to a power walk as he took you into your apartment. Having to at least concede to let you lead to take him to your apartment on the third floor, fourth door down the hall. He was deathly silent watching you unlock the door, following behind you as quietly as a mouse inside. That same nervous jitters returned to the usually powerful and confident CEO as he found himself in a strange apartment that wasn’t his own. Perhaps he expected you to jump his bones immediately but you instead took off your shoes, and lab coat, and made your way inside.

“Would you like tea, Dove? Sleepy-time tea ought to help you fall asleep.”

“Fall… asleep?” Vox asked. All the wind in his sails had fluttered out, baffled by the turn of events.

“Yes darling, what did you think I was taking you to my bed for? You are up past your bedtime.” You didn’t even attempt to hide the smug smile on your face, so instead you focused on filling a kettle and setting it on the stove.

“I--- You tricked me!”

“Indeed I did. Are you upset?”

To your surprise, he wasn't. He was deathly silent, standing in the hallway lost, unsure of what was going on. A claw hooked around his bow tie, untying it to make himself comfortable. Next came off the blazer, and then the top hat left on the coat rack by the door. Normally meant only to contain your coat, it added a touch of domesticity to see your coat have a partner. The blue and white looked nice. Could only hope the two of you would meld just as harmoniously. Vox sat down at your dining room table, taking a look around your abode.

“I’ve never been dragged into somebody's place to only sleep with them before. You’re… an odd one Doc.”

“I’ve been told.” You answered in a sing-song tone, preparing the tea cups. A packet of sleepy-time tea tucked into each porcelain cup with saucers meant to carry a touch of your personality. “I like you too much to bed you this early.”

“I-- don’t get that. If you like me, doesn’t that mean I’d already be inside you, fucking you on your kitchen counter?” Vox scoffed, rapping his nails against the table. The kettle hissed with steam when the water was ready. After laying down the teacups and saucers you popped the kettle off the stove and poured into each cup. Joining your boss from the chair directly across from him.

“Come now, isn’t that how courtship used to work? A man would get to know a woman, and show her that he really liked her for her and not just her body. It’s like that Dove. Now, I would love to unwrap you but I’m more curious to know the man you are. Like-- why don’t you like it when I touch your hand?”

Vox twitched, pulling his hand immediately off the table, suddenly self-conscious. “Who said I don’t like you touching my hand sweetheart?” He forced that fake smile of his, taking a friendly artificial tone.

“Because you keep pulling it away whenever I touch it.”

The smile fell, and his eyes fell toward the amber liquid in the cup. He lifted the cup, testing to see if it had enough time to steep. It had not even been a minute, so all he tasted was hot water. He set the cup down, feeling bitter. “What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Then you don’t have to. But I want to know.”

The chair skid back, with your boss leaning forward. “Let’s… forget this getting-to-know-me bullshit Sweetheart. It’s stupid, this is hell. I can fuck you until your eyes roll into the back of your head and forget this whimsy of yours Doc. You're my employee. Nothing more.”

You set your chin on the nest of your overlaid hands, matching his eyes. You pushed a little too hard. “No, you’re getting your sleep whether you like it or not. If we have to sit here in silence, I’m making sure you get the sleep you need, Vox.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. Waiting three minutes for tea to steep felt like an eternity to him. “A secret for a secret Doc. I’ll tell you why, but in return, you need to tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” An accusatory finger jut your way.

“Do you want to get to know me too, Dove?” Unafraid, you coyly tilted your head. Vox opened his mouth to respond, shut it, and turned his screen.

“...Yes. I’ve never had somebody care this much for my health or try to get to know me. You’re weird, but not in a… bad way I guess. I’m not saying-- you’ll ever be more to me than an employee-- don’t get the wrong idea.” He quickly interjected his point. But the shuffling in his chair and the way he weighed his words so heavily you were liking your chances. “But I like talking to you Doc.”

“Well...” You began, skidding your foot against the floor. “I was once madly and deeply in love with a man before. I was utterly, completely besotted in a way I bet you never would have expected. I wrote and sang him poetry. Spent many evenings dancing with him by candlelight, and had disgustingly kinky sex in public spaces. But my favorites were always the nights when he’d be gentle with me like I was the most precious thing in all worlds.”

Vox’s mouth hung open and then shut. A fresh shade of color danced across his screen at the bold confession “You’re… right. I have a hard time believing that. You’re the last person I imagined being a romantic.”

You sputtered a laugh. “Right? I was surprised too. Have you ever been in love like that before?”

“I’m not answering that question.” He immediately shut you down. “I don’t like you touching my hands because… most people are scared of them. They hurt, they’re cold, they aren’t nice to hold at all. They’re great, don’t get me wrong! When I need to get people in line they’re a fantastic tool for intimidation. But well, we’re demons. I’m not… built for intimacy. Inside or out.” Voxmotioned over his body with the aforementioned hands.

“They’re beautiful hands though, Vox. When you grabbed my wrist it hurt a little but it wasn’t a bad pain. They’re more than worth it for you.”

The familiar blush returned, coming with such a vengeance you swore you saw some white pixels mixed in within the blush. Like a nebula reflected on his screen, little imperfections that made him look endlessly beautiful. “Noted. So, what happened to that guy? You wouldn’t be bothering with me if he was still in your life.”

“We were… incompatible. There’s a piece of me that’s broken beyond repair inside that made me fundamentally wrong for him. It wasn’t his fault or mine. Closer to mine I suppose, since I cannot quiet the demon inside me that threatens to tear my guts out raw from envy.” The memory came bitterly, mostly because it came with a realization that even for the man you loved most you couldn’t be fixed.

A cyan claw hooked through the handle, with Vox sipping his tea. He had grown deathly silent, draining the cup until it was down to its dregs all in one. It hit the saucer with a clatter. “You should drink your tea doctor.”

Silently you obliged, taking more reserved sips. Truthfully you didn’t need it as much as he did. Habit and a circadian rhythm did wonders in getting your body trained for sleep. But for the sake of calming your nerves, taking this man to your bed where you would not take his clothes off felt oddly more intimate than taking them off. The heel of his shoes clicked multiple times against the floor, Vox was completely incapable of sitting still. At one point he even got up, walking around your apartment.

“Doc? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Back near the entrance Dove. To your right.”

“Thank you.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You could hear the faucet running shortly after. While he took care of his business you finished your tea and washed the dishes. He was already out by the time you put the kettle in the sink.

“So, do you have anything for me to sleep in?”

“Mmm, I have a shirt of my exes if that works that should fit you. But I don’t have any bottoms. You’ll be fine in your underwear won’t you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine to sleep naked. As long as that shirt doesn’t have you know whose face on it.”

“Of course not Dove, I would not tolerate merchandise of anyone who believes technology should have stopped in the thirties. That goes against everything I believe in.” You flippantly waved your hand as if you could hardly entertain the idea. To your surprise, Vox’s screen illuminated with light, with a big genuine toothy smile on his face.

“I changed my mind, I might be able to make an exception for you.”

“Of course Vox, it was only a matter of time before you saw my charm! Now… come on.”

Even if you were a Doctor who didn’t need a man or woman, you loved having a large bed to lounge in taking up nearly your entire room. You had your knick-knacks and other decorative items. A bookshelf of medical textbooks lined against the back of the bed for those late nights reading. Laundry piled up a little higher than you would have liked when you were bringing a boy over. A disturbing little skeleton you named Mr. Bones sitting on your computer desk. Diagrams and telltale signs of countless nights hunched over a desk. Signs of the passion of whatever gripped your mind and forced quill to meet paper.

Vox was obvious in the way he took in the various objects in your bedroom. His interest in getting to know you seemed genuine. You fished out the old shirt from your ex, which was a harmless plain white buccaneer shirt. You could see the confusion on his face when he was handed it, but you said nothing.

You grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the master bathroom to change. Leaving Vox the whole bedroom to change. When you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, you could spy a faint color present on your cheeks. Sure, maybe you could act cool and confident. But the truth was, you did like this man. Otherwise, why else would you go to all this trouble for him?

All your feigned confidence but you took care that your hair looked nice when you brushed it. You picked out your favorite pair of pajamas. You brushed your teeth and put on only a little spritz of perfume, as your heart beat with anticipation and hope.

Vox was already laid out on top of the bed, waiting for you. His monitor raised to look at you when you opened the door, propping his body halfway up with his elbows. “Huh, you did simply change into your pajamas. Was half expecting you to change your mind and pick out something sexy.”

“We can save that for after you’ve taken me to dinner, Dove.” A laughter followed after your statement, a friendly one. You stepped over to your nightstand to hit the switch next to a strange black and white orb. Vox did arch a brow, but his gentle smile remained.

“I’ll think about it.” The overlord fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. That was perfect timing!

After you hit the light switch, the room was submerged in darkness. The purpose of the strange device on your nightstand became obvious when Vox spied the star system being projected over the ceiling. Creating a fabrication of the starry night sky that had been robbed from the two of you when death came. Vox’s right claw stretched out, reaching his hand out as if he could grasp the slowly rotating stars. The illumination of his screen slowly died until it became a dim pale blue light.

You crawled into bed opposite of him. Laying on your side with your arm tucked under the pillow to act as extra leverage while you watch the man beside you enjoy the sight above.

“You REALLY are a romantic. I’m expecting roses when you take me to dinner.” Vox joked.

“I’ll consider it. So, what makes you say that?”

“I may have had my hints when you told me you wanted to wait for sex. And oh I don’t know, The night light and nickname? You are aware of what Dove means right?”

Vox rolled onto his side, using the pillow as a gentle cushion for his screen. Normally looking right into a bright blue light wasn’t the best idea when you were trying to sleep. But the sight of that gentle smile on his face felt like it was going to lead you to some nice dreams. “Of course I do. And you were intentionally staying up late so I’d come and see you. I think you’re secretly a romantic too, Vox.”

The familiar blue flush dazzled his screen, something even pulling the blanket over to try and hide it couldn’t help with. The way his face glowed made the proof even more apparent when he only tried to mask it in darkness. “Nonsense. I’m just a machine.”

The statement came out in a half-whisper. By the way, his eyes widened at that moment, you suspected he had not meant to be that honest. A scowl took the place of his smile, and he fell back onto his back to hide his face from you. You didn’t let him run. You pushed yourself up and sat beside him, staring down at the screen that tried its best to watch the wavering astral movements above.

“You’re not a machine, Dove. And I would know that more than anyone, save yourself. Machines aren’t lonely for one.”

“I’m not lonely...” Vox bitterly retorted.

You stretched your hands out for his screen. He leaned back into the pillow, setting his cyan irises on you immediately. With your fingertips only inches apart, you met those eyes without moving an inch more.

“Do you not want me to touch you?”

“What good is touching me there? I can’t even feel it, you know.”

“Because it always makes me happy when somebody simply touches me without expectation of sex. Makes me feel beautiful.”

A complicated expression flashed over the screen. Alternating between vulnerability, a scowl, the widened sclera, and at last acceptance. His hand laid over yours and guided it to brush and trace over the hard plastic that housed his screen. The cool hand lingered on top of your palm, guiding your hand up toward where his prongs stuck out on top of his head. Following his lead your fingertips brushed along the metal prongs, then circled the receivers on the top.

“Maybe… I’m a little lonely.” He begrudgingly confessed.

Something cold suddenly brushed against your cheek, intense thanks to the heat that made a home there. The back of Vox’s claws brushed over your face, and you leaned into it. His palm filled the swell of your cheek, the harsh points nestled into the hair to cushion their prick. The thumb stretched out to tap your bottom lip, tracing the shape.

Slowly the two dark silhouettes you both cast on the wall came together melting into one. Vox guided you forward as his own body bent forward to meet you halfway. Shortly after you closed your eyes, the gentle sensation of his lips finally met yours. The edged fingers slid along the nape of your neck, sending chills down your spine while he held you. Entangling his fingers within your hair to hold you in place. Chaste and sweet, it was only a light brushing as he whispered to you.

“Your right doc… this is nice. I want to touch you more, may I?” Each little new syllable brought that ticklish feeling back, tingling with the natural static on his face. You sealed your lips against him, drinking deep from what he’d been teasing you with all this time.

“As long as the clothes stay on Dove.”

“Of course. This is nice… I don’t want it to end.” The confession came with the feel of his palm now brushing over your shoulder. Tracing down your arm until his fingers circled the wrist that had kept you supported all this time. He tugged you forward until your body fell on top of his. It was harder than the average man’s body and less cushy. The heat of your body was sapped even through the two layers of clothing, but it only gave him an excuse to wrap that blanket around the two of you.

You righted yourself until you laid flat across his body, with his arms coming around to circle your back. You buried your head into his chest, taking in his scent, wrapping your arms around his torso as you surrendered to his touch. The pointed end of one claw ran up and down your back, sending shivers down your body each time it came to meet the nape of your neck. It wasn’t a sexually thrilling sensation, but it was pleasant enough to eke out a moan. Instead of excitement, the man underneath you chuckled. Vox ran his claws through your hair instead, scratching your scalp.

“Why don’t you like to be called Darling?” You dared the question, feeling closer than ever now that the two of you were touching. The sound of his artificial heart beating against his chest and into your ear felt nothing like the machine he purported himself as. Nor was the careful way he touched you. You could feel its absence far more when his hands froze. You dared to look up, and you could see the heartbreak reflected in his eyes alone.

“It reminds me of somebody else, a man I’d rather not think of when I’m with you Doc.”

“I’d never want you to look like that when you think of me… so I will endeavor to be nothing like him, Dove.”

Vox smiled, curling a claw around a lock of your hair to brush out of your face. “And even if you are broken, I will make you feel whole one day Doc.”

Now that was unfair. How dare the vulnerability you share with him be used against you! You fought back the emotions that welled up, the brush of his hands bringing you back down against his chest made you feel like it’d be alright.

“We should get some sleep. But I want to keep holding you if that’s O.K.”

You leaned forward, kissing him goodnight. Vox kept you there for a moment longer, squeezing your shoulder. The other hand pressed against the arch of your back to press your body against his. Each little brush of those lips against yours felt addicting. Making you want to keep diving in back for more. Sometimes it was crooked, other times he’d steal your breath and keep you there. It was only the need for air that forced you two to part. A flushed face stared back at you with the beautiful nebula of freckles returned in full force.

You didn’t want to part, much as the sirens call for sleep called for you. You pressed your fingertips against his screen right beneath his eyes. Tracing each little freckle to make constellations with them. Vox closed his eyes, accepting your touch this time. The gentle wavering of his cyan irises watching you stole your breath. If only you could stay up all night and kiss each little star on his face.

But all good things had to come to an end. Vox pressed against your shoulders to force you to lie down. His own body came hovering over yours for a brief few beautiful moments, the starry sky above him framing behind him.

“You’re blushing so hard right now, Doc.”

A squeak escaped you, pressing a hand against your now hot cheeks. Gentle laughter broke out from the man above.

“You’re so cute… I can’t wait to see how red you get when I bed you for real.” The whisper of that promise came with a claw tracing along your jawline.

“When…? You sound so certain.” The blood rushing to your head made it hard to come up with a snappier comeback than that.

“Because I have already decided. I intend to win you over with everything I have. Goodnight, Doc.”

He fell back back onto the bed, lying on his side. Immediately wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer until your back was held flush against his front. Vox locked you tight so you couldn’t escape, the warm screen pressed into the back of your head.

“Goodnight Vox...”

Cursed with those beautiful thoughts Vox put in your head, your cheeks burned. The bittersweet pain in your heart gave you such contentment you were quickly pulled down past the point of no return. The gentle whir of Vox’s white noise banished the chaos of hell, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

[sweetshuga]

Heather ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!matt! Will you let him comfort you?

wc. 775

note. English is not my first language! Part 1 3 Bonus

Your heart ached painfully as more tears fell down your face, but what could he possibly do when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to open it—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key twisting in the bathroom door lock.

You gasped out loud when the door opened, revealing Matt, his expression unreadable as he took in your surprised expression and red eyes. He suddenly took a step closer, opening the door wider, and you looked up at him, not knowing if you should keep sitting or get up.

"Hey... are you alright?" He crouched down, kneeling in front of you. You sighed softly and hugged your knees a tad bit tighter, "I’m fine, just... I don’t know why I cried like that," you lied through your teeth, you knew exactly why you cried.

He could sense your lie and a heavy sigh left his lips. Thinking that he was getting mad at you, you looked down at your knees, tears burning your eyes once again. He noticed the droplets of tears splattering on your bare knees and his expression softened.

"Look at me, pretty," he whispered, gently tilting your chin. You reluctantly looked up, your eyes glassy with unshed tears, and fresh streaks of tears coating the dried ones on your cheeks. He would be lying if he said that the sight didn’t break his heart.

Matt’s touch was gentle as he coaxed you into a hug. The feeling of his arms wrapping around you comfortingly bordered on too much in your distressed state. You couldn’t help the soft sobs from escaping through your lips, coming out more choked and muffled as he hugged you tighter, letting you cry in his chest.

𓆩♡𓆪

After a few good minutes of crying, you finally calmed down, sniffling as you stayed still in his embrace. He pulled away slightly, wiping the few tears that escaped your eyes, "feel better?" You nodded, sighing as you wiped the rest of your tears from your face with your hoodie cuffs.

You felt a rush of embarrassment as the reality of the situation sank in. You had just cried like a baby in front of the guy you liked and he went out of his way to comfort you. You cleared your throat as you slowly stood up and Matt followed your movement, standing up beside you.

He reached for you arm, but hesitated, letting it still in the air before slowly dropping his hand, looking away. You were too in your own thoughts to notice the conflicted expression on his face, the inner turmoil he dealt with.

"Say..." You snapped out of your thoughts when he spoke, looking at him with confusion, only now noticing his expression. "Why did you cry?" You blinked, trying to come up with an excuse and just as you were opening your mouth – about to make a lame excuse – he spoke again.

"Was it because I was talking about, you know... her? " You froze, unable to deny it or admit to it. "I might be way off with this, but it’s been bothering me for a while," you could feel your heart sinking, the anticipation of what he was gonna say next making you sick.

He looked almost sheepish as he continued, "do you perhaps... like me?" You could hear the slight edge in his tone and it made you feel nervous, to say the least. What if he reacts badly if you admit to it?

"You don’t, right? I mean, we’re friends and you know I see you as basically my younger sister, right?" His words cut deep, deeper than they should've and all you could do was smile slightly and nod.

"You’re far off from my type, has anyone told you that you can be a bit of a narcissist?" You joked, trying to lighten up the mood, "also, for your information, I like blondies with brown eyes," you lied, nudging him slightly.

Matt couldn’t help a chuckle as he shook his head, "alright, alright, you don’t have to bruise my ego like that," he bantered back, noticing your attempt to lighten the mood.

Chris groggily stumbled out of his room and halted in his step when he saw you two standing in the bathroom doorway, "can you guys like not stand there? I have to piss really badly." You laughed and exited the bathroom, eliciting a small glare from Chris before he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself.

𓆩♡𓆪

The rest of the day went on as planned, but the rejection hung heavily in your heart. The storming emotions swirling inside you matching the thunderstorm outside.

𓆩♡𓆪

isa's notes. I feel like I time skip a lot 💤

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx @sturniolo-fann @goingtojohnkramershouse @sturniolosluttt @chrislilcumslvt @mattsninja @bilssturns @sturnioloszn @slvtf0rchr1s

Special taglist: @mattsredgaphoodie @blahblahblahm @sturniolosobsessed @emmaweasley @brookheartsmatt @lvrsturniolo

© sweetshuga

[reynardwrites]

originally written after ep 2

this post holds up shockingly well, especially in the context of the conversation Oz and Sofia have in their final car ride.

Sofia didn't see him. She didn't see his ambition, she didn't see his resentment, she didn't see his desperation. To crib some terminology from @maxwell-grant in the ep 7 breakdown, in her mind she was a victim who knew what it was like to have a boot on her neck and he was a victimizer who didn't. Maybe there was a moment she could have learned that in ep 3, but after Oz's immediate betrayal, I think everything he said in that scene got filed away in her head as self serving bullshit.

Which it was, to be clear.

But that doesn't mean it wasn't true.

This whole show, Sofia has been pretty blind to her own privilege, and so she thought of herself as the only one who was so hurt and desperate that she would resort to extreme measures to get out from under someone's thumb. But what Oz convinces the deputies to do, to kill their own bosses... that's literally the move Sofia makes, gassing the family so she becomes boss by elimination.

She didn't see it. Not because she doesn't know what it's like to be downtrodden, but because it didn't occur to her that other people might feel the same way, and about her.

She does now, I think. Whether she is able to internalize it, whether she will act on it, whether there's even a chance for her to change, god knows, I guess we'll find out in Batman 2 or a Catwoman miniseries or whenever we next see Sofia (fingers crossed it's sooner rather than later)

Oz, though... Oz didn't really get her, early in the show. And strangely, I don't think he gets her now, even at the end. "You think I don't understand that," she asks, and, yeah. It seems so. Oz knows how to hurt her in the worst way possible. But I don't know that he really grasps what makes her tick.

When I first watched the finale, this felt like kind of a weird choice. These two have spent the whole show as rivals and foils and it just felt wrong to have this final scene between them where they just talk and have it end with Oz just. Still not getting her.

I think I've come around to it now. I've mentioned before I see Sofia and Oz as being really twinned characters, each having in abundance what the other lacks, and through that lens, this feels really fitting.

By the time she steps out of that car, Sofia understands Oz because she understands herself, sees the way that he has felt how she has felt, how he stoked that same pain in others and made it into his strength.

And Oz doesn't understand Sofia, because he doesn't understand himself. He can't. Oz is so deep in layers and layers and layers of denial and self delusion, he has to walk away from any possibility of really seeing Sofia because if he understood her, he would have to understand the truth about himself.

If Oz were to acknowledge Sofia as someone who was in pain, who was hurt, who was victimized, he would also have to admit to himself that he hurt her, and doesn't give a shit. That there is no real justification in all the justified evil he commits, that he's not a man of the people, he's just a man out for himself.

I find something weirdly satisfying about that, personally. Oz is the most talented bullshitter in Gotham, so much so that even he buys into the shit he spews—it feels right that it is Sofia, whose core and weapon has always been truth and honesty and self awareness, who sees through his bullshit so clearly that he cannot even look at her without his sense of self being challenged.

absolutely obsessed with sofia and oz both seriously underestimating each other, and specifically buying into the public opinion everyone has of them.

like nadia, sofia thinks of oswald as an innate follower, a dog looking for a strong leader who will rise to the top and bring him up along. Even seeing through his manipulations after the maroni raid, she thinks he's trying to ride her coattails, and it doesn't occur to her that he might be so greedy as to want to take everything for himself.

and like the other falcones, oswald doesn't seem to see sofia as anything other than a loose canon he can point and shoot. he's so focused on finding which buttons of hers to press he doesn't even seem to realize he's exposing himself and his methods to her. He's a short con grifter, and sofia is exactly the kind of perceptive that can pull his bullshit apart piece by piece as time goes on.

ngl i am so keen to see how this relationship develops uaghghghgh i want it to be next week already.

[starsjulia]

shadows of strength // leah williamson x putellas!reader

a/n : i saw a tiktok saying “trying to explain clinical depression to someone who has only ever been sad over boys” and thats what this is loosely based of

warnings : clinical depression, brief mentions of self harm, all in all very angsty

The soft hum of rain pattered against the window as Leah sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes darting between her phone and the door. The clock ticked steadily, each second louder than the last, thudding in her chest like a drumbeat of dread. She’d been in this room with you so many times, watching movies, sharing quiet conversations, or just basking in the warm silence. But tonight, the air was cold and suffocating, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name.

“babe?” Leah called out, voice straining to sound steady. It cracked under the weight of the silence that followed.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers gripping each other so tightly they turned white.

The seconds bled into minutes. Finally, the bathroom door creaked open. You emerged slowly, eyes downcast, your sleeves pushed up ever so slightly and just enough for Leah to see the fresh, angry red lines etched into your skin. Leah’s breath caught in her throat, her vision blurring for a moment as the realization sunk in.

“Y/N,” she whispered, reaching out, her fingers trembling. You flinched, stepping back instinctively, your eyes darting away, the flush of shame painting your cheeks. It was as if the distance between you grew impossibly wide, despite standing only feet apart.

Leah’s mind raced, panic surging through her veins like ice. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen you hurting, but this... this felt different. More desperate. More final. She had never felt so helpless, so terrified. Her fingers fumbled for her phone, and before she could second-guess herself, she dialed the one number she knew could make a difference.

“Hello?” Alexia’s voice was sharp, guarded. Even through the phone, Leah could sense the tension that came with their strained relationship. The two of them had never been close; Alexia was fiercely protective, wary of Leah’s intentions and the age gap between you. But none of that mattered now.

“Alexia, it’s—it’s Leah. I’m sorry, but I need you to come. Now,” Leah stammered, her voice cracking under the weight of fear. The silence on the other end stretched for what felt like an eternity.

“Is she—” Alexia’s tone shifted, her voice tight with barely restrained panic.

“I don’t know,” Leah admitted, tears slipping down her cheeks. “But I’m scared.”

The line went dead, and Leah sat there, the phone slipping from her grasp as she turned her gaze back to you. You were sitting on the edge of the couch now, arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold the pieces of your mind together.

---

Alexia arrived in record time, storming into the flat with the fierce determination of someone who had fought this war before. She’d seen the darkness that clung to you, the way it would consume you until there was almost nothing left. The sight of you now, pale and shaking, made her heart seize. She dropped to her knees in front of you, pulling you into her arms without hesitation.

“Hermana pequeña, I’m here,” she whispered, her voice breaking, fingers brushing your hair back from your face. You crumbled into her, sobs tearing from your chest as the walls you’d so carefully built shattered.

Leah stood back, arms wrapped tightly around herself, watching the scene with a gnawing sense of inadequacy. She felt like an outsider, powerless to help the person she loved most. The guilt was suffocating.

“I can’t do this,” you mumbled into Alexia’s shoulder, voice raw and broken. “It’s too much.”

Alexia’s face tightened, a flash of fear crossing her features before she buried it under a mask of strength. “I know, mi amor. I know how dark it gets. But you are not alone, do you hear me? We’re going to get through this.”

Leah’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She stepped forward, finally finding her voice. “Y/N, I want to help. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked up at her, eyes rimmed with red, haunted and hollow. The pain there was deeper than anything Leah had ever known. It was more than sadness; it was a void, an emptiness that threatened to pull you under.

Alexia’s gaze softened as she looked at Leah. The rivalry, the unspoken judgment—none of it mattered in this moment.

“Leah,” she said, voice weary but kind. “Sit with us.”

Leah hesitated, then moved to sit beside you. The room was silent except for the steady drumming of rain against the window.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Leah admitted, eyes glistening. “I don’t understand this. I’ve never... I don’t know how it feels.”

Alexia’s eyes met Leah’s, and for the first time, there was no resentment, only understanding. “Clinical depression isn’t just sadness. It’s not something you can shake off or fix with kind words. It’s an illness, relentless and consuming. It turns every thought against you, makes you feel like there’s no way out.”

Leah swallowed hard, the weight of Alexia’s words pressing down on her. She looked at you, your body curled into itself, eyes squeezed shut as if warding off the storm inside.

“But there is a way out, right?” Leah’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with desperation.

Alexia’s expression softened. “There is, but it’s a fight. Some days, just getting out of bed is a victory. Other days, it feels impossible. What she needs isn’t for you to fix her; she needs you to be here, to hold on when she can’t.”

Leah reached for your hand, her touch gentle but firm. “I’m here,” she repeated, more sure of herself this time. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

The rain continued to drum against the window, a steady reminder of the storm outside. But inside, surrounded by the fragile bond of love and understanding, a small spark of hope began to flicker.

[starcraftt]

i was finally home. to stay ── .✦

AUTHOR'S NOTE : i'm obsessed and that's okay. REASONING : i got bored nd had cooked up some ponyboy headcanons so jst decided to make all of them some. ^^ <3 WARNINGS : none of these are probably accurate i dunno man it's late?? like,, really late and i have school tomorrow i'm sorry. :( </3 ( no actual warnings that i could think of !! )

RANDOM OUTSIDERS HEADCANONS !!

゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺ 

𝐏 𝐎 𝐍 𝐘 𝐁 𝐎 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Ponyboy wouldn't like puddles. I feel like he just doesn't like rain in general, so he can stay in and read, but I feel like if he had to go out, he would hate stepping in puddles or passing through them. ( iykyk and i'm crying lmao )

— PONYBOY CAN DRAW AND I FEEL LIKE WE ALL FORGET THAT SO, i feel like you could find him drawing what he imagines book characters to look like, or objects in the books??

— Ponyboy is a perfectionist but only on some things.

— OML Soda has totally walked into their room to find Ponyboy c r y i n g on his bed, and after Pony calms down, Soda asked what he was crying about only to find out it was about a book.

"are you kidding me pony" "i'm sORRY"

— has a weird addiction to horror movies despite hating them and they give him nightmares i cant. they're his guilty pleasure because darry always says the cause of his nightmares were the horror movies he watched.

𝐒 𝐎 𝐃 𝐀 𝐏 𝐎 𝐏

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Sodapop actually isn't that bad at spelling, he just forgets a letter here and there. Like, he'll misspell 'missing' as 'mising', but the next time he writes 'missing' he'll spell it right. his mind is just too distracted and i feel that.

— SODA HAS TOTALLY TRIPPED IN FRONT OF A GIRL AND TRIED TO PLAY IT OFF SO CHILL.

"meant to do that" coughs

— Soda 100% tries his best to help Darry with the bills and such, hating to see his older brother weighed down with all the stress. Never thinks he could do what Darry does nd admires him lots.

— actually kinda enjoys being on the side of watching his friends mess around like?? Sodapop loves knowing that his friends all get along nd -- agjshshshjgshshs

— he supports it fully if/when the steve is the one attracting the girls one day, never the jealous one.

— LEGIT THE BEST WINGMAN.

"hey, what's up?"

(probably evie or smth) "oh, hey." her friends around her giggling at sodapop because he's cute. <3

"so, you see that guy over there?" gestures wildly over at steve. "yeah he kinda needs someone to dance with." casually leans against the wall like he's flirting with her as he winks subtly.

𝐃 𝐀 𝐑 𝐑 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Darry would totally be one of those people who seem like they instantly know how to do everything but I feel when he used to have free time he'd jst randomly learn random things.

"darry you know how to juggle??"

"yes."

"darry you know how to cartwheel?"

"yes."

"darry you know how to read??"

"pony --"

— hates supernatural things, ghosts actually scare the shit out of him im not kidding.

— but when he watches horror movies he's just sitting there blankly while pony is trying to not scream at his side. and when they walk out and ponyboy's jst all shaking nd stuff darry's just like: "broski you okay?"

— loves organization for no reason, it doesn't help him have a clear mind or anything he just . . . goes into pony and soda's room . . . . . and organizes,,,

𝐓 𝐖 𝐎 - 𝐁 𝐈 𝐓

|| 𝐌 𝐀 𝐓 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐖 𝐒

— Two-Bit ( doesn't get enough love ) probably had a childhood crush on Minnie Mouse.

tries not to admit it or is boldly proud of it. depends on who he's talking to.

— Two-Bit doesn't cry over real life things, but he would totally sob over a Mickey Mouse episode or something.

— Legit the smartest ever but doesn't attempt at school and this is why he was held back.

— TOTALLY USED TO HAVE A STUTTER WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER.

— you could NOT understand this boy it was that bad.

until his mom made him start reading to her aloud and it got better. 👍

— actually has once almost passed out from wheezing laughing too hard.

— drama queen and we love him.

𝐉 𝐎 𝐇 𝐍 𝐍 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐀 𝐃 𝐄

— Rip Johnny Cade, you would've loved child protective services.

— Johnny probably has tried his hand at creative writing nd he totally enjoyed it. Hates writing essays nd shit though.

— PLS PONYBOY WHEN HE HEARD JOHNNY WRITES A BIT FORCED HIM TO SHARE SO NOW THE TWO HAVE TIMES WHERE THEY BOTH SHARE RECENT WRITINGS AJGHHSJ ponyboy fr johnny's hype man because he knows how hard writers are on themselves (most of the time) </3

"i wrote this one yesterday idk man i don't like it"

"what the fuck johnny this is amazing??"

— johnny has and forever will create characters based on people from the gang. just someone from the gang casually inspired a part of the character. he didn't use to be so subtle about it though.

scribbled down character sheet with jst the basics - 'james thomas: funny guy and the only thing that comes out of his mouth are jokes'

"johnny is this two-bit"

"no."

— leGIT, he once saw someone at school doing a sick secret handshake and convinced ponyboy to make one up with him.

— he probably once didn't like dallas because ponyboy admitted randomly how he didn't like dally and johnny just kinda went with that.

𝐃 𝐀 𝐋 𝐋 𝐀 𝐒

|| 𝐖 𝐈 𝐍 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐍

— Dallas Winston cries at seeing spiders and you cannot change my mind with this. When he's around someone though he tries to play it off so cool though.

— he gets cuddly when he's drunk and johnny is most normally the prime target for hugs.

— says he hates kids but also hates seeing kids cry and will probably try and do something to make them feel better so they'll just stop crying.

— used to have a lisp on the word 'world'.

— genuinely loves any affection but is not willing to give it himself.

𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄

|| 𝐑 𝐀 𝐍 𝐃 𝐋 𝐄

— Steve,,, i feel like he doesn't actually enjoy Mickey Mouse, he just watches it when it's on because it's something to watch and he knows if he admits it, Two-Bit would hit him and then cry.

— literally can sing the greatest ever but you never catch him doing it. not even soda knows so you know it's secret.

— cannot focus at work when it's just soda and him, all giggling and messing around until a customer walks in and bro just shuts up as quickly as he can without making himself laugh again.

— steve totally used to legit bully the fuck out of ponyboy when pony was like, five. he's toned it down. it's not that physical anymore.

— steve, and i cannot stress this enough, is such a fucking simp i cant.

— the best best friend. i feel like he'd try and act all 'tuff' and stuff, 'forget' what soda or one of the curtis gang mentioned wanting before getting that exact thing for them on a gift-giving holiday. he saved up so he could get them that. :(

[carnallysm]

Sinful Kiss.

Beware of overall dark content such as mentions of: murder, etc. This work is +18, as it also contains smut, read at your own discretion!

— Summary: "Meeting Jennifer Jareau was the most significant event that ever happened in your otherwise monotone life.

There was simply something that inevitably drew you to her; perhaps it was her pale skin that made her ocean blue eyes further distinguished, or perhaps the spark of red in them you saw from time to time. She felt you with faint dread and a strange sense of excitement.

You were too bold to be by her side despite the rumors. Or just too stupid, you told yourself sometimes.

But her kisses were too sweet to deny."

"I cannot believe your impudence," Your mother scolded again and again while running around the room in a seemingly state of crisis. "Your idiocy!"

It was clear she hasn't taken well the notice of your secret, late escapes with Jennifer. And although it was annoying to keep hearing of it, could you blame her?

Jennifer Jareau has a mysterious aura around her. Everyone you asked about her, they would tell just how sweet she was. And oh, she definitely was, you could tell from first hand.

You met her at a party — one of the most boring ones you've attended, hosted by the newlyweds in town. Everyone had been invited and yet, no one there felt human. Like someone you could connect with.

That was until your gaze crossed with JJ's, and right away you were drawn to her. It was her who approached you first, however.

And you've been seeing each other since.

However, her diplomacy was as mysterious as the business she supposedly ran with her team. They were well-known from helping solving crimes, for how well they did their job, and how united they seemed to be.

"Mother—" Before you could even begin your actual sentence, she made you hush with a loud hiss, unable of letting you explain.

Not that you were going to truthfully admit to her what was your relationship with Jennifer, anyway.

"It's an order," With a vein showing on her neck due to how upset she was, your mother took a few steps towards you, her voice laced in almost pure despair for you to obey. "You're grounded, young lady. You'll not be attending the party tonight."

You were, in all honesty, already expecting that. But not protesting would seem weird, so you did protest for quite a while until your mother was a upset and fuming mess.

You weren't planning to stay at the party for long — you had other plans in mind.

࿏

Once night arrived, it was time for Jennifer to make her appearance as well.

With your mother gone for the party, you were free to go out on your own to your usual meeting spot with JJ.

It was far away, secluded from the town in a small space of an old park just before the entry to the woods. Getting there always took you a good half of an hour, but it was always worth it, even when your dresses some times got thorned at your legs length due to having to go through a couple of unkempt shrubberies and trees.

When you finally made your way there, you sat in the only more or less clean bench you could find at the park.

But it was getting late. Way too late, and you were beginning to think JJ wasn't going to show up this night. That something may have happened to her... As unlikely as that seemed. You knew she was able to handle herself.

Tired of staying still and doing nothing but wait, you stood up from the bench, about to go back home. That was until when some steps in, you tripped with a small rock on the ground.

It was all too fast.

In a second, you felt your feet leaving the ground as you began to fell down, and in just the next second, before you could impact, the sensation of a cold body next to yours showed up — someone holding your waist and pulling you up effortlessly, and when a low chuckle left from them, the surprise turned into dread and joy all at once.

"You should be more careful, beautiful lady," There it was, her usual speech manners as she helped you properly get back to stand in one piece. "Good thing I'm always watching you."

"I almost thought you weren't coming, JJ." Her last sentence sent a small shiver down my spine of mixed feelings as it was common by now.

She could feel my heartbeat increasing, I was sure, although Jennifer laughed lightly nonetheless once again, while moving her icy hands slowly across my hips towards my hands — JJ was now holding them with a tenderness proper of a gentleman, before reaching my left hand up and planting a soft kiss to my knuckles.

"You'll have to do more than that for me to forgive your tardiness," Despite those words coming from my mouth in a firm manner, my insides were already warm at that simple action from JJ.

"Of course, and I will," Jennifer didn't retort or complain in the slightest, instead locked her fingers with mine and, with a widening smile, pulled me closer to her. "Follow me, my lady."

And follow her you did, even with uncertainty flooding in you when she walked towards the woods.

You were really an idiot, you scolded yourself internally, but never ceased your walk behind JJ or pulled away from her.

࿏

When you reached the destination JJ had in mind, you were in front of a large castle that maintained a eerie surrounding, as if it was kept in its own functioning time different from the human one.

The roses around were all alive and well, some still covered in the snow from the previous nights, and from outside you could see how clean it was from in and out thanks to the wide windows.

You tried to ask about it, about who lived there, where this exactly was, but all questions died in your mouth when you entered the doors of the castle next to JJ, and the smell of blood and death immediately hit your senses, almost enough to make your head dizzy.

"It's fine, dear," JJ assured with her typical soft smile, that now was more and more suspicious given the dimly lit space and the strange situation. "Everyone feels the same once they get here. I did, too."

What that meant, you weren't sure. In fact, you had no idea, and so lost in your thoughts you were that you didn't realize after a few seconds that JJ started walking upstairs with you following close to her, almost as if she was dragging you along without the need of nothing but her will.

You came to find a more illuminated bedroom, and in there, you instantly felt JJ's lips on yours after days of being absent of her.

Your senses had already got used to the never-ending smell of blood in the air, and your head got now dizzy from Jennifer's kiss and gentle cup on your face — just before her hands made their way to your neck, applying the smallest of pressure in there.

"Tell me," The moment she broke the kiss, it left you panting slightly, feeling the sinfulness of it all only making you more excited. "Wouldn't you like to stay with me forever?"

It wasn't a confession; you had that long ago. It was a pleading for eternity by her side. To sacrifice whatever was still human of you to stay with her.

And would you? Of course you would.

Because Jennifer Jareau was the only person who ever understood how hard everything is for you. How life was way too difficult for what it was. Therefore, life as a creature of the night with her would always be your choice.

Now, and until the end, if that could ever come. You hoped, for the first time, that death couldn't reach you once converted so you could spend the rest of your days with Jennifer. Before her, you used to think how life had no meaning. How you were better off dead.

You were right. Better off dead and with the one and only who understands you, than alive and surrounded by fake faces and hidden rumors about everything.

So when you nodded, only a brief moment passed before you felt JJ's fangs piercing deep in your throat, your blood dripping down as she drank from it.

You felt death now more closely than even when you first put a foot inside the castle: energy leaving your body as much as your blood did, your heartbeat beating rapidly for a mere couple of seconds before coming to a full stop, your organs contracting, and your brain more clear than ever.

You reached with some difficulty your hands up to hold onto JJ's shoulders, feeling her fangs still deep into your throat at the same time her hands traveled down under your dress, tantalizingly bordering the edge of your, to your surprise, already soaked underwear.

The feeling of her sharp fangs carving deep into my flesh was as painful as it was infinitely pleasurable; a sensation of intense delightful agony, like a blade just made its way to my deep inside neck and was slowly sinking more and more.

How Jennifer's fingers came to slide under your underwear, rubbing your slick together while reaching for your clit in suave motions, it contrasted with the deep pain of her teeth now going out of your throat, as she licked the remnants of blood in there.

You were already more than wet, and deep your way into a blissful orgasm when JJ pinched your clit, adding more pain to your dying body and waking mind.

Even as your orgasm took all over you, making you squirm in Jennifer's arms, your mind has never been more sure of anything before.

"You're mine," Jennifer whispered as your eyes closed, your consciousness now drifting away. "Don't worry. We'll be together forever once you wake up, my beautiful lady."

[princessbellecerise]

Court Shenanigans

Summary ✩ Missing their father, your children decide it’s a good idea to interrupt him in the middle of court

Warnings ✩ Mentions of pregnancy

Authors Notes ✩ Everyday I cry cause this man isn’t real but at least I have fanfic

You tried to stop them, you really did.

But being almost nine moons pregnant and having the most swollen feet known to man, it was almost impossible to chase after and keep up with two rowdy tots.

Usually, their nursemaids would have them by now and would be helping to assist you, but Aliza was sick and Joanna was with her family. Both of them would have scolded you for trying to run when you couldn’t even see your feet, but your kids were a mischievous bunch and you had a sinking feeling on where they were headed.

Aemma, the eldest of the two twins, had been complaining all day about not being able to see her father, as Jace had missed out on breakfast and lunch with her in order to hear a few extra petitions.

It seemed as if the Kingdom was more unruly than usual, and Lords had come from all over the realm to plead their cases.

Wanting to be a good King and make sure that he could adhere to all of his subjects, Jace had opted to spend a little extra time on the throne and a less with his family.

This of course didn’t sit well with Aemma, and as her shadow Jaelin followed right on along with her.

Try as you might have, you weren’t fast enough to catch up to them and your protests for them to stop didn’t do much good, either.

Before you could even blink, your twins were flying past the Kingsguard and bursting into the throne room, with little Aemma’s excited shouting making you want to crawl into a hole right there and then.

“Kepa!”

In no time your baby girl ran across the room, interrupting some poor Lord under a pink banner. You thought that he might’ve been from White Harbor, or maybe he was from Maidenpool.

Whatever it was, you didn’t pay much attention as suddenly, all chatter stopped, and you were the center of attention as you wobbled towards Jacaerys and fixed Aemma with a stern glare.

“Aemma! Come back here!” You shouted after her sternly, and thankfully Jaelin was too afraid of your ‘motherly voice’ to get any closer.

He stopped just short of the Iron Throne, choosing to remain by Ser Darklyn’s side rather than follow his sister up the steps. With horror, you realized that Aemma was headed straight to Jacaerys, exclaiming happily as she threw herself in her father’s open arms.

“Kepa!”

She bounced excitedly as Jace pulled her on his lap, looking amused while you struggled to catch your breath.

Running at your size was no joke, and you ached to sit down somewhere and rest. You couldn’t do that though while your two year old twins were causing mayhem.

It was unbefitting of a Queen, you knew that, but desperation had you hiking up your dress, climbing the the steps, and holding your arms out expectantly while Jace chuckled.

“Aemma. It’s time to say goodbye to Kepa and go back to our chambers. Now,” You told her, but that only resulted in the toddler shaking her head and burying herself even deeper into Jacaerys’ arms.

“No! I want to stay with Kepa!” Her defiant little voice shouted, and you winced as a few murmurs echoed through the court.

You were painfully aware that everybody was staring at the scene, which made it even more embarrassing when you reached out again and failed to grab Aemma.

After about the third attempt to pull her away with no avail, your husband seemed to finally take pity on you and sighed.

“It’s alright my love. She can stay,” Jacaerys said, and upon hearing this Aemma beamed. “It’ll be her seat one day after all. Let her gain some experience; even if it is during the middle of a petition.”

You gave him an apologetic look, and you made a mental note to apologize to Lord…well, whoever you were currently interrupting. You had to admit, the sight of Aemma babbling broken phrases to Jace while she tried to grab his crown was adorable.

You sighed reluctantly.

“Alright,” You said, willing to leave Aemma where she was. At the very least you could persuade Jaelin to follow you and take him away, but as you turned to go back down the stairs you suddenly paused.

Had there always been that many, you wondered?

You hadn’t really paid attention that much, but now that your feet were practically screaming at you to sit down, the idea of going down so many steps didn’t seem so appealing.

Of course, you could’ve just asked one of the Kingsguard to help you down, but you didn’t want to be a bother—as silly as it sounded. You also didn’t want to risk your knees giving out and falling, either.

You were in a dilemma, but before you could even decide, Jace did it for you. Your husband, ever attentive, noticed your hesitation and immediately got up.

“Here, my love. Why don’t you rest and I’ll stand for now,” He suggested.

Even more whispers broke out at this. What Jacaerys was proposing was sweet, but it had never happened before and the idea of the Queen sitting on the throne in the presence of the King was…well it was simply unheard of.

You were sure a few people would call the action scandalous, but at the moment though, you didn’t really care what they thought. Your feet were aching and you needed a place to sit down before your knees decided where for you, so you nodded and accepted his offer.

“Thank you, my love.”

You sighed in relief as you sat on the throne. Albeit, it wasn’t the most comfortable of seats with all the swords and points, and you would’ve much rather been in your cushioned chair in your chambers, but it was better than nothing and the pressure on your feet was gone.

Nodding his head, Jacaerys gave you a small kiss on the side of your head and then he stood with Aemma in his arms, and gestured for Lord whoever to keep speaking.

Had you not been out of breath, you would have laughed at his face and the face of many others as they not only witnessed their King give the most powerful seat in the realm to his pregnant wife, but also witnessed him stand up while bouncing his baby daughter in his arms.

It was an unusual sight, but an adorable one that you cherished.

Motioning to Ser Darklyn to bring Jaelin up so that your family would complete, you smiled in content and Jacaerys once again motioned for the man who had been interrupted to continue his petition.

“Lord Mooton. Please, do continue,” He said with a large smile.

You giggled.

Ah, so that was his name.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 2

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

After weeks of all-nighters and cramming for finals, sleeping in on your first morning at the beach house felt incredible. It was only 9:30 when you finally stirred in the comfy bed, but it felt late in the day.

Coming down the stairs in your pjs and slippers, you smiled at the sound of your sister’s voice, joking around with her old friends. Your goal this trip was for her to have a good time, and despite the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Rafe yesterday, at this moment, you were glad you decided to stay. You entered the room to see half the house was awake, though neither Rafe or Tom had made an appearance yet.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s Kerri Walsh Jennings!” Topper deepened his voice like a sports announcer when you entered the kitchen. The few people who were up all turned to you, playfully bowing and applauding like you were a true Olympian. You grinned and rolled your eyes, surprised at how comfortable you felt with the unprecedented attention.

Topper was at the stove flipping pancakes for everyone’s breakfast, wearing an apron that said “kiss the cook.” As you approached the kitchen island to grab a stool next to your sister, he leaned over, holding the spatula like a microphone.

“So tell us, Kerri, now that you’ve won the gold what will you do next?”

“Well, Top,” you played along. “First, I’m going to get some coffee…then I’m going straight to Disneyland!”

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, making the tips of your ears turn red. No one ever laughed at your jokes in high school, not that you were confident enough to make many. Rafe would tell you sometimes that you were funny, so long as no one was around to hear him admit it.

“Well I can help you with the first part,” Topper said, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.

“Wow, so domestic of you, Topper,” you teased as he poured your steaming coffee in front of you.

“He’s our house mother,” Carter said, smiling wide at Topper who did a jokey little curtsy motion. Clearly this was a running joke between them.

Topper handed you a plate of pancakes, which Kelce promptly reached over your shoulder to steal. 

“Since when are you such an athlete?” Kelce asked, his mouth already full with your breakfast.

You told them all about your team at school, surprised out of your mind that everyone was actually listening intently.

Rafe woke up groggy and sore, ducking his head as he walked through the basement and made his way up the rickety steps. As he reached for the handle of the door which opened into the kitchen, he smiled at the sound of your voice on the other side. His smile quickly faded when he heard Kelce interrupt you with, “Yeah and you kicked Rafe’s ass, too, made him your bitch.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

Every head in the kitchen whipped towards the sound of Rafe’s voice as he emerged, except for yours. You shuffled slightly on your stool and sipped your coffee. Rafe didn’t miss the way you were ignoring him, his eyes grazing quickly over the smoothe skin of your shoulders before redirecting to anything he could find. 

“Cute apron, Top,” he landed on.

“Thanks man,” Topper said, ignoring his mocking tone. “Want some flapjacks?”

“Ew, who calls them flapjacks?” Carter burst out laughing. 

“Well now you don’t get any,” Topper scolded, pulling her plate away from her and handing it to Rafe.

“I don’t want ‘em if Carter’s put her mouth near them,” Rafe mocked. “We don’t know where she’s been.”

“Says the guy who licked the gym floor in seventh grade,” you said quietly.

The entire room came to a halt, everyone surprised at the sound of you joining in on the teasing. No one had actually heard you address Rafe yet. The awkwardness hung in the air, all eyes going wide as they waited to see if the notorious hothead was going to be able to take what he was dishing out. You just picked at your pancakes with your fork and hoped everyone would move on, but Rafe smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“That was on a dare,” he defended himself.

When you finally looked up at him, your stomach twisted into a knot as you noticed how cute he looked in his white undershirt and grey sweats, messy bedhead and sleepy eyes. You immediately regretted acknowledging that you remembered something he did so long ago. Now, he was looking at you with something like excitement, smug that you were talking to him, like your big triumph the day before had never happened. 

“Oh, I didn’t remember that part.” It was a lie, you remembered everything he ever said or did.

Rafe’s face dropped at your impassive tone, his brief window of hope that all was forgiven slammed shut.

To your great relief, Tom chose that moment to enter the room, drawing the attention away from you and Rafe. He had apparently been out on a run, and his under armor shirt, wet with sweat, clinged to his form to reveal a sculpted chest below.

“How we doin’ everyone?” His cheery voice boomed. He slapped Topper on the back before giving Kelce a frat bro handshake across the counter. “What do we have here?” He whistled appreciatively at the spread Topper had put out.

As Topper rattled on about the many flavors and shapes of pancakes he could offer, Tom looked over at you with a cheeky smile and mouthed “good morning!” You smiled back with a little wave, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he was singling you out. 

After the volleyball game last night, you’d all gone to a seafood restaurant on the water. Tom had chosen the seat next to you, and made extremely pleasant dinner company. He asked you all about yourself, about school and what you were planning for the future. He was a great listener, and you were so glad to have someone to chat normally with without the baggage of your childhood hanging over your head. You hoped the week would hold many more cozy conversations with him.

Unbeknownst to you, Carter was watching as you smiled at him in the kitchen, and so was Rafe. They had very different looks on their face as they realized at the same moment that something was happening between you and Tom.

After Topper and Kelce reclaimed Tom’s attention, talking over each other about their plans to go fishing later, Carter squeezed your elbow and motioned with a nod for you to follow her out onto the patio. 

“Ummm, okay, what was that?” Carter asked with arched eyebrows once you were settled on the patio couch next to her.

“Oh my god I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, do you think everyone will think it’s weird I remember something he did in seventh grade?” You asked worriedly.

Carter scrunched her brows in confusion for a minute before waving you off with her hand. “Oh, no not Rafe, he’s old news. I’m talking about your little moment with Tom!”

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, embarrassed that you were still lingering on Rafe when she clearly wasn’t. “I don’t know, he’s nice.”

“He’s fucking gorgeous is what he is,” she fanned herself theatrically.

“Are you into him?” Your stomach dropped at the thought that she might be interested. In your eyes, Carter always had first pick, and surely if Tom thought she was interested he’d choose her over you in a heartbeat.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m having too much fun messing with Topper.”

You laughed hard at that, “yeah, I noticed. Are you two back on again?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You think if I play my cards right I could get him to propose?”

“I think you could probably get him to do just about anything,” you chuckled.

“Okay, then it’s settled, I’ve got Topper and you,” she poked at your side and you swatted her hand away, “will make a move on Tom.”

“I don’t know about ‘make a move,” you took a long sip of your coffee, suddenly anxious.

Carter eyed you curiously, recognizing the insecurity she hoped you had left behind now that things were going so well. She didn’t understand how you still couldn’t see how amazing you are, but she was determined to prove it to you by the end of this trip.

Rafe did his best not to stare at you through the sliding door, but when he heard your melodic laugh float in through the screen, he couldn’t help the way his head snapped toward the sound, wishing desperately that it was him making you laugh like that. You used to laugh at all his jokes, and he’d taken it for granted. The sad thing was, he actually loved hanging out with you. You had a great sense of humor, and he always felt so comfortable when it was just you and him. He knows now he should’ve just called it what it was, been with you in public too. But he had so many eyes on him back then, and he was worried what people would think. Plus, he knew you’d stick by him even if he treated you like shit, and he took advantage of that. He kicked himself mentally, feeling like a Grade A chump while you sat there, looking beautiful in the ocean breeze, smiling through the window at some guy you’d met yesterday.

As he lost himself in his thoughts, Topper noticed him staring at you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“She looks good, huh?” He asked Rafe.

“What?” Rafe shook his head as if he could erase the thoughts that were plaguing him. “Who?”

“Oh, come on,” Topper nodded towards you and Carter on the deck.

“I dunno,” Rafe tried to play it off. “She looks the same I guess, a little different.”

“Bro,” Topper gave him an incredulous look. “She’s a fucking smokeshow. You’re into her, don’t even try and fool me.”

“If you're so into her, why don’t you go for her?” Rafe snapped at him.

Topper shook his head, “maybe because I’m not the one she was obsessed with for a decade.”

“She wasn’t obsessed with me,” Rafe protested. “We were friends.”

“Right,” Topper said sarcastically. “And I was a number one draft pick. Dude, she was in love with you, everyone knew it.”

Rafe leaned forward on the counter, propped on his elbows, looking down at his uneaten pancakes with a frown. His stomach twisted with guilt. Of course everyone knew, he knew it too. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use your adoration of him to his advantage from time to time. Okay, all the time. He couldn’t really blame you for still being mad at him, he was a dick. But he liked to think he’d grown some since then, not that you had any reason to give him a chance to prove it.

“I think she’s into your buddy, Dom, or whatever his name is,” Rafe grumbled.

“First of all,” Topper pointed the spatula at him, “you know his name is Tom. And second of all, I love the guy, but he’s got nothing on you. Give me one day, she’ll be back.”

“Don’t do anything weird, man,” Rafe warned, cringing at the thought of what kind of damage an unsupervised Topper could inflict.

“Don’t worry dude, I got it handled,” Topper assured him.

Rafe just chuckled and sipped his coffee, knowing this was a losing battle, “whatever you say, Top.”

The door slid open and you and Carter reentered the kitchen. Tom stood from his place at the little breakfast nook when you walked in, and you were relieved that he ended his conversation with Maddie and Sabrina so abruptly at the sight of you. He smiled down at you before heading into the kitchen to help Topper clean up. Rafe was noticeably not helping, sitting at the counter scrolling on his phone.

“No phones,” Carter said, swiping it from him. 

“Give it,” he held his large hand out to her, jaw ticking with annoyance.

“C’mon Rafe, don’t you want to live in the present?” She badgered.

He tried to grab it quickly, but she lifted it above her head, tossing it to Kelce on the other side of the counter, who tossed it to Topper, and the game of hot potato continued, much to Rafe’s chagrin.

“Y’all are children,” he scowled, sitting back on the stool in defeat.

“Who are you even texting? All your friends are here,” Carter jeered.

“I was looking up directions to the grocery store, seeing as there’s no fucking food in this house besides beer, and apparently pancake mix,” Rafe explained.

“No need,” Topper said. “Tom, Kelce and I are spending the day on the water and we’ll grab some stuff on the way back.”

Carter frowned at the thought of both of your boys being gone the whole day, leaving little to distract you from Rafe. This wouldn’t do.

“No, you can’t go out today, we're having a cookout!” She announced to the room.

“We are?” Kelce scratched his head.

“Yes, we are,” Carter nodded confidently, wrapping her arm around Topper’s waist, which you knew was all it would take to get him to agree. “And mom here is going to grill for us.”

“Oh am I?” Topper asked, eyebrows raised in amusement, not exactly protesting.

“Yes, so someone else will need to go get the food,” Carter continued. You knew her well enough to see that a whole plan was unfolding in her head. “Sissy, why don’t you go?”

“That’s…fine,” you agreed reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at her, trying to figure out her play. “I need someone to go with me though, we’ll need a lot of stuff.”

Carter and Topper smiled in sync, both thinking they’d just come up with the best idea anyone has ever had.

At the same moment that Carter blurted out, “Tom can go with you!” Topper loudly suggested, “Rafe can take you!”

Your lips forming a tight line, you gave them both an exasperated look. Their heads snapped toward each other, eyeing each other suspiciously. Rafe scratched the back of his neck, annoyed at Topper for butting in and hating himself for hoping you’d choose to go with him and not Tom.

Tom, meanwhile, was watching all four of you from the corner of the room, never more confused in his life.

“It’s cool,” he said hesitantly, the awkwardness palpable. “All three of us can go.”

“Fine, but I’m driving,” Rafe stood from his seat. “Can I have my phone back now please?”

He reached his hand to Kelce, who was the last to have it. Kelce panicked, wanting to keep the game going, and tossed it to you. You very nearly dropped it, letting it bounce between your hands but eventually securing it before it fell.

You just looked at it in your hands, then up to Rafe and Tom, searching for any way out of what was sure to be an uncomfortable outing without being rude. You came up with nothing.

“I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you handed Rafe his phone, making Kelce shake his head at you in disappointment.

The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound in the car for a solid five minutes. You sat in the front seat, Tom having opened your door for you, while Rafe drove. You suddenly couldn’t remember what people do with their hands when they’re not driving. Where the hell do you put your hands? Tom’s voice cut through your internal panic.

“So, uh Rafe, Top says you went to Chapel Hill?” He inquired, sitting forward in the backseat so his head appeared between you and Rafe,

“Still do,” Rafe said curtly.

You looked at Rafe for the first time since pulling out of the beach house driveway. You wanted to ask him why he hadn’t graduated on time, always more invested in his academics than he was, but you were trying to pretend you didn’t care.

“Nice, man,” Tom tried to keep the conversation going. “I applied there, it’s hard to get in.”

“I guess I just hit the books a little harder than you then,” Rafe shrugged.

A scoff escaped you before you had the chance to stifle it. Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“What was that?” Rafe looked sideways at you for a moment.

“Nothing,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, please share,” he prodded. You couldn’t believe he was copping an attitude with you.

“It’s just, I’m sure your last name had nothing to do with your acceptance,” you quipped.

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you smirked in satisfaction, pleased that you had gotten under his skin. Tom’s eyes flicked between the two of you, trying to decipher the vibe.

You were glad he didn’t try to attempt any further small talk. Once you got to the grocery store, you divided the shopping list three ways and split up to your designated aisles. You filled your cart as fast as you could, eager to get this shopping trip over with.

After checking everything off your list, you rounded the corner of the produce section toward the registers, your cart nearly crashing into Rafe’s. His entire shopping cart was filled with alcohol. You laughed at the sight. 

“What?” Rafe asked defensively.

“What are the rest of us gonna drink?” You smirked.

“Shut up,” he grinned. “It’s not all for me.”

“Okay but where is the stuff you were supposed to get?”

“It’s under there somewhere,” he mused.

“Sure,” you just shook your head with a smile and kept walking towards the register.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe rolled his cart to you and ran back down one of the aisles.

“No don’t worry about me, I got it,” you muttered to yourself bitterly.

You started pushing both carts but Rafe appeared quickly at your side again.

“Got it,” he breathed, adding one more thing to his cart.

It was a case of Redbull. You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, looking down into his cart. Redbull was his drink of choice in high school, you used to buy him one every day and bring it to him after practice, like a puppy fetching the morning paper. Rafe eyed you nervously, your soured expression leading him to believe you remembered just as well as he did. 

“Old habits die hard, huh?” You joked, trying to break the tense moment. 

“Yeah, can’t seem to kick that one,” he replied, relieved that you were the first to acknowledge it.

Tom caught up with you at check-out, his cart actually full of the things he was supposed to get. The three of you unloaded your goods to be rung up by a 16-year-old cashier who could not have been more annoyed that you had chosen his register.

Tom jumped in to help bag the groceries, chatting happily with the bag boy as he assisted. Rafe, however, stood there staring at his phone. 

After you finished emptying your cart, you watched Tom with a smile while he charmed the grocery store staff. Rafe looked up from his screen with a frown, stomach dropping when he saw that you were watching Tom with an affectionate smile.

“Is that everything?” The cashier asked hopefully.

You were about to say "yes" and also maybe "sorry" when Rafe cut you off.

“No wait, these too,” he reached toward the shelf and grabbed your favorite candy, looking at you expectantly as he handed it to the cashier.

“Your favorite,” he explained bashfully at the sight of your furrowed brows.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. “Just surprised you remember. Thanks.”

You looked at him for a moment longer than you should, your eyes lingering on each other’s as you shared another silent memory. You felt a twinge of nostalgia that you knew you shouldn’t.

While you and Rafe looked at each other, Tom pulled out his black card and entered it into the machine. Rafe noticed a moment too late and scrambled to pull his wallet from his pocket, fumbling for his credit card.

“Oh no, hey man, I was gonna get it,” Rafe finally pulled out the credit card he was looking for but Tom was already signing the screen with his finger.

“No worries dude,” Tom brushed him off politely. “You can get me back later this week.”

Rafe was the most competitive person you knew, and the richest, surely he wasn’t going to let another guy pay for everything and walk away. He opened his mouth like he was going to argue with Tom, but with a glance back at you he closed it again. Then he carried as many bags to the car as one person could possibly hold, mumbling something like "multiple trips are for pussies." 

Another fifteen minutes of painful silence might just make your head explode, you thought. The second you were back in the truck, the bed overflowing with groceries, you asked Rafe for the aux.

“What are you gonna play?” He sideyed you as he held it just out of reach. You leaned across the console to snatch it from his hands, and he felt pins and needles where your hand had brushed him. He wondered if you realized it was the first time you'd touched each other in four years.

The two of you had always fought over the aux, you’d eventually give in to his pouting and listened to his shitty house mixes and soundcloud rappers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off with a grin.

Four years ago, you would have been way too nervous to play what you truly wanted to listen to, afraid Rafe wouldn’t think it was cool enough. But now, you pressed play on your go-to playlist with gusto and beamed when your absolute favorite song started booming through his subwoofers. 

Rafe tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t stop them from dancing back over to you as you sang along happily to your music. You rolled the window down, letting the humid Florida air raise your hair in a wave around you. You giggled and tried to tame it, eventually giving up and letting it whip around your face.

There was something so light about you. Something joyful and at peace. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, trying to ground himself, jealous of your carefree spirit. Whatever intangible thing you had managed to capture in your years apart, he wanted it. And it hit him like a lightning bolt, a bittersweet truth he had fought for so many years - he wanted you.

One song rolled into the next, and Rafe searched for something to say to keep up the almost-friendly banter you had begun in the store, but before he could come up with anything, Tom sat forward suddenly.

“Oh hey I love this song!” Tom informed you.

“Me too!” You turned to smile at him, and Rafe listened enviously as you and Tom chatted about the many favorite artists you have in common the rest of the way home.

The house was quiet when you returned, everyone either taking their daily hangover nap or down lounging by the beach. Rafe’s hands turned white from once again carrying as many plastic bags as he could. You tried not to laugh, and tried not to notice the way his biceps bulged under his tight t-shirt, but you failed at both.

“Are you laughing at me again?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, placing the bags on the counter. “What is it this time?”

“Sorry, you’re just so helpful all of a sudden,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“Well bag boy over there wasn’t helping,” he nodded towards the patio, where Tom was taking a phone call.

“He said it’s a work call,” you defended him. “He just got a job in New York apparently, a Wall Street thing.

“Whatever,” Rafe mumbled. What he wanted to say was “since when are you two best friends?” but he had already been fairly gruff with you today and he was trying to refocus on his goal of getting you to like him again.

You and Rafe put the groceries away in silence for a while. You tried to find the right way to approach the question you were dying to ask, failing to convince yourself you didn't care about the answer.

“So,” you started nervously. “You didn’t graduate this year?”

Rafe’s shoulders tensed as he tried to make more room in the pantry.

“Nope,” he said shortly.

“Did you take some time off?”

He was torn between being glad that you were talking to him and mad that this was the topic you’d chosen to break the ice with.

“No, I-uh,” he cleared his throat. “I failed a couple classes my first year so I’m still a few credits behind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, leaning down to put the ribs for the cookout in the large freezer.

“It’s my own fault,” he shrugged. “I was an idiot back then.”

When you stood from the freezer to grab another rack of ribs, you were surprised to see Rafe standing close, his body looming as he looked down at you.

“I was an idiot before then, too,” he continued, voice low and uncertain.

Everything in your mind went fuzzy as the blood rushed to your face. This was the first time you could smell him, and it familiarity of his scent made you feel like you were being transported back in time. You fought the urge to inhale deeply, greedy for the rush of him filling your senses.

“Before then?” You blinked up at him.

Rafe struggled to find his next words. It took everything in you not to fill in the blanks for him, like you were back in high school slipping him the answers to a test he hadn’t studied for. But this time, you needed him to find the answers all on his own. You swallowed hard, leaving silence for the words he was searching for. 

Before he could find them, Topper and Carter came barreling into the kitchen, mid-argument as always. They stopped short when they saw the scene in front of them. Rafe stepped away from you so quickly you could feel a woosh of wind in his wake. It was eerily reminiscent of your teenage years, Rafe separating himself from you as soon as there was anyone around to see you together.

“Everything okay?” Carter asked tensely, noticing the way your shoulders had fallen.

“Fine,” Rafe said, tossing the rest of the plastic bags in the trash and heading down the stairs to his basement bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Damn, you two did good,” Topper said, admiring the cornucopia of food you’d brought back.

“You three,” Carter corrected. “Tom went too.”

She walked up next to you and lowered her voice, a sly smile on her face, “and how did it go with Tom?”

You didn’t match her playful mood, completely preoccupied thinking about the moment you and Rafe had just shared. Was he about to apologize to you? What would you have let him do if your sister and psuedo-brother-in-law had entered the room just a minute later?

“It was fine,” you said distractedly, closing the fridge and heading upstairs to your room.

Carter turned on her heel and looked at Topper with a frown, shocked to find him beaming back at her.

“What are you smiling for?” She snarled.

“Oh nothing, seems like my plan is working is all,” he grinned. “They were standing awfully close when we walked in.”

“Your plan?” She stepped closer to him, arms crossed. “What are you up to Thornton?”

“Just playing a little Cupid,” he smiled proudly.

“Okay well you can go ahead and put down the bow and arrow, because I’ve already got that covered,” she informed him.

“Really?” He asked in surprise. “I thought you hated Rafe.”

“Rafe? Ew, no, I’m talking about Tom, obviously,” she snapped.

“Your sister and Tom? Nahhh, do you not see how she and Rafe have been looking at each other? It’s so obvious,” he scoffed.

“You know what else is obvious? That Rafe’s still a dick and he doesn’t deserve her,” Carter argued.

“He’s actually grown up a lot,” Topper said, surprising Carter with the serious shift in his tone. “He’s been through some stuff, college hasn’t been easy for him. He could use a win.”

Carter considered this, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the years of bitterness she held for Rafe.

“Well, he had his chance. He had millions of chances with her and he fumbled every one,” she said.

“I know he did, but under it all he’s a good person. And I think good people deserve second chances,” Topper explained.

“Not when they hurt my sister,” she concluded. “I won’t allow it.”

Topper's eyes creased with his smile as he looked down at her, loving her steely look and pursed lips as she put her hands on her hips. 

“You’re still so bossy,” he smiled, sliding closer to her until their chests were nearly touching. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting, but it’s kinda hot.”

He leaned forward to plant a little kiss on her lips, like he’d done a million times before. Carter leaned back, leaving his puckered lips hanging.

“Oh no,” she pushed him back, making him frown. “You don’t get to touch me until you join Team Tom.”

“Nuh-uh! Team Rafe for life baby,” he crossed his arms to match her stance, recovering quickly, more than used to being rejected by her.

She studied him suspiciously, wondering how quickly he’d crack if she actually withheld their inevitable beach trip hook-up. But he didn’t budge, he was as serious about this as she was.

“Fine,” she said. “The game is so on.”

(Chapter 3)

a/n: so tell me... are we Team Tom or Team Rafe?

also, I'm historically terrible at taglists and they give me technical trouble because I'm 89 years old so sorry if I forget you or mess it up but I will tag anyone who requested in the replies because I soooo appreciate your support you have no idea 💘 for notification on when I post fics pls follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs if you're into that kinda thing! 😘

[r3ynah]

I Can be everything and anything, at once

A 27 years old Phantom was challenged to a bet, by his co-workers at the watchtower. Green lantern stated along with the the other heroes that If he could help every single one of them at least once in a month while not using any his powers and he also had to be physically and mentally there as he helps them. the cherry on top was that he needed to use his real identity instead of his ghost form in this mission.

If Phantom successfully conceals his civilian identity, while helping them, he gets to know everyone's deepest darkest secrets.

But if he loses, he must do everyone a favor and must keep it no matter how outrageous it is.

Ofcourse Phantom agreed, because he was no bitch, okay so maybe he is, he only accepts bets like this if he knows that'll he'll win. so yeah.

Besides, having no powers for this, is really a piece of cake, if you're a raging gender fluid that knows his way around makeup and can easily change the sound of his voice, to be honest the shapeshifting parts that he got from his powers are basically just add-ons.

Well what was he waiting for? afterall he needed all the blackmail he could get, not as Phantom but as Daniel James Fucking Fenton, this was an opportunity to go batshit crazy and he was absolutely stealing it.

The very first hero Danny approached to help was Wonder Woman, who thanked Danny who was now disguised as a woman wearing a long ass Red wig, and some clothes he "borrowed" from Jazz who just joked about Danny being her twin, and wished him luck.

"Thank you, young lady for your brave actions to help me." Wonder woman sincerely thanked the boy in disguise as she held both of Danny's hands as gratitude "may I ask the name of my savior? "

"My name's El, It's a pleasure to know you." Danny smiled a little wider.

The second was Flash, which Danny found completely amusing because of the way he helped the speedy hero, who tripped while patrolling around the city.

Danny who was now in a more gothic attire( thanks to Sam's help) caught the hero's wrist before he embarrassingly fell face first on the ground.

"You okay there sir?" Danny asked, as he kept a firm grip on the man's wrist to make sure he doesn't fall.

Meanwhile Flash who thought he was in those korea tv romance dramas only blue screened for a few seconds before finally get his shit together. "yeah- um- name's Flash, and you are?"

The hero tripped on his own words, making Danny amused as fuck. "James, it was nice to finally meet you"

Okay, about like three weeks in, and Danny managed to help almost everyone in the watchtower, and only a few more to go,( he didn't get why most of the heroes he helped either started to stutter or blue screen in their spot once they talk to him. like damn is this how all of you treat every civilian who interacts with you? that's just sad) but at this time, Dan and Elle found out, and were now demanding to join, with the excuse of basically being Danny but in alternate or clone form, which Danny had no choice but to give in, I mean he wasn't breaking any rules so technically this was alright.

Danny wanted to take a break so Dan took over this time.

currently Nightwing was observing the outside of the gala, Bruce was invited to, something about a bunch of drugs being hidden within the crowd, and was now being passed around.

He intently remained focused on his observation, while also keeping a conversation with Oracle and the others on the comms, he didn't realize that he was too far off the edge of the railing he was standing on, until he missed a step.

Nightwing would never admit that he let a quiet squeal to his siblings ever as he fell, he closed his eyes and braced for impact, he would never expect to fall into the arms of a man 3x bigger than him, he stared at the man, and the man stared at him. 'holy shit' Nightwing thought.

The man, chuckled making Nightwing internally scream. "When I wished for Desiree, to make someone from above to save me from this trash party, I didn't think it would be one of the birds of gotham, to come and fall for me let alone the handsome one."

Okay Nightwing was now full on red from blushing, he was put down gently by the man on the ground, before offering a handshake, once Nightwing accepted the handshake, Dan pulled the hand closer to his mouth then gave a quick peck on the back of the hand vigilante's hand. "My name's Dan Masters, it's a pleasure to meet you."

his siblings can eat dirt on how they were teasing Nightwing Right now, but this was fucking worth it.

And the last to have gotten help from Danny was John Constantine, Danny actually had a reason on why he saved John for last, and that's because John actually knows Danny's identity, so for this mission he asked the help of his daughter Elle.

Elle had helped John by fixing a ruined summoning circle, who also helped him negotiate with a demon, and somehow all day, Elle just stuck to Constatine's side, her explanation? 'He'll die without me' fair point John thought as he took the kid, to order ice cream and to hangout in the park.

"You know kid, you remind me of someone." Constantine stated while keeping his eyes on what's infront of him, which was just a bunch of trees.

Elle who sat next to him, still eating her Ice cream looked up at him and said. "Really?"

"Yeah like you two literally have the same aura and all just a little different, but I don't know who yet." He replied and ruffled the kid's hair. making the girl laugh.

"Hey John!" Danny greeted behind them, and then all the gears inside of Constantine's head began to work. he let out a groan as he realized the girl beside him was the clone of the man behind him, well he needed to kiss that secret of his goodbye. here on this spot right now or he'll die of embarrassment if he waited any longer.

"Danny, let's go on a date." Constantine stated, not facing the Man.

this comment made the Father and Daughter choke on literal air.

[wyvernest]

cold nights by the fire

cregan stark x betrothed f! reader

cw: smut, piv, creampie, fluff, slightly typical-medieval sexist views, loss of virginity

summary: your soon-to-be husband keeps you warm on your first cold night in Winterfell

Ever since the war ended, nights have grown colder in the regretted absence of most dragonfire in Westeros. High and sharp winds have started growing in the North, sweeping far south of The Wall and clawing at the gates of Winterfell.

Tonight was no different. You had asked your handmaiden to build a fire in the hearth for both your comfort, but with little gain. As soon as you stepped away from the red, licking flames, the cold took over like shadow vanquishing light.

“It’s all in vain.” you mutter, defeated.

“I shall bring more furs, m’lady.” your handmaiden insists, getting up from her spot by the fire.

“Don’t.”, you chuckle, “Any more and I’ll suffocate. They’ll have to send all the guards to come looking for me amongst them come morn’.”

Your companion lets a shy laugh escape her trembling lips, although short-lived as a tall, broad shadow appears by the door. 

“My lady.” Your heart flutters wildly at the unmistakable sound of your betrothed’s voice, so gentle and concerned. “Are you well?”

Nodding for your handmaiden to retreat to her own chamber, you now become aware of your condition; kneeled on the rough tapestry, crumbled into a ball of pelts, hands above the flames. Sour shame washes over you, for having dared to believe you were one of the toughest of your family during harsh times, yet now conquered by the cold on your first night in Winterfell. 

“Cregan.” you shuffle to raise to your feet but your freezing legs aren’t eager to heed your intent. “I must admit, my northern blood has betrayed me tonight, for the first time.” 

You are startled amidst your struggles to flee from the furs as he braces you with a firm hand on your back, before his other comes around your waist, easily lifting you off the rugs. He walks back, placing you on the soft bed and sitting beside you, the covers rigid with night’s chill underneath.

“I will not have my lady wife quiver in my own keep.” He rids himself of his cloak swiftly, draping it over your smaller frame. The hastiness of the gesture makes a newfound warmth pool in your veins, reminding you of the same way he is to soon cloak you as his lady, in sight of the Old Gods. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, surprised and stunned, as you cuddle closer into his embrace. His body heat soon seeps into you, your trembling diminishing as his strong arms faintly squeeze more and more. 

‘Exhilarated’ didn’t begin to properly describe how you felt when Lord Cregan started courting you not long after he had returned from the southern war of the Targaryens. Your house is pledged to the Starks, but with the safety of the North now secured, he did not deem it necessary to strengthen alliances with marriage anymore, not when he could follow his heart so freely.

A giddy shiver rouses you from oncoming slumber, as the last slither of cold leaves your body in a sneeze you wished you could suppress. 

“Come closer.” You can feel his hot breath on your face as he moves you over his lap, his right arm running up and down your back in hopes of keeping you warm.

“Is this proper? So soon, before the wedding?” You do not wish to so easily disrespect customs and laws, but it wasn't rare that you found yourself fantasising about finally being his.

“I am merely looking after my beloved. I already vowed to shield you from harm.” You cannot tell if there was a trace of amusement in his tone or if it was just your mind jesting.

“Not before the gods.”

“The gods knew of the pledge before I could speak it. The ceremony will be held, but my loyalties will have been with you for long before.” The hold around your waist tightens, affectionate.

You look up at him, pondering your next words carefully; but before you could muster up a word, your eyes drift to his lips, only for a moment. He doesn't need a clearer impulse to proceed.

His mouth meets yours with a warm exhale that seems to bewitch you, all senses and shock diffusing into the need of being with him. Your face is hot, the skin of your waist is buzzing under his touch even through thick clothing. Your kiss is shy, despite his growing hunger. He nips at your soft lips, his right hand cradling your face, warm and calloused, yet so tender.

His left palm grazes your thigh, a reassuring safety seasoned with soft need. 

You cannot dream of stopping him. Your only concern is him ceasing at an awful time, only to return to his usual, honourable self and leave you desperate until the wedding. But he does not back away, more and more enraptured with you, the scent of you, your skin and your soft sighs. 

He kisses down your jaw, down your throat, wet, hot and open-mouthed. Your body has forgotten all about the sting of cold, leaning back onto the furs. He follows without breaking away, climbing on top of you slowly yet steadily. You moan in surprise as he begins to toy with the back strings of your dress.

“If you wish me gone, I will be gone at once, wife.” He vows.

Returning into view, he looks at you from atop, his brows soothing at the realisation that you are about to welcome him.

“Warm my bed tonight, husband.” You utter, a feather’s puff aways from his lips.

With that, he descends upon you, tasting your words on your lips, his hands cradling your liquified body like softened candle wax. You're burning up and twisting with excitement under the blazing flame of his heat. 

His hands slowly rid you of your garments, leaving you in your white shift, before slipping underneath and grabbing your waist. His touch leaves your skin aching and burning behind, his kisses mark you in a scorch palpable only to you. His touch climbs past your waist, coming to fondle the soft flesh of your breasts. Your heart beat is so strong you swear he might feel it as he softly squeezes your tit.

You shuffle in his hold, seeking to press yourself closer and closer into him, as if to become one. He indulges, himself wanting to wrap you up entirely in his embrace. Your soft breasts come flush against his hard chest, legs curling up around his waist as you receive him between your parted thighs. 

His breathing gradually becomes laboured as he moves against you, pulling the covers over you both. As he continues to caress the curves and dips of your shape, his groin brushes up against your flower and your hips betray you, dragging back up against him. With a low grunt, he frees himself from his breeches with one hand, and you pull at his chemise to fully undress him.

“Are you certain?” You inquire, out of breath.

“Always have been.” He soothes your worries with another heart-stopping kiss, sealing the premature bedding with an undoubting vow.

You feel him guide himself into you, the tip of his manhood prodding at the pink petals of your unplucked rose, claiming you. He pushes in and you gladly accept him, wet and wanting. 

“Gods, you feel amazing.” He groans above you, finally settled completely into you, before pulling back out and starting to roll his hips, steady yet hard enough to have you tensing at the sudden feeling of kindles in your womb. 

He sinks deep into you with every thrust, breathing heavy on your neck, groaning in your ear, whipping at the cold and dark of the bedchamber. You can smell the pinewood and musk on him, closer than you’ve ever been before, and it drowns out your senses, reducing you to the rapid waters of a river, bending and breaking against harsh stones of mountains, willing and united. 

You gasp out his name as the air is filled with your moans and pleas, the wood-carved bed frame ramming into the bleak stone walls of Winterfell with an echoless rhythm. 

He worships your body like you were a godly grace bestowed upon him, listening to your every sound and heeding every sign that he could do more for your pleasure. Eventually his thrusts grow urgent and scattered in between breaths, and before he can muffle your ecstatic whines with another kiss, you come, your delicate flower quivering around him, pushing him into the peak of his own satisfaction. 

You feel him throb inside, filling you with a strange, new sensation. He collapses by your side, tenderly dragging you with him. He strokes up and down your back, his breaths calming with a deep sigh.

“Is my lady still in discomfort?” He jests lightly, proud with himself and immensely content.

You snuggle at his side, head on his chest. “No. But I'm afraid I will be in need of your aid every night, my lord.”

[maxlarens]

cl and 26 pleaseee🫶🏼

26) kissing the top of their head

“Your father hasn’t liked any of your boyfriends nearly as much as him,” your mum tells you, nudging you with her elbow as the two of you stand together in the doorway.

Your coffee mug is warm and steaming in your hand as you look out onto the balcony, where Charles and your dad are playing a game of Uno. They’re engrossed in a conversation about some painter you’ve never heard of. Your dad is putting down two cards at once without Charles noticing, finally able to pull the trick your family had grown wise to years ago.

You let out a breathy laugh, “He’s cheating.”

Your mum lets out an angry noise, prompted by thirty odd years of your dad playing it fast and loose with the rules of various board games.

“Charles,” she says, sounding stern enough that he whips his head around, eyes-wide, your mum waves him off then points sternly at your father, “You keep your eyes on him. He does not respect rules.”

You snicker at the endearing way that Charles’ eyebrows pull together in confusion. Puzzling through your mother’s words, probably wondering how your father could have found a way to cheat at Uno. (If there’s a will there’s a way, your dad always says). Charles turns back to the game with his arms out in outrage, baulking at your father’s audacity.

“Oh my god,” he mutters in that mumbling, run-on way he says things sometimes, “How could you?”

Your father shakes his head and waves the issue off with a few bumbling words about how your mother has a vendetta against him because he always wins. You laugh into your drink. He’s gone too far, pretending to insult your mother— you clatter past the screen door, stepping out onto the balcony.

Charles gives you a backward glance as you approach the back of his chair. You put a hand on his shoulder, pressing your thumb into the muscles on his neck, massaging them absently.

“He is cheating,” you confirm, leaning over him to put your coffee down and spread out the last two cards your father had put down, “Different colours.”

Charles splutters, throwing his hand onto the table and looking expectantly at your father who has started snickering like a teenage boy. The screen door clatters open behind you, your mother comes out with a tray of cookies and a few choice words for her husband about trying to swindle your new boyfriend.

You smile, pulling back to say into his ear, “He only does it because he likes you… And because he can get away with it.”

Charles makes a noise of discontentment while reaching up to cover your hand with his, “Wha— that means he likes me?”

“Yes,” you and your mother say at the same time.

Because your dad doesn’t know how to admit he likes anyone, he shrugs instead and says, “Eh, it’s Uno. There are no real rules.”

You roll your eyes while your mum is set off on a tangent about not throwing out rule books and setting a good example for your children.

“Well,” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his temple then up into his hair, “This is what you’ve got yourself into, Sharl.”

You feel him shake his head, then he tips back to look into your eyes, “It’s perfect, really. I love it.”

[hedgehog-moss]

The lower rung of the ladder in my kitchen broke last month and I stuck a little Post-it note on the wall to remind myself to step over the missing rung so I wouldn't break my leg every time I go up or downstairs—but then my mum came to visit and she saw me hopping over the gap in the ladder with practised ease and her face was the definition of "you live like this?" And she went to get a screwdriver to unscrew the ladder from the wall so we could carry it outside and repair it.

Some people see a broken ladder and immediately open a toolbox to fix the problem; some people see a broken ladder and stick a Post-it note to the wall to train themselves to step over the problem forever. (I admit my response is inferior.)

I think I felt daunted at the thought of tinkering with this ladder because it's been here in the same place for over a century and I pictured the whole thing crumbling into dust if we tried to move it—but no, it's still solid, except the lower rung. Which wasn't damaged by time, but by Pandolf. (And some insects. But mostly Pandolf.)

When he was a baby, for a week or so after I took him home, he was extremely upset about having to spend the night in his dog bed in the kitchen while I went upstairs to my bedroom, he would cry and cry and one night in a fit of despair and rage he attacked the ladder. The next morning I found the lower rung (the only one he could reach) looking like it had been attacked by a termite colony, but it was Pandolf's pointy little puppy teeth. By the look of it he'd spent half the night furiously gnawing on it until he dropped from exhaustion—his reasoning was clearly that if he destroyed the ladder, I wouldn't be able to go upstairs anymore and would be forced to spend the night on the floor of the kitchen with him.

It's really hard to be mad at baby Pandolf, though. Go on, try.

Eventually he got used to sleeping in his dog bed and he abandoned his ladder destruction project, but the lower rung has been fragile ever since, and it finally broke last month.

My mum is extremely efficient; she sent me to the barn to find some kind of thick board (you can find anything in the barn if you have a torch and aren't afraid of bats or century-old spiderwebs) and when I came back she had prepared all the tools and taken all the measurements.

The worst part was tapering the sides so the rung would fit in the notches, because if one side was a little bit thinner than the other then it was wobbly—

—plus I used a file at first and it took forever (Pandolf was so bored), but then I remembered I own a sanding machine and it went a lot faster. So much so that my mum said I should make a second rung while I was at it—she was motivated to replace all of them, but then it started raining and we decided the rest of the ladder is solid enough and we'll replace the rungs two at a time.

I always forget that it feels satisfying to fix things! There's this little spark of pride from then on when you look at the repaired thing because you helped make it. I tend to procrastinate because I assume it'll take ages or I'm worried I'll do it wrong, until someone who's more confident with their hands than me goes like "no come on, we just need a saw, a file, a hammer, it'll take an hour tops" and we do it and it's never as difficult as I feared. (My mum: "We gave you a toy toolbox when you were little, to smash sexist stereotypes, and you're afraid of fixing things :( ...") (I cheered her up by reminding her that my brother smashes sexist stereotypes by being also afraid of fixing things.)

But yeah I spent half an hour sanding down the sides of these two lower rungs and now I look at my ladder and remember the delightful feeling of getting the tapering just right and inserting them into their slots effortlessly like a VHS tape into a VCR. I have a whole new affection for my kitchen ladder now.