#and thank you to cat for inspiring me to write this

[more-sonorous]

give me your broken wing- newsies modern au

medda larkin becomes a mother figure for jack kelly in every universe to me, and it’s about time i start writing that!

this is a little snippet dedicated to the wonderful @jackmkelly !! they are absolutely my inspiration for this and I’ve lovingly adopted some headcanons they introduced me to.

(this is maybe the beginning of a longer story because they just have so many wonderful ideas and we had a very inspiring conversation yesterday)

tw for implied/referenced child abuse!

…..

When Medda Larkin met Jack Kelly, she met an angry, guarded kid with some serious rage against the world around him.

That anger wasn’t misplaced, of course. He was a fourteen year old boy that’d grown up in the foster system. She knew, just based on the bits and bobs she’d heard from the handful of other foster kids that participated in productions at her theater, that the foster system could turn rotten just as quickly as it could save a child’s life.

It was rainy that day– one of those nasty New York summer storms, where the air was hot and sticky and the old building seemed to trap it all inside. Her theater was her pride and joy, passed down through three generations of mothers and grandmothers just to land in her capable hands. Medda loved the place. She’d grown up in it. Made it her own, shaped it into a space for others to hide away, just as her maternal lineage had done before her. Maybe it was fitting that she’d met Jack Kelly there in the backstage loading bay, with rain pelting down outside and the air conditioner dripping noisily in the distance.

Ed Higgins– a strikingly blonde boy that preferred to be called ‘Racetrack’ (she’d been working with theatre loving teenagers for years and had learned not to ask questions)– was one of her best young performers with an unbeatable talent for dance. He was a thirteen year-old foster kid himself, and had been placed in the care of some of her wife’s close friends about two years prior. They signed him up for a summer production with Medda and he’d been working with her ever since. Race was a good kid, if not a little bit impish and sometimes rough around the edges, and Medda loved him like she loved all of her other theater children. If not a bit more, but good directors never openly admitted to having favorites. Still, there was something contagious about his mischievous smile, maybe a little endearingly annoying when you could see that defiant mischief brewing in his bright blue eyes. Plus, the kid had natural charisma that shined like a God-given spotlight when he got on stage.

That soft spot didn’t keep her from feeling just a bit exasperated when she came across Racetrack trying to pick the lock on her theater’s back door at half past eight on a week night. She’d just seen the maintenance men out and was ready to head home to her lovely wife Hannah and some dinner, but there stood one of her babies drenched in water, looking incredibly terrified to have been caught.

“Racetrack, honey, you have my phone number.” She chided, wincing against the wet-hot heat of the summer outside. “You could’ve just texted me if you needed help…”

“It’s not… um…” He glanced behind himself, and that’s when Medda Larkin first laid eyes on Jack Kelly.

He was a small kid, and she couldn’t tell if he was older or younger than Racetrack because he sure was shorter. Jack was wearing a miserable glower, his tightly done braids clinging to his scalp, frizzy from either heat or neglect. His skin was a deep sort of coffee brown, only a shade or two darker than her own, and his cheekbones were alarmingly sharp. He had the sort of face that carried hunger, with wild, dark eyes and the vibe of an animal that would bolt at any loud noise.

She noted, carefully, that the kid had scars on his face. One split his left eyebrow and forehead and the other sliced the right side of his face from his chin almost to the corner of his lips, and he looked a horrible mixture of scared and angry when she met his eyes. He also sported fresh bruising on his cheekbone, a mottled mess of purple and red that crept towards his eye. He was buried in a hoodie and his jeans were too big, dragging against the concrete with the tips of his beat up sneakers poking out, and Medda wanted nothing more than to take this child into her arms and figure out what had hurt him so bad.

She settled for carefully clearing her throat instead. “Alright, Ed, why don’t you bring your friend inside? You aren’t in trouble, but I would love an explanation on why you’ve chosen breaking and entering over good old fashioned conversation.”

“Yes, Mrs. Medda.” He muttered, sounding ashamed enough to be satisfactory and a little bit relieved, too.

Medda waited until both boys made their way into the room, filling it with the sound of water plunking against concrete. She sighed to herself as she took in the sight of the slow-growing puddles beneath them and pressed her fingertips to the bridge of her nose. “What am I ever going to do with you, Racer? You boys take off those wet jackets, hang ‘em up, and wait for me to get you some towels.”

She didn’t wait for a response and headed off to the costume shop, where she found some towels after a bit of rooting around. Then, to give Ed’s friend a little bit of time to acclimate and calm down, she found herself boiling some water in her office and fixing the boys mugs of tea. Medda wasn’t angry, of course. She knew Ed was a good kid, and if he was trespassing, it was probably for the sake of his friend. Still, there was a concerned sort of curiosity welling up within her as she wondered how many times they’d taken shelter here without her knowing.

Once the tea was finished, she let out an exasperated huff and made her way back to the loading bay, hearing the boys’ voices just before rounding the corner.

“...not gonna call the cops, Jack, I promise, okay?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Racer, if I end up back in juvie because of you I’m gonna– I dunno. Shit.”

A pause ensued, and Medda wondered exactly who this boy was as she re-adjusted the porcelain in her hands. He’d been to juvie, and he was sporting fresh bruises. Part of her wondered if he was a friend of Ed’s, maybe another foster system kid. She made sure not to pass any early judgement and kept an open mind.

In classic Racetrack fashion, the kid quipped: “You’re gonna shit? Not on Mrs. Medda’s floor, I hope.”

“Shaddup.” Jack laughed wetly, and Medda heard the strain in his voice without even knowing him at all.

She finally found the courage to turn the corner, mugs in hand and towels draped over the crooks in her elbows. Both boys looked up at her from where they were seated on wooden boxes painted to look like crates, Racer smiling nervously and Jack’s face caught in a pained grimace, somewhere between anger and embarrassment. His shoulders were shrugged up to his ears, posture tight and rife with anxiety.

Medda approached slowly, forcing herself into relaxed ease with the talent of a woman who’d been in love with acting since she was four years old. She held out the mugs and once they’d been accepted, draped a towel over Racer’s shoulders and then offered one to Jack. “Well, I think introductions are in order, don’t you?”

“Jack Kelly.” He muttered, glancing up at her through matted lashes.

“Well, I’m Medda Larkin.” She spread her arms wide and smiled, gesturing to the shop and its organized disarray of old set pieces. “Welcome to my theater. Though I assume you’ve been here before?”

Those brown eyes got wide with worry and the two teenagers shared a look lined with guilt. Race winced, balancing his hands between his knees, both of which were bouncing with nerves. “Mrs. Medda…”

“Relax, kid. You aren’t in trouble. Neither of you are in trouble. But I do think I deserve an explanation, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.” He winced, knee still bouncing rapidly. She’d never seen the kid’s wild energy turn so anxious before, and it was an unwelcome change. Any of her theater babies were safe in this place. She thought that Race would’ve known such a thing, after nearly two years of working with her, but she was sorely mistaken. Judging by the misery practically radiating off of him, Medda knew this wasn’t a good time for any sort of interrogation.

“Alright.” She sighed, shifting the third towel she’d brought into her hands before finally offering it out to him. “Drink your tea. Then, if you wanna clean up the water you tracked into my storage space, I’d be pleased with that. And I sure hope your parents aren’t worried sick about you right now, kid...”

“They aren’t. They think I’m over at Crutchie’s.” He assured, shaking his head so hard that droplets of water flung from his damp curls as he took the towel from her outstretched hand.

“Good. Jack, honey, finish that tea and then walk with me, will you?”

She left them for a few moments longer, making sure to lock the back door again after sweeping the area outside for any lasting damages. When she returned, Jack had downed his drink and Race was sitting in silence, still taking small sips. They both stared owlishly and she extended a smile towards Jack, tilting her head towards the hallway.

He stood very reluctantly, exchanging glances with his friend. Race gave a nod, though he seemed just a bit nervous, and she tried to reassure them both with a smile. Soon, a damp Jack Kelly was trailing along behind her as she made her way into the wings and onto the stage itself. Medda flicked a nearby light switch and the space illuminated with the brightness of work lights, revealing a lovely half-finished backdrop spread across the entire stage. An unfinished mural of the Swiss alps lay on the ground before them, fields of vibrant green grass and wildflowers fully painted while the mountains and sky remained blocks of flat color.

“I’ve always said that there’s no better place to hide than a theater.” She explained softly, walking out onto the stage and admiring the rows and rows of plush red seats before them. “I find that true for myself too, you know. This has always been my favorite place to escape to.”

Jack had stopped in his tracks, arms folded tightly over his chest. His head was tilted and he gazed at the backdrop almost reverently, intelligent eyes soaking in every detail. Medda had initially planned to take him into the audience for their chat, but she decided to let Jack set the pace and stood still exactly where she was, perched on the steps leading down to the house.

“You like art very much, Jack?”

“I draw sometimes.” He answered rather reluctantly, giving her a half-shrug and a sidelong glance. The kid was obviously upset about being caught. His small body was nothing but lines of tension.

“This is gonna go up for The Sound of Music next month.” She smiled rather fondly, unable to stop herself from explaining her favorite thing. “My very own theatre company’s putting it on. Your friend Racer’s playing one of the Von Trapp children, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He responded carefully, awkwardly, a guarded sort of respect in his voice. Then, remarkably, a small smile cracked through the misery of his face, revealing a dimple in his right cheek. “He won’t shuddup about it.”

She smiled right back at him, well aware that she was already developing a soft spot for this lost little teenager. The lull in the conversation led Medda to continue her descent into the audience, where she took a seat on the front row and gazed out at the unfinished set. Both painted and unpainted wood stared back at her, and Jack Kelly stuck out like a sore thumb in his big clothes, with all of that sadness clinging to him like rainwater. He took a moment to himself, eyes still studying the mural with the gaze of a young artist, and then finally followed the path she’d taken moments earlier.

Medda was pleasantly surprised when Jack spoke without prompting. “Do ya’ own the group that puts on plays here or the buildin’ itself?”

“I own the building.” She confirmed, watching him carefully choose to sit on the foot of the stage in front of her, instead of one of the chairs next to her. His lack of trust in adults was painstakingly obvious. “But I’ve also got a theater company of my own, and we do put on shows here. When my people aren’t using the stage, though, it’s free for just about any group to use. I rent out to anybody who wants to share their art with the world.”

He nodded in that way teenagers often do, respectful but losing interest. Or maybe he was interested somewhere in that troubled head, but Medda’s career obviously wasn’t a top priority for him at that moment.

She allowed the moment to settle before leaning forward in her seat, meeting those guarded brown eyes. ”So, where’d you meet Racetrack?”

“We grew up in the system together.” He explained, proving Medda’s earlier assumptions entirely true. “I’ve been in foster care since I was six, and Race showed up when I was eight. System ain’t as big as people think. A lot of the times you end up in the same group homes with the same kids. We just try to keep in touch. Look out for each other, I guess.”

“And he was looking out for you, finding you a place to stay.” She thought aloud, finally putting all of the pieces together. Well— almost all of them. Racetrack had picked that lock with practiced ease, and Medda was still wondering just how many times this bruised and broken young boy had found himself here without her knowing. “Jack, honey, how many nights have you spent in my theater? I want you to answer honestly, and know that I’m not going to be upset no matter what the answer is. Racetrack isn’t getting in any trouble either. Nobody’s mad– certainly not me. But I think I have a right to know.”

Jack swallowed hard. He blinked hard, too, once or twice, eyes trained unwaveringly on her. Medda could practically see his mind racing. “I mean… I dunno. I stopped counting. It’s– Race lets me in here every time Snyder kicks me out. Racer’s foster parents don’t like me none so I can’t stay at their place.”

He practically spat the name with enough vitriol to send the hairs on Medda’s arms standing up. She was already jumping to conclusions about the bruise on Jack’s cheek and the shabby clothes he wore, but she did her best to remain level-headed. “Snyder. That’s…”

“My foster dad.” He confirmed, a hateful sort of anger coloring his voice. “Real ray of sunshine, that one. I would say this is all his fault, but I know I’m the one askin’ Race to help me break in. So it is my fault. I just… it’s warm here, ‘n nobody’s caught me yet. I don’t touch nothin’, I swear. I don’t ever go farther than that storage space. I would never fuck up your property, Mrs. Larkin, I mean it on my life.”

He seemed so earnest and sure that she couldn’t help but believe him. Plus, there was no evidence to prove he wasn’t lying. She’d never found any remnants of a kid stowing away in the theater– no crumbs or misplaced props– he’d never even changed the thermostat overnight. Medda offered him what she hoped was a warm smile and tried to wipe away the image of Jack sleeping on the concrete floor of the loading dock out of her mind.

“I believe you, Jack. Thank you for being honest with me.” She watched him deflate, just a bit, relief softening the wrinkles around his eyes. Though her mind was brimming with questions about this Snyder man, Medda didn’t dare press Jack into uncomfortable territory. Instead, she settled into her role as a caring adult and stood, brushing her hands off on her skirt. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to take you to my costume storage, and we’ll find you some dry clothes. Then we’re gonna drop Racetrack off at his parents’ place, and after that you can ride home with me and have dinner with my wife and I. I’ve got a guest bedroom with an empty bed.”

“Mrs. Larkin, I couldn’t–”

“Yes you can, honey, and I’m insisting that you do. I’m not going to be able to sleep properly tonight if you’re curled up on that concrete floor in there. Now you wouldn’t rob a poor woman of a good night’s sleep, would you, Jack Kelly?”

That same little smile made its way to his face, and she decided then and there that his real, unabashed smile was probably a sunny thing. Maybe one day she’d earn it. “No ma’am.”

“Call me Medda, kid.”

Two hours later found Medda sitting at the kitchen table with an exasperated Hannah Larkin, whose pretty ginger hair was piled up in a mess of a bun atop her head. Her reading glasses were perched on the tip of her nose and Medda couldn’t quite ignore her wife’s loveliness, even as lines of stress painted her face. Hannah’s intelligent eyes scanned rapidly over her laptop screen as she exasperatedly pressed her thumb and forefinger to her temples.

“Medda, darling, I don’t understand why we can’t call CPS.”

“Because Jack doesn’t want us to.” She explained carefully, for what must’ve been the fifth time that evening. Hannah had jumped to CPS nearly immediately, when Medda had first called her to announce their dinner guest. At that point Jack had been in one of the changing rooms in the costume shop. Now, with Jack showering in the bathroom upstairs, it felt like rehashing that same conversation all over again. “We’ve got to respect his wishes.”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up, and she glanced over the rims of her glasses in obvious shock. “He’s fourteen. He shouldn’t be making those types of decisions for himself.”

“I understand what you’re getting at, but Jack knows more about the foster care system than we do.” She carefully placed a hand over her wife’s, and dragged her thumb over the gems of her wedding ring for good measure. Hannah sighed, a soft and anxious noise. “We don’t want to make things worse for him, either.”

“But that bruise–”

“He didn’t tell us where it came from.” She said, though Hannah had obviously come to the same conclusion. It was probably from that egregious foster parent, even though Jack had totally avoided the question when Hannah asked. Maybe because the two of them had gotten off on the wrong foot (Jack tracked mud onto Hannah’s tiled floor and she nearly lost her mind), but the fact remained– the bruise was probably dealt by the adult meant to be taking care of Jack, and Medda wanted nothing more than to whisk the boy away from that world. No child deserved to live a life of breaking into abandoned theaters when they wanted somewhere safe to sleep. “And we can’t assume anything. Not yet.”

With a tense sigh, Hannah shut her laptop. “You’re already attached, I can tell.”

“Wh– I’m not!” Affronted, Medda raised a hand to her chest. “I’d do this for any of my kiddos and you know that.”

“Sure, but this one’s earned himself a soft spot already.” Hannah’s voice took on a teasing lilt as she fixed Medda with a knowing gaze, looking as beautiful as the day they first met. “Medda Larkin, you are nothing if not a sap. I don’t think you’re going to back down when it comes to this kid– that’s just how you are.”

Knowing her wife was absolutely correct, Medda could only roll her eyes in an admittance of defeat. Sometimes they knew each other far too well. “You love it, though.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Footsteps on the stairs alerted both women to Jack, who was carefully and quietly descending. He looked cleaner and more relaxed already, free of dirt and grime and wearing the clothes he’d picked out from the theatre’s eclectic costume storage– just a pair of sweatpants a male dancer had worn during A Chorus Line a few years back and a baggy sweatshirt that they hadn’t managed to sell at the merch table, displaying the logo of Medda’s theatre company proudly on the back. He smiled at them, nervous and awkward and unsure. Medda’s heart melted a bit. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a warm shower and new clothes? She almost didn’t want to know the answer.

Before she knew it, Medda was rising to her feet and going to meet the boy on the stairs. “You ready to hit the hay?”

“Yeah.” Jack ran a hand over his scalp, tugging briefly at the ends of his braids. “I… I just want to say thank you. For alla’ this.”

“Of course. You’re welcome to visit us any time, by the way. I’d love it if you came to a rehearsal or two with Racetrack. Maybe some of our scenic painters’ll give you a few pointers, if you ask nicely.”

Jack’s smile widened, bright and almost excited. Both of his dimples appeared in full force. “You mean that?”

“I don’t ever say things I don’t mean, Jack Kelly.” She chided teasingly, climbing up the stairs with Jack in tow. The guest bedroom was tactfully decorated– that was all Hannah. The woman had excellent taste and an eye for design, so Medda had sat back and let her decorate the entire townhome after they purchased it. She’d never regretted that decision once. Jack took in the bedroom with a reverent sort of awe, the same way he’d looked at every room of the house so far. “Here you are. Now, if you need anything, just let me–”

Without much warning, Jack threw himself forward and embraced her tightly. He strung his arms around her and buried his face in the fabric of her blouse, movements still caught in that gangly pre-teenage phase. Something in her heart blossomed with a maternal warmth as she hugged him back as gently as possible, cradling his head with one hand.

“Thank you.” He said again, and his voice warbled with emotion.

Though she felt a wet patch beginning to dampen her shirt, she said nothing about it. “Of course, Jack. You can always count on me, alright, baby?”

He only managed a nod, and in that very moment, Medda wanted nothing more than to give this wayward child the happy life he deserved. He was sweet and gentle and he obviously loved with his whole heart and soul, and the poor thing had been beaten down by the world far too many times. She held Jack in that embrace and stared resolutely out the window, deciding only to let go when he was absolutely ready.

She’d only known Jack Kelly for a month when she started researching how to become a foster parent. The idea settled within her mind in the middle of a Saturday morning set dressing day, as she watched Jack carefully painting details onto one of her set pieces, smiling brightly at two of his friends. She thought, immediately, that he deserved to be that happy all the time. If Medda was the only adult in his life that could provide that happiness, then she was damn sure going to do it.

Hannah glanced at the screen of her wife’s laptop once and bit her lip with an exasperated smile, the unspoken ‘I told you so’ dancing teasingly through the air between them.

[kismetmoon]

something something something flatlanders don’t kiss with their mouths because they’ve got too much going on (sharp teeth, retracted eye, etc.) so instead close their eye and press them against each other as a sign of their utmost trust when they’re vulnerable.

[Plain text ID: a digital drawing done in a lineless style of two original, stylised Flatland characters; Atlas and his daughter Stella.

Atlas is a light grey isosceles triangle with a central eye, dark grey limbs, chips in his top and bottom corner, two scars on his left side and one across his eye. He also has a long, dark grey tail with a banner-shaped tip. Stella is a more humanoid character with a large eye for a head, black stick limbs and a thin black tail with a heart-shaped tip. She is wearing a lacy white gown.

Atlas is standing and his eye is closed in a content expression. He is holding Stella to his left with both arms and they are pressing their closed eyes together. Stella is sitting in Atlas’s arms and smiling. She is touching Atlas with her hands; one is laid on his surface and the other is wrapped around his arm that is supporting her body.

The behind them is a yellow crescent moon with a navy earth shadow directly behind Atlas and Stella. The rest of the background is beige.

End ID.]

[consumer-o-content]

ClanGen Moon 0

Welcome to WillowClan!

Quietstar - 114 moons, 9 lives remaining, an insecure dream shaper and a great kit sitter

Pumaback (deputy) - 73 moons, a righteous and unusually strong fighter

Daisybubble (medicine) - 154 moons, a charismatic and naturally intuitive elder

Breezecloud - 29 moons, a phenomenal hunter and great teacher but completely oblivious

Wingkit - 5 moons, an ambitious moss-ball hunter

Riverdusk - 103 moons, a cunning storyteller

Downypad - 151 moons, an adventurous hunter with swimming skills

Sloefall - 141 moons, a strong fighter but childish (perhaps it's just childlike whimsy)

Moon 0:

Moonlight shone on the long moore grass as puffy, bunny-tail-like clouds quickly traced the sky. The breeze was refreshing but fell on numb fur as the cats trudged on the freshly dampened earth. New-leaf had been generous with rain so far. Quietflit looked behind her as she walked. She had known the elders who followed her would need a slower pace after walking for such a long time but seeing them now, tailing even farther behind with every step, she realized how desperate the group was for a camp. Wingkit, who had started the trek outpacing every other cat, now had to be carried by Riverdusk after complaining of sore paws. Were these the cats StarClan had prophesied would found a new great clan? 

It's not that Quietflit didn't trust the group; she didn't trust herself to lead them to that destiny. Clearlilac, the medicine cat of RiverClanClan, had been very clear what must be done before his untimely death but had he been correct to pick Quietflit to fulfill this prophecy? Quietflit wrestled with these thoughts as the group walked on. Desperate to bite the throat of this insecurity and bring it to the ground. The group behind her, who had been willing to follow her for a moon, trusted her. Clearlilac trusted her; in life and in death. The dreams of him had only grown stronger since they said their final goodbyes to RiverClan. The sound of his voice in her ear, giving her comfort and guidance on which paths to take through the many forests, hills and swamp lands they walked through. The only thing she had to worry about was taking each step.

A gasp came from Pumaback who had been walking at her side. Quietflit looked up. Her eyes shone with disbelief. Of course StarClan could be trusted. Of course Clearlilac had been right. Of course leaving RiverClan had been the right path for this group of cats. In front of her, as if placed there by the paw of StarClan, lay a large shallow cliff enclosed clearing. Tunnels framed by smooth stones encircled the camp as soft fresh sprouts of grass, no larger than a mouse tail, grew at the center. The willow tree that marked the end of their journey grew at the far end of the clearing, its long dainty branches hung over the slope. At that moment, Quietflit could feel the dragging weight of her group's StarClan given duties lift. 

She turned to face the brave cats who had followed her. Their many-colored eyes shone brighter in the moonlight. Now full of life as they took in the sight they had longed for. "When we set out a moon ago, I did not know tonight would be the night that our many days of wandering would conclude." She smiled as Wingkit was gently placed on the ground. Sleep weighed down the kit's eyelids. Quietflit knew Wingkit wouldn't remember this in the morning but somehow that added to the cuteness of the scene. "You are brave warriors, braver than me that's for sure. I believe this is the place Clearlilac prophesied that we would settle in. I see questioning in your eyes Downypad." Quietflit chuckled. "No, I also did not anticipate living like a WindClan cat but if you listen closely there seems to be a stream nearby. We have not lost our roots, we have simply outgrown our mother soil. Let's begin the duties of making this place a camp tomorrow but you all have done more than enough to earn a long rest." The wind rustled in the grass and the group took a collective breath. Each cat found the footing they needed to enter the camp. It took less than a minute for each cat to collapse into their hollow and drift to sleep.

That night, Quietflint dreamed once again. This one was not like the others. Her eyes opened and she took in her surroundings, awe filling her from tail tip to nose. The hair on her shoulders raised and her ears twitched. This was no the MoonStone cave. She was standing on a large ledge looking over a valley spit by a river. The rock behind her and under her paws was smooth, black, and reflected each star above her head perfectly as if a mirror. It looked as if she was sitting amongst the stars looking over the land below as StarClan would. 

The stars began to move and twinkle as if many unseen cats walked in front of them. Then two stars lowered closer to her and blinked slowly. Clearlilac manifested from the light, the two stars becoming his eyes. As Clearlilac approached her, she swiveled her ears behind her. Whispers of her ancestors quietly chanted words she could barely make out in unison. "We grant you your remaining 8 lives." Each voice distant, but together they shook Quietflint to the core. "Use them well and with our blessing." 

Their starry eyes stared into the back of her head as Clearlilac touched noses with her. "Welcome to StarCliff, Quietflint. Or-" he looked her up and down with an expression that seemed knowing of her every thought, "should I say Quietstar?" A hearty laugh that reverberated across the land followed. "Well done! The trek was not easy but every cat that came with you I selected myself." He raised his whitened chin in teasing pride.

Quietstar could do nothing but slowly nod. What was there to say that Clearlilac and the cats that watched her didn't already know? "You really do live up to your name." He laughed again. "Anyway, it's about time you returned back to your clan. WillowClan. But I must warn you of something. There is a deeply personal relationship in the clan that will come to an untimely end, however, the young one will recover. She will find comfort in a cat close to you. Go to them now and return to StarCliff in a moon. The path will be clear when you need it." And with a smile, he touched his nose to Quietstar's forehead. A blinding light forced her eyes closed and once she was able to open them again she was in the hollow. Pumaback slept peacefully next to her as the light of a new day shone into Quirtstar's eyes. She sat up and licked her chest to soothe herself. The stretch and yawn that followed cleansed the remaining sleep from her body. 

[eggman91]

voodoo Mordecai au chapter 2

I was panicking trying desperately to write down what may be my last words to my family Mother Esther rose.. and my pencil broke no…I quickly look up about to ask for anyone if they has a pencil i…wait I look around the train cart was empty just me …this is a dream memory? I was about to get up as a old figure walk in tall and dress like one of the savoys congregation smoking a old pipe it take a seat where atlas did

“hello mista heller “ all he said as he lean on his cane “who are you what is this “this wasn’t a dream i don’t dream but he just sssshh me “ all will been know and learned the iwa got dat interest in you” oh…I’m having a savoy like dream..great I scowl annoyed “ oh what does mister maitre carrefour wants form me” great my mind has truly been mess with by the savorys im annoyed with this dream already ” oh I am him and not im kalfu he a aspect of me”he chuckles silghty as I just look at him my eyebrow raise “ what I…ok fine this is my subconscious talking to myself and why as one of the savoys swamp spirit i don’t why but let get this over with” I try to wake up

but i couldn’t “ oh sorry mista heller but you wake when we’re done I’m just here to offer a deal” great my subconscious is offering me a business deal “and that is” “ me and the chiefs need a…tiggerman like you a man to do our will our work and our stuff and I’m speaking on behalf of grandfather rattlesnake now kalfu or as you know it Maitre carrefour or me too said he got a claim on you because of that “he points his cane to my chest” but me and others disagree with that “…I look up

“and what do you mean by that ?” I ask interested in what he said even if it this isn’t real just a dream I told myself “ they was talking and they got dat zulie to chloroform you and they carved dat..dat isn’t a properly deal“ I joked a mirthless one as usual it was my dream I could joke “ oh they didn’t do proper business offer how unlike them” but the figure maitre caffour or whatever he just laugh slightly at my joke to my surprise this is my subconscious of course he laughs “ oh no dey didn’t but…hear my offer all businesslike now “ I look at him and listen the landscape outside the train was charging form farmlands plains to swamp deep swamp but if I heard his offer this savoylike dream will be over”agreeable speak your offer mister?” “Legba call me legba “

my eyebrow raise again but “ ok mister legba what your offer “the train was getting darker the lights going out “ power our power “ “Who’s power mister legba” he lean up taking out his pipe” everyone of us all the iwa form me the grand zombi oshun la flambo erzuli and ogo everyone” the train was gone so was the swamp it was just me and him sweating in a black void near a large fire “ I will entertain this dream why me why not the savorys or ”

I was curious to see what my subconscious has conjured for this “them savoys both good faithful fun maman eulalie taught them good but if we gave them dat power it go straight to there heads and it would cause trouble as much as kalfu like them we don’t need that trouble but you all serious all businesslike in your skills you be a good choice” …”and why would I take this offer what do I get from this “I was getting annoyed at lest my subconscious agree on me with the savoys but I was sick of this silly dream “we show you kill atlas “ before I could respond a spot in the void light up showing atlas in his car I look at it it was him looking at his pocketwatch and then the car rush to the side shooting the car speed up but hit a street lamp

the driver was dead and atlas stumble out and I watch as his shoot half his face blow off falling to the ground….” A shame isn’t it you got no leads on who did since Gracie was killed by the savoys a real shame “…I..look back up at him glareing at him but he could tell I was..interested “ we can tell but you going to have to do some stuff and you will have your revenge for us” “and who we mister legba “there was figures all around the edges of the light of the fire many of them but one slither out on mister legba a large snake cover in bones “ now we make a special offer we give our power my power to you for a week and if your still interested we give you everything “I look at him as the drums I hear at the warehouse came back loud and getting louder looking at him

“ shake my hand…shake a holy hand “ I reach and toke his hand and so the deal was made and I woke up up panting sweating great I have to change the sheets but that can come later I reach to grab my glasses but there weren’t there so I keep grabbing for them as someone hand me them I toke them and put them on “ thank you”….I look up..there was my shadow leaning on the wall…and so I scream

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Perfect All American

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!american!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: you and oscar decided to make your relationship a secret in hopes to not stir up any “conflict of interest” rumors. however, he just couldn’t help being a proud boyfriend when you won your first race for williams as a rookie. 

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: once again, i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write but i really hope it was worth the wait anon <3

-October 2023-

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, susie_wolff and 879,593 more

williamsracing We're incredibly pleased to announce that @/yourusername has signed a three year contract deal with us starting this following F1 season. She will line up alongside @/logansargeant and will be the first woman to drive a Grand Prix since Lella Lombardi in 1976. We are absolutely honored to have you. Welcome to the Williams family 💙

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yourusername its a perfect all american grid

user6 I understood that reference

user5 🦅🦅🦅

user1 USA USA RAHHH 🇺🇸🗽🏈

user8 WOOO

user2 following in susie's footsteps :')

prema_racing we’re so proud of you

yourusername <3

oscarpiastri I’ll see you in melbourne 😉

user12 it’s the wink for me

user4 im gonna miss prema era y/n

user5 @/user4 ok but the trio is back together !!! y/n, oscar, and logan

user6 @/user5 you’re forgetting about fred

user9 fred vesti always the bridesmaid never the bride

user10 need me some williams gear asap

user14 💙💙💙

logansargeant excited to finally have a fellow american on team torque

yourusername me 🤝 logan

alex_albon 😐

georgerussell63 and here I was thinking you were happy to join me at mercedes

user13 I’m a child of the britcedes-sargebon divorce

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Williams' Rising Star: Y/n L/n-

Williams has announced that American F2 Champion, Y/n L/n will be making her Formula 1 debut next year alongside Logan Sargeant. She has been making waves in the world of motorsports for over a decade now, and it seems that all of her hard work has finally payed off. She's already been placed in the history books for her impeccable talent on track and her inspiring work off it. Not only has she broken plenty of records in feeder series', but she also contributed to the creation of F1 Academy.

From Long Beach a to Monte Carlo

Early in her karting career Y/n was scouted for the Mercedes Junior Drivers Team and she's seemed to have a close relationship with Toto and Susie Wolff ever since. She uprooted her life from California to London as a young teen, taking a huge risk in hopes to accomplish her dreams.

What does this mean for F1?

With rising representation in all areas of f1, we can hope to see young women getting more opportunities to make their mark on the sport. Let's face it, the future of F1 is female.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing, liablock, and 583,502 more

yourusername POINTS?!?!

tagged; @/bah_int_circuit

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williamsracing starting off this year strong!

frederikvestiofficial WOOOO !!!

yourusername WOOOO 🎉

arthur_leclerc way to go y/n

yourusername ty artie my favorite leclerc 😍

charles_leclerc hey ??

user1 @/yourusername what about oscar piastri-leclerc

yourusername I CHANGE MY ANSWER

oscarpiastri I'm so happy for you

yourusername <3

user2 ...

user3 👀

logansargeant lets gooo 💪

yourusername 🦅🦅

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by mclarenracingf1, landonorris, yourusername, and 983,012 more

oscarpiastri maiden win

comments are limited

yourusername never beating the polite cat allegations with that smile

oscarpiastri :]

yourusername I'm so proud of you btw 🫶

oscarpiastri 🫶

landonorris congrats

oscarpiastri thanks mate

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Dutch Grand Prix-

"Plan A, Y/n. Plan A," your race engineer said to you on the radio.

"What about plan C? I think it will work," you responded.

"Uhm, as of right now we don't want to risk your position, so plan A, Y/n, plan A." they spoke softly.

"I can hold the tires, I swear. We're already at the back of the pack, we have nothing to lose."

"I think that's the first time I've heard a driver try to argue their way out of the main strategy," Crofty laughed on the broadcast.

"Box, Y/n. Box."

You sighed, thinking you've reached your defeat. You pulled into your pit box and noticed the green ring on the tires.

They're putting you on inters.

They're following your strategy.

You clicked the radio button back on, "Thank you," you screamed to your team.

You were briefed with everything a few days ago, but you couldn't help but come up with your own plan after getting the weather report for the weekend.

The rain was about a minute away now and you begged the team to put you on intermediate tires right at this time. You knew it would be difficult to drive on a barley damp track like this, but if it worked you could be looking at a podium.

You only had to drive a single lap before it started pouring and your plan payed off. Almost the entire grid struggled with their dry tires in the new track conditions, giving you time to create a lead as they had to slow down and pit.

Every lap you completed as race leader made you more anxious than the last. You held your breath as you reached the last corner of the last lap, vaguely able to see the chequered flag. Tears filled your eyes as you crossed the finish line in P1, the Williams garage being shown on the big screen sprinting out to congratulate you.

-

Before you had the chance to jump into the arms of your team, Oscar was running up to you. He picked you up and pressed his soft lips to yours right in front of the cameras. You smiled into the kiss, happy tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He pulled you into a tight hug, "I'm so proud of you. I love you so much," he mumbled into your hair.

"I love you too, Osc." you laughed through your crying.

He pulled away, cupping your face in his hands, and kissing your forehead. You smiled as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs.

"So... instead of us interacting with each other online to keep our relationship private, you decide to make out with me in public?"

Oscar laughed and hugged you again, "Just enjoy the moment.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by kimiraikkonen, sebastianvettel, williamsracing, and 6,394,625 more

F1 Y/n L/n makes history as the first woman to win an F1 Grand Prix and the first win for Williams since 2012. Well done 👏

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yourusername fact is walter white james vowles couldn't have done it without me 🗣️

georgerussell63 so true 🔥

logansargeant LETS FUCKING GOOOO

yourusername RAHHHH

susie_wolff I'm so proud of you 💗

yourusername <3

user7 the way susie was recording her on the podium like a proud mom :')

user8 ROOKIE WIN

user4 🐐🐐

lewishamilton @/yourusername incredible drive today. congrats on the win, it was well deserved

yourusername tysm lew 🫶

jensonbutton thats literally my daughter

youruseranme DAD 🫂

user3 I thought she was supposed to be Toto's daughter...

user6 @/user3 toto, lewis, nico, jenson──they're all related one way or another

user2 family tree is a wreath

mercedesamgf1 all hail queen y/n

user9 y/n to Mercedes 2025 !!!

liked by yourusername, landonorris, logansargeant, and 1,203,284 more

oscarpiastri y/n l/n. my best friend, the love of my life, and a formula 1 grand prix race winner. this is such an incredible achievement and I am so happy for you. I know you are out there inspiring so many young women and I couldn't be prouder. you are the most incredible girlfriend, driver, and person I have ever met. congratulations on the win, you deserve it. I love you ❤️

tagged; @/yourusername

comments are limited

yourusername osccc 🥹 you've been my #1 fanboy since our karting days and I can't thank you enough for all the support you've given me <3 I love you so much

♡ by oscarpiastri

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: tysm for reading <3 don’t ask me about the real life mechanics behind the tires bc im obviously not qualified for that 💀 i based that scene off of the strategy i use when i play gran turismo and i see the clouds get grey (it’s never failed me)

[iheartmonaco]

HI CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A FULL FIC ON THE VERSTAPPEN GOOD BOY TEXTS PLEASEEE

Good Boy

MV1 X GN!reader

Summary: max verstappen with a praise kink that's it that's the fic

Warnings: suggestive

Inspired by these texts

It started as a joke, really, when you said "you're such a good boy" to Max for the first time.

What shocked you was his reaction to it— the Dutchman, blunt as ever, replied, "I want to hear that in your actual voice, not through texts."

So here you were, with Max's head in your lap, petting him like he does to the cats. A soft sigh left his half-open mouth. You couldn't help but think of it as the perfect opportunity to try out what could be an amazing new addition to your sex lives.

As Max was coming close to the end of his ramble about the day's race, you ran your fingers through his hair and spoke softly, "You did so good today, baby. I'm so proud of you."

It was barely the starting, just typical praise you would always give him after a race, but his reaction was always so adorable you couldn't help but melt. Featherlight pink dusted his cheeks. "Mhm," he replied, lips pressed together in a small smile.

"Such a good boy, always making me so proud."

Heat rushed to his cheeks, cherry red now, as he struggled to keep a straight face. "Thank you, schatje."

You resumed patting his head, cooing softly, "You like that, baby? Like when I call you a good boy?"

Max was looking up at you with sultry eyes and his pupils blown wide. "Yeah," he whispered.

"Then why don't you get on your knees and give me a good reason to call you that, hm?" Max moved instantly, on his knees in front of you in what seemed to be 2 seconds at most. "You know what to do, right, pretty boy?"

He nodded, lips parted as his chest heaved for oxygen. He looked a little dizzy, pupils blown out and blushing down to his chest, and you were loving the effect the simple words had on him.

"Words, baby."

He swallowed dryly, his breath on your thigh. "Yes, schatje, please. Let me please you."

You decided to tease him a while longer, cupping his chin with one hand. "And why should Iet you do that, baby?"

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants. "Because I wan— I wanna be a good boy. For you."

You lifted you hips, letting him take your pants off. "Oh, you already are, Max...

"you're such a good boy."

[taasgirl]

lover - oscar piastri

summary: y/n is a songwriter who writes plenty of songs however no one realizes that they're made by her (and about oscar hehe)!

a/n: the outcomes of the races are fictional, and the order in which these songs have been written (assume fearless was written this year ygwim?). also no face claim!!

liked by yukitsunoda, oscarpiastri, and 33, 287 others ynusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours! lovelovelove being able to come home for race day!! i'm so proud of u osc 🩷

oscarpiastri I'm so lucky 🥰 liked by ynusername

user27633 Y/N IS A SWIFTIE CONFIRMED!?!?!

ynusername of course!!

user16372 u literally take the cutest photos of oscar

user82537 y/n quoting paris... i'm so up

yukitsunoda 😆😆

landonorris You're my favourite wag

ynusername wow how considerate

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, and 1, 287, 387 others oscarpiastri Unwinding before Japan 👊

ynusername tehee we're cute

oscarpiastri You're cuter landonorris Get a room

taylorswift ooooh she's working hard @ ynusername

user62584 WHAT THE FUCK ARE U DOING HERE???

user98274 OSCAR IS FRIENDS WITH TAYLOR HUH

user61192 i did not expect to see taylor in the comments of oscar's post tagging y/n!

user92898 no fr like what is going on

user93829 Everyone shut up about taylor look at the beauty that is y/n omd

view ynusername's story...

liked by jackantonoff, phoebebridgers, and 55, 918, 278 others taylorswift In honour of my album 'The Tortured Poets Department' release a week ago, I wanted to thank my biggest musical inspirations! Thank you Jack, Lana, and Y/N for helping me the best artist I could possibly be, without you'd guys I'd be nowhere (thank you y/n for writing the cheesiest, cutest, sexiest songs ever)!!

user51862 who is y/n

user01827 She's dating f1 driver oscar piastri but also now apparently a songwriter idk...

user72973 Wdym thanks y/n for writing?? you're telling me the twitter stans were right??

user62863 y/n is singlehandedly uniting f1 and the swifties

ynusername thank u tay 💓💓

user52868 Girl has been living a double life

user51929 ohhh so this is why taylor was commenting on oscar's post😭

liked by oscarpiastri, taylorswift, and 108, 276 others ynusername well now that the cat is out of the bag, who wants to hear a story? i assume u all said yes.

on one of our first dates, oscar made me a bracelet (yes that one) and i thought (and still think) that it was one of the most romantic gestures. so obviouslyyy i wrote 'lover' about him hehe. yes we only knew each other for at most three months when i wrote it, but i love him so much, he's my forever.

oscarpiastri I love having a singer for a girlfriend (wife one day)

ynusername hello cat boy

user18739 You're telling me that taylor's most romantic song is literally written by my favourite wag about my favourite driver?? i might pass out

ynusername haha yes! i write a lot of songs for tay

landonorris So this song is basically about ur delusions liked by ynusername

user52863 oh now i need to know exactly what songs you've written

user20939 AND PLEASE RECORD COVERS OF THEM TOO

lilymhe wait so you've been friends with taylor the whole time...

lilymhe AND THE SONG THAT I WANT PLAYED AT MY WEDDING IS WRITTEN ABOUT OSCAR?? ynusername oh my god lily HAHA

let me know if you liked this!! i know it's super short but i'm seriously lacking inspo and ideas omd. also i literally love oscar so much.

i'm also working on a few reqs, so if you have a suggestion or request, let me know because i'd love to do it!!

[filthygalli]

When I met you: Chapter 1 “Package”

Fem! Reader x Neighbor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: Rude In-Ho, Some mild cursing, In-Ho’s stubborn cat Lmao, Not proof read so please bear with me.

Word Count: 1989

Author's Note: I've been writing this since earlier this morning, I was so intrigued about the song and I can't help but think 'Why not do a fiction story about In-Ho using this song as an inspiration?' then here am I, publishing the first chapter of the said fiction, I'll try to make this a long series! 🖤

< Series Master list | Next >

You worked as a graphic designer for some big company, even though you worked from home—you enjoyed what you were doing; you're a person who doesn't like to interact with so many people, except your friends, family, or someone who's close to you.

You've been working as a graphic designer for 3 years. You've gained enough money to buy a house—it's perfect for you, 2 bedrooms with one bathroom each—a cozy living room, kitchen, and a backyard that you turned into a garden. But honestly, it's too much for what you do for a living, but again, you're more than grateful.

You visit your hometown once in a while to spend some time with your parents and friends; you're more than happy to have them support you in the path that you chose. Whenever you visit, your mom always cooks your favorite dishes, while your dad, well…he always teases you about settling down. Honestly, seeing yourself being in a relationship is crazy; you're a busy person, and you're afraid that you might end up with someone who's not fit for your job and likings.

“Sweetheart, it's just…you're too devoted to your job. I know you hate it every time I tell you about this, but there's someone out there for you—who’s going to understand your busy days.” Your dad gave you a comforting look. It's true, you're too devoted to what you're doing, and you can't even go out on a date without making an ‘excuse’ that you're busy and something has come up, but the truth is…you're just afraid. Afraid that no one will love you for being a busy person, and it sucks.

You gave your dad a shy smile. “I know... I just think that it's not the right time; he'll come when the time is right.”

And that's where your grumpy neighbor showed up. He's tall; he looked old and surprisingly handsome for someone his age. He knocked on your door one night. You were reading a book called ‘Inferno' by Dante Alighieri. You're so intrigued by what you're reading that you didn't even hear that someone was knocking at your door. You hurriedly put down your book and ran towards the door. You swung the door open, seeing a middle-aged man who's wearing a black button-up shirt and black chino pants. He pushed up his glasses. 

“Are you deaf or something? I've been knocking since forever.” He annoyingly said, “Good evening to you too.” You said giving him your best fake smile, “I think we switched packages, These aren't mine.” He said, bringing up the two packages in his hand, “Oh…I didn't know–” he cuts you off before even finishing your sentence “of course you don't.” He whispered under his breath, “I'll…I'll go get yours I'll be back in a sec.” You said as you took your package in his hand as you slammed your door shut right at his face.

You sigh as you close the door, feeling embarrassed by your actions. ‘He deserves it,’ you thought. You went to your room and grabbed the unopened package; you checked the name, making sure it's not really yours.

“Hwang In-Ho…” you read the name on the parcel, liking how his name sounds. 

You went downstairs and opened the door, seeing the man leaning against your porch railing. “Thank God, what took you so long?” he groans. He leans forward as he slowly walks towards you; he looks down on you and rudely takes the package from your grasp. You're stunned at his action but manage to say something: “I'm sorry, Mr. Hwang, it won't happen again. Have a good evening.” You said, giving him a shy smile; his eyes softened upon hearing his name. “Right, good evening to you too,” he said as he turned around and walked towards his home.

You noticed his reaction when you said his name; was he expecting you to say it?

Did you catch him off guard? You just chuckled to yourself and closed the door behind you as you walked to your bedroom to continue reading your book.

Meanwhile, In-Ho sat on his couch, staring at the package that he set down on his coffee table, ‘Hwang In-Ho,’ he read in his mind. He scoffed; of course you would know his name; it's written on the damn parcel. He groans as he palms his face, “Fuck,” he grumbles. He quickly gets his mind off of you, on how good your voice sounds saying his name, the way you would give him a shy and innocent glance even though he's being rude to you. He finds it cute. But at the same time, he feels bad—but deep down he doesn't care; you're just another annoying neighbor that would give him nothing but pure hatred. 

The next day

You woke up holding a book in your hand. Great, you fell asleep again. You sigh as you sit up, lightly scratching your eyes as you yawn, making you stretch your arms in the air, groaning in response. You went to the bathroom and took a warm shower, getting ready for today.

In-Ho groans in his sleep, and as his alarm clock goes on, making him reach for his phone to turn it off, he sits up, grabbing his glasses as he goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He went to the kitchen to make his morning coffee, a classic Americano. The aroma of the coffee beans filled the air; it made him feel alive. He sighed as he poured his fresh brewed coffee into his mug. 

You went out from the shower, drying yourself off before putting on comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. You went to the kitchen to make your morning coffee. You and In-Ho brew your coffees the same; you both like black coffee. Some may hate it because of the bitter taste, but the difference between you and In-Ho is that In-Ho doesn't put sweetener in his coffee; he just likes pure black coffee, while you… you drink your coffee with 2 tablespoons of sugar in it.

You went outside to sit on the bench on your porch while you drank your coffee as you held your book in your right hand. You like doing this every morning; it's calm and peaceful. Not until In-Ho walks by your house do you watch him walk by; it looks like he just woke up too. He's wearing a dark blue t-shirt and comfortable pants—a pair of loafers too. You can't help but notice how fit he is, how his biceps fit on the sleeve of his shirt, how broad his shoulder is. Before you could think of anything, you snapped yourself out of it as you noticed that he's holding a leash... of a cat? You smiled as you saw In-Ho’s black cat. The fur of his cat is gorgeous. It was unexpected to see In-Ho with a pet cat. After your interaction with him last night, you somewhat thought of him as a person who doesn't care about anyone except himself…and, well, his cat too. 

You didn't notice that you've been looking at In-Ho for a while, he looks at your direction as he adjusts his glasses, god he looks so good with those glasses…you blushed and felt a little embarrassed, you pretend to read and quickly drink your coffee, Meanwhile, In-Ho chuckled at your reaction—He somewhat finds himself admiring you, the way you had your hair into a messy bun, the way your t-shirt hugged all your curves, your soft skin…he wondered how would your skin feels like under his touch, he imagined you lightly shivering upon his touch, he snapped himself from thinking something else as his cat, Yu-jin, leading him to your porch, he tried to pull his cat away but Yu-jin decided to be stubborn and ran towards your porch making your eyes widen, you smiled at In-Ho’s reaction—he’s shocked and decided to let his cat Yu-Jin walks towards you, usually his cat doesn't really care about people, just like him. 

“Aren't you a cute little one—!” You crouched in front of In-Ho's cat, who seemed happy to see a new person besides his dad, In-Ho. The cat purred and circled around your legs. “That's odd,” In-Ho mumbled. “Odd? ” You looked up at In-Ho, who's looking at his cat still circling around your legs. “He never does that to other people,” he said coldly, not even bothering to look at you. “Oh—maybe he likes me! ” You said, ruffling the cat's fur as he lay on his back, making you rub its belly, “He's so precious—what’s his name? ” You again looked at In-Ho, who was looking at you but quickly glanced away and said, “Yu-jin.” “Yu-jin…” you tested the cat's name on your lips, “It's cute—Hi, Yu-Jin! ” You cupped the cat's face. “He's so adorable, In-Ho—” You looked at In-Ho, who gave you a look as he looked down on you, still crouching in front of him. ‘Fuck,’ he thought. “How did you know my name? ” He mumbled, so low it almost sounded like a whisper, “What?” “Forget it.” He said as he crouched down, picking up Yu-Jin in his arms, making his hands slightly brush yours. You took a glance at his hands; they're so beautiful. The veins in his hands looked attractive; it felt so smooth against yours… He also smells like coffee, your favorite coffee.

And just like that he left without even saying anything, leaving you crouching down on your porch. You sighed as you stood up, grabbing your book and your coffee before going inside the house.

In-Ho puts down Yu-Jin far enough from your house. “That's new…you've never been like that to anyone,” he said as if Yu-Jin could understand what he was saying. They went to a vet, to check up on Yu-Jin, In-Ho treats his cat like his own child, Going to a vet at least once a week, vet means new toy for Yu-Jin, And let's not forget the treats that Yu-Jin would get on the way home, But not that he doesn't want a kid or whatever, he just never really thought of falling in love, he thinks that being in love with someone takes so much time and energy, He also thinks that no one would put up with his attitude and stubbornness—he’s also a professor, a busy one, he doesn't even bother to flirt back with his colleagues at the University who's been hitting on him since he stepped foot in that university, perhaps Yu-Jin is the only one who he needs to go through with everyday. 

While waiting for Yu-Jin and his vet, he thought of you, “Damn it.” He whispered to himself. He remembered how your face looked when you were crouching down. In front of him while playing with Yu-Jin. How beautiful your smile is; he wonders how old you are, what you do for a living, but he also remembered having a book on the bench on your porch. He tried to remember what book it is, but the book cover looks familiar. He grabbed his phone and searched for something: Dante Alighieri’s book. He pressed the search button, and multiple books of the said author showed up, but he managed to find that book that you're reading earlier. ‘Inferno,’ he thought; he couldn't help but smile to himself. It's his favorite book; it's one of the reasons that he teaches as a literature professor. He's not expecting someone like you would be reading a book like this; it surprised him. He can't help but regret being rude to you; you're such a kind and gentle person. He thought of at least being nice with you—just enough for you and him to have a good relationship with each other as neighbors.

Author's Note: Omg I wasn't expecting to publish a fiction regardless of me panicking about my first semester school works—But please let me know what you think, I would really like to make this a big series. I love In-Ho/Byung Hun so much he's way too precious! Let me know if you want to be in my taglist. 🖤

[gguk-n]

Short n Sweet (Max Verstappen x Singer!Reader)

Inspired by the new Sabrina Carpenter album. Face claim- Sabrina Carpenter. All the pictures are from pinterest and instagram

No hate to anyone. This is all fiction

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by maxverstappen1, chappelroan, and 1,837,209 others

y/n.y/l/n Wanted to give you guys a little something before Coachella. Surprise single before Coachella.

user1 OMG!! SUMMER BOP😍😍 user2 why is Max lurking in the likes?🤔 user3 user2 who is Max? user2 user3 Max Verstappen is a Formula One driver for RedBull Racing user4 who has my girl writing love songs for??😭😭 user5 how are we supposed to learn this in a few hours? It's on the setlist for coachella🥲🥲

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by maxverstappen1, chappelroan and 1,245,298 others

y/n.y/l/n Thank you to everyone who came! I had a blast and even got to meet chappelroan. Can't believe you guys memorised Espresso in such short notice, love you guys!!😘😘

user6 I'm so happy they met😭 user7 She looks like the prettiest southern princess😍😍 user8 my dream came true when I got to see you live today❤️❤️ user9 There's a rumour that this song is about Max Verstappen?!🤐 user10 love you baby girl!! ❤️❤️The IT GIRL of pop is here😘😘

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by maxverstappen, redbullracing and 926,928 others tagged maxverstappen1

y/n.y/l/n So happy to release the next single on my album- Please Please Please. Hope you enjoy❤️

user1 is it just me or did they dating catch me off guard?🫣 user2 I thought it was just rumours but it seems it's real😭 user3 I didn't think we'd get to see Max act, but damn😭😭 user4 she's really marking her territory😏👀 user5 Max I hope you are better than all her shitty exes🙂 redbullracing thank you for casting our driver. All those acting lessons have paid off💙Liked by Author

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 2,873,084 others tagged maxverstappen1

y/n.y/l/n The cat's out of the bag. I would like you to meet my boyfriend Max, a cat dad of 2 gorgeous Bengals. Also, I'm a bit of a show off, so here's pictures of my hot sappy boyfriend😍😍

maxverstappen1 Love you, schat💙 y/n.y/l/n maxverstappen1 I love you too baby!!❤️ redbullracing come to the paddock soon!! We would love to meet you🥹 landonorris OMG!! This is the girl you asked tips on how to pull?😏😏 maxverstappen1 landonorris I didn't ask for tips. I did it on my own user6 OMG!! THE HARD LAUNCH IS LAUNCHING😭😭 user7 I'm happy to see her sappy and in love😭😍 user8 the second and fifth picture🤤🤤 user9 Both of you are too cute😤😤 user10 can't wait to see Max at her concerts🥹🥹

maxverstappen1

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, landonorris and 2,870,208 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

maxverstappen1💙💙

y/n.y/l/n WOW a man of many words maxverstappen1 y/n.y/l/n I can show you I love you without uttering a single word redbullracing cutest couple ever!!💙💙 landonorris can't believe you pulled her👀 maxverstappen1 landonorris 😡🤬 charles_leclerc So happy for you both!❤️ schecoperez the kids love watching her old Disney shows!!❤️ y/n.y/l/n schecoperez OMG!! I wanna meet them!!🥹🥹 user1 can't wait to see her at the races😏 user2 Max has been so happy and cheery since he started dating her🫣 user3 both of them are made for each other😌😌 user4 the second picture 😍🤤Max is strong 🤤🤤 user5 both of them are each others biggest fans, so cute❤️❤️

Wired Autocomplete Interview with Y/N Y/L/N

maxverstappen1

Liked by y/n.y/l/n and 318,297 others

maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere🟠 We couldn't challenge for the win today, but thank you for all your incredible support 🙌

y/n.y/l/n You did so well baby!! So proud of you!!😘😘 maxverstappen1 y/n.y/l/n thanks lifde. So proud of you too!!💙💙 y/n.y/l/n maxverstappen1 overall a great weekend for us🥹😏 user5 you were great!! We love you❤️❤️ user6 get you a man that celebrates your wins too🤧🤧 user7 their interactions are so cute, can't even believe she made it to the race🥹🥹 user8 they made everyone feel single at the paddock😭😭 user9 Monza next, Max will work his magic😤 user10 we love to watch the power couple win😭

[therhythmafterthesummer]

trust

pairing: seo changbin x gender neutral reader

genre: smut – MDNI

synopsis: changbin confesses something to you, hoping you'd forget the next day – but you don't resulting in taking action on his confession 

warnings: smut, established relationship, soft dom reader, sub changbin, nipple play, anal play, anal training, toys used (butt plugs, strap-on), anal fingering, pegging, after care, traffic light system, safe words, pet names, mention of receiving nudes  

words: 6.2k ~ (6249)

☆ m.list — ☆ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

love. it's a strong word that holds the same power and weight as the word hate. you never thought you could love someone, yet here you are contemplating on whether this foreign feeling is indeed love.

the person who is challenging said emotions is none other than seo changbin. you met by pure coincidence, falling for his charming looks and words. due to his physical appearance, people are quick to judge however, you know that he is just one big softie.

it was an accident, a stupid drunken accident. no matter what he said or did, he couldn't take back those words. changbin is a happy drunk, the type that laughs at everything and nothing. on top of that, he also overshares and oversharing, he did.

a glass in hand, you stare at him with a shocked expression. his cheeks slowly turning a deep red, his brain catching up with his mouth, registering what he just confessed to you 

“i want to try a strap-on with you.”

he tried to back track, stumbling over his own words as he stared at your blank expression. once your own brain registered what your boyfriend just drunkenly confessed to you, did you calmly reassure him. you told him that you've both had a little too much to drink and that all of it will be forgotten in the morning

but it wasn't 

you woke up and remembered everything. you look to the side, your sleeping boyfriend snoring away. lips parted and face puffy with sleep. dried up drool on his chin, his chest rising up and down slowly in time with his soft breathing.

you never thought of changbin as a switch or a sub for that matter. he always had the dominant aura about him and he knows how to dominate you, that much is very true. maybe it's his physic that made you prejudge. he is a buff, strong man after all so you instantly thought of him as the type who likes to dominate and not the other way around.

but with the drunken confession, now you're questioning. is he a switch? a sub? why does he want to try a strap-on with you? what other stuff does he want to try with you and how long has he wanted to do this?

you want to ask him but you're worried that it might be overstepping the mark. maybe it's best if you wait until he is ready or until he mentions it again. let him come to you when he's confident.

in the meantime, you decide to prepare. you've never done anything like this before so all of it is new territory to you. you want to please your significant other, make him feel comfortable. you researched every single website, expanding your knowledge on this particular type of stuff.

you secretly bought the necessities, things that would make changbin feel at ease. you asked the owners of the sex shops you shopped at for tips and tricks, making a mental note of everything they said as well as researching on forums and watching videos.

you learnt about preparation, how to be gentle. you don't want to cause any harm to him down there so it's important that he prepares himself; especially if he wants to be fucked by you.

one thing that was bugging you, is that you wasn't sure how changbin wants to do it. normally, people envision it, they know how and when they want to do, but considering you've been pretending to have ‘forgotten’ what he admitted to you to save him the embarrassment, bringing it up in a casual conversation just didn't feel right.

until he found your secret stash.

you thought you hid it away so perfectly. in a box tucked away at the bottom of your wardrobe with piles of clothing and shoes on top to make it look ‘natural’; until you walked into your bedroom to find a wide-eyed, red cheeked changbin on his knees, the box open and the plugs in his hands.

“binnie..” you whisper, chewing your lip. he looks up at you, his mouth agape. the words stuck in his throat as he gives you short rapid blinks. you swallow thickly, the air between you both thick with tension.

“these are–” he starts, looking back down at the toys before clearing his throat free from the lump “these are for you, right?” 

“uh, no baby. they're not.” you mumble, approaching him slowly. you kneel beside him, his eyes scanning the contents of the box. 

plugs, lube, strap-on, bits of paper with notes about preparation and aftercare scribbled on them.

“then who?” he asks, looking at you with his doe eyes 

“you.” you gently take the plugs from his clammy hands to place your own hands on top of his. 

“me?” he whispers, still shocked from all this new information. it's clear he doesn't remember that night where he confessed.

you take a deep breath in, intertwining your fingers into his. your own hands slowly turn clammy, heart beating against your rib cage. 

“do you remember a few nights ago, when we went out?” 

“yeah. minho invited us over for a small party. i remember waking up with a terrible hangover.” he chuckles as do you 

“well, you got drunk and confessed something to me.”

“what..?”

“that you wanted to try a strap-on with me.” changbin's eyes widen in horror. he swallows thickly, looking back down at the box. “im sorry bun. i remembered everything you said and so, i went out and bought all this for us–for you as well as research on it to make sure i cause no harm to you.” 

you press your lips together in a thin line. a sudden wave of guilt and anxiety washes over you as you watch your lover scan each and every object you've bought. after what felt like hours of radio silence, you asked the one question you thought you'd never have to ask.

“do you hate me..?” changbin's head spins in your direction, his features softening as his eyes rest upon your worried expressions. a few tears fall down your cheeks, taking you both by surprise.

“hey.” changbin says softly, “why are you crying darling?” the pad of his thumb swipes across your cheek, collecting the tears.

“i don't, i don't know. did i overstep? i should have asked you first, gone shopping with you instead of doing it all behind your back.” you choke out, chest slightly heaving. “please don't hate me. i'm sorry.”

changbin hushes your sobs by pressing his lips against your gently. you whimper softly, clinging onto his t-shirt as you move your lips with his, feeling them mold and move together in perfect harmony.

changbin rakes his fingers through your hair slowly before stroking your cheeks, stroking away the stray tears.

“i could never, ever hate you yn. i love and adore you so much.”

“but–” you choke out, hiccuping your words only for them to be silenced once again with the feeling of changbin's soft lips.

“shh. i don't hate you nor am i mad. there isn't anyone else in this world that i'd trust more than you to do this to me, for me.” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as your worries and anxiety get washed away in an instant.

“are you sure?” changbin nods. “a thousand percent?”

“a million percent. now–” changbin turns his attention back to the box, picking up your hand written notes “what do i need to do?” 

you explain to changbin what needs to be done, his full attention on you as he listens carefully to what you've researched on the internet. whilst listening, his cheeks hold a nice, pink colour. thoughts swimming through his mind as he becomes excited with nerves and anticipation.

“i bought you a starter set. so this–” you say, taking out the smallest butt plug. “is the smallest. we just have to train you and get you used to it before we go onto the bigger stuff.” 

“o-ok.” changbin whispers. you tilt your head to the side, feeling and noticing some tension from your bun.

“hey.” you put the plug down to hold his hands gently in yours “are you ok bub? we don't have to do this right now. we can do it some other time, when you're ready.” 

“it's not that i'm not ready…” 

“then what is it bun?”

“i'm just, nervous. i've thought of this so many times, watched so many porn videos related to this and i'm finally getting to do it with the person i love. i'm excited as fuck but also so nervous.” 

“that's good bun! i promise, i will take good care of you.” you softly speak, brushing your thumb across his flush cheeks. he hums softly, eyes fluttering shut as he leans into your touch.

“yn..”

“mhm?” you watch his eyes slowly flutter open, tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

“can we.. yknow..” he shuffles on the spot awkwardly and shyly, fingers twiddling and picking at his hoodie sleeves.

“tell me baby. tell me what's on your mind.” you place your hand on top of his in an attempt to soothe his worries.

“can we start now? like.. training and stuff..” his voice trails off until it's nothing but a soft and gentle squeak. you smile softly, nodding before planting your lips on his in a soft and soothing peck on the lips.

“are you sure you want to do this now?” 

“yes.” changbin says with the utmost confidence. “i trust you.” 

your heart swells at his words and the fact that he is trusting of you to do something like this. you hold his hand gently as you explain what needs to be done, explaining the preparation in order to make this a pleasurable experience for him. all the while, he listens carefully, soaking up all the information as his brows furrow together in concentration.

“and don't worry if you don't feel prepared enough in the shower, i can do that for you as well.”

“ok so that's all i have to do?” you nod, humming.

“yup. i can do the rest if needed. i think i bought everything for it. at least, i hope so.”

“then, i will go shower and yeah..” changbin flushes pink, rising to his feet. you watch, watch as he turns his back to you and rush off to the bathroom, locking the door. you giggle to yourself, changbin's demeanour screaming shy and awkward but that's to be expected.

you hear the shower turning on, giving you cue to set everything out on the bed. you grab a few hand towels and t-shirts, things you don't mind getting dirty because they need washing anyways.

you lay the towels on the bed, grabbing the smallest butt plug and lube. you place them on the bedside table, reading your notes over and over again as you nervously wait for your lover.

moments later, he returns. a towel around his lower half, body glistening with water as water drips from the tips of his curls. his cheeks are red, either from how warm the shower was or the fact that he is currently feeling shy and embarrassed. 

he slowly walks to you, glancing at the layout you've set. you look up at him, giving him a warm and gentle smile to hopefully soothe his nerves before patting the mattress beside you as an indication for him to sit; which he does.

“are you sure, bun?” you ask for the nth time. he looks at you, nodding his head slowly as he chews his bottom lip.

“i'm sure. just.. nervous, that's all.” he shakily laughs. you hum, lacing your fingers with his.

“i understand bun. we take it slow, yeah? don't be afraid to be vocal. tell me how you feel, what feels good and what doesn't feel good. if it hurts, tell me. if you're uncomfortable, tell me. don't be afraid to use your safe word.” changbin nods slowly, loving how considerate and caring you sound.

“speaking of safe words, do you remember yours?” 

“bunny. your nickname for me.” 

“good. don't be afraid to also use the traffic lights system. get used to me asking for your colour, ok?” 

“ok.” he swallows, “yn. are you nervous too?” you chuckle softly, changbin has clearly noticed your clammy hands and the way you're trying to hide the nervousness in your voice.

“i am. i'm very nervous bun.” 

“why?” he asks, looking at you with his bright and beady eyes.

“because all this is new to me too baby. i may have spent hours and hours researching and buying the things for it but that's different from actually doing it.” 

changbin hums in acknowledgement, stroking your hand with his thumb as a way of soothing you. you smile sweetly at him, leaning in and pressing your lips against his gently. his eyes flutter shut, lips pressing against yours and copying the movements.

he shuffles onto your lap, legs either side and hands holding your shoulders gently. the towel around his waist threatens to slip and slide off. you hold onto his soft waist, caressing the skin before lightly trailing your fingertips up and down his sides causing changbin to shiver and whimper softly.

“yn..” he whispers against your lips. you hum, fingertips brushing over his hard nipples. you feather kisses down his jaw to his neck, gently nipping and sucking at his tender skin whilst your fingers roll and pinch his nipples.

his bottom lip caught between his teeth to stifle the moans that are threatening to escape from his lips. you gently tug, rolling the sensitive bud between thumb and finger.

you kiss his lips sweetly before trailing your lips down his chest. you look up at your lover through your lashes as you trail your lips to his nipple to gently blow on it as a way to ‘test the waters’ 

he shivers, a soft moan escapes from his chest as his eyes flutter close–the desired outcome for you.

you gently suck on his hard nipple, making sure to give the opposite one just as much attention with your fingers. every time you tugged his nipple with your teeth, you did the same to the opposite with your fingers.

by now, an obvious tent has formed, causing the towel to rise up a little bit. changbin is flush, his skin feeling hot and hair frizzy and fluffy due to the humidity and letting it air dry. his fingertips are sinking into your shoulder blades as a way to anchor himself down.

he moans your name like a mantra, his voice soft and breathless. you continue your assault to his nipples, changbin rocking his hips back and forth onto you. you pull away slowly, licking your lips as changbin's eyes flutter open to meet a flustered looking you.

“colour?” you softly ask.

“green.” you nod, taking the towel from around his waist and throwing it on the bedroom floor. you scan his face for any signs of discomfort and when you see nothing but pleasure, want and need, you continue.

you slide your hands down his back slowly to cup his perky butt cheeks. he lets out a soft and shy giggle, his cheeks turning red as you massage and squeeze the plush, yet squishy and soft flesh.

“colour?” you whisper against his lips, fingers trailing to his hole. changbin swallows, eyes closing as he feels your fingers slowly circle around the rim of his asshole. 

“g-green.” you kiss his lips sweetly as you tease him. he bucks his hips, desperate for something. whether it'd be the friction on his cock or the feel of your fingers filling him up; he's aching for you.

you briefly pull away to grab the lube. changbin shuffles off your lap to rest his back and head on the mattress. he spreads his legs for you whilst you lube up two fingers, squeezing a bit extra to smear around his hole.

you smear the cold liquid around his hole, changbin letting out softly whimpers as goose bumps rise to the surface of his skin.

“cold.” he giggles. 

“sorry bun.” he gives a hum and a shake of his head, dismissing the apology. he bites his lip gently as he feels one of your fingers slowly push inside his hole. you give him a hum of satisfaction, noticing how well prepared he feels.

“you did as i instructed?” changbin nods his head, cheeks turning a beet red.

“yes..”

“you did a very good job, binnie. i can feel that!” you say, pushing further until you're at the first knuckle. changbin lets out a shaky breathe, his body slowly becoming overwhelmed by this new and foreign feeling.

“you're doing so well, binnie.” you praise softly. he gives you soft whimpers, eyes doe like and staring at you. you chuckle softly, leaning down and kissing his lips sweetly.

during the kiss, you slowly move your finger in and out, testing the waters. nothing but shaky breathes and groans leaves changbin's lips. you only continue further, adding more and more when he whispers “please. need so much more.”

at this point, changbin is a little out of it. his chest and soft tummy heaving up and down to match his laboured panting. his bottom lip plump and red from chewing it too many times. his body feels strange but good at the same time. he's dreamt and thought of this so many times–possibly too many times and it's finally coming true.

“i'm adding in another finger bun. remember, be vocal and tell me if it's too much.” changbin nods, eyes squeezing shut as he feels a second finger slowly insert inside him. you added more lube to make the process a bit easier. changbin involuntarily clenches around your fingers, making you chuckle and him to flush an embarrassing shade of red.

you begin to move your fingers slowly, scissoring him out occasionally. you watch him carefully for any signs of discomfort only to be met with breathy pants, rosy cheeks and sweat coated skin. his eyes flutter open, silently begging you for more–so you give him just that.

you pump your fingers at a reasonable pace. you watch his back arch and hands scrambling for something to hold onto, for his hands to be met with your bicep. he clings onto you for dear life, squeezing your muscle tightly as he moans softly.

the slit of his penis seeps pre cum, the head glistening under the faint light. his cock is painfully hard, standing proud and angry at the tip. he slowly trails a hand down his soft tummy to wrap his fist around his aching cock. he slowly pumps himself in time with your fingers, his toes curling against the sheets.

“g-good.. yn.. don't stop, please.” he whimpers, begging you. you kiss his sweaty forehead gently.

“do you feel good bun?” you ask sweetly. changbin nods his head fast, so fast he makes himself dizzy. you continue to massage his walls, his rim squeezing around your digits. you slowly push more of your fingers inside, the tips brushing against his prostate.

his eyes widen at the sudden feeling. an alien feeling coursing through his veins. it's not a bad feeling else he would have told you to stop, but in fact, it's a feeling of electricity rushing and pumping through his veins, tingling at the tips of his fingers and toes. it causes his hair to stand up on his arms, the pit of his stomach to flutter and his thighs to uncontrollably shake–no matter how hard he tries to stop them.

“found it.” you giggle. the words are lodged in changbin's throat as he opens and closes his mouth. with each nudge and rub, his mind slowly clouds over and becomes numb with nothing but pleasure.

“i'm so proud of you bun.” you praise, noticing how his hand has picked up in speed from the corner of your eye. he desperately fucks himself into his fist, desperately chasing his high. his thighs and butt cheeks tense, his soft tummy dipping as his body becomes overwhelmed.

“c-cant. want to cum.” he chokes out, throat dry 

“then cum, darling.”  his eyes squeeze shut, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he bites down on his bottom lip. he bites hard, hard enough to draw some blood as he body shakes and spasms from his orgasm. his body fluid lands on his stomach, the rim of his ass clenching around your fingers with each shot of his cum.

slowly pulling your fingers out of his puckered hole, you lean down to soothe changbin and bring him back down to you. he lets out soft sobs and whimpers, his mind too hazy and gone.

“sh sh bun. focus on me, focus on my voice.” you gently run your fingers through his sweaty lock of curls, changbin looking at you with doe and hazy eyes as he sobs. you plant kisses on his face. his lips, tip of his nose, cheeks, eyes, bridge of his nose–anywhere you see fit, you kissed.

“y-yn.” he shakily chokes out. you smile softly at him, kissing his lips sweetly.

“hello bub.” he gives you a weak laugh. you kiss his forehead gently, ignoring the sweat that coats your lips. changbin lets out heavy breaths, his body feeling heavy but at the same time, high and buzzing off the adrenaline he's feeling.

“shall we stop here, baby?” 

“no. i want to continue.” 

“are you sure? i don't want you to tire yourself out. if you're feeling tired bun, we can always do it tomorrow.”

“i know.” changbin lifts himself up, using his elbows and forearms to support his weight from behind, “but i want to. i feel fine, i promise.” 

the smile he gives you is reassurance. in this moment, your significant other is glowing. your heart bursting and stomach fluttering as you fall in love with him all over again. you feel heat rise to your cheeks and a sudden burst of energy and excitement bubbling in your stomach, threatening to escape from your throat.

“yn? are you ok?”

“yeah.. yeah! i'm fine just admiring how beautiful you look right now.” 

“oh hush. i probably look as gross as i feel.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks in your hands, pressing your lips against his in a sweet and love filled kiss. he instantly melts in the palm of your hands, his energy depleting as he allows himself to get lost in the kiss.

“you're the most beautiful, most gorgeous person ever, changbin. everytime i look at you, i fall in love with you all over again.”

“i–” changbin flushes red, heart bursting and thumping hard against his rib cage. “thank you.” he whispers. you giggle, kissing his cheek gently before lubing up the butt plug.

“ready?”

“ready.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

changbin and you did anal training for days, weeks. at first, he was still getting us to the foreign feeling of having something in his ass, but the more time that went on, the more he enjoyed it–more than he'd like to admit.

of course, you started small, beginner size before moving your way up to the bigger and thicker sizes. you and changbin trained almost every night, sometimes during the day too. some days, it'd be right as you'd wake up. you'd see a flush and hard changbin staring down at you, plug in hand as he'd whimper and beg to be filled by you.

during the days, when he would be incredibly busy, he'd send you some nudes. your favourite being of him posing in the mirror, his cheeks spread giving you a clear view of the plug (if he was wearing one) else it'd be his fingers nestled deep within himself.

he dared to wear a plug during the day, but not for long in case of injury. he enjoyed it, a lot. the feeling of knowing what he was doing, what he was wearing made him anxious and nervous. what if everyone else could tell what he was doing? what if he got spotted? he was thriving off the thrill, the adrenaline.

before all of this started, changbin never considered himself to be a switch or a sub. he vowed to himself that he was a dom and a dom only because there was something about feeling in control that he enjoyed so much. however, seeing you behave in the way you have been, treating him with the utmost respect and care, like he is a delicate rose, made him realize that he likes to be taken care of much more. 

something inside you both changed since the training. it's sparked something, making your sex life feel more worth it and special. the fact that changbin is putting all his trust in the palm of your hands, fills you up with so much excitement that you're buzzing. seeing your lover walk through the door, flush skin and doe eyes as he trails himself to you whilst begging for you, shakes you to your core.

you want to play with him just that little bit more. the sadistic side of you wants to torment him, leave him high and dry. you want to hear him beg for you to touch him, to relieve him of his ache. you want to hear him sob as tears fall down his pretty face; but not yet. you know it's far too soon for that. you're aware that changbin is still getting used to being a sub as are you being a dom.

you love being penetrated by changbin. you love feeling him inside and watching his brows furrow together as he fucks you slow and deep. you love knowing that he is losing all composure because of your warmth, your sounds and the way you smell and taste; however, since training, you've found yourself to enjoy giving more than receiving.

“i think–” changbin pants, breathe fanning against your lips, “i think i'm ready.” you pull away slightly from your naked lover, changbin staring at you as he bites his lip gently.

“are you sure?” changbin hums as he nods his head.

“positive.” you give him a warm and gentle smile before moving off the bed to grab the thing you've both been preparing yourselves for for months–the strap-on.

you walk to your lover as he watches you with his beady eyes. he shuffles on to his knees, sitting back on his feet as if he's awaiting your instruction.

“i know i keep asking baby, but, are you sure sure?”

“i've never been so sure about something in my life, yn. i trust you and wouldn't want to do this with anyone else but you.” his voice is soft and sincere as his eyes hold nothing but love and trust for you. you feel heat rush up your neck to your cheeks, butterflies becoming resident in your stomach as they flutter around.

“gosh i love you.” you mumble as you put on and prepare the strap-on. 

“i love you too.” you shuffle onto the bed to rest against the headboard. changbin watches you, feeling unsure on what to do. he wants to do something, he has that urge, that tingle in his fingers–but he's too scared and embarrassed to initiate anything.

“how would you like to do it, bun?” 

“i want to–” he mumbles, playing with his fingers as his cheeks flush pink, “i want to ride you.” 

“of course baby! anything to make you feel comfortable. but there's one thing you have to do first.” 

changbin swallows before shifting to lie on his back. he parts his legs, giving you full view of his plug that's nestled in his ass. he trails one hand down his chest and soft tummy until he feels the material of the plug and the big pink heart gem that's decorating the end.

“pretty.” you mumble, admiring how the pink gem finishes off the look. changbin gives you a whimper as he slowly pulls the plug out from his hole.

“fuck..” he whispers. he shivers as the plug is removed from him, throwing it on the bed. you clench your jaw as you watch his hole contract and glisten from the lube. 

“you've gotten so good at this now, bun. i'm so proud of you.” you coo. changbin whines softly as he shuffles onto your lap, legs either side as he hovers over the strap-on.

“i couldn't have done it without you, yn.”

“no?” you ask, reaching for the bottle of lube. you squirt some onto two fingers, reaching behind your lover to circle the rim of his puckered hole.

“n-no.” he shakily whispers. you let out a simple hum before pushing two fingers inside with ease. changbin lets out a shakily breath, feeling himself clench around your digits as you pump them. you caress his walls, fingertips brushing against his prostate.

his forehead makes contact with your shoulder as he pants heavily. he can see nothing but stars, his body slowly becoming consumed with pleasure as you continue on with the assault to his prostate. you kiss his cheek gently as you continue to tell him how well he is doing, changbin giving you short, laboured pants as he shivers and grips onto you.

“yn.. please.. i don't–i don't need to be stretched out.” 

“don't underestimate it baby. we have to be sure.” 

“o-ok but please.. hurry.” he begs. you give him a small chuckle, fingers caressing and scissoring his hole. changbin gives you a series of long moans and groans, his eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the pleasure.

“ok.” you say as you slowly pull your fingers out of him. his hole clenches around nothing, dissatisfied from the sudden empty feeling. “i think you're ready.”

you grab the lube, squirting some on the palm of your hand before coating the strap-on. changbin watches you, his heart rate picking up in speed because now is the time. he's dreamt of this for so long, prepared himself for weeks for this final moment.

“ready whenever you are baby. remember to take it slow and steady. don't rush, remember what we've been talking about.” changbin nods slowly before reaching behind him. he keeps one hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he grips onto the base of the strap-on. you hold him gently, watching his every movement as if you're ready to pounce on him if you see any signs of discomfort.

he guides the strap-on to his hole, gently nudging it with the tip and occasionally rubbing his hole to smear lube around. he takes a deep breath in before slowly lowering himself down on it. all the while, you stroke his waist, praising him as he slowly sinks down.

he's hole engulfs the strap-on, stretching his hole even more. he didn't think that could be possible with all the anal training however, you were correct–never underestimate.

“s-shit.” changbin shakily whispers out, his fingertips sinking into your shoulder blade, his cock angry and hard.

“are you ok baby??” you ask, worry lacing your voice as you notice changbin's brows furrowing together and eyes fluttering close.

“more than ok.” he groans, allowing himself to sink down further to stop half way. “i feel so… full.”

“do you feel good, binnie?”

“fuck.. yes…” 

“move when you wa–” your sentence cuts short, cheeks flushing red as changbin wastes no time in bouncing on you. you swallow thickly, watching your lover embrace and indulge in his pleasure and high. he uses his thighs to help himself bounce faster, loud moans escaping past his lips on their own.

“pretty…” you whisper. you scan his face, hair and mainly his body. you take in how perky and pink his nipples look, how his cock bounces in time with his own bouncing. his curls match the movements as the tips slowly become soaked with sweat and stick to his forehead. 

“yn.. yn.. good, so good!” his eyes flutter open, doe eyes staring back at you. his cheeks a beautiful pink colour as his bottom lip is plump from the kissing and biting.

“c'mer.” you groan, pulling changbin to you by the back of his head. your lips clash and collide together. a sloppy yet coordinated kiss that's mixed with breathy pants and saliva. you tangle your fingers in his curls, gently tugging at the roots as changbin dares to lower himself further down onto the strap-on. 

he lets out a sudden shriek, pleasure overrunning his mind and taking over. the tip of the toy has successfully brushed against his prostate causing him to do nothing but whimper and give you breathy moans.

his thighs burn from having to constantly tense up. his movements become slow and sloppy. he looks at you, his features begging you to take over–so you do.

you hold onto his lower back as you gently lower him down onto the sheets. you situate yourself between his legs, slowly thrusting inside him. you only pick up the pace when you see changbin's head flop side to side, lips parting as he allows his moans to free fall past his lips.

“love you. i love you so much.” he whimpers, fingers wrapping around his length. he pumps himself in time with your movements, his thighs shaking and fist bundling the sheets.

“i love you too, bun. you're doing so well for me. you're so beautiful, so special to me.” you coo, reaching down and letting your fingertips brush against his sensitive nipples. he whimpers as he watches you stroke, tug and roll his nipples between your thumb and finger. 

“my pretty baby.” changbin swipes his thumb over his soaked tip, oversensitivity causing him to shiver and whine. the pit of his stomach is hot and tight, his orgasm fast approaching; much faster than usual.

“i might.. i think…” he shakily pants out. you give him a nod and a loving smile.

“it's ok bun. you can cum.” with a final tug of his cock and a brush of his prostate, his orgasm hits him. his cum shoots out onto his stomach, his desperate whines fill the bedroom as he lazily tugs his penis to ride out his high. you slow down in your movements to help him ride it out as well as come back down from his high. all the while, you continue to praise him, to speak to him so he knows that you're there and that he should come back to you.

his arms and legs flop onto the bed, exhaustion talking over. you pull out of him slowly, taking off the strap-on and placing it to the side to clean later. you lay beside changbin to kiss his cheek gently.

“what about you?” he asks, moving his head to the side to look at you. you blink a few times, confused as to what he is saying.

“what do you mean, bun?”

“well, you haven't.. yknow.”

“oh! i'm fine binnie.” you smile. “its about you, not me.”

“i know but i want to make you feel good too.” he says with a pout, lifting himself up to sit upright. you follow suit, stroking his sweat coated hair.

“you do make me feel good bunny. seeing and hearing you feel so good because of me is enough to make me feel high. knowing that you love and trust me enough to do something like this is magical, changbin. you don't have to worry about me, i promise. plus, there will be plenty of times for you to please me, i'm sure of it.” 

“mhm, ok yn. if you're sure though.”

“a hundred percent, my love.” you kiss his cheek sweetly before shuffling off the bed. you hold your hand out to him to which he takes. you walk to the bedroom together, putting on the shower and stepping inside.

you take turns to wash each others hair and body. it would have taken a few minutes but with you both continually kissing and hugging one another, it took around an hour to get cleaned up and dressed. changbin couldn't keep his hands or lips off you, your heart swelling once again with love from how clingy your lover has become.

he clings to you as you both walk to the living area. changbin sits on the sofa as you turn on the TV. you spin on your heels to walk to the kitchen to prepare food for you both; only to be stopped by a pouty changbin who is currently whining and going grabby hands at you.

“but food?”

“order? i want cuddles first.” he says, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. you melt on the spot, laughing softly as you walk to him. his eyes and face instantly light up as you sit next to him. he immediately rests his head on your lap as you take the sofa blanket and drape it over him.

“thank you.” changbin whispers. you look down at him as you twist his hair around your finger slowly.

“what for baby?” 

“for today. for this. for helping me in all of this. i couldnt have done with with a better person than you. i felt safe.”

“you did?” your heart leaping out off your chest, those butterflies fluttering erratically in your stomach.

“mhm.” changbin nods. “i always feel safe with you yn. you are my home after all.”

note: part of starry's treasure trove! this is the main and probably the most 'juiciest' part of the trove 👀 ik this wont be everyone's cup of tea but if you did make it this far, thank youuu!! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @oshimee ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @cixrosie ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @fairylouist

[redvexillum]

@peach-flavored-flambe I started this whole Flufftober/Kinktober journey as a way to challenge myself. Thank you for picking all the prompts for me this month. Thank you for always reminding me to write for ME and not for others. Thank you for being supportive of all of my writing since the day I entered this fandom. I know you are a fluff connoisseur so it's only right that I end this challenge with fluff - it is part Flufftober after all (and I wrote 24 smutty stories this month lol!)

TAGS: disgustingly fluffy, catastor, alastor is bad with feelings, alastor is in denial, touch starved alastor, ambiguously defined established relationship, alastor has a tail

✨️ This is a companion piece to Oblivious Love. A snapshot of a possible mini-series I may or may not write ✨️

In another world, in another time, Alastor would have scoffed at the very notion of competing for anyone’s attention—least of all yours. And yet here he was, locked in a contest of affections with the most revolting, misshapen, red… thing. His lip curled in distaste. 

Competing? 

What a joke. 

He, Alastor, the Radio Demon, competing with… this? This mangy, misbegotten creature that you somehow, with all your boundless compassion, deemed to be a cat. His left eye twitched as he watched you coo at it, tenderly brushing your hand over its head. Every stroke made its misshapen ears flicker back before they sprung up again like hideous, overgrown weeds. 

The beast grinned up at you—a lopsided, almost maniacal grin—and Alastor cringed at its wide, vacant eyes. Eyes that pointed in opposite directions, adding an extra layer of stupidity to its already horrific form. And to top it all off, it wore some ridiculous monocle over one eye, like some half-wit caricature. Alastor's gaze narrowed on the creature’s absurd antler-like protrusion. 

How… befittingly obnoxious.

And then there was the name. 

Catastor. 

Of all the wretched things to call this freakish beast, you—and the rest of the hotel—had somehow arrived at Catastor, no doubt inspired by some misguided notion that this abomination had any resemblance to him. He huffed. The very idea. 

Just as he was about to enjoy a nice, quiet coffee break with you—his sacred time with his favourite person in all of Hell, uninterrupted and undivided—Catastor once again waltzed in, unannounced and unbothered. One garish screech later, and Alastor watched in slow motion as your attention shifted from him to… it. Your cooing started, that soft, adoring voice, while you scratched its revolting back, its purring filling the air with an infuriating satisfaction. 

Alastor’s grin tightened, his claws tapping rhythmically against his coffee cup, every nerve on edge. He imagined roasting the little beast, maybe flambéing it for good measure. Or perhaps he’d skip the cooking and just… devour it raw. 

It wouldn’t respawn. Unlike the sinners here, this little beast wouldn’t come back... 

...Actually, he wasn't entirely sure. It probably wouldn't come back. 

“Are you enjoying that, Catastor?” you murmured sweetly, eyes soft and radiant as you stroked it gently, letting your fingers glide down its back. Catastor’s eyes slowly drooped with bliss, purring loudly, completely absorbed in the luxury of your touch. 

Alastor’s claws tapped harder. Perhaps he would spare the creature for a little longer, let it feel a few more sunrises. But only for now, until he deemed the time right. 

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He’d never lower himself to something so trivial. No, he already had your attention. Compete? He smirked inwardly. He would never. 

“Dear?” Alastor called, his pride swelling as you looked up, your lovely smile still intact, eyes gleaming with interest as they settled on him. His heart raced—it always did when you looked at him like that, so openly, so innocently, as if he were your whole world. Clearing his throat, he kept his tone cheerful, even as he threw a disdainful glance at Catastor. 

“Your drink is getting cold, my dear. All this fuss over that… thing,” he muttered, lingering on the word with disdain as he quirked a brow toward the vile intruder. 

“Oh! That’s true!” you exclaimed cheerfully, scooping up Catastor with all the ease of picking up a damp noodle. The creature seemed to melt in your arms, his gelatinous little body sagging like all his bones had been dissolved into mush. His spine curved absurdly, draped over your arm like a ragged old towel, all while his purring grew even louder. You giggled brightly, an infectious sound that made Alastor’s ears twitch, and his eye give the faintest, most involuntary spasm. 

How smug, how terribly smug that little beast looked, he thought, like he’d won something. Alastor was positively certain that he could draw even more radiant laughter from you if he just had you to himself. 

But this… not-competing for your attention carried on. 

The next day, he found himself strolling around town by your side, his back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, as he recounted the latest juicy bits of gossip from Cannibal Town. Your expression was relaxed, attentive, and that quiet comfort in your eyes swelled a surprising sort of pride in his chest. 

“Oh, and don’t get me started on ol’ Frank here,” Alastor chortled, gesturing with his staff at a dilapidated little shop across the street. “Croaked in the last Extermination, poor fool! And now some hapless soul bought the building!” He pointed with glee just in time to see a young woman struggle with the door before it promptly collapsed on her head. He stifled a delighted laugh. “No one’s managed to run a shop there for nearly five hundred years! Imagine such a waste of souls….” 

“Aww, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically, your amused smile softening. “Maybe you could help her out? Make her a deal?” you teased, a playful smirk lighting up your features, though your usual kindness still sparkled in your eyes. 

“Perhaps,” Alastor mused, softening his tone as the two of you strolled on. He did enjoy these quiet moments with you, wandering through the chaos of town. Ordinarily, he might have offered any other lady his arm with a bit of playful charm, but as his eyes drifted to your hand swinging casually by your side, he couldn’t help a ridiculous little thought from slipping into his mind. 

What would it be like to take your hand? To clasp his fingers over yours? He imagined the warmth, the softness of your skin and your hand would fit perfectly in his, as if made for him alone. 

The hum of Cannibal Town’s busy streets faded to a quiet buzz as Alastor fell into the silence. His gaze lingered on your hand for a moment longer, and then, in a rare, almost boyish impulse, he stretched out one gloved finger, brushing ever so lightly against the top of your hand. 

Immediately, his gaze darted to your face, but your expression remained calm, as placid as ever, lost in thought. The smallest curl of his grin softened as he looked ahead again, spine straighter than ever. 

A shuddering breath slipped past Alastor's lips. He had held other people’s hands countless times over the years—flirtations, deals, the occasional well-mannered escort—but this was… different. Strangely intimate. Vulnerable, even, which was absolutely absurd. He was over a century old, for heaven’s sake, not some fumbling schoolboy. It was just a hand, after all; he could chalk it up to nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. 

So, after one fortifying breath, he steadied his gaze forward and reached out, his fingers inching toward yours. 

But… instead of your warm, delicate hand, his fingers closed around something smaller. And… hairier? 

Alastor’s eyes snapped down, and his lips clamped shut to suppress the hiss of static crackling in his throat. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep the shriek that wanted to escape from manifesting into the demonic roar his pride demanded. Because in his hand, instead of yours, was a limp, furry, noodle-like appendage. 

Catastor, somehow, had wriggled its way between the two of you and was now proudly extending its furry little paw into his hand. 

“Eugh!” Alastor recoiled, releasing the beast’s fuzzy limb with an audible cringe. 

You burst into peals of laughter, the sound bright and melodic as you greeted the cat with your usual warmth.

 “Catastor!” you cooed, scratching the creature’s head while it emitted a grating, delightfully hideous meow in response. Grinning up at Alastor, you said with a chuckle, “Look at us—a little family, walking around town like this!” 

Alastor’s grin tightened. “It looks nothing like me,” he muttered, only for the monocled beast to cast him a haughty, one-eyed glare. Under the hellish glow of the streetlights, its monocle gleamed almost smugly. 

“Oh, of course,” you replied simply, your laughter still dancing on your lips. 

His eye twitched as he entertained himself with the idea of cooking the cat into a jambalaya, rich and smoky. But no—that would be a small defeat, a concession that he was somehow competing with the fiendish little furball, which he wasn’t. 

Not at all. 

Yet, the relentless interference continued. Day after day, Alastor’s patience thinned. The little vermin seemed to have made it its life’s mission to sabotage every moment he tried to spend alone with you. He’d reach out naturally, aiming to rest a hand on your shoulder, only to feel the warm, slightly damp fur of the cat draped over your shoulder instead, as if it had some preternatural ability to stretch itself into his every gesture. 

Every time, he could imagine nothing less than punting the thing across the Petagram and sending it into the deepest layer of Hell. Yet, that urge would disappear the moment he heard your bright, amused laughter and saw your radiant smile. It was like you were some smile devil—any glimpse of your joy, and he lost all resolve to do anything that might bring you sadness. 

One afternoon, in the quiet shade of the bayou, Alastor stood by, his legs pulled primly together as he watched you lying in the grass. Your eyes were closed, a soft, contented hum escaping your lips as you lay there, bathed in the dappled light. The whole scene should have been picturesque: you, serene, the epitome of innocence and tranquility. 

But there was that hideous thing, sprawled over your chest like a satisfied pancake, purring loudly as if it had any right to bask in your affection. 

Alastor’s grin was wide, but his eyes were sharp, glaring daggers at the offending beast now lazing on top of you as if it belonged there. You, oblivious, kept humming, your hand stroking the cat’s fur in gentle, absent-minded sweeps. A perfectly peaceful scene, if not for the blob of red fluff ruining the picture by its very presence. 

One day, he mused darkly, one day that creature’s reign will end. But for now, he contented himself with standing by, watching the two of you in bemused, begrudging silence. 

The longer Alastor stared at that mangy little beast basking in your gentle touch, the more a unfamiliar itch settled in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, just in passing—strictly passing, of course—what it might feel like if your fingers drifted through his hair instead, tender and deliberate. 

Not that he’d ever ask, of course.

It was merely… curiosity. 

Still, the cat’s purring only seemed to grow louder, practically vibrating with pleasure. Alastor's ears flattened, lying flush against his head as his grin grew tighter, his shoulders hunching slightly as his neck tried to disappear into his collar. He wasn’t jealous, nor was he competing with a wretched creature for your attention. 

He most certainly was not. 

His fingers drummed against his knee, the gentle tap-tap-tap a cover for how long it had been since he’d had time alone with you, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company without any interruptions. To touch your shoulder, perhaps even feel your hand… in a gesture of camaraderie, of course. 

Yes, that cat really did need to go. 

“What’s wrong?” Your soft voice broke through his reverie, and he blinked, letting the darker thoughts slip away like shadows at dawn. 

Forcing a laugh, he pitched it into that usual two-tone cadence, rolling his eyes with practised ease. “Nothing’s the matter, dear, just basking in the peace and quiet,” he flicked his wrist with a dismissive flair, avoiding your gaze. 

You hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly mused aloud, “I wonder… is your hair soft?” 

Alastor’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to you with an almost painful creak. His heart thundered, warmth radiating through his chest in a dizzying surge. “That’s a rather odd question, isn’t it?” he replied, wincing as he heard the slight waver in his voice. His tail thumped softly against the marshy grass in protest. 

“Well, your son—” 

“He’s not my son,” Alastor interrupted quickly, unable to hide the slight flush in his cheeks. 

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes, and Alastor found himself scooting just the tiniest bit closer. 

“Oh?” He let a wicked grin slip across his face. “So, you want to touch my hair, do you? It’ll cost you a steep price, my dear.” His eyes glowed with mock menace, and a low buzz of static crackled from his staff. “Perhaps… your soul,” he laughed darkly, the edge of humour softening his tone. 

You blinked at him before bursting into bright laughter. “What if I offer a massage instead?” You wiggled your fingers playfully. “Catastor seems to love it when I give him a little scratch behind the ears.” 

“Ugh.” Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “That cat’s so starved for affection, you could probably kick it, and it’d still be purring like mad.” His grumble was almost swallowed up by his own embarrassment. 

There was a moment of silence as you watched him, a thoughtful look flickering in your eyes. Alastor stiffened under your gaze, nerves prickling as though you could see right through him. Then, with a bright smile, you reached out, your fingers splayed and wiggling in invitation. “You can be the judge then,” you offered with a grin, your hands open and waiting. 

Alastor’s gaze locked on your outstretched fingers, and as if guided by some irresistible, magnetic force, he found himself drifting closer, leaning in with a reverence that felt both foreign and sacred. He knelt just above your head, his eyes meeting yours in a soft, consuming stare, so near he could see the flecks of colour that danced within your gaze under the dim light. Slowly, carefully, he bowed, his face hovering just inches from yours, every breath mingling in the silence. 

His hair brushed against your cheek, and the contact brought a light laugh from you, your voice a murmur that warmed his every nerve. “That tickles.” 

He was entranced, utterly held captive by your closeness, by the way your lashes fluttered and your cheeks flushed. He’d never seen you this close before, and each tiny detail felt etched into his memory. “Well, go on,” he said softly, his tone dipped in a vulnerability he rarely allowed. “Show me if your massage is as grand as you claim.” 

A rush of warmth and satisfaction welled within him when he saw your own eyes flicker away shyly, your teeth worrying at your lip. You looked so endearingly flustered, as if realizing you and he were somehow alone in a bubble of time—just the two of you, no one else to intrude, no foolish cat.

Your fingers threaded delicately into his hair, and he surrendered, eyes slipping closed as he basked in the soft drag of your nails against his scalp. A shiver chased down his spine, and he released a soft, involuntary sigh, savouring every touch. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this—no, no one had ever touched him like this. 

Your fingers travelled over his hair, deft and soothing, with your thumb tracing small circles at the base of his ear. He shuddered, his tail swaying in a steady, rhythmic beat beside him, betraying just how deeply he was affected. 

“Good?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Mmh.” His lips curled into a barely there smile, eyes still closed as he revelled in the feeling. “Passable,” he said, his tone rich with teasing. 

Your soft laughter flitted across his forehead, tickling his bangs and sending a delightful hum through his chest. He felt your breath, warm against his skin, each laugh another note of the melody he’d come to cherish. The gentle sweep of your thumb against his cartilage sparked waves of pleasure down his spine, and at some point, he’d eased himself down beside you, both of you lying on the cool grass, faces close as if drawn by an unspoken force. 

“You okay?” you murmured, your smile impossibly tender, amusement twinkling in your eyes. 

He met your gaze and found himself drinking in every detail. He liked your eyes, liked the way they softened as you looked at him. 

He liked your smile. 

But above all, he adored your laughter—the sound that seemed to strip away his defences and leave him feeling both exhilarated and exposed. 

A strange, quiet want flickered in his chest, something deep and hidden, something he hadn’t dared entertain. He wondered, just for a reckless, precious moment, what it would be like to move closer. Close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, maybe even let his lips graze yours. 

Just close enough… to be with you. 

Would such closeness chase away that cherished smile, rob him of the laughter that had grown to mean so much? 

As his thoughts drifted, your fingers slipped down his hair, tracing the line of his cheek. He could feel your fingertips gliding over his skin, tender and curious. Then came that small, enchanting giggle, a sound so sweet it echoed within him, lingering as if it were a treasure he’d never forget. 

Alastor could feel his heart beating a little too quickly as he leaned closer, drawn by the soft warmth of your touch. His face was just a breath away from yours, his lips so near your forehead, he could already imagine the gentle brush of a kiss. A kiss there would be innocent enough, right? Perhaps pressing his lips to yours would be too bold... but a tender gesture to your forehead surely wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

After all, this was for friendship—of course.

Just then, you sat up, leaving Alastor frozen, a pang of disappointment dropping like cold lead in his chest. But the ache melted away, replaced by a flash of heat, as you leaned forward, hair falling around him in a private curtain that made his breath hitch. Your smile softened, your eyes warm and unwavering, and then they closed, lashes sweeping delicately against your cheeks. Slowly, achingly slowly, you moved closer, and Alastor felt his pulse roar, filling his ears with a rush of anticipation. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his, your fingers grazing his cheek as if the touch itself could tether him in place. A thrill he hadn’t realized he was longing for stirred within him. He closed his eyes, waiting, a tension brimming in his chest. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand, longing to close the last bit of distance, to touch you, to be as close to you as he’d been daring to dream. 

But then—“KAOUGH, KAOUGH, KAAAOUGHGHGHH!” 

A horrid, hacking noise broke through the moment like a thunderclap, snapping his focus away and shattering the spell between you. Instantly, Alastor’s warmth turned to ice as you jerked back, your attention stolen by none other than that wretched, blasted cat. 

“Catastor!” you exclaimed, startled, pulling away as the cat began to retch with ferocity. Alastor turned his gaze, annoyance brewing in his eyes, and found himself staring at the feline menace who was now coughing up dark, soot-like balls. These abominable little things, complete with tiny pointed ears and two unsettling, beady eyes, tumbled out of Catastor one after another, writhing and blinking as if they’d just spawned from a nightmare. 

“What the—” Alastor’s voice dropped, a disgusted snarl creeping into his expression as he watched the horrid little creatures emerge. Each ball of shadow looked like a poorly crafted miniature imp, malformed and twitching, with pointed ears and flickering eyes that seemed to leer at him. 

You, however, looked anything but disturbed. Stroking Catastor’s back in gentle, soothing motions, you cooed, “Aww, Catastor, did you eat too much again?” Your voice was filled with a doting affection, and Alastor watched in utter disbelief as the monstrous cat leaned fully against you, sprawling across your torso and letting its chin settle on your shoulder. 

“Yeeeeooowww,” Catastor moaned, an ugly, grating yowl that grated on Alastor’s every nerve. 

He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage simmering beneath his strained grin. The cat’s smug, hideous expression seemed to taunt him as it claimed your attention and care. Alastor could practically hear the mockery in its yowl. In his mind, he imagined various methods of removing this furred menace from your life—and more importantly, from his. 

But as he looked back at you, watching the way your eyes softened with laughter and your voice became gentle for this thing, the thought of that precious smile disappearing stayed his hand. Instead, he forced a tight grin, one that masked the bitterness eating at him from the inside, knowing he would endure—even if he had to suffer through a hundred more of those retched “yeeeooowwws.” 

"Aw, there, there," you murmured, gently patting the cat’s back with slow, soothing strokes. You looked at it as if it were some fragile, innocent creature, while the vile shadowy minions it coughed up scattered in all directions like troublesome spirits unleashed from a curse. 

Alastor could feel his patience fraying. With a quiet, heavy sigh, he sent out his own shadows, ruthlessly ordering them to snatch and crush every last one of the creatures scuttling about his beloved bayou. They obeyed, darting after the minions with deadly precision, each shadow winking out in a puff as they met their end. He folded his hands with a dark, calculated grace, but his gaze—his burning, dagger-sharp gaze—never left that insufferable cat. 

Oh, he saw it, all right. 

Saw the smug curl of its eyes, narrowing like crescent moons, and that infernal tongue hanging out, like it had the audacity to taunt him. Him. Alastor, the feared overlord, the Radio Demon. He felt something ancient and fierce coil in his chest, as if the essence of his full demon form threatened to break through, to remind this creature who reigned supreme. 

But just as his head tilted, shadows thickening around him with a promise of retribution, you turned toward him, drawing his full attention like a magnet. Your eyes softened, and a faint blush crept over your cheeks, spilling a fragile warmth he hadn’t anticipated. “Sorry about that, Alastor,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity, and as your gaze flicked downward, his anger dissolved just slightly, easing in the tender lull of your voice. 

Your next words undid him further. “Maybe tonight, we could read together?” You glanced up, offering a small, gentle smile that seemed to light the space between you both. “Just the two of us?” 

With those words, that insatiable, molten rage that had been brewing in his chest dissipated instantly, snuffed out as though you’d whispered the calmest of spells. 

He was sure of it then—you had to be a Smile Demon. How else could you possibly hold such power over him, capable of soothing his very soul with a single look? 

He gazed at you, awe mingling with amusement. Yes, you must be a demon of terrifying strength indeed—one who held him, the Radio Demon, in the palm of your hand with nothing more than a smile. 

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[scarlethexelove]

Shapeshifting

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1844

Warnings: Reader is overstimulated, Reader can shapeshift into animals, Comfort, Small talk of Hydra and experiments, Fluff, Comfort, Mutual pining, Making out, Naked Reader, Just all around cute

A/n: I had seen a photo yesterday that inspired me to write this and I just had it. On days that Reader feels overwhelmed they shift into a cat as a form of coping. Reader looks for comfort from Wanda, turns into confessing feelings.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Today is just one of those days. You wake up already feeling overwhelmed, the world is too loud, your clothes feel itchy. It’s all too much for you to handle today. So you do what you always do on these days. You strip down before you transform, your clothes not exactly being able to shrink down with you. Though Tony has made you a suit that forms to whatever form you take it isn’t ideal for you to wear at home and if you're already feeling overstimulated it won’t make it any better. But your body slowly morphed into one of your favorite forms, the one that gives you the most comfort, a small black cat. 

You wouldn’t normally thank Hydra for all that they put you through but on days like today it’s nice to have a form of escape. Being a cat is both a comfort to you and the rest of the team. The team quickly learned that this was your escape, you can still mildly communicate with them but you don’t have to actually fully communicate if you don’t want to. Tony has made it to where even FRIDAY knows certain cues from you that will automatically open and close doors for you. You’re always thankful for the understanding and support you get from the team. 

 You scratch lightly at your door signaling for FRIDAY to open it for you. As the door swings open you scurry out your tail lightly flicking back and forth. You make your way down the hall searching for the one person who gives you the most comfort. Searching all over the compound for Wanda but you can’t find her anywhere. You even went as far as looking in the meeting room. With your head slightly lowered in defeat you head back towards the common area hoping that maybe she just went to the store or something and will be right back. 

Clicking on a keyboard alerts you to the fact that someone is already in the common area. Sitting on the couch you can make out the form of your best friend. Natasha sits there slightly hunched as she types fiercely on her keyboard, more than likely working on reports. She’s another person that you feel comfortable with. Having been the one to save you from Hydra’s clutches years before. Finding something that once was broken and helped put you back together. In the process becoming a trusted friend and sister. 

“Hey Y/n/n.” Nat chuckles as you headbut her leg. “Feeling out of it today?” She questions you. You meow at her as you jump up on the couch next to her, nudging and rubbing your head against her hand. She opens her hand and you nudge the top of your head against her palm. She smiles as she begins to lightly scratch your head with her nails. It brings you comfort and a sort of peace at the form of affection. You curl up next to Nat in a little ball as she continues to scratch your head and pet you, content on working with her other hand. 

Time passes as you drift in and out of sleep. You stretch your legs out as you wake from your little nap, before moving your head and placing it on Nat’s leg looking up at her computer. On the screen you spot Wanda’s name. Maybe Nat knows where she is and why you couldn’t find her. You would have expected to wake up if she had come home. You quickly spring up to Nat’s surprise and swat at her hand to keep her from clicking off the screen. “Hey!” You ignore her as you climb on her lap and get closer to the screen, making sure that you don’t make contact with any of the keys. “Y/n/n what are you doing?” She questions you curiously. You get close enough to where your nose almost touches the screen. You use your nose as a way to point out Wanda’s name on the page. She tries to push you away but you just swat at her again. 

Nat doesn’t get what you are doing at first as you continue to nudge lightly at Wanda’s name. But as she realizes that you are trying to point something out to her she peers around your body and reads the spot on the screen. “Wanda?” She questions to make sure she knows what you want. You do a chirp as a confirmation, turning around and sitting staring at her. “Wanda got a last minute mission this morning.” Nat tells you. Disappointment fills you as your ears and tail fall. 

It hurts Nat to see how disappointed you are with the fact that Wanda wasn’t around. Everyone knew that you two liked each other, well other you two. Both of you blind to the others' stolen looks and longing expressions. So to see you craving Wanda’s affection on a hard day and her not being there breaks her heart. You so quickly deflate at the realization. 

You jump off Nat’s lap and slowly make your way back towards your room. Nat doesn’t call after you, she doesn’t quite know what to tell you. She just hopes that Wanda returns soon. The disappointment weighs you down as you reach your door, scratching at it lightly. FRIDAY opens the door, once inside closing the door behind you. Jumping up on the bed settling in on the decision to take a nap. Curling into a ball on the end of the bed settling in before drifting off to sleep. 

A light knock on the door pulls you from your sleep. Your head raises as you listen patiently for who might be at the door. You hear a click as the door creaks open. Wanda’s head pops through her eyes searching for you before spotting you on the bed. She fully opens the door and makes her way in. You jump off the bed letting out an excited chirp. You stretch out before getting to Wanda rubbing up against her legs back and forth. “Hi sweetheart.” She bends down scratching at your head causing you to nuzzle into her hand. She smiles at the gesture. “I heard you were having a rough day and wanted to check on you.” Wanda gives you a soft smile. You meow as you bump your head against her hand. 

You stand on your hind legs stretching out and lightly pawing at Wanda’s knees, requesting for her to pick you up. She smiles at you reaching out and lifting you into her arms. She makes her way over to the bed with you as you nuzzle more into her hold. She knows exactly what you need as she lays down on your bed having you beside her. You stretch out next to her as she scratches your head keeping you close to her chest. 

Everything starts to melt away. You finally have what you have been searching for today. Wanda can feel as you relax more, the tension melting away. You begin to purr, a soft sound that few get to hear. Wanda is your comfort. The two of you have grown close after she joined the Avengers, bonding over the fact that both of you were experiments for Hydra. She knows your torcher and your terrible past and you know hers. Helping her as she joined the team after the loss of her home and brother. You became the person she seeks out in a time of need and comfort. Neither of you realize that you both want more, but too scared to ruin what you already have. Love and understanding of the other. 

As you relax you don’t notice how your body shifts back. Now eye to eye with Wanda. The soft and gentle moment leading you to do something you never expected. Leaning in and joining your lips with hers. Wanda wastes no time returning the action, turning the kiss slow and sentinel. Basking in the feeling of now. Wanda’s hand on your hip as you snake yours up and cup her cheek. It’s all you could have ever hoped for and more. 

The need for air becomes apparent as your lungs begin to burn. You pull back just enough, leaning your forehead against Wanda’s. Both of you lightly panting as your breaths mingle in the air between you. “That was…” Wanda pauses. “Wow.” You finish. Neither of you have ever felt a connection like this with another person. “I love you Wanda and not just as a friend, something more.” You mumble terrified of your own feelings but feeling like there is no other time than now to confess. Wanda blushes at your words. “I love you too Y/n/n. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” The surreal feeling of mutual love makes your heart swell. 

Wanda’s thumb gently rubs against your waist as you calm down a bit. But slowly the realization washes over you. Something neither of you had focused on until now. “Oh fuck! I’m sorry.” Your naked body pressed against her clothed one. You quickly jump out of bed trying your best to cover yourself. Wanda stifles a laugh as you run into your closet. You're exiting the closet in no time now with clothes on. Wanda speaks up when she sees you exiting. “You know you have a really cute butt detka.” Wanda smirks, heat rising to your face and you look down in embarrassment. 

“Come here detka.” You look back up and see Wanda reaching out for you. You make your way back over to the bed and before you know it Wanda is pulling you into her body. She wraps her arms tightly around you. You nuzzle your face in her chest, her hands gently scratching up and down your back. The calmness returns to the room as your embarrassment washes away. The room is filled with silence as you listen to Wanda’s heart beating. 

“Feeling better?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence in the room. “Mhmm.” You hum. After a beat of silence you pull back a little looking up at Wanda. “What does this mean now?” Your voice is small. Though you both confessed you don’t know where it goes from here. Wanda gives you a reassuring smile. “We can take this however slow you want to. I love you and just want you to be happy.” A blush dusts your cheeks. “I-I want you to be my girlfriend.” You lightly stutter. Wanda smiles and kisses all over your face causing you to giggle. “I would love nothing more.” 

You settle back in and nuzzle back into Wanda’s chest. Her nails are still gently scratching at your back. Who would have thought that a day that starts off so overwhelming would finally lead you to confessing your love for Wanda. Becoming one of the happiest days of your life. You’re now with the love of your life and will forever be able to find comfort and support in her arms. 

[drabbles-mc]

I'm Not Sorry

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, dry humping, semi-public hookup

Inspired by This Text Post: i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl of his dreams

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i've been struggling to finish fics lately but i saw that text post a couple days ago, knew i wanted to write about it for Bob, and then BAM this all fell outta me tonight. unbeta'd to the max but Bob Floyd deserves to fuck so time was of the essence 😌

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

If you wanted to be dramatic, you could say that you and Bob had been playing a very coy game of cat and mouse for months. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. A majority of the time that you spent with each other was work-related. It was usually work related, and there was almost always other people around. The closest the two of you got to having time alone was when all of you went out together and everyone else got distracted with pool or darts or each other. So while it might’ve been months according to the calendar, it wasn’t really quite that drastic.

Still, though, you tried to make the most out of the time that the two of you got to have.

It was easy, especially at first, to get a rise out of him, to get his cheeks to flush pink, to get him tripping over his words. A seemingly accidental touch, a well-timed innuendo or wink—that’s all it really took. You didn’t say anything about it but you noticed each time his gaze would break, eyes flickering down from yours to your mouth anytime your teeth dragged along your bottom lip. It never took much with him and for a while you just chalked it up to the fact that he was sweet and shy and a little awkward, that anyone flirting with him like that would get that reaction out of him. It wasn’t until you saw him perfectly unfazed at The Hard Deck one night when a girl at the bar was all but falling into his lap that you realized it wasn’t a Bob thing. It was a you thing. Once you realized that, it was all bets off.

There had been more than one occasion when thanks to your subtly wandering hands Bob nearly spat his drink out across the bar or dropped the bottle from his hand completely. You were able to keep a straight face and play it off, and every now and then Bob was able to recover with some grace, but there had been a time or two when he’d caught a few odd looks from the rest of the crew. It was easy enough to wave them off and they’d let it drop, but the second his focus was back on you, you could tell that he was working overtime to stay on the right side of self-control. All you could do was smile and try to carry on like nothing had happened.

Truthfully, it had gotten to a point where you had almost just resigned yourself to this being what it was going to be like with you and Bob. You were trying to accept that this limbo, this knowing that you wanted him and he wanted you but neither of you really found the time to do much of anything about it, was as good as it was going to get. A never-ending chase, a game with no winners.

“Alright,” you said as you hopped off your barstool, “I gotta head out.”

“Why?” Rooster asked, sounding as though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want or need to be anywhere else on a Friday night.

You laughed as you dug your wallet out, taking out a few bills to close out your tab and then some. “Some of us have shit to do in the morning, Bradshaw.”

He laughed and gave you a mock disbelieving look. “I don’t think so.”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned your head to face him. “You wanna close out my tab, then? Sounds like you might wanna close out my tab.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Forget it—see you Monday.”

You laughed a little harder at that. “That’s what I thought.”

It didn’t seem like your departure disturbed the flow too much, everyone falling back into their previous conversations as you made your way to the bar to square up your tab. You didn’t even bother looking back as you made your way to the door of the bar. By the time your feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, you were already fishing your keys out of your bag.

Once you were a few strides away from the bar and the clamor of noise coming from inside died down, all you heard was the sound of your own footsteps, and the ocean not too far off. It was peaceful until you heard someone else’s footsteps behind you. The sound alone wouldn’t usually have been strange. Someone else deciding to leave the bar at the same time as you wasn’t a weird occurrence. What made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, however, was the fact that the footsteps were getting quicker and closer. You felt your jaw clenching, positioning your keys between your fingers the way you’d always been taught. You were only a few steps away from your car now but you still found yourself taking a deep breath, getting ready to turn around and see whoever it was that was behind you. You were about to turn and brace for impact when you heard Bob’s voice calling out your name, a little breathless, and very rushed.

Turning around and seeing him, some of the tension disappeared. You huffed, shoulders dropping. “Jesus, Bob.”

There was an apologetic smile on his face as he realized what had just happened. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you slipped your keys so that you were holding them in your hand normally again. You managed to laugh at the potential worst case scenario versus the reality of the situation. “Another step without saying my name and I think we both would’ve been sorry.”

He stepped in a little closer to you as he nodded towards your car. “Just wanted to walk you to your car.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you turned and started the last few steps across the lot with him. “You know, walking me out to my car is much more chivalrous and much less creepy when you tell me you’re going to do it.”

There was a smirk on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’ll have to remember that next time.”

Silence took over the space between you, and while it was comfortable enough, you couldn’t help but to feel like there was more to it, something in the air. Hitting the unlock button on your keys, the lights of your car flashed once. You looked at Bob, then at your car, and then back to Bob. “Well,” you chuckled, “thank you for the company on this long, treacherous journey.” You reached for the handle on the driver’s door. “Hope we can do it aga—”

Bob cut your sentence short when he placed one hand on top of yours on the door handle, keeping you from opening it. Before you could jump to another sentence and ask him what he was doing, his other hand was pressing against the small of your back and pulling you into him so that he could press his lips to yours in a kiss that was intense and nervous all at once.

It lasted just long enough for you to realize what was happening and how good it felt and then he pulled away. Going off the way his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, he was just as surprised at himself as you were. Despite the shock all over his face, he didn’t take his hand off your back, although the one that was covering yours on the door dropped back to his side.

“Sor—I’m sorry,” he finally forced out. “I’m…” he trailed off as he looked at you, tongue darting out over his bottom lip.

Another second passed in heavy silence, and when you didn’t try to break free of him, didn’t try to push him away, he let the rest of his sentence die on the tip of his tongue as he kissed you again. You could feel the way that he was more confident this time, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thin fabric of your tank top as he pressed you against him.

You brought your hands up so that they were resting in the crook of where his neck met his shoulder. One slid up, thumb beneath his jaw as he deepened the kiss. It was all you could do to not ball up the cotton of his t-shirt in your fist, put it in a vice grip so that he couldn’t try to get away. However once you felt the way his tongue pushed into your mouth, and the way he used his body to pin you between him and the side of the car, it became clear that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

He had one hand still on your back, one hand braced against the side of your car. It was the first time it ever seemed like he was crowding you, like he was trying to make you seem small. You didn’t mind it. With the way he was kissing you, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t mind anything.

The next time the two of you came up for air, he didn’t pull far enough away for you to really see him. You were just far enough apart for your lips not to be touching, but you could still feel the side of his nose pressed against yours. You could still feel his breath against your skin. The two of you were pressed so tight against each other that you could’ve sworn you could feel the way his heart was about to beat clean out of his chest.

“Shit,” the word fell from his lips in a whisper, followed by an equally soft laugh. His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m…I’m not sorry.”

You laughed at that, couldn’t help yourself do to anything but. “Good.” Your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his head. “You shouldn’t be.” Kissing him again, you let your teeth pull lightly at his bottom lip as you pulled away. “Only thing you need to be sorry for is taking so long.”

He smiled and shook his head. If the lighting had been better you were sure that you would see a blush all across his cheeks and down his neck. You’d have to settle for the mental image of it. “Didn’t see you chasing me down across any parking lots for a kiss before this either,” he rebutted with a chuckle.

“Touché.”

The humor died down out of his voice as he said, “You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

You nodded, noses brushing against each other. The bridge of his glasses bumped against your forehead for a split second in the process. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Your bodies were pressed together so tightly that you felt it when he sucked in a quick breath. There were a million things that he wanted to say to you and he couldn’t make himself say any of them in that moment. He had his hand on your back and the taste of your kiss on his lips and yet none of the things he’d been thinking over the passing months were making it out.

The feeling of your fingers toying with the longer strands of his hair centered him enough for him to smile as he said, “At least you know that. I—oh—” He fumbled his way out of the sentence when he felt your lips on his neck.

“Bob?” you said, lips brushing against the column of his throat as you spoke.

“Y-yeah?” he stammered out, and you could feel the vibrations against your lips as he talked.

Taking one hand off of him, you reached and pulled on the handle to the back door of your car. You kissed him again, pushing both of you off the side of the car in the process. “Get in the car.”

He was far enough away that you could see the shocked look on his face. “What?”

You placed your hands on his sides, switching your positions so that he was closer to the car than you. “Car.” You kissed him. “Back seat.” Another kiss. “Now.”

“Now?” He looked around the parking lot. Full of cars but completely devoid of people. “Here?”

You laughed as you pushed him farther back, causing him to duck slightly as he went backwards into the car. “Preferably, yeah.”

“I don’t—whoa,” he fell back across your back seat, managing to brace himself on his forearms.

You shimmied in after him. Pulling the door shut behind you, you climbed on top of him, one leg between his, the other pinned between the outside of his leg and the back seat. It was close quarters, but you weren’t exactly looking to put any distance between the two of you.

Your hands landed on his shoulders, fingers curling over the curve of them as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Whatever reservations he’d had about your current location disappeared almost immediately once your lips caught his. His hands were on your hips for a moment. You could feel the way he tightened his grip even through the denim of your shorts. Your lips and his met over and over, each reconnection making him a little bolder.

He managed to get his thoughts together just enough to pry one hand from your hip so that he could reach up and take his glasses off. He all but tossed them up and onto the center console between the driver and passenger seats. You were smiling and about to make a comment about the action but you didn’t get the chance. He brought his hand back to you, starting off on the soft, exposed skin of your thigh. His touch was soft at first, but quickly started to change. His fingers dragged up your leg before slipping past the bottom hem of your shorts.

Your pleased gasp of surprise when you felt the pads of his fingertips over the lace of your panties was quickly smothered as he pulled your lips back to his again. His grip on your ass tightened, pushing you down harder onto his thigh and causing you to moan into his mouth.

For a split second you couldn’t believe it. All this time and Bob hadn’t been able to make a move, couldn’t believe that you wanted to fool around in the back seat of your car—that same man was now grinding you down against his thigh in a way that had you wet and clenching around nothing.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, muttering out a quiet, needy, “Fuck,” as you continued to move along the top of his leg.

When you pulled back enough to see him, you saw the way that he was watching the movement of your hips. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, felt like he physically couldn’t tear himself away from the sight. His hold on you loosened as you found your own rhythm. A tiny whimper slipped past your lips, the sound involuntary as you savored the friction. The sound made his gaze snap back up to your face, and when he saw the want and desperation etched into your expression he thought that he was going to melt into a puddle right there on your back seat. What a way to go.

He pulled you back down into another kiss, your bodies flush practically from head to toe. Even as you continued to move against his thigh, you could feel the way he was shifting slightly, trying to get in the most comfortable position as he felt himself growing more and more aroused with each passing second. He didn’t let you pull away, though, didn’t let you put any distance between you. With you pinning his leg to the seat, Bob let his hands wander up underneath he fabric of your shirt. Suddenly it was like you felt his hands everywhere—your back, your sides, your chest. He slipped them down past the waistband of your shorts and underwear, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass in a way that with everything else had your legs starting to shake.

Bob could feel it, too. He could feel the increased sense of urgency in your movements, the way you were chasing after something and you almost had it. He was half-expecting to be woken up and find out that this was all just a dream. But not even his dreams had been this good, felt this good.

He dragged his lips off of yours, trailing them along your jaw instead. He left a string of sloppy, desperate kisses in his wake until his lips were beside your ear. One of his hands crept up your back, palm and fingertips scorching your skin in the best way.

“I meant it, you know,” his whisper came out lower than you’d ever heard, a tiny hint of a tremor to it, “when I said I’ve been wanting this—you.” He kissed below your ear, feeling the shaky breath you let out at that, at his words. “But even when I thought about it,” he kissed your jaw, “or dreamed about you,” he kissed your neck, “it wasn’t—shit—it wasn’t anything compared to this.”

Fighting the urge to bury yourself into the crook of his neck at his words, you pulled your head back. You cupped his jaw roughly in one hand and crashed your lips against his. His arms slithered around you and wrapped you tightly against him. He could still feel the slight shake in your legs.

“Bob—”

He stole another quick kiss. “I’d wait all over again for this.”

You could hear it in his voice how genuine he was being. You tried not to let yourself get distracted by his still-wandering hands, or his erection that you could still feel through his jeans. You tried to start your sentence again. “Bob, I—”

“Let me—”

“Come home with me,” you cut him off right back this time, deciding to just get to the point of what you were trying to say.

Confusion flashed across his face for a quick moment. “What?”

“Come back to my place.”

“I thought—”

“I wanna do this.” You sat up enough so that you could drag your fingertips down over his chest and stomach, even doing it over the fabric of his shirt had him starting to squirm with want. “But I’d rather do it somewhere where I don’t have to worry about smacking my head off the ceiling if I sit up all the way.”

The statement got both of you to laugh. “That’s fair.” He paused, a smirk on his face as he said, “Car was your idea, though.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m feeling a little impatient. Sue me.”

He pulled you into another kiss, one that every time you thought it was over he’d pull you back in all over again. As much as you wanted to get him back to your apartment and laid out on your bed, you also knew that you’d spend as much time as he wanted to doing exactly what you were doing right now. Anything to keep him this close now that you had him there.

When he released you from the kiss, he looked up at you with that same smile, that same slightly dazed look to in his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening. You couldn’t really believe it either. You couldn’t believe that any of it was happening at all, but you were also having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Bob Floyd, the same man who could barely make eye contact with you at the bar the first time you all went out together, was the same man who looked like he was about to try and strategize how to best make use of your back seat so he wouldn’t have to wait to get back to your apartment.

“I live less than ten minutes from here,” you said, already knowing what he was going to say.

His hands moved around to the front of you, fingers just barely curled over into the front of your waistband. You pretended not to notice the way he was toying with the button of your shorts. “Thought you had things to do tomorrow?”

You laughed, leaning in and kissing him. “I still do. Now they’re just,” you ran your hand lightly over the crotch of his jeans, enough pressure to get him to buck into you, “different things.” You giggled quietly at the purposeful breath he sucked in. Reaching over, you grabbed his glasses for him. “C’mon. You can ride shotgun.”

He propped himself up by his forearms again as you untangled yourself from him. “What if—”

You couldn’t help but to laugh as you stopped his sentence short. “Little late to get shy now.”

He smiled, face starting to turn red. “Right.”

The only thing that passed between the two of you were knowing looks and soft laughter as you scrambled out and into the front seats of the car. It wasn’t until you were pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road that you spoke up again, trying not to be too distracted by Bob’s hand creeping higher and higher up on your thigh.

“So,” you looked over at him for a second before returning your attention to the road, “you dreamt about me?”

His head dropped back against the headrest and you couldn’t help but to laugh at his faux exasperation. He gave your thigh a squeeze. You were expecting a joke, one of the witty little comebacks that he had a way of finding in the right moments, but instead he let himself be serious as he said, “Yeah, I did.”

The three words hung in the air between you, and you felt the butterflies that you’d been too busy to feel before in the heat and the rush of everything else. You could feel the way that Bob was looking at you while you looked at the road.

“How much longer?” he asked.

You laughed, sparing him a glance. “Six minutes, tops.”

He nodded, fingertips grazing up and down your thigh, goosebumps breaking out over your skin despite how warm your car was with its still-fogged-up windows. “Six minutes.”

[lleeanarr]

pt 1.

summary: The relationship was unexpected not only from the fans, but it was unexpected to the both of them as well.

genre: fluff, smau

paring: Lando Norris x Influencer!reader

!fc: Lani Pliopa

a/n: I was trying to find face claims and scrolled to Lani Pliopa’s insta and saw that lando actually liked one of her picture. Let’s say I was inspired to write this😭✋

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yourusername

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yourusername 22☺️🌟

user1 Happy birthdayy🫶

user9 happy bday pretty🥳

user6 Happiest birthday🥰🥰

user4 🤍🤍

user7 LANDOOO??😦

bsfuser HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BABY😍😍

yourusername THANK YOU🥴

alexandrasaintmleux happy birthday to the prettiest☺️🫶

yourusername says you😛🫶

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

TWITTER

defnotyn (priv) : another month another person to stalk😍😍✨✨

bsfuser : NOOOO NOT ANOTHER ANTICSS😔✊

defnotyn (priv) : nvmm dmed him insteaddd🥴

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

INSTAGRAM

catsuperior111 : if animals could speak, which species do you think would be the rudest?????

landonorris : wtf💀

landonorris : i have a feeling squirrels would be rude af

catsuperior111 : .... i see ur point WAiT

catsuperior111 : but still i have a strong hatred towards dolphins and i think theyd be more rudee😒😒😒

landonorris : why dolphins?

catsuperior111 : search it up YOURSELFF

--

landonorris : WTF DID I JUST SEARCH???!!!😭😭

catsuperior111 : thats my same thought the first time i found out🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

landonorris : you just made me hate dolphins too😔✊

landonorris : i was so close to saying cats was next on the list until i saw ur user…

catsuperior111 : WHATTTT??? YOU HVAE SONETHING AGAINTS CATS????😠😠🤨🤨

catsuperior111 : THEY ARE THE CUTEST MOST ADORABLE CREATURE THAT COULD EXIST

landonorris : pretty sure that means the same thing

catsuperior111 : stfu😃😃

catsuperior111 : okay now lets hear this

catsuperior111 : would you prefer a crying child??

catsuperior111 : OR a little furball that sleeps and doesnt bother you all day?

landonorris : i like kids..

catsuperior111 : ofc you do😒

catsuperior111 : kids are fine.. in certain occasion

catsuperior111 : when their 3 up until 5 theyre still cute (except when they start crying and thow tantrums)

catsuperior111 : but when they turn 6 and can properly speak, thats when i just find them so annoying and cant think of anything but wanting to throw them out a window😍

landonorris : oh WOW i see you dont like kids

catsuperior111 : i do... (no i don't)

catsuperior111 : certain ones

landonorris : so you just dont

catsuperior111 : oh shush let me live okay

catsuperior111 : i just dont like spoiled little kids🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

catsuperior111 : and i also dont like when kids throw tantrums and cry

catsuperior111 : I just dont know what to do and I find in irritating😔😔✊✊

landonorris : ok fair point

landonorris : no one likes crying kids😂

catsuperior111 : exactly

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yourusername

liked by bsfuser and 27,098 others

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yourusername did i mention that i play the flute😍

yourusername someone please help me find a drummer😔✊✊ (or a guitarist)

user8 😭😭😭

user10 we get it girly🙏

user27 ms girl what can you not do🤨🤨

yourusername i cant play football….

user27 …fair enough

bsfuser will you stop with the obsession😃😃

yourusername No😍😍🙏

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yourusername posted on their story!

Replies!

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alexandrasaintmleux 🫶🫶

user11 YOU GUYS ARE FRIENDS???

user33 the duo i never knew i needed😩😩

user15 shes so pretty🥹🥹

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yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 19,410 others

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yourusername till we meet again Paris✨@alexandrasaintmleux thank you for the great day😍😍🫶

alexandrasaintmleux omgg you too🤍

yourusername luv ya😘🙏

user5 lovin how alex and y/n have been going to art museums together for a while now

user23 the pictures are stunning

user35 ⭐️

user2 prettyyy🥰

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

TWITTER

defnotyn (priv) : call me crazy but i am genuinely intrigued with that landon guy

bsfuser : i thought you said it was lando🤨🤨🤨

defnotyn (priv) : dunno man🤷‍♀️

defnotyn (priv) : lando, landon i could care less😮‍💨

bsfuser : 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

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a/n: This took longer than i wanted to but i thought if i put everything in one post it might be too long so im dividing it into parts😅😅

[p0orbaby]

Request😍: y/n and alessia or leah (you decide! find your tumblr side and aaalll the stories of them. It leads to jealous alessia/leah bc of y/n being with other girls (like getting jealous when your partner cheats in your dream). Reader has to handle the situation and in the end manages to make less/leah focus on all the fluffy/spicy stuff there is about them. If you want to make it smutty (what we all love hehe): they eventually get inspired by tumblr and choose another story (you can decide which of all the good alessia/leah x reader smut on here) to reenact. Thank you!!! (If you dont want to write this feel free to repost for another writer, also you can switch the roles who is jealous, i dont care:)

i amended this a little, pls don’t hate me

it would be harsh to call this a crack fic but i honestly giggled the whole time writing it 🤭

-

You find Alessia on the sofa, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. At first, you think she’s watching one of those oddly specific TikToks she loves—something about cats playing table tennis or an American teenager ranking their favourite crisps. But then you notice the furrow in her brow, the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. Her expression is equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mild offence.

“Everything alright?” you ask, setting your keys on the counter.

She doesn’t answer immediately, which is a bad sign. Alessia always greets you the moment you walk through the door, even if it’s just to ask what you’ve brought for dinner. Instead, she tilts the phone slightly so you can see the screen.

“Do you know about this?” she asks, voice clipped.

You lean over, squinting at the screen. The webpage is clunky, its layout straight out of 2012, and the title reads something absurd like ‘Sunlit Smiles and Shadowed Hearts’. Your name is prominently featured in the summary, alongside a few other recognisable ones.

“It’s fanfiction,” she says, answering the question you haven’t asked yet. “About you”

You blink. “About me?”

“And other people,” she adds, her tone sharp now, like the edge of a too-clean knife.

The penny drops. “Wait—what?”

She sits up straighter, turning the phone to face you fully. “Look. This one has you with… God, Tooney. And this one—oh, this is just brilliant—you’re married to Ona. Married! Like we’re just some passing fling”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, which, given her expression, would be a tactical error. Alessia doesn’t do jealousy often, but when she does, it’s like an overdramatic romcom villain plotting their revenge.

“Well,” you say carefully, “at least they’ve got good taste?”

“Good taste?” she repeats, incredulous. “One of these has you sneaking off with Mary behind my back during a post-match interview!”

“Creative, though,” you offer.

She glares at you, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, crossing her arms. “Do you know how many of these there are? And how many don’t have me in them at all? Like I’m just some side character in your life?”

You try to suppress the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s no use. “Less, you do realise this is all made up, right? None of it’s real”

She huffs, her cheeks pink now. “I know that. But still. It’s insulting”

You reach for her hand, gently uncrossing her arms. “Alright, let’s look at it this way. I’m obviously very popular. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when you’re popular with everyone except me”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure there’s stuff about us too. The fluffy, romantic, borderline inappropriate kind”

Alessia hesitates, her gaze flicking to the phone. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you say confidently. “Because we’re the superior couple. Clearly”

That earns a small smile, though she tries to hide it. “You’re an idiot”

“And yet, here I am, fully committed to proving my devotion,” you say, reaching for her phone. You type in a search, scrolling through pages until you find what you’re looking for. “See? Right here. This one’s about us”

She leans over, peering at the screen. Her eyes scan the words, and slowly, her frown starts to fade.

“This is… cute,” she admits reluctantly.

“Exactly,” you say, draping an arm around her shoulders. “So, no more being jealous of fictional versions of me, okay? They don’t get to go home with you. I do”

She turns to look at you, her expression softening further. “Fine. But I’m still not over the Mary thing”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Noted. I’ll make it up to you”

“You better,” she mumbles, but there’s no real bite to her words anymore.

It’s only later, as you’re cooking dinner together, that you catch her sneaking glances at her phone again, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. If she’s reading more of those stories, you don’t mention it. Some battles are better left unpicked.

[always-just-red]

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”