#but i love him and he's finally back so :<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: piss mention.

Being Johnny’s friend, and him desperately wanting to take things further— he comes up with a terrible idea to drive you into his arms in a way he thinks is rather subtle.

He’s going to get Ghost to hit on you next time you’re out at a pub. Ghost has an uncanny ability activate the prey drive— he gets too close, speaks too low, looms too tall, and stares too deep (not to mention the kind of language he uses in his pickup lines).

So Johnny casually gets up to go piss, leaves you sitting at the bar, practically passes the baton as he goes by Ghost on the way.

And Simon, he loves the classics.

So he starts off by staring down at you as you sit in your stool, unblinking, and saying “I can smell your cunt.”

You look up with rapt attention, clenching your thighs.

Soap watches from across the bar for a signal, either a grimace on your face or a discreet hand gesture from Ghost that they’d worked out earlier.

But he underestimated your freak. And Simon wasn’t about to back down when it was clear you liked how he came across.

Simon perches himself next to you, crowding in close and speaking into your ear, Johnny able to see as your stunned expression turns into a bashful smile, like he just told you that you have beautiful eyes. He actually said “bet you’d let me spit in your mouth if I told you to open up, yeah?”

Things escalate. You barely touch your drink, too absorbed in what Simon is saying to you.

“Saw those fuckin’ thighs from across the bar, Jesus Christ— want you to sit on my jaw and fuck my face— warm my cheeks with those thighs while I shove my tongue in that sweet little pussy. I’d let you piss in my fucking mouth if y’wanted to.”

When Soap finally forces himself to go back to the bar, you subtly tell him you’re gonna head out and that you had fun. He awkwardly bids you goodnight with his mouth nearly agape as Simon grabs hold of your hand to pull you along.

And he looks too damned eager to get you out of there— doesn’t even have the decency to throw a smug look at Soap. Because truthfully? He’s kinda forgotten why he came here in the first place. He’s got more important shit on his mind now.

[classyrbf]

thinking about jerking off nerd!gojo with your tits in his dorm room. You couldn’t care less for the loser, forced to have him as a tutor because you were failing your chem classes and needed an easy way out of your parents bitching at you. Quite literally you’ve gotten tired of hearing him talk and talk about stupid elements, formulas and equations because you’d rather much see the look on his face when he’s about to cum and hear how he sounds when he’s begging.

So that’s how you ended up on your knees in front of him, shirt unbuttoned and your tits covered in his pre cum, his thick and veiny cock pulsing between the two mounds of flesh as you move it up and down his sensitive shaft. His breath hitches, cheeks flushed a bright red, hands shaking as he struggling to push his glasses back up only for them to slide back down. “F-fuck,” he so sweetly whimpers, licking his dry lips. He loves the way you’re looking up at him, like you’re staring into his soul while simultaneously taking it. His heart pounds against his chest, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin hugging his aching cock, your warm tits only giving him an idea of what your pussy might feel like.

“Nngh, oh f-fuck…we’re…supposed to be…studying,” he managers to croak out through his pathetic moans and whimpers. His sucks in a breath, eyes rolling back when you go even faster, the sound of wet flesh smacking against each other makes the perverted part of his brain go into overdrive. He’s so fucking close.

“Awe, but don’t you wanna cum, Toru?” You teasingly ask, watching the way his throbbing red tip leaks another bead of precum only adding to the lubrication. The nickname alone drives Gojo crazy. He fists the sheets below him, jaw slack, a dazed look in his eyes. “We’ll make a deal, yeah? I’ll let you cum and do this as many times as you want as long as you do my chem work for me.” You smile, holding your tits tighter. “Deal?”

“Ok, ok, ok.” He ferociously nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. “I wanna cum so badly, please.” He let out a ragged breath, falling back on the bed as his body began twitching, hips jolting upward to create more friction. Just in mere seconds, ropes of sticky, hot cum shot up, landing on your tits. “Shit, shit! Ah, ah, nngh!” Gojo’s eyes rolled back. This feels like the most he’s ever came in his life. His legs began to shake the longer his orgasm lasts, groans and whimpers escaping his throat, filling the small room. His raspy breaths fall short, finally coming down from his high. He can barely even think straight now.

“God, you made such a mess!” You huff, looking down at your coated tits.

“Oh, uh—I’m sorry!” Gojo quickly sits up, panicking as he searches around for something to help you clean up. He swiftly hands you one of his shirts, handing it to you. You snatch it from his hands, wiping up every last drop of cum before tossing his shirt to the side. “Are you…um—”

“I gotta go.” You stand up, buttoning your shirt. “Thanks for agreeing to the deal.” You lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Gojo watches as you leave his dorm room without a care in the world, acting like you didn’t just milk him dry with your tits. At least he has something to look forward to every few days now.

[yanderedrabbles]

💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

[meanbossart]

Based on the latest art/the famous graveyard scene, or at least my version of it. CW: The usual durge-isms. Astarion's sense of humor.

The graveyard is appropriately silent - there isn’t a proverbial soul to be seen as you stroll through the headstones with lazy strides. You’re so often in a rush to get from one place to the next, how novel it is to meander.

You wonder if either of your souls could tick up the counter; Astarion, a corpse-walking, and yourself something else entirely.

His head, battered and bruised as the rest of your bodies scans through the names etched on their respective places of rest, uncharacteristically quiet ever since you left the Inn. You’re worried. It’s been a dreadful day, and now he’s brought you here - you speak. “Are we defacing any graves tonight?”

Astarion humors you with a stiff grin - no, he says, then he changes it to a maybe, and then he asks you to be patient. His eyes land on a simple stone, half-sunken into the dry ground and overtaken by weeds and vines - a small thing forgotten amidst drunkards and urchins in a dark corner of the dead’s park. He sighs, pushes up his sleeves and snaps the foliage away with his own hands, dusts off the shallow writing and rubs the grime off on his knees - standing back a few feet to look over at his handwork. You squint to read his full name off the rock.

“Ancunin?”

 “Astarion Ancunin.” He scoffs. “I haven’t seen this in… Well, in centuries. I was beginning to wonder if I had an em somewhere in there.”

His amusement dies down.

“I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.

“He must’ve had someone come and smooth out the ground- Cazador, I mean. He was waiting for me here, when I finally surfaced.”

The vampire's eyes have risen from his name. He looks past the rows of gravestones and into the brick walls that surround them, sight glazed over, face drained from feeling. His words, so victorious in choice, just bear a numb uncertainty. He is so tired. “From that day on I was his. Until now.”

You shake your head. “You were never his. Everything he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe. But he did take it. And I can’t get it back.” Astarion shoots you an assertive scowl. “There’s nothing left of the person I was anymore. Just a name on a rock. I need to figure out who I am now - and what I want.”

You struggle to reach out to him. For the thing which he mourns. His words, when they echo within your own, perforated skull, sound to you like a statement of freedom, a relief; you’ve also left behind the person you were, and there is nothing there worth lamenting.

Astarion is different. As vague as his recollection of the past may be, or as favorably as you believe things have turned out for the both of you, eventually - you can’t help but feel like he would still trade it for a do-over. You don’t have it in you to ask if he would be willing to do it even if it meant your absence.

You know the answer.

You try to make your peace with it.

This person that your lover longs for, you didn’t know them, and you didn’t love them. But you do now; and so, you find yourself wanting for nothing.

“What is it that you want right now?”

“You.”

He’s caught in his own lack of hesitation, sullen face brought back to life by a small look of bemusement, of surprise. “I want you. Not just now, I… You were by my side through all of it - the bloodlust as well as the misery. You’ve shown yourself to be patient. And caring.” His words are staggered by chortles. “You are so sweet to me. A shock, frankly, given the most recent discoveries. I often wonder if this was always part of your nature, or just a happy consequence of your… ah”

Astarion’s finger prods uncertain around his own curly head of hair, prompting laughter to rumble up your throat. “Incident.” 

“Perhaps.” You’ve never wondered such things and you never will. “You’re beginning to sound awfully sweet yourself, mister concussion.”

He groans in response, reaching the short distance over to the throbbing bruise on the top of his forehead, next to his temple. It was a close call today, perhaps the closest yet - or you only felt the ever more desperate given what was on the line this time. “Anyway, I should probably fix this.”

You watch as Astarion crouches down in the dirt. With a small dagger he had tucked away in his waistband, he gets to work scratching irregular lines into his neglected headstone.

Astarion Ancunin

His father’s pride, his mother’s starlight, his friend’s joy.

229 NR - 268 NR.

He makes an addition below the numbers.

468 NR.

“Is that the year?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, then proceeds a little less confidently.  “... At least… I think so?”

You both exchange clueless looks before breaking into an ugly cacophony of snorts, Astarion leans with his hand on his memorial and hangs his head down in feigned exasperation, shoulders jerking. You kneel, joining him on top of his undisturbed plot. The vampire shakes his head “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been dead to the world long enough - whatever year it is now, I plan on living it. And I’m not letting anything stand in the way of that.”

He puffs his chest and breathes a lone sight - no subsequent following and no former to speak of. His body sits back onto his shins, hands fall limp on top of his thighs “Not him, not the sun, not some giant brain, and certainly not…

“Come here.”

There was less than a foot between your bodies that the elf now closed. He cups your jaw between his thumb and his pointer-finger, you feel a gentle pressure on your neck as Astarion uses you to leverage himself over - your mouths lock, you feel a scabbed-over cut on his otherwise soft bottom lip, a hard lump that splits and leaks into your gums. You turn,, grab onto him tight - hot palms on the cold nape underneath the collar of his shirt and chest against chest, a sore nose-bridge buried into his gaunt cheek. Your faces break apart and he presses his brow to yours, a passionate kiss turns into a tight embrace. 

You take a long whiff of the crook of his neck “You’ve got me in a kind of way I can’t begin to make sense of.”

Astarion’s hand becomes entangled with the hair at the back of your skull. “I love you too.”

You feel it. The desperation and the future echo of his cracking ribs, the hot, vivid flashes of your digits prying apart bone and reaching into the cavity of his heart - you can’t be close enough to him. You can never step into his skin and he can never leap down your throat. An anxious feeling sinks into your gut as you realise that there is one thing that you still want; even in your waking hours of clarity, even in crystalline sanity, even in moments like these, ones that you hold sacred and wish to shield from depravity.

He murmurs into the side of your face. “Lets have sex. Right here.”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to beg?”

The playfulness in his tone is brief. He feels it in your tense shoulders and stiff back - you aren’t teasing him.

You only pull away enough so you can look at him, hands remain latched to his waist. “I’m still afraid of what I might do.”

“I understand.” He doesn’t seem disappointed, only sobered. “Well that puts a slight damper on my plans. No matter.”

“You can help yourself once you’ve tied me up for the night.”

“If I wanted to make love to a rabid mastiff I’d go find a new maniac to lord over me.”

“We could still just… Stay here a while. Together.”

You come off a little pleading. Astarion’s eyes squint when he smiles - “Yes, I… I think I’d like that.”

It’s a little clumsy, the way you sway apart and try to find your footing on the gravel, how your hands slide down each other’s elbows and then lock tightly at the fingers, refusing to let go, new amateur joints; as if men like yourselves who’ve more battles than many do in entire lifetimes couldn’t dream of standing up without the leverage - it’s ridiculous. You’re like little children bumbling to your feet, giggling, trying to catch each other staring as you dangle your locked hands over gravestones and step over rogue bouquets blown by wind.

Everything is fine, everything is well. Your future is certain as is your happily ever after - whatever it may imply. You peruse the cemetery, mocking the dead for the names their parents have given them, their uninspired eulogies and whether or not their dirt happened to smell of piss - you make up stories about the lives they lived and both the horrific or the banal circumstances in which they died. Astarion skips up the stairs to the coffin-maker’s abode, overlooking the scenery - he calls for you to come admire your kingdom, death prince. You laugh, and he laughs, and it all seems so awfully benign.

“That will be king for you soon.”

“Oh, gods - get away from me.”

He knows you aren’t serious. This world has brought you too much joy for you to end it. There hasn’t ever been a moment where you were tempted to do your fathers bidding.

But there’s been moments where you questioned what other choices you had.

Not tonight, however.

Astarion rolls his eyes and takes the hand you reach out to him with. You are yanked towards the paved terrace up the stairs, and you pull him into yourself in a lazy sway by the balustrades. “We will figure something out” You say.

“As always,” Astarion confirms with an emphatic nod of the head, but his gaze is low - he stares at your moving feet. Hand-in-hand and hand-on-hip he’s picked up on what you’re doing; “It’s - left forward, right back, close left, close right, right?”

“That is only if you’re leading.”

“Well then, I guess I’m leading.”

“Be my guest.” 

He places a hand on your waist, you put yours on his deltoid, your boots bump into each other on occasion as you both waltz over uneven stone tiles, first with careful attention until you’ve caught yourselves in a sound-less rhythm. When you raise your eyes you find your partner-in-dance staring on with a rivalling smirk.

“So, you remember how to ballroom dance, yet haven’t got a clue about your own name?”

You ask if that disappoints him, Astarion assures you to the contrary. You both rehearse a dance for an event you will never be going to, and you enjoy every second of it.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ THE DRESS CODE

Bakugou was in a bad mood.

It was stupid, really. Absolutely stupid. But he couldn’t help the scowl on his face as he approached your desk.

“Oi,” he snapped, crossing his arms. “What the hell are you wearing?”

He had taken his time this morning, making sure the maroon shirt he picked out was one he actually liked. It wasn’t over the top or anything—just a plain shirt with a white skull on the back, paired with some casual black pants.

But it was the principle of the matter. You were supposed to match. That was the whole damn point.

The UA student council had this dress code specifically to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Maroon for those who’re in a relationship, blue for those in a situationship, green for those in the “friend zone,” black for those who are admirers from afar, and the plain school uniform for those who are more inclined in their studies to even bother with romantic relationships.

Was this your way of subtly denying him as your boyfriend? It wasn’t like you two were in hiding—and it’s not like he doesn’t mention that you two are seeing each other whenever someone pesters him about it.

You looked up, eyes wide and innocent. “Huh? My uniform?”

Bakugou’s brow twitched. “Yeah, I can see that. Why?”

You blinked, clearly not understanding what he was getting to. “Because… it’s Friday?”

“Did you forget what today is?”

You stared blankly at him, confusion written all over your face.

“...Friday?”

“Valentine’s Day!” he barked, causing a few of your classmates to glance over in amusement. He jerked his thumb at his own shirt—a simple red tee with a black skull printed on the back. “Maroon’s for people who are dating. Thought we were gonna match.”

You felt as though your soul just left your body.

“Oh... oh.” Your hands flew to your mouth. “I... I didn’t know! You never told me!”

“Didn’t think I had to. It’s common sense.”

“And you don’t even like Valentine’s Day! So... I thought we weren’t doing the dress code thing...”

That was true. But still! He was adamant on making you look like the one in the wrong here.

“Well, I am,” he pouted. So subtle it could be mistaken for his signature grimace. “And I heard from Ears that you were planning on wearing maroon, you idiot.”

“I told her—I was thinking about it, though.”

Bakugou’s shoulders sagged, the irritation draining a little. “Yeah, well... I went and did it. Thought it’d be obvious we’re together if we matched. You had a shirt with a golden dragon on the back, too, right?”

Your heart fluttered, your gaze finally meeting his. He remembered. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—Bakugou Katsuki, the loud, brash, and unapologetically stubborn hero-in-training—your boyfriend, wanted to show off your relationship. Publicly. On Valentine’s Day.

A moment in history!

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Instead, you jumped to your feet. “Wait here!”

Before he could argue, you bolted out of the classroom, leaving Bakugou standing there, baffled. He turned to find his classmates blatantly eavesdropping.

Mina’s eyes were practically sparkling. “Awww, Bakugou, you wanted to match with [Name]?”

Kaminari snickered. “Dude, that’s so cute.”

Kirishima grinned, throwing an arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “You really have gone soft, man.”

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he shrugged Kirishima’s arm off roughly. “Shut it, Shitty Hair. I just didn’t wanna look like an idiot wearin’ maroon by myself,” he grumbled. “And Sero’s wearing green—‘nd I don’t see anyone picking on him!”

“Cool it, man,” Sero laughed, shaking his head. “The incident still stings.”

“We salute you, brave soldier,” Kaminari replied.

Mina sighed dramatically, resting her chin on her hands. “Young love...”

His cheeks turned crimson. “Mind your own damn business!”

Before his embarrassment could escalate, you came running back, slightly out of breath, with something red clutched in your hands. You unfolded it and slipped it on—a maroon cardigan. It hugged your frame just right, with allowance to spare, the color bringing out the warm shimmer in your eyes.

You looked at him, your fingers fiddling with the buttons. “I had this in my locker. Does this work?”

Bakugou stared at you, his irritation disappearing like a factory reset process. You looked... cute. Really cute. But he wasn’t about to say that out loud. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah... s’fine, I guess.”

Your face brightened, a smile breaking across your lips. “Really?”

He looked away, his voice gruff, though there was no heat in his reply. “Whatever.”

Their moment was interrupted by Mina’s dramatic squeal. “And they say romance is dead!”

Kaminari gave a thumbs up. “Didn’t think Bakugou could be such a romantic.”

Kirishima laughed. “Man, who knew you’d be such a softie?”

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he spun around, his hands sparking. “One more word and I’ll kill all of you!”

His classmates laughed, not the least bit intimidated. They could see right through him—Bakugou Katsuki was completely, undeniably, head-over-heels for you.

Turning back to you, his voice softened, his anger dissipating. “C’mon, let’s go. Cafeteria had those stupid snacks you wanted.”

Your smile never wavered as you followed slightly behind him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah... Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bakugou hopes the next Valentine’s Day to come is when he can properly match with you. He won’t let you forget this time around.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[maretinelli]

GESTURES OF LOVE

Lando Norris X fem!reader

Summary: When Lando shows his love for his girlfriend in cute little gestures and it makes her heart warm.

Words: 4.4K+

Warnings: Loving Land, mentions of marriage, college Y/n, mentions of teen dating, cute, happy couple, and romantic story

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar, and slang errors that may be present in the story. I love making stories like this, with different situations, if you have any more ideas, please send them to me!! ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

That weekend, Y/n finally had a break from work and university. After tiring weeks, she decided to accompany Lando to a GP, taking the opportunity to spend more time with him.

Lando was beaming with her company, his smile left no doubt that he loved having her there, sharing a little of the world he loved so much.

The day seemed normal for a free practice session, but the city's weather didn't match the lively pace of the pits. The sky was dark, overcast, and the clouds threatened to collapse at any moment.

In the McLaren garage, Lando was getting ready to get into the car, checking some last details with the team. Before that, Y/n had gone out to get coffee for the two of them. She came out excited, greeting and chatting with other girlfriends of the drivers around the paddock.

Time passed too quickly as she laughed and was distracted by conversations, not realizing that the sky was getting even more overcast.

When he finally stopped at the paddock café to get his coffee, the first drops of rain began to fall. Within seconds, the water was pouring down with force, accompanied by thunder and lightning that lit up the sky.

Y/n shivered slightly at the noise, watching the storm take over the environment.

"What a crazy atmosphere, huh?" He commented, while the friendly waitress prepared the coffees.

"I don't think anyone expected this storm now." The woman laughed. "Well, at least you have some time for a hot coffee before training."

Y/n smiled in agreement, but was interrupted by the vibration of the cell phone in her pocket. When she picked up the device, she saw that it was a call from Lando. However, before she could answer, the call dropped. Then, several messages appeared on the screen:

Love💓: Where are you, darling?

Love:💓: How are you?

Love💓: Do you need anything?

She smiled at his concern before answering.

'I'm at the coffee shop! I got distracted talking to the girls and ended up taking a while, but I'm going now.'

Love💓: Stay there. I'm coming to get you.

'Lan, it's raining a lot. I'll wait a little and then come back, you don't need to get all wet.'

But he didn't even see it.

Y/n sighed, shaking her head.

No matter how much Lando said he loved her, she didn't just need to hear the words. She felt it in the small gestures, in the way he always paid attention to her, in the constant affection. And now, in the desperate way he went out to get her in the rain.

Minutes later, she saw a familiar figure walking through the paddock with an umbrella. Her eyes widened when she realized that Lando was practically soaked, even holding the umbrella.

As soon as he approached the coffee shop, Y/n came out and waited under the small balcony.

"You should have stayed inside, you crazy woman." Lando said, laughing when he saw her. "I'm here to rescue you, like a knight in armor searching for his princess in the castle."

She laughed, and when he held out his hand to help her down the two front steps, she held on tight, joining him under the umbrella.

The rain had calmed down a bit, but thunder still cut through the sky. As they walked back to the garage, Y/n held the two cups of coffee while Lando kept an arm around her shoulders, better protecting her from the rain.

"You really didn't have to come," she murmured. "I was going to come, love. Now you're all wet."

Lando smirked. "And leaving my girlfriend alone out there in the rain like this? Never."

She smiled, leaning against his shoulder as they walked together.

When they reached the garage, he dropped the umbrella in a corner and took her hand, guiding her to the pilot's room. Inside, Y/n placed the coffees on the table and began to tell him about the waitress at the coffee shop.

"She's very nice, Lan. In fact, she's studying the same course as me at university." She said, turning to look at Lando. "Of course, not at the same university because she doesn't live in Monaco." She laughed a little.

But he was busy rummaging through a suitcase until he pulled out some dry shirts and coats. Holding the pieces of clothing, he walked over to her and held them out.

"Change your clothes." He said simply. "You might catch a cold."

Y/n's eyes widened, laughing. "Lan... you're soaked! Look at you!"

In fact, he was completely soaking wet. His curls were streaming down his forehead, his McLaren papaya T-shirt looked a shade darker from the water, and a drop of rain slid down his cheek as he smiled at her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He chuckled, noticing her stare. "Want a kiss?" Lando smirked.

Y/n shook her head, laughing and ignoring her boyfriend's teasing flirting. She just ruffled his slightly brown curls.

"You're the one who needs dry clothes here."

"I'll change right away," he insisted, still holding the clothes out for her.

Y/n sighed and picked up the clothes, but first asked: "Do you have any extra pieces for you too?"

Lando hesitated for a second before admitting, "No... But I'll put on the jumpsuit soon and, as soon as we get back to the hotel, we'll take a hot shower."

"Then I won't change. My clothes only have a few stains on them, and I can take off my sneakers and let them dry. You, on the other hand..."

Lando smiled and leaned closer, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. "I just want you to stay warm. I know you get cold easily."

She smiled at his affection. She sighed and accepted the clothes, but before going to change, she warned: "Okay, but when we get to the hotel, I'll be the one who will take care of you."

"Fair enough." Lando chuckled, leaning in to kiss her.

••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n was at university, and Lando, taking advantage of his break from racing, was at their apartment. With free time, he decided to take care of the kittens they had, unpack the suitcase from their last trip and clean the place a little so that, when she arrived, she could just relax.

While organizing some things, my cell phone vibrated with a message from her.

Amore mio❤️: Honey, I'm going to have to stay here a little longer... The teacher decided to extend today's class, since he won't be able to come next week.

'Okay, honey. Did you bring anything to eat? Or do you have your card?'

Amore mio❤️: I forgot my lunch bag on the table... But if I feel hungry, I'll buy something in the cafeteria.

Lando looked at the table and there was her small bag of snacks. He rolled his eyes, smiling. It was typical of her to forget things when she was in a hurry.

He looked at his watch. It was already past lunch time and, knowing Y/n well, he knew she wouldn't buy anything because she would be too busy studying. With an amused sigh, he picked up his bag and decided to take it to her.

Leaving the apartment, he got into his car and drove through the streets of Monaco. It was a beautiful day, with the sun reflecting off the crystal clear waters of the harbor. The narrow, charming streets were busy, but he drove calmly, lost in his own thoughts.

He and Y/n had been together since they were teenagers. They met in high school, when he still dreamed of becoming a Formula 1 driver and she was already talking about working in the health field. Since then, Lando had done small things for her—like sharing his snack when she forgot, stopping by the market after school to buy her favorite sweets, or simply giving her his coat on cold days. For him, these were simple things. For her, they were demonstrations of love that meant everything.

Upon arriving at the campus, Lando parked the car and headed to the block where Y/n's course rooms were located. She was in an area with tables and benches, laughing with her friends as they reviewed something for class.

He stopped for a moment and watched her from afar. Even when she was focused, she still found time to laugh and interact with her friends, and that made him smile. The driver had always admired the way she balanced everything with ease. Relationships, work, university, friends, home, family who lived in another country and accompanying Lando to the races when she could.

For Norris, she was definitely his superhero.

Y/n's friends soon noticed him, but didn't say anything. She, with her back to him, continued talking, oblivious to his presence. Lando approached silently and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"If you're going to scare me, forget it." Y/n grumbled before even turning around, frowning slightly.

"Apparently it worked a little." Lando chuckled.

She turned around quickly, ready to retort, but when she saw it was him, her face lit up with a smile. Without hesitation, she hugged him tightly.

“What are you doing here, Lan?"

He kissed her cheek before answering, and her friends cooed, making them both laugh. Then, he held up the bag of snacks.

"I have a special delivery for a person who forgets things."

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. "You're the best."

"I know." He winked. "But seriously, you wouldn't survive on just the breakfast and granola bars in your backpack."

"I love you, you know?" She bit her lip, knowing he was right.

"I think I can hear that again." He smiled.

Y/n laughed and pulled Lando into a kiss. Her friends cheered playfully, and he smiled into the kiss. While Y/n blushed slightly.

"Do you want to stay here for a while?" She asked as they walked away. "I still have time before my next class."

"Sure, honey." He sat down next to her on the bench and soon began chatting with his friends, whom he had known for a long time. Most of them had even studied with them in high school and had been friends since then.

While he was chatting animatedly, Y/n opened her bag to get her snack. It was then that she noticed a small note folded on top of the fruit bowls and the sandwich.

"I don't want you to go hungry because you were busy saving lives before you even graduated. Eat right, okay? I love you. Lan❤️"

Her smile grew, and her cheeks heated. She tried to hide it, but her best friend, sitting across from her, noticed it right away.

"Look who's blushing!!"

Y/n rolled her eyes but laughed.

Looking at Lando, who was still talking absentmindedly, she felt her heart warm. The love she felt for him was not just because of the time they had been together, but because of the way he always showed that he cared, in the little details. She had loved him since they were friends, and when they started dating, that feeling only grew. Every day, with every gesture, with every note, she fell more in love.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n walked into the house, taking off her shoes and letting out a tired sigh, but with an excited smile on her face.

"You won't believe what happened today!" She began, walking straight to the kitchen as Lando followed her with interest.

"Surprise me!" Lando said with a smile, leaning against the counter as he watched her open the fridge.

"The teacher just decided that he won't teach us anymore and finished all the content today!!" She explained, picking up some fruit and starting to prepare a juice.

Lando frowned. "Seems kind of unfair, doesn't it? Like, you guys have to fight to know everything in one day?"

Y/n to them.

"Basically!! But it was actually good, I had time to review a lot of things... And wouldn't you know it, the guys decided to have a competition to see who could remember the most details from the class, AND I WON!" Y/n said in a tone of voice like a child who had just received a long-awaited gift.

Lando laughed and raised an eyebrow in amazement. He loved that even though they were twenty-five, she sometimes told him the news like a six-year-old. It was one of his thousand favorite things.

"Of course you won. My favorite nerd." He joked, earning a look of mock indignation from her as he poured the juice into two glasses.

"I prefer 'a brain incredibly capable of holding everything', but thanks." She said, handing him one of the cups.

Lando chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Fair enough. And did you get anything to eat while you were out there so late?"

"Ah, so... I even stopped by the markets near the university before heading home, because I had a crazy desire to eat pistachio ice cream, but I couldn't find any." Y/n commented casually, drinking the rest of the juice and going to wash the glass.

Lando made a thoughtful sound. "Pistachio ice cream? That's a new one."

"Yeah, I saw it on Instagram and I wanted to." She said, smiling at him. "Anyway, I'm going to take a quick shower, and then we can continue yesterday's series, okay?"

"Of course, I'll wait for you on the couch." Lando replied, already imagining that that 'quickie' was far from the truth.

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, but at the last second, Lando turned his face and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Y/n giggled against his lips, but kissed him back without hesitation.

When they broke apart, she ran her fingers through his hair and murmured. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Lando smiled, but as soon as she got into the shower, an idea took hold of him. Grabbing his car keys, he left the apartment determined to find that pistachio ice cream.

He knew Y/n well enough to know that, even if she didn't give it much thought afterwards, she still wanted it. And he would do anything to see that satisfied smile on her face.

At the second market he visited, he found exactly what he was looking for. He bought three large jars and drove back home, eager to surprise her.

When she entered the apartment, she heard the sound of the wardrobe doors opening; she had probably just gotten out of the shower and was changing.

Putting two jars in the fridge, he grabbed two spoons and settled down on the sofa, putting on the series they were watching together.

From the hallway, he heard her voice as she tried to apply moisturizer to her arms.

"I swear I'll never understand why these bottles are so hard to open when your hand is wet." Y/n grumbled, focused on the task at hand as she walked to the living room.

As soon as she walked in, she found Lando smiling at her, holding a tub of ice cream out towards her.

"Look what mysteriously appeared in our apartment." He said, an amused glint in his eyes.

Y/n's eyes widened and she walked over to him, taking the spoon he held out. "You're kidding!"

Lando laugh.

"No kidding. I left while you were in the shower and found it at the market nearby."

She opened the jar and looked at it with a mixed expression of surprise and tenderness. "You flatter me too much."

"It's not my fault I like seeing you happy." Lando replied with a smirk.

Tasting the ice cream, Y/n closed her eyes in pure delight. "OMG, this is perfect!!"

Lando laughed when he saw her so pleased.

She then gave a mischievous smile. "Our future children will be the most spoiled in the world. With a father who goes out at night to buy pistachio ice cream for their mother, imagine what he will do for them."

Lando gave a thoughtful expression. "Well, if they pull their mother's leg, they'll probably convince me to do anything. I'm screwed."

Y/n laughed and leaned back against him, still enjoying every spoonful.

Lando put the episode on TV, but his attention was always on his girlfriend. He smiled every time she made a face of pleasure while eating her ice cream.

Y/n felt loved in every little gesture he made. Ever since their school days, Lando had always found ways to take care of her, even when she didn't realize she needed it.

And despite all the teasing, she knew that their future babies would be lucky because they would have a daddy as caring and helpful as the man by her side.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n and Lando had a natural way of balancing each other's differences. She loved quiet nights watching TV and baking, and he did that with her without hesitation complain. In the same way, he liked parties and events, and Y/n, even though she felt a little anxious in crowded places, made an effort to accompany him to all of them.

Lando had always been aware of her discomfort in crowds. When they went to parties, he made sure to keep one hand on her waist, making sure she felt safe, while the other held a glass.

That night, they were at a party with Max and Pietra. Y/n was talking excitedly with Pietra about a reality show they were watching, while Lando and Max talked about news from Quadrant.

When Max and Pietra left to get more drinks, Lando leaned close to Y/n's ear.

"Is everything okay?" He asked in a low tone, making sure only she could hear.

"Comfortable?"

"I am, love." She smiled reassuringly.

Lando nodded, but kept his eyes peeled for any sign of discomfort.

"Come dance with me?" Y/n asked suddenly, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"Now?" Lando smiled, loving to see her letting loose.

"NOW!!" She said, pulling his hand and lightly dragging him back.

Norris chuckled, downing the rest of his drink before setting the glass down on the table and following her. He shifted his position, standing in front of her and gently holding her hand as he excused himself to a few people along the way. The last thing he wanted was for someone to bump into him.

When they reached the dance floor, a song they both knew started playing. Y/n smiled, moving her body to the rhythm of the music. Lando pulled her by the waist, moving alongside her, but his attention was focused on admiring her smile and the way her eyes sparkled.

When the song ended and a new one began, he leaned in again to speak close to her ear.

"Do you want to get some air outside?"

Y/n fixed the collar of his shirt, which was slightly up, and smiled. "Not yet. But thanks for asking."

Lando smiled back and murmured against her hair, "I'll always be here to take care of you."

And then, they went back to where they were before and found Max and Pietra, who had already returned with the drinks.

They continued to chat animatedly, but Lando remained attentive. They had a code for when Y/n needed a break—a double squeeze of his hand meant it was time to leave.

Even without her giving the signal, Lando noticed small signs of discomfort: the way she fidgeted with the strap of her dress, the way her gaze became more distant for a few seconds. Then, without needing her to ask, he leaned close to her ear.

"Come with me, just a minute."

Without question, Y/n took his hand, and he led her to a quiet terrace. As soon as she felt the cool air against her skin, she closed her eyes and smiled, taking a deep breath.

Lando hugged her from behind and kissed her neck gently. "You're doing well, love. But you don't have to stay here for me, okay? We can go anytime. I'm with you!"

She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to look at him. "I know. But I like being with you, even if parties aren't really my thing."

The pilot smiled, warming to her words. They sat in silence for a while, watching the city lights below.

"Do you think if I let go of my glass from here it will fall straight down or fly away?"

"If you do that, I'll pretend I don't know you." Y/n raised an eyebrow.

He laughed, still hugging her. Her hands were on his, which were resting on her waist. Y/n sighed in relief, resting her head on his chest.

Lando nuzzled his face into her neck, murmuring softly.

"I love you."

She smiled, feeling her heart warm. "I know. Because I love you too!"

"I love everything about you." Lando continued. "From the first time I saw you in my class in high school, I knew you were special to me."

"We didn't even talk properly that first week." Y/n chuckled softly.

"But I knew," he insisted. "And then you stood by me at the beginning of my career, always believing in me, always supporting me. You are my peace before every race, my confidence before I get in the car. Every time you're around, I feel at home."

She blinked a few times, feeling her eyes well up. An emotional smile formed on her lips.

A lone tear ran down her face, and Lando wiped it away with his thumb.

"I love you so much." Y/n whispered. "But sometimes, I can't even put it into words..."

He kissed her forehead tenderly. "But I feel it. Because, even though you don't see it, you care for me as much as I care for you."

Y/n smiled, knowing he was right. Lando began to list little things she did without realizing it: cooking his favorite dish every time he got back from a trip, sending him motivational messages, holding his hand before races to ease his anxiety. And gosh, she learned how to make his mother's recipes so he wouldn't miss Cisca's cooking so much.

"I love you." Y/n smiles. "So much, so much, so much, and so...much!"

Lando chuckled and leaned in to kiss her.

The kiss started softly, tenderly. Y/n's hands went up to the back of his neck, pulling him slightly closer. Lando deepened the kiss delicately, moving his lips against hers slowly, savoring the moment. His thumb caressed the soft skin of her face, conveying every bit of affection he felt.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled.

"Shall we go home?"

Y/n nodded, still smiling.

Lando laced his fingers through hers as they walked out, ready to spend the rest of the night on the couch with her—and, who knows, maybe with a coffee to cure both of their hangovers.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lando and Y/n were spending their holidays in the UK, in the city where they grew up and where their families still lived. It was a peaceful time for both of them, a time of rest and nostalgia, surrounded by the streets that held so many memories of childhood and adolescence.

On that cold afternoon, they walked hand in hand through the park that meant so much to both of them. The icy wind announced the possibility of snow in the coming days, and the smell of winter hung in the air. They were dressed in matching warm coats, and Y/n kept her hands intertwined with Lando's.

"I still can't believe I'm going into my final year of college." Y/n commented, looking at the path ahead. "It seems like yesterday that I started, and now we're already talking about the future more calmly... It's going to be good to be able to spend more time at home and eventually start working for real."

Lando looked at his girlfriend in amazement. With a soft smile, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and chuckled softly when he saw a small leaf fall on her head.

"What is it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There was a leaf on your head," the pilot replied, laughing as he removed it.

Y/n laughed too, squeezing his hand lightly before they continued walking. As they walked, they talked about the latest races, her plans for when they returned to Monaco, and even ideas for future trips.

Halfway through the journey, Lando suddenly stopped in the middle of a bridge, where the view of the park was even more beautiful. The trees swayed gently in the wind, some dry leaves fell, making the scenery even more nostalgic.

"Why did we stop?"

Lando looked at her with a gleam in his eyes. "Don't you remember this place?"

She frowned for a moment, looking around, until her eyes widened in realization.

"It was here..." She murmured, a smile growing on her lips. "It was here that you asked me to be your girlfriend."

Lando smiled and nodded, moving closer to let her closer to him. Y/n rested her hand on the railing of the bridge, admiring the view, but soon turned her gaze back to him.

Lando gently ran his hand over her cheek before speaking, "I know a lot of people say I'm taking too long to propose..." She rolled her eyes but laughed. "But I always say the boss doesn't want it right now..."

Y/n lightly slapped his chest, laughing. "Not quite!"

Lando laughed along, taking her hand again.

"I know we agreed that we would do this after you finished college." He said fondly. "So... if I ask you out again, will you accept?"

She frowned in confusion for a second, until she saw him take a small box out of his pocket. Opening it, she revealed two brand new rings.

"Yes, Lan, I accept. I always will, you know!" Y/n smiled.

"I took advantage of the fact that we're here to renew our engagement rings... because, honestly, mine is already all crooked on my finger." He joked.

Y/n laughed out loud. "Well, mine is kind of crooked too." She admitted.

Lando took her hand, sliding the old ring off and studying her for a moment before joking, "That should be considered a crime already."

Y/n laughed and did the same with his, exchanging the old rings for the new ones. When they finished, each one held the other's old ring.

"What are we going to do with these?" She asked, looking at the ring in her palm.

"We can play in the river. Like a ritual, you know? But in a cute way." Lando smirked.

"I feel bad about throwing it away..." Y/n hesitated, holding the ring carefully.

Lando cupped her face gently, looking into her eyes. "We're not throwing them away, love. They were part of our history, but now we have new ones. And in a few months, you'll have an even more special one. A brilliant engagement ring."

Y/n's eyes lit up at the idea. She smiled, feeling her heart warm.

"Okay then. Let's do this together."

They looked at each other and counted down before dropping the rings into the river at the same time. They watched for a few seconds until Lando laughed.

"Will any fish find and marry our rings?"

Y/n laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. "Well, I hope they're at least fish who really love each other."

Lando chuckled before pulling her into a passionate kiss.

The kiss started out slow and delicate, but soon became more intense and full of feelings. Lando's hands held her face tenderly, while Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips moved in unison perfect harmony, as if time had stopped for that moment. The cold around them didn't seem to matter, as there was a cozy warmth between the two.

When they pulled away, Lando rested his forehead against hers, smiling. "I love you. And I can't wait to call you my wife one day."

Months later, when they returned to the city for their mid-year vacation, Lando took her back to that same bridge. With a sparkle in his eyes and a shiny ring in his hand, he proposed, sealing another chapter of their story in the very place where it all began.

[rafesbabygirlx]

can you do something with Rafe and a very naive reader who doesn’t know when a guy is flirting with her and she’s just super friendly? like rafe will get confrontational and possessive but he’s never mean to his girl because she doesn’t know any better and he drags her out of the bar angrily but then is super sweet to her and they have car sex and maybe like the guy walks by and sees them and Rafe smirks at him through the window.

Pleaseeeeeeeeeee??????

Oooooff YES

I feel like I might get a little carried away with this one (I just finished and yes... it is long lol)

𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The bar was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You were seated in a booth with Rafe, Kelce, Topper, and a few of your girlfriends, all of you were caught up in conversation, shouting over the music. Between stories and bursts of laughter, you finally glanced down and realized your glass was nearly empty.

Slipping away from the table, you made your way toward the bar, leaning in slightly to get the bartender’s attention.

“Vodka soda, please,” you ordered.

As you waited, you felt someone step up beside you. You turned slightly and saw a tall brunette guy—broad shoulders, sharp features, a confident stance.

“You here with anyone?” he asked casually, his voice smooth but loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing over my shoulder toward my group. 

You didn’t think anything of it, but he moved a little closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “Nice. You come here often?”

You shook my head. “Not really, just whenever my friends want to. What about you?”

“Every now and then,” he shrugged. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“y/n.”

The bartender slid your drink over, and you picked it up, but you didn’t rush back to the table. Eric was easy to talk to, and after all, it was just casual conversation.

“So, y/n, what do you do?” he asked, taking a sip from his own drink.

“I’m a senior in college,” you said. “Studying fashion.”

His eyebrows lifted with interest. “That’s cool. So you’re into fashion?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He smirked. “Alright, be honest—do I look like I know anything about fashion?”

You gave him a once-over, eyeing his fitted black t-shirt and well-worn jeans. “You’re doing alright,” you teased. “No major offenses.”

“Good to know. I’d hate to be a walking fashion crime.” He leaned in slightly. “So, what’s the dream job?”

You hesitated for a second, taking a sip of your drink. “Marketing for a fashion brand, something creative. I love the behind-the-scenes of campaigns and branding.”

“That actually sounds really interesting,” he said, nodding. “Ever thought about starting your own thing?”

“I mean, maybe one day,” you admitted. “I’d want to work somewhere first, really get the experience before diving into anything myself.”

“That’s smart.” He tilted his glass toward me. “To future success, then.”

I clinked my drink against his, smiling. “To future success.”

“y/n.”

The sound of my name in a familiar voice made me turn, and there was Rafe, standing just a few feet away, watching the conversation unfold. His expression was unreadable, but his sharp blue eyes were locked on Eric.

afe walked up behind you, placing a hand on your waist. "Oh hi, Rafey!" you greeted, wrapping your arm around his waist as he moved in close to you.

"And who's this?" Rafe asked, his tone even but laced with something unreadable.

"This is Eric," you said casually. "We just started talking. He's really nice. We should hang out with him."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, is he now?"

"Yeah, he is."

Rafe’s gaze didn’t shift from Eric as he spoke. "And what have you and my girlfriend been talking about exactly?"

Eric shifted uncomfortably under Rafe’s stare. "Look, man, she didn’t say she had a boyfriend."

Rafe let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, so it's her fault you're a creep?"

"Rafe, we were just talking, I don’t understand," you said, your grip around his waist tightening as you started to feel nervous.

But Rafe broke your hold, moving around to the other side of you, stepping directly in front of Eric. His presence alone made Eric take a step back.

"Listen, man," Rafe said, his voice low and firm. "I watched the whole interaction. You saw her with a group, you saw her ring, and you still thought you had a shot?" He leaned in slightly, his jaw tight. "Next time, when a girl gives you a polite response, take the hint and walk away."

Eric put his hands up. "Dude, I didn’t mean anything—"

"Did I say you could talk?" Rafe cut him off, his voice steady but dangerous.

Eric glanced between you and Rafe, clearly realizing he was outmatched. "Alright, man. Chill. I was just being friendly."

"Then be friendly somewhere else, before I make you regret it," Rafe said coldly, taking a step closer, forcing Eric to back away further.

Eric muttered something under his breath before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Then he looked down at you, his expression softening slightly. "You okay?"

You nodded, still processing the sudden shift in energy. "Yeah. Rafe, that was—"

"He was too close," Rafe interrupted, sliding an arm back around your waist protectively. "And I don’t like people thinking they can just walk up on you like that."

You sighed, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. "Let’s just go, okay?"

Rafe nodded, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head. "Yeah, let’s go."

With his arm still around you, he led you back through the bar, his grip just a little tighter than before.

Rafe tossed you gently into the back seat, sliding in right after you. His eyes were dark, filled with something unreadable.

"You're too sweet for your own good, baby," he murmured before crashing his lips against yours.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. "I don't know what you mean."

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You see the good in everyone. So much so that you don’t even realize how he was coming onto you. I’m not mad at you, you don’t know any better, but he was taking advantage of your kindness. Thinking he could have you. Take you away from me."

You frowned. "No, Rafe, he wasn’t. He was just being nice."

You let out a small laugh, but Rafe’s hand was suddenly on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. Your smile faded when you saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" he muttered.

You swallowed. "No, Rafe, I don’t. Why can't someone just be nice?"

His jaw clenched. "It’s the actions, baby. He was no good."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Whatever you s—"

Before you could finish, Rafe leaned in again, kissing you deeply, possessively. His hands gripped your waist as if grounding himself in you.

"Show me who you belong to," he whispered against your lips, pushing you down to the car floor.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuckles his pants. You stare up at him with those big sweet doe eyes of yours and grab a hold of him once he's free, peppering kisses on his tip. Rafe throws his head back once you lower your mouth on him.

"Fuck- just like that," he speaks through gritted teeth.

You bob your head up down, taking in as much of him as you can. He moans at how good you make him feel. But in a split second, the vision of - that guy- all over you pisses him off and he grabs the back of your head and begins to buck up his hips jamming himself into the back of your throat. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, his sweet girl, but that shit really pissed him off.

You gag on him and grip onto his thighs, trying to breathe through your nose as best you can. Rafe thrusts a few more times before releasing himself from your mouth. He lets you catch your breath for a second before lifting you back onto the seat and laying you down.

He bunches up your dress around your waist and pulls down your underwear, tossing them into the front seat. He puts his thumb in his mouth getting it wet and brings it to your clit, rubbing it softly. You buck up at the feeling but Rafe grabs your waist and pushes you back down.

"Baby, you are the sweetest girl I know," Rafe murmured while not letting up from your clit.

You moan at his sweet words.

"You mean everything to me. No man could ever take you away from me. You’re mine."

You find it hard to speak, but need to let him know. "Rafe, I’m always yours. You know that."

His grip on your waist tightened. "I know, but I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance. I love you too much for that."

You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "I love you too. Always."

Rafe sighed, leaning down to you for a deep kiss. "Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go."

He moves down and attaches his mouth to you. Swirling his tongue around your clit, replacing his finger. He then sucks on it and you put your arm over your mouth to let out a loud moan into it, considering you're in the middle of a parking lot. Rafe puts a stop to that quickly.

"Let me hear you, no one's around." He smirks up at you and you smile back.

He continues to eat you out before moving up and pushing his pants down more and lining up to your entrance. Wasting no time in wanting to be inside you. He slowly pushes in and you throw your head back into the leather seat. Rafe doesn't take a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into you.

He sets a relentless pace, his motivation- that asshole back in the bar and loving the way you squirm beneath him. After a few moments, there is chatter outside the car, you panic but Rafe doesn't let up. Someone comes by the window to the car next to Rafe's. You can't hold back your moans and go to move your hand, but Rafe pins both of them over your head.

Rafe notices that familiar face to be Eric. He's nosy and moves over to the window to see what the faint noises are. Rafe stares at him through it and smirks wickedly.

"Wanna come, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you cry out and let out a loud moan signaling your end.

Rafe continues to fuck you through your orgasm, finding his own coming deep inside you, all while that dipshit from inside stands and watches like the creep Rafe knew he was.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° and he keeps a picture of you

( bllk boys x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — been MIA for so long i wanted to write something small ans cute :)

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, sae itoshi x gn! reader, alexis ness x gn! reader, rin itoshi x gn! reader, all characters are 18+, just cutieness , engagement (yukimiya), childhood lovers (sae), nickname 'love' used (ness),

♡ synopsis — some bllk boys (yukimiya, sae, ness, rin) and what their phone lock screen is :)

⊹｡° yukimiya kenyu

out of all the boys, yukimiya kenyu is the one most likely to have the cutest picture of the two of you as his background.

everyone gets sick of him bragging about your relationship, just how perfect you are, how sickly sweet you are to him.

yukimiya changes his lock screen every week, and of course he has to show them off to his team.

most of the time, it's a picture of you two holding hands- or you two in matching outfits that yuki had chosen himself.

everyone on his team had gotten tired of him showing off his perfect life and amazing relationship.

while, if you held down long enough, yukimiya's options for a lock screen weren't limited.

one was of you sitting across from him at dinner- a win glass in front of you as you gave him a smile. 'because you look like a dream in this' he'd told you when you asked why that one was his new lock screen of the week.

another of you asleep on his shoulder, a clear patch of drool showing in the picture. 'i wanna wake up to this every morning' he'd justified.

and this weeks lock screen, hm? well, it's his personal favorite.

a photo of you jumping on yukimiya while the two of you are dressed in another set of matching outfits. to anyone else, this may just look like his average screen saver.

but to him, and anyone who looks hard enough, the shiny new ring on your left hand ring finger is a clear sign; yukimiya finally asked you to marry him.

this one wouldn't be changed for a while.

not until he saw you in your wedding outfit.

⊹｡° sae itoshi

everyone of his nosey fans always wonders...what is sae itoshi's lock screen? flashes of it had been shown at press interviews, but no one could figure out what it was.

for a week on social media, fangirls (and guys) were stopping interviews for the tiniest glimpse at his phone. eventually, after coming to the assumption that he was a bland man who simply left it on the default lock screen, the internet calmed down.

and was sae a calm man who usually didn't change things that were fine as is? yes.

but what no one knew, what no one would ever find out, is that sae itoshi had a secret life- one secret from the press and internet- only for him to have and hold.

you.

you had been his girlfriend since he was 14, yet he refused to let the world and its nosiness ruin a perfect thing.

he was careless during the singular press interview, his phone in view- he was just lucky that the quality wasn't the best because then everyone in the world would know; sae itoshi was utterly whipped.

his lock screen, you ask? it's the only one he has set- and he'll never change it.

it's a simple picture of you on the balcony of your shared home, the sunset illuminating you perfectly as you looked over your shoulder at him with the most stunning smile on your face.

sae itoshi wouldn't let the world ruin that smile.

ever.

⊹｡° alexis ness

for the first year you were dating ness, his lock screen was a picture of him and kaiser in their uniforms- their last names stretched across their backs.

was this insane to you? yes. but you knew how much kaiser had changed ness' passion and love for soccer, and that's all you could be grateful for.

so when you grabbed ness' phone one morning to change the playlist while the two of you made breakfast and saw that he changed the background? you almost cried.

was it silly to be so emotional over? sure. but you knew how much kaiser meant to ness- he possibly loved him more than you (joking) (no i'm not)

the picture was so cute and innocent- the lock screen now a picture of you in a magicians get-up with cards in your hand.

you'd done it for ness' birthday, for his love of magic- you'd learned to do a few card tricks and he laughed at you as you tried ( and failed ) to shuffle- the cards flying everywhere.

when he realized the music hadn't changed , ness looked back at you - his pink apron wrapped around him, "everything okay, love?"

yeah.

everything was perfect.

⊹｡° rin itoshi

refused to change his lock screen when you started dating.

he was perfectly fine with the default one, why should be have to change his phone set-up just to prove his love?

in his mind, that was silly.

he loved you more than (almost) anything, except soccer.

let's be serious soccer was a very close second when it came to you, but rin would never admit that- his dream of becoming the best striker and his ego too high to say that.

he didn't understand why people needed their significant other on their lock screen. they'd see them everyday, was one picture really that important?

he thought that until he walked into your shared bedroom one day after a long day and a hard fought win against Manshine City.

all he wanted to do was take a shower, eat dinner, and lay down with you.

then he saw you, curled up on the bed wearing his jersey.

he told you not to wait up for him. you couldn't attend the game in person due to work, but he didn't mind. you were with him always.

but seeing you, fast asleep with his last name on your back- he finally understood.

he could look at this scene for hours.

he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and quickly snapped a picture before he slipped into bed next to you.

he suddenly didn't need a shower and he wasn't hungry.

he just wanted to be near you.

when you woke up the next morning while rin was on his morning run, you grabbed his phone to check the time

your sleeping face met your gaze, and a smile that probably looked so goofy spread across your face.

rin had never seen the point of changing his lock screen

until he saw you with his name on your figure.

suddenly he wanted to give you that last name for the two of you to share.

may make a part 2 , be on the look out :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[amoressb]

───── STRAWBERRY KISSES 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ how even the simplest things like a bowl of strawberries can hold the sweetest memories ｡｡ idolbf!riki x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 1000 + ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki sat at the end of the table, lazily twirling a bright red strawberry between his fingers. the rest of enhypen was gathered around him, their usual chaotic energy filling the room as the livestream continued. comments flooded the chat, hearts fluttering across the screen like confetti as fans eagerly interacted with their favorite idols.

the group had been live for almost an hour, answering questions, playing games, and teasing each other as they always did. but lately, the fans had noticed something peculiar…riki seemed distracted. he wasn’t as hyper as usual, his usual playful antics subdued as he occasionally glanced down at the bowl of strawberries sitting in front of him.

“riki, you good?” jungwon asked, nudging him with his elbow. “you’ve been staring at that strawberry for like five minutes.”

riki blinked, realizing he’d been spacing out. he let out a soft chuckle, adjusting his posture. “yeah, i’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling the strawberry between his fingers again.

the fans, sharp as ever, picked up on it immediately. the comments exploded :

“why does ni-ki look so lovestruck?”

“he’s thinking about something…or someone.”

“wait, does this have to do with strawberries???”

jay, ever the instigator, leaned in with a smirk. “let me guess, someone special likes strawberries?” rikis lips twitched, betraying a smile before he could stop it. the rest of the members erupted into knowing laughter.

“oh, he’s done for,” heeseung laughed, pointing at him. “riki, man, you’re too obvious.” riki shook his head but didn’t deny it. instead, he finally lifted the strawberry to his lips, taking a slow bite as the chat exploded with emojis and frantic guesses.

sunghoon, raising an eyebrow, decided to push further. “so, are you saying you only eat strawberries now because of her?” the room quieted for a second, then riki, still chewing, shrugged and casually said, “maybe.” the members lost it.

“CONFIRMED!” jake shouted, pointing at the camera. “he’s whipped!”

“riki, this is a public livestream!” jungwon stifled a laugh, burying his face in his hands. “think of your image!”

riki only laughed, feeling warmth creep up his neck. he wasn’t usually this open about your relationship, but something about today made him feel bold. maybe it was because he missed you.

the chat continued to spiral into chaos :

“is he talking about his girlfriend??”

“ni-ki is literally in love and we are witnessing it live.”

“THE WAY HE’S SMILING SOMEONE HELP.”

sunoo, ever the curious one, decided to dig even deeper. “so, how did this strawberry obsession start, huh?” riki glanced down at the half eaten strawberry in his hand, thinking back to the moment everything changed.

“it’s because of her,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “she loves strawberries. always eats them, always tries to make me eat them. at first, i didn’t really care, but…” he trailed off, his lips curving into the kind of smile that made his members groan in secondhand embarrassment.

“but what?” jay prodded. riki looked straight into the camera, his dark eyes gleaming. “but she said they taste better when they’re shared.”

the members erupted in dramatic shrieks, some clutching their chests like they’d been physically wounded. “ENOUGH.” jake dramatically stood up, pointing at riki. “take him off the livestream. he’s too far gone.”

heeseung pretended to wipe away tears. “our riki…he’s in love.”

“gross,” sunghoon muttered, but he was grinning.

riki just shook his head, amused by their antics. then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated beside him. he glanced down and sure enough, there was a message from you.

“caught you talking about me, didn’t i? i’ll bring strawberries later, be ready.”

his heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. trying to act casual, he set his phone down and returned his attention to the camera. but anyone paying close attention, especially you, would notice the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“i’ll be waiting,” he murmured before popping another strawberry into his mouth. the chat went absolutely wild.

———————

the dorm was quieter now. after ending the livestream, the members had all gone their separate ways. some showering, some playing games, some already asleep.

riki, however, was waiting. finally, there was a knock at the door. he didn’t even hesitate before opening it and there you stood, a small bag in one hand and a mischievous smile on your lips. “delivery for mr.strawberry lover.”

riki scoffed, but his grin was impossible to hide. “you saw the livestream, didn’t you?”

“oh, i did.” you held up the bag, rustling it lightly. “and as promised, i brought strawberries.”

he stepped aside to let you in, watching as you plopped down onto his bed, pulling out the container of fresh strawberries. you grabbed one, holding it up to his lips. “since they taste better when shared, right?”

rikis lips twitched as he leaned forward, taking a slow bite. the sweetness bursted on his tongue, but all he could focus on was the way you were looking at him.

“you’re really making me soft,” he mumbled, swallowing. you grinned, “i know.” rolling his eyes, he grabbed a strawberry and held it up to your lips in return. you took a bite, chewing happily as riki watched you with an amused smile.

then, out of nowhere, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. you blinked. “what was that for?” riki shrugged, biting into another strawberry. “you had juice on your face.”

“uh huh,” you said, unconvinced. but before you could tease him, he kissed your other cheek, then your nose, then your forehead.

“riki,” you giggled, lightly pushing his chest. “what are you doing?”

he only grinned, swallowing the last bit of strawberry before his eyes darkened playfully. “making sure you know that strawberries taste better like this.” and then, before you could react, he kissed you on the lips.

it was soft at first, sweet, just like the fruit still lingering on his tongue. but then, as your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, he deepened the kiss slightly, letting himself savor the moment.

when he pulled back, you were smiling. “okay, i’ll admit. that might be the best way to eat strawberries.” riki chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “told you.”

and with that, he popped another strawberry into his mouth. this time, not because of the fruit itself, but because it reminded him of you.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. chwe vernon x reader ⇢ summary. vernon loves music, and you love vernon. ⇢ genre. fluff, bffs2lovers, college!au ⇢ word count. approx. 2k ⇢ author’s note! happy (early) valentine’s day! i unfortunately wrote this last week which means it came so close to deletion at least 10 times, and so im posting it now to prevent that. thank you to alta @haologram for helping me brainstorm the playlist, i truly believe u are a gift to this world.

playlist. love language, kehlani / jasmine, dpr live / want u around, omar apollo & ruel / like i want you, giveon / thinkin bout you, frank ocean / best part, daniel caesar & h.e.r.

It’s closing in on two in the morning when you finally leave the library. Your phone’s been on do not disturb since you got there at seven, which feels like forever ago — as you exit, casting a sympathetic glance at the remaining two students still glued to their textbooks, you scroll quickly through your notifications. Two emails, a follow request, and a passive-aggressive threat from Duolingo.

You pull your coat tighter around you as you finally emerge through the last set of double doors — it’s freezing, and you’re just about to stow your hands deep into your pockets when your phone buzzes.

[2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 yo [2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 ur prob asleep but i made u smth [2:04am] vernon 👽🖤 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4grGIbqG5VSvNpDLuwdG7X

Instinctively, you smile. You and Vernon have a bunch of playlists. A collaborative one, for when you’re together, driving or hanging out or whatever. Then he has one for you with all the songs he thinks you’ll like, and then you have one for him for the same reason. 

[2:05am] you another one?  [2:06am] vernon 👽🖤  yooo why are u still up dude [2:06am] you hypocrite 🫵 [2:06am] you but i’m walking home from the library rn

vernon 👽🖤  is calling . . .

“Dude,” he says, by way of greeting, and he doesn’t sound impressed.

“Dude,” you mimic exactly, biting back a smile at the sound of his voice.

“It’s two in the morning,” he sighs, and you can hear sheets rustling in the background. “Why are you walking home alone?”

“It’s not far, Vernon.” 

“It’s dark and it’s been snowing. You should have called me,” he reprimands without any heat. “I would’ve picked you up.”

“Well, it is two in the morning.” You cross the road, stepping over a patch of snow. “I assumed you’d be asleep, not curating another playlist.”

“Oh. Yeah, that — that was — have you opened it?” Vernon’s words trip over each other, and your lips turn up ever so slightly. God, he’s so sweet.

“What, are you nervous?” you tease, unable to resist. “I have, like, fifteen of your playlists saved already.”

“You haven’t opened it,” he infers, and exhales a little. “Okay, um, maybe you should… wait. Until the morning or something.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort. “I’m listening to it now! It’s going to keep me company on my way home. Talk to you later!”

And you hang up before he can protest, already scrolling to find the link he sent you.

The first thing you notice is the name — Love Language. Which makes your heart twist a little, until you realise it’s the name of the first song, and anyway, you and Vernon have made this joke a hundred times. His love language is making playlists, he does it for his friends all the time. You included — you especially. Like the time he’d eaten the last slice of a cake you’d bought, apparently because he thought it was free-for-all. You’d given him the silent treatment for a day and a half before he’d texted you a playlist link: 

I AM (IVE)

really (mimi bay)

Sorry (Justin Bieber)

About (SoKuen)

EATING (Sukihana)

The Cake (John Powell)

I Will (Remastered 2009) (The Beatles)

Buy (Cousines like Shit)

You (Basil Valdez)

MORE (j-hope)

Please Please Please (Sabrina Carpenter)

Forgive Me (Chloe x Halle)

It made you laugh, because Vernon always makes you laugh. A few months and a few playlists later, you were harbouring the biggest crush known to mankind.

That was three years ago. You and Vernon are seniors now, set to graduate next summer, and what was meant to be a harmless crush on a friend has turned into being completely, totally in love with your best friend. It wasn’t that serious until it suddenly was. It was butterflies in your stomach when you saw him, at first. Now it’s like a sigh of relief. It's more coming home. Which is a lot more dangerous, and a lot more painful.

You handle it, most days, but sometimes he’ll do something or say something that completely throws your perfectly regulated emotions into overdrive. He’ll laugh at a stupid joke you make, or he’ll grab your hand to make a point or he’ll tell you that you’re pretty, and your heart swells until it presses painfully against your ribs, hot and slippery and aching. Those days, you mostly go home just to lie on the floor, listen to the only playlist of yours that Vernon hasn’t seen.

The second thing you notice about the playlist Vernon made you is the cover. It’s you, you know it immediately, and you know exactly which day it was taken. You just didn’t know it was taken. But your best friend must’ve snapped a photo when you weren’t looking, because the cover is you, looking up at the cherry blossom tree that the two of you stumbled on during a late-night walk. It was maybe a little under a year ago, it was the night you realised you loved him, and it was the night you almost kissed.

You don’t know if he remembers it the same way you do. To you, that’s your biggest what if? moment. To him, it’s probably just another fun memory with his friend. His best friend, if you’re lucky.

It takes you a second, but you finally click play on the playlist — but the picture stares back at you, practically taunting you with the memory.

The two of you had been walking for twenty minutes, sharing airpods, until you’d seen the tree and gathered a pile of pink petals to dump over Vernon’s head; he’d realised what you were doing just a moment too late. Asshole, he’d said smilingly, brushing the petals off with two hands. Everything that happened next was cliché. He’d missed a spot, one pale petal still clinging to his hair; you reached your hand up to get it, and lingered a little too long, a little too close. You don’t think you’ve ever held eye contact for so long — it felt like forever and then some.

Until his eyes flicked downward. Only for a split second: if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, but you saw it, and it was enough to have you taking a step back. Not like this, you’d thought to yourself. You wouldn’t do anything like that. You wouldn’t throw years of friendship and an extended period of pining away so easily — you wouldn’t risk it over an impulse that Vernon was experiencing. If you couldn’t have all of him, you refused to even take one night. You’d rather not know than live with the memory.

You’re halfway through the second song when you finally snap out of the memory, and you can actually take a moment to glance at the rest of the playlist. To your surprise, it’s short — it’s only six songs — and more interestingly, you know all these songs. And Vernon knows you know them; some of them you recommended to him, some of them he’s sent to you already, and you’re still wondering what he’s thinking as the third song ends. 

Despite you claiming to be his best friend, you don’t always understand Vernon. Sometimes it’s little things, like how he fist bumps the cat on the street corner of his apartment. Sometimes it’s bigger, like the girl he dated last year. You didn’t understand that — or maybe you didn’t want to, because yes, you were well on your way to being in love with him, but he also didn’t tell you. You found out from Seungkwan (who was kind of triumphant about it, because he was always vying for the position of Vernon’s best friend, and he finally knew something you didn’t).

Mina was lovely. As if Vernon would date someone not lovely — he brought her to movie night after a month or so of them seeing each other, and she met your group of friends, and everyone loved her. Even you. And honestly, after excusing yourself to the bathroom to blink away your watery eyes, you convinced yourself that it was for the better: that this would be how you officially got over your best friend. So when Soonyoung asked you to go on a blind date with one of his friends the next week, you said yes. You and Wonwoo saw each other for about a month before you broke it off, and about a month after that, Vernon showed up at movie night without his girlfriend, and casually mentioned that they’d broken up.

Even the news of that didn’t do much to soothe you, because you’d quickly come to a conclusion while dating Wonwoo: that it would not be easy to get over your best friend. You knew you loved him now. You’d come to that realisation under the cherry blossom tree, a few months after both of your breakups, a year after you realised that you liked him like that in the first place. It’s been well over two years since you first fell for him, and you’ve been stuck there ever since — falling deeper and deeper because you refuse to pull yourself out.

Sometimes, on your most hopeful nights, you think that maybe Vernon could feel something too. Some nights he looks at you with a certain shine in his eyes, or when he hugs you he makes it last a little longer than usual. Some nights he opens his mouth to say something and the words get stuck in his throat, and he waves it off like nothing happened. Symptoms that are all too familiar.

Those nights are even worse, the ones where you go home and read too much into his every move, try in vain to stifle the hope that insists on clawing its way to your chest. Those nights are getting more and more frequent, and you don’t know how much longer you can handle it. Those nights, something in you is convinced he feels something, that maybe he could like you — on the very worst, you think he might even love you. But by the next morning, you’re dead certain that all you’ll ever be is a friend to him.

But now — today — you’re eight minutes away from home and nearly five songs in when it starts snowing, and at the same time, the cogs in your mind slowly start turning. You love these songs, Vernon knows you love these songs. You’re pretty sure they’re some of his favourites too; he’s always listening to them. And you’re so preoccupied with the realisation that’s sinking in, that same traitorous hope you’ve always shoved down stirring again in your chest, you barely even notice the snowflakes settling around you.

Because maybe you don’t always understand Vernon, but most of the time you do, even if it takes a little while — even if he has to spell things out for you, like his stupid cake playlist. Because that’s what he’s doing, you realise with a sudden jolt, looking at your favourite songs. Your favourite love songs. He’s spelling it out for you. That this is his love language; that he wants you; that he thinks about you; and as the last song finishes, just as you turn onto your street — if you love me, won’t you say something?

When you finally look up, you think you’re hallucinating. Because Vernon’s standing in front of your apartment building, holding an umbrella, and it startles you so much you actually stop in your tracks a few metres from him, blinking idiotically.

Vernon gives you a shy smile, charming and awkward. Your heart does the thing it always does when he looks at you like that; stutters, skips a beat, clenches tightly.

“You stopped replying to my texts,” he says, and the street’s empty enough that you can hear him, even from where you’re standing. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You don’t say anything because what can you even say? Where do you even start? You don’t have words — but you tap quickly at your phone with a sudden idea, and you hear the ping of Vernon’s phone from where you’re standing. You move closer anyway, smiling at the familiar furrow of his brow as he glances between you and the phone he digs out of his pocket. And you see the exact moment he registers what you’ve sent him, the smile that spreads across his face.

[2:39am] you https://open.spotify.com/track/5oO3drDxtziYU2H1X23ZIp [love on the brain - rihanna]

You and Vernon first met at a party. Seungkwan had promised both of you, separately, that it wasn’t a party, more of a small gathering between his friends, but of course, Seungkwan’s definition of small doesn’t match yours. And so you were kind of hiding in a corner, nodding your head and mouthing subconsciously to Rihanna’s Love on the Brain; you’d turned your head a few inches, and Chwe Vernon was standing a few metres away, doing the exact same thing. You guys had accidentally made eye contact and split into matching embarrassed smiles, until he’d sat next to you. He’d offered you possibly the most awkward fist bump ever, pairing it with an even more awkward, “So, uh, got love on the brain?” You’d laughed, and that was it — the beginning of you and Vernon.

Now, he pockets his phone again, but holds the umbrella out over both of your heads, which only makes you giggle. “You brought an umbrella?”

“It’s snowing,” he shrugs, but his smile is wide, “It’s just like… colder rain.” 

“Stupid.” What’s more stupid is the smile you can’t peel off your face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, and you tilt your head with a sheepish smile. So many reasons, but one look at him and you forget them all.

“So,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand around your waist, “got love on the brain, hm?”

“Something like that,” you agree, and after three years of wanting and waiting, you finally kiss him.

a/n i linked the playlist vernon made at the top (yes i dug up one of my very old spotify accounts to do this). i have very mixed feelings about this one. it's kind of cheesy but so is most of my work, and anyway it's valentine's day!! so who cares!!! also once again this got a banner bc once again this picture inspired the whole thing. also wtf is up with tumblr ruining image quality!!!

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

@icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[impish-baby]

More dad survivor x zombie reader + an old friend :) (tw: dead animal, guns, emetophobia, threats of harm)

"Aw, sugar.." The dead bird is the farthest thing from appetizing but you look so darn happy offering it to him, how's he supposed to say no?

"You're the sweetest, daddy will eat it later, ok?" That at least seems to be satisfactory enough for now, as you drop the poor thing down onto the park table.

The playground has long been abandoned, left in disarray since the apocalypse hit, that doesnt stop Hank from finding it absolutely adorable when you try to climb up a slide. Nearly gives him a heart attack though.

"Baby, come on, you're gonna hurt yourself." He wonders if you remember being little and playing here, your memory isn't the best when it comes to some things but you sure seem to recall what it takes to give him gray hairs. "I know you think it's fun, but your old man really couldn't handle it if you got scratched up while you're messing around."

You get hurt so easily now a days, he's basically toddler proofed the house all over again and yet you still find a way to bang yourself up when he's not around, that's why he's taken to tying you up when he can't keep an eye on you.

When you do finally decide to slide back down, Hank immediately sweeps you up into his arms with a soft chuckle. "Alright, alright, I think you've had enough outside time for today, we should be headin' home."

It would've been a good day, a great one even, if he didn't catch the glittering of a silver barrel from the corner of his eye.

"Shit-" Hank has never been more greatful that he was holding you, because you lunge automatically for the stranger and likewise closer to the gun. "No, sweetheart, shhh..shh..calm down.." God, he'd love it if you listened, it's hard to pull out his own pistol while trying to wrangle you into staying put.

Other survivors aren't very common in town, most people left after the first few months.

"You gonna let that thing go so I can shoot it?" He recognizes that voice, and it makes Hank's heart sink into a pit in his stomach. "I ain't.. Hank?" A familiar face is rare, a friendly familiar face is nearly unheard of.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, just step back for a minute, alright?" When Hank glances over, he wasn't expecting Bo to be emptying his stomach onto the cement.

"I- Fuck-" The man retches again, dryheaving. "You.. God, the kid.." An honorary uncle, Bo knew you since the day you where born, he didn't see the day that was meant to be your last.

"I know," You stopped struggling once you heard his voice, eyes wide as you simply whine to be let down. "You're gonna have to wait, be patient, hun." That never was your strong suit. "The grown ups need to talk."

"Hank.. man, you gotta let them go.." There's tears in Bo's eyes as he takes a cautious step forward. "They're dead. There aren't any ifs or buts, that's a corpse. You can't-"

"That is my child," He's been a sinner for a long time, if it comes down to it, shooting his brother will be one of his worst. "My baby, what kind of father am I to hurt them?"

"A merciful one!" There are days you wake up confused and scared, you cry for hours or at least your body tries to. "They aren't a person anymore, Hank, they aren't themselves. You're fucking lucky they haven't bitten you yet!"

"I'd welcome it if they did." He's thought about it, that first night when you went cold in his arms and many more after that. "You pull that trigger and that's it, a life without my kid isn't worth living."

"Dammit," Hank almost collapses in relief as the gun is holstered, putting his away as well. "You're still an idiot, huh? Figures.."

Bo approaches slowly, never taking his eyes off your still form. All you do is smile and try to reach out for a hug, but he cringes away with a look of disgust.

Hank's heart breaks as you tuck your teary face against his neck. He doesn't know how to explain in a way you'd still understand, all he can is press a kiss to your forehead and shush your sniffles.

[anticipatedexhale]

Hey I love the way you write!!

I was wondering if I could request arcane characters reacting to reader pulling a tiktok prank on them like not saying ily or wiping their kiss or something along those lines I think it would be really funny :3

Hello hello!! Thank you soso much omg this has to be the best compliment ever! Also this idea is so cute omg love it!.

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Just kidding~~

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: when you wipe their kisses as a joke

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.ermmm just fluff lol, really sweet, kinda suggestive (Mel..)

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been affectionate. He wasn’t the kind of man to hold back on physical affection—whether it was casual touches, lingering glances, or, most importantly, kisses.

So when he finally caught you in his arms after a long day, he wasted no time. “Missed you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there.

Then another.

And another.

You let him place a few more before casually lifting your hand… and wiping them away with the back of your sleeve.

Jayce froze.

You barely held back a smirk as he pulled back, blinking in exaggerated offense. “Wait. Did you just—”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “What?”

His lips parted in pure betrayal. “Did you just wipe off my kisses?”

You nodded, fighting the laughter bubbling up in your throat. “Yeah. Had to get rid of the evidence.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

You hummed, tilting your head innocently.

Big mistake.

Because before you could react, Jayce lunged. He scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you right off your feet as you yelped in surprise. “JAYCE—”

“Oh no, no, no,” he laughed, grinning like a man with a mission. “Now I really gotta make sure my kisses stick.”

And with that, he attacked—peppering your face with kisses, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. You squirmed, laughing as you weakly tried to push him away. “Okay—Jayce, stop!”

“Nope.” He grinned against your skin. “Gotta make sure you can’t wipe these off.”

He finally stopped when you were breathless with laughter, setting you down but keeping you close, hands resting on your waist.

“Still wanna wipe ‘em away?” he asked, his voice softer now, eyes warm as he gazed at you.

You smiled, pretending to think about it before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips instead. “Nah,” you murmured. “I’ll keep that one.”

Jayce’s grin was radiant as he kissed you back, slow and lingering, his hands pulling you just a little closer.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m never gonna stop giving them to you.”

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Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda was a woman of grace, of control—and yet, when it came to you, she could be unexpectedly affectionate.

Which was why, after a long meeting, she found herself seated beside you on the velvet couch in her private chambers, fingers gently tilting your chin toward her. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she mused, her voice smooth as silk.

Before you could answer, she leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

Then another to your temple.

And another, right at the corner of your lips.

You let her linger for a moment before casually lifting your hand—

And wiping them away.

The air in the room shifted.

Mel pulled back just slightly, eyes narrowing ever so subtly as a small, knowing smile curved her lips. “Hmm.”

You met her gaze, feigning innocence. “What?”

Her fingers trailed down your jaw, her nails lightly grazing your skin. “Did you just wipe off my kisses?”

You shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Maybe.”

Mel hummed, considering you. Then, ever so gracefully, she stood, circling around you like a lioness sizing up her prey. “How bold,” she murmured, trailing a single finger across the back of your neck as she passed behind you.

You swallowed. You knew that tone.

Before you could react, she suddenly leaned down, hands pressing onto the couch on either side of you, trapping you beneath her golden gaze. “You do realize,” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “that you’ve just started a war you cannot win.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you held your ground, lifting your chin defiantly. “Oh? And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Mel’s smirk deepened.

Then, in one slow, torturous motion, she kissed your jaw.

Then your cheek.

Then your neck.

Each kiss was softer, slower, more intentional—a silent challenge, a game only she could win.

You tensed, resisting the urge to melt under her touch, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Mel pulled back just slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Go on, then.” She tilted her head, daring you. “Wipe them off.”

You hesitated.

Her smirk widened.

Checkmate.

With a resigned sigh, you slumped back. “Okay, fine. You win.”

Mel chuckled, running a delicate hand through your hair before placing one final, lingering kiss on your lips. “Darling,” she murmured against them, “I always do.”

And this time, you didn’t dare wipe it away.

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

Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t always the most openly affectionate person. His love was quiet, expressed in lingering touches, thoughtful words, and the occasional stolen moment between long hours in the lab.

But tonight, for once, the lab was forgotten. It was just the two of you, curled up on the worn-out couch in his workshop, a rare moment of peace.

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek.

Then another, just beneath your ear.

And, with a rare flicker of playfulness, one to the tip of your nose.

You let him do it, let him savor the moment—before lifting your hand and wiping them away with an exaggerated swipe.

Viktor paused.

Slowly, he pulled back, amber eyes blinking at you in confusion. “Did you just… wipe away my kisses?”

You nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Yep.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head like he was trying to analyze you. “…Why?”

You shrugged. “Felt like it.”

Viktor stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, very softly, he murmured, “I see.”

And just like that, he started shifting away.

The warmth of his body left yours as he sat back, hands folding in his lap, an unreadable look crossing his face. You immediately felt cold.

Oh no.

You had expected him to pout, to tease you, maybe to try again—but instead, he looked almost defeated. His gaze flickered downward, a quiet, hesitant chuckle escaping him. “I suppose my affections are unwanted then?”

Your heart sank.

“No, no, no—Viktor, it was a joke,” you rushed, reaching for him before he could pull away further.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden shift in urgency. “A… joke?”

You nodded, grabbing his hands tightly. “I love your kisses.” You softened, guilt creeping into your voice. “I just wanted to mess with you a little. I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t want them.”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then, ever so slowly, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “…So, you do want them?”

You huffed. “Yes, obviously.”

He exhaled, amused, before suddenly tugging you right into his lap. You let out a startled sound as his arms circled you, his face now inches from yours. “Good,” he murmured.

And then, with that same teasing glint in his eye, he leaned in—kissing your cheek, your forehead, your nose, all over again.

You laughed, feeling warm again as he held you close. “Okay, okay! I get it!”

But Viktor didn’t stop. He hummed, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips before whispering against them, “I dare you to wipe that one away.”

You didn’t.

You never would.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn wasn’t the type to show affection in extravagant ways. Her kisses were soft, subtle—gentle gestures that spoke more than words ever could.

But when the two of you were alone, she let her guard down just a little bit more. She’d pull you close after a long day of work, her fingers gently cupping your face before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Missed you today,” she’d whisper against your skin, soft and warm.

You smiled, running your fingers through her hair. “I missed you too.”

She pressed another kiss to your nose, then one on each of your cheeks. And then, just as she was about to place a kiss on your lips, you swiped your hand across your face, wiping them away dramatically.

Caitlyn froze.

You let out a small laugh, feigning innocence as you met her wide-eyed gaze. “What? I had to clean off all those kisses. Can’t leave the evidence lying around.”

Her lips parted in mock offense, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh really?”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Yep, really.”

Caitlyn shook her head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know what? I think you need to be reminded of how good my kisses are.”

Before you could even respond, she leaned in quickly, catching your lips in a kiss so sweet and slow, it made your heart skip a beat. You tried to pull away, but Caitlyn wouldn’t let you, her hands gently guiding your face back toward hers, sealing you into the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, you were breathless. “I—"

“You’ve made your point,” you teased, trying to sound unaffected, but your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Caitlyn’s grin was full of triumph. “Good.” She pressed another quick kiss to your nose before leaning back and crossing her arms. “Now, I think we need to go to the kitchen to finish what we started.”

“Finish…?”

“The game of ‘who can kiss who first without getting wiped away,’ of course,” she said, her eyes sparkling with playful competitiveness.

You sighed, pretending to roll your eyes, but the truth was—you didn’t mind at all. You could never get enough of Caitlyn’s kisses.

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Vi.

Vi had a tendency to be the type to show affection through actions rather than words. A hand on your shoulder after a hard day, a little wink, or a lingering touch. But there were moments—like now—when she let her guard down completely.

It had been a long day, full of tense meetings and far too many difficult conversations. Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the two of you found yourselves on the balcony of her apartment, the city lights flickering like tiny stars below you, Vi’s shoulders relaxed for the first time all day.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then another one to your temple.

“Been thinking about you all day,” she murmured, her voice low and comforting.

You grinned, leaning into the kiss, but as she went for a third, this time on the corner of your lips, you quickly wiped them away with a swift swipe of your hand.

Vi paused, a little caught off guard. “Did you just—”

You smiled mischievously, holding back a laugh. “What? You had some lipstick on, I needed to clean it up.”

She stared at you for a moment, eyebrow raised, before an almost wicked grin spread across her face. “Oh, I see how it is.”

You blinked, confused for a second, before she grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly. Before you could react, Vi pulled you closer, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips.

“What’s the matter?” she teased, her voice full of amusement. “Didn’t want me kissing you? I can always go for a few more.”

You started to say something, but before you could, she placed kiss after kiss all over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose—until you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, trying in vain to wipe them away.

“Vi! Stop!” you chuckled, half-heartedly swiping at your face as she grinned in victory.

She laughed, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close, a warmth radiating from her that had nothing to do with the city lights. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice turning softer, almost fond. “You’ve got a perfect face for kisses, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that.”

You melted into her embrace, the playful teasing mixed with something deeper—something that made your heart skip a beat.

And, despite your best efforts to wipe them away, you didn’t mind one bit.

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

Jinx.

Jinx was never one for subtlety, especially when it came to how she felt about you. Her love was loud, chaotic, and sometimes downright unpredictable. But that was part of what made her so Jinx—so impossible to ignore.

Tonight was no different. After an eventful day filled with explosions, fireworks (literally), and a few too many close calls, Jinx found herself in a surprisingly calm moment with you. The two of you were sprawled out on the couch, watching the flickering neon lights of the city outside, a bag of candy between you as you both snacked and shared stories.

She looked over at you, a mischievous glint in her eye, before launching herself at you suddenly.

“Mwah!” Jinx planted a big, messy kiss on your cheek, smacking it loudly.

You blinked, laughing as you wiped your cheek dramatically. “What was that for?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Just felt like it.”

Before you could say anything else, she pressed another kiss to your forehead—this time, even more exaggerated, leaving a sticky trace of candy on your skin.

You sighed in mock annoyance, wiping your forehead as if it was covered in goo. “Jinx, seriously.”

“Oh, no! Don’t wipe it off!” She gasped, leaping back to hold your hands away. “I spent all this time planning my kiss attack and you're just gonna—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics. “What attack? You just kissed me!”

But Jinx wasn’t about to let it go. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned in again, this time aiming for your lips.

You had just enough time to react and swipe your hand across your lips, wiping away the kiss before it could land.

She froze, staring at you in exaggerated shock. “Did you—did you just wipe my kiss away?!”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t want your lipstick all over me.”

“Lipstick?! Are you kidding? I don’t wear lipstick! It’s my love, dummy!” she protested, a wild sparkle dancing in her eyes.

“Sure, sure,” you teased, wiping your lips again just to mess with her.

Jinx pouted for a second before her playful nature kicked back in. “Alright then. If you wanna play dirty, so be it.” She pressed her face against yours in a flurry of chaotic kisses, planting them on your cheeks, nose, chin—everywhere—until you were laughing too hard to keep wiping them away.

“Jinx! Stop! You’re getting my face all wet!”

“Nope!” she replied gleefully, her wild hair bouncing around as she grinned like she had just won some grand victory. “You started this, now you gotta finish it!”

In the end, you gave up, letting her have her fun. There was no way you’d win against Jinx when she was like this—wild and unpredictable, but so full of love in her own explosive way.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Ekko.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Ekko to find small moments of peace in the chaos that surrounded your lives. Despite the constant hustle of the city, there were times when everything just slowed down. Tonight was one of those times.

The two of you sat on the roof of one of Ekko’s safehouses, looking out over the lights of the city as the evening breeze played with your hair. It was quiet, serene even. The perfect kind of night for some simple moments of affection.

Ekko smiled softly as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know," he started, his voice low and warm, "I’ve been thinking… I really like these moments with you. Just us, you know?"

You smiled back at him, feeling your heart flutter. “Me too.”

In an instant, his lips pressed gently to your cheek, soft and warm. He lingered for a second, just enjoying the closeness before pulling back, his hand still resting against your face.

You reached up and dramatically wiped the spot where he kissed you. "Mmm, I think I got something on my cheek," you teased, pretending to be serious.

Ekko blinked in surprise, before chuckling, his expression full of amusement. “What, you’re wiping off my kiss?”

You gave him an exaggerated pout. “Yeah, I think it was a little too much. I mean, I did just wash my face, Ekko.”

His face fell for a moment, the playful energy turning into mock hurt. “I see how it is… You’re rejecting my love.”

You laughed, giving him an apologetic look. “No, no, I’m just—”

Before you could finish, Ekko leaned in quickly, planting a kiss on your nose. You swiped at your nose instinctively, as if you could stop the kiss from sticking.

"Hey!" he protested, raising an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What’d I tell you about rejecting my kisses?"

You grinned, wiping your nose again. “I wasn’t rejecting them, just, um, cleaning them off."

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the playful sparkle in his gaze was unmistakable. He leaned in once more, this time pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you could do anything about it.

“You can wipe it off,” he teased, grinning widely as he pulled back, “but you won’t get rid of it that easily.”

You laughed, your heart warming at the way he could always make you feel so lighthearted, so at ease. “I didn’t want to wipe it off, Ekko,” you said softly, leaning into his chest. "I just wanted to see how you’d react."

Ekko’s grin softened, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. “You know I’ll always kiss you, no matter what. Even if you pretend to wipe them off a hundred times.”

You snuggled against him, your heart full of affection. "I know, Ekko. I know."

Hello my lovelies! I really hope you enjoy this! It was much shorter than I expected it to be...but I hope it's enough for you guys, I chose wiping away the kisses because I found the ideas to be much more hilarious, but if you'd like to see me doing the other one I would love to!! <33

[ddejavvu]

hiii, oml I saw that you wanted requests for marauders and this one has been itching my brain. so I’d love to know their reactions if their s/o did something disgusting, maybe just eating a weird food combo, my friends always look at me weird because I like eating chicken nuggets and fries with chocolate ice cream, or could just be smth like eating food that fell on the floor, not sure what comes to your mind but whatever you want! thank youuu and have a good day!

"She's doing it again." Sirius's nose scrunches, and he looks firmly away from where you're layering thick, melting layers of peanut butter over a warm cheese sandwich.

"Oh, darling-" James glances up at the ceiling like it'll distract him, but he can still hear the squelching of the peanut butter trying and failing to mingle with the greasy cheese. "We've talked about this."

"It's my favorite!" You plead, sucking a smear of peanut butter off of the pad of your thumb, "You guys eat gross stuff all the time, I don't understand why you always have to get on me about mine!"

"Because it's disgusting." James declares with a tone of finality you'd hear from a professor, "Peanut butter and cheese do not mix. Literally, darling, look at that. The cheese is rejecting the peanut butter. It's trying to save itself from its unholy fate."

The cheese has melted but is starting to harden again, a greasy seal around the gooey melted parts that's preventing the peanut butter from blending fully. But it's no matter, it'll mix in your mouth. You're well aware that your culinary preferences are not for everyone, but you'd like to eat one meal without probing from your dining partners.

"It's pretty gross." Remus admits with a grimace, like he's reluctant to tease you but just can't hold himself back, "It sort of makes my stomach hurt just watching."

"You eat live rabbits," You round on Remus with a piercing glare, "I watched you skin a rat down to the bone. I don't ever want to hear you talk about my eating habits. And you," You direct your attention to Sirius, "Frequently chew on sticks. From the woods. From the dirty, filthy, nasty woods. And you!" James looks like he's prepared for this, to take a turn facing your wrath, "You scoop food up off of the floor! Any floor! The five-second rule should not apply in a dusty dungeon corridor."

You raise the sandwich, dripping with peanut butter and oil, like it's your trophy. You take a triumphant bite while your horrified onlookers find themselves unable to look away, and you speak proudly through a full mouth, "Mine's not raw, bloody, dirty, or dusty, so you can all shut your mouths if you've not got sticks or rabbits in them."

[sylusonychinus]

Day 5 - Love and Babysitters (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Summary: What if the Love and deepspace characters turned into toddlers ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

a/n: i was inspired by the anime gakuen babysitters :3

Zayne – The Moody Nap Refuser

Zayne was the grumpiest little prince you had ever babysat. His two moods were dramatic sulking and pretending he wasn’t tired.

Hated nap time with a passion. The moment you mentioned it, he’d frown, cross his arms, and glare at you like you just betrayed him. “I don’t need naps. I’m big.”

If he got even a little sleepy, he’d start yawning, then immediately deny it. “I’m NOT tired. I’m just… thinking.” Thinking while rubbing his eyes and swaying on his feet.

You tried to read him a bedtime story to lull him to sleep, but he just kept dramatically groaning, “Ugh, this is boring,” while fighting to keep his eyes open.

He had a habit of curling up in random places when he finally gave in—on the couch, under the table, or even inside a laundry basket. But the moment you tucked him into bed? Instant protest. “I wasn’t sleeping! I was just—just resting my eyes!”

If you tried to leave after he finally dozed off, he’d grumble in his sleep, “Stay.” You were now trapped.

Zayne was a little ball of stubbornness who had one sworn enemy: nap time. The moment you mentioned the word, he crossed his arms, furrowed his brows, and glared at you as if you had just betrayed him. “I don’t need naps,” he huffed, yawning almost immediately after. When you pointed it out, he scowled. “That wasn’t a real yawn.” For the next hour, he dramatically threw himself on the couch, claiming he was just resting, while his eyelids drooped lower and lower. You tried reading him a bedtime story, but every few pages, he groaned, “This is so boring.” The irony? He was asleep before you even reached the end. You sighed in relief—only for him to grumble in his sleep, “Don’t go…” Congratulations. You were now trapped beneath a grumpy, napping Zayne.

Caleb – The Overly Curious Chaos Machine

Caleb was a walking question mark. If he wasn’t asking why, he was pressing buttons, poking things, or running at full speed toward potential disaster.

Everything was a mystery to be solved. “Why is the sky blue?” “Why do I have to eat vegetables?” “Why do you look so tired?” (Because of you, Caleb.)

He was obsessed with gadgets. If there was a button, he would press it. At one point, he almost turned off the Wi-Fi, which was arguably a worse disaster than spilling juice all over the couch.

His favorite pastime? Taking things apart. If you lost sight of him for five minutes, he was either dismantling a remote or trying to “fix” the toaster (which wasn’t broken in the first place).

The scariest moment was catching him trying to poke an electrical socket with a spoon. When you yanked him away in a panic, he just tilted his head and asked, “But what happens if I put it back?”

The only way to keep him still was handing him a puzzle or something mechanical to tinker with—but that only worked for ten minutes before he was off causing trouble again.

Caleb was a whirlwind of curiosity and boundless energy, a tiny scientist with no regard for safety or limits. The questions never stopped—“What’s that?” “Why?” “How does it work?”—and for every answer you gave, he immediately had three more. His fascination with technology meant that if he saw a button, he had to press it. You once caught him with the TV remote, clicking every button at once. “What happens if I press all of them?” he asked, eyes shining with anticipation. (No, Caleb. Please don’t.) Danger? He had no concept of it. If there was something to climb, he was already halfway up before you could stop him. “I’m testing gravity!” he declared moments before nearly toppling off a chair. He had a habit of getting into things he absolutely shouldn’t—like the time you found him unscrewing the batteries from a clock. When you asked what he was doing, he simply blinked at you and said, “I was fixing it.” The clock, of course, wasn’t even broken. Despite his chaotic nature, he had a love for building things—Legos, block towers, even pillow forts—but five minutes later, he’d knock them down just to see how they collapsed. And his love for words was just as intense. The moment he learned a new one, he had to use it. He overheard someone say “catastrophe” once and, for the rest of the day, everything became one. “Oh no, my juice spilled! This is a catastrophe!” he gasped dramatically. You sighed, rubbing your temples, wondering how you were going to survive babysitting him for the rest of the day.

Xavier – The Shy Clingy One

Tiny Xavier was the definition of a koala. He refused to let go of you, always staying within a two-foot radius.

Super shy. The first time you showed up to babysit, he hid behind the couch and peeked out every few minutes, deciding whether or not he trusted you.

Once he warmed up to you, he latched onto your leg and refused to let go. If you moved, he shuffled along with you like a tiny shadow.

Didn’t like loud noises—if someone dropped something, he’d flinch and look up at you with big, watery eyes like the world was ending.

If he was nervous, he’d grip onto the hem of your shirt and hide his face in it. When you asked what was wrong, he’d just mumble, “Too scary…”

But once he felt safe? Total sweetheart. He’d bring you random objects like little toys or stickers and say, “For you.” (Even if it was just a rock he found outside.)

If he fell asleep on your lap, congratulations. You were now permanently stuck because any slight movement would make him whimper in protest.

If Caleb was a walking hurricane, Xavier was your little shadow, never straying more than two feet away from you at any given time. The moment you arrived, he peered at you from behind the couch like a shy kitten, big eyes watching you with quiet caution. You knelt and waved, offering a soft greeting, but he only stared. After a full minute of silence, he finally mumbled, “…Hi,” his voice barely above a whisper. Once he warmed up to you, though, there was no escape. He clung to you like a second skin, gripping the hem of your shirt whenever you moved. If you sat down, he immediately climbed onto your lap, tucking himself against your chest as if that was where he belonged. Loud noises startled him, and if someone knocked too hard on the door, he buried his face in your sleeve, his small voice trembling. “Too scary…” he whispered, his little fingers curling into your shirt for comfort. At some point, the warmth and safety of being near you lulled him to sleep, his tiny body curled up against you mid-cuddle. It was absolutely adorable—but also an unexpected problem. The moment you even thought about shifting, he let out the softest, most pitiful whimper, making your heart clench. You sighed in defeat, leaning back into the couch, resigned to being his pillow for the foreseeable future.

Sylus – The Mini Rebel

Sylus was trouble with a capital T. If he was quiet, it meant he was up to something.

Had a mischievous streak a mile long. The second you turned your back, he was either climbing on something, hiding in a cabinet, or sneaking a snack he wasn’t supposed to have.

If you caught him doing something bad and asked, “Did you do this?” he’d just blink up at you with wide, innocent eyes and go, “…Nope.” (Even though his hands were covered in marker ink.)

He LIVED for hide-and-seek, but only when he was the one hiding. One time, you couldn’t find him for a solid twenty minutes—turns out, he had curled up inside a laundry basket and fallen asleep.

If you tried to scold him, he’d give you a cheeky grin and say, “But you love me, right?” How were you supposed to argue with that?!

The only way to bribe him into behaving was snacks. The kid had a bottomless stomach, and as soon as you offered food, he’d (temporarily) behave like a tiny angel.

Sylus was trouble—the kind with a mischievous grin and the speed of a ninja. If he was quiet, it was never a good sign. The first time you turned your back, you caught him halfway up the counter, smirking like he had just pulled off the greatest heist. “Sylus,” you warned, narrowing your eyes. He flashed you an innocent smile. “I’m not doing anything.” Then, before you could stop him, he leapt off like a tiny daredevil, landing with a victorious laugh. To him, everything was a game. If you told him not to touch something, it instantly became his life’s mission to do exactly that. When you caught him stuffing cookies into his mouth, he gave you the most innocent wide-eyed look, even as crumbs rained from his lips. “What cookies?” he mumbled, feigning confusion. Bath time was another battle entirely. He fought tooth and nail to avoid getting in, but the second he was in the water? He refused to get out. “Five more minutes,” he insisted, splashing playfully. Five minutes turned into twenty, and by the time you finally dragged him out, he was already planning his next great escape. The worst, though, was when he disappeared for a full twenty minutes, making you panic. You searched every room, every corner, dreading what kind of trouble he had gotten into—only to find him curled up in the closet, giggling to himself. “I wanted to see how long it’d take for you to find me,” he admitted proudly, as if this was some grand experiment. If he wasn’t so ridiculously cute, you might have throttled him.

Rafayel – The Mini Prince

Even as a toddler, Rafayel acted like he was born royalty. If something wasn’t to his liking, he’d sigh dramatically like he was carrying the weight of the world.

Picky about everything. He refused to eat anything green. If his juice wasn’t in the right cup, he’d just stare at it and say, “This is… unacceptable.”

If you gave him a snack that wasn’t his favorite, he’d politely push it back to you and say, “You can have it.” (Sir, just eat the crackers.)

Didn’t like getting dirty. If he got even a little bit of mud on his hands, he’d hold them out like he was personally offended. “Fix this.”

The drama. If he tripped and scraped his knee? “I fear this is the end for me.” If you brushed his hair wrong? “You’re ruining me.” (Raf, it’s just hair.)

Despite all his complaints, if you gave him a hug or ruffled his hair, he’d get all pouty and pretend he didn’t like it—but his ears would turn red, giving him away.

And then, there was Rafayel. Even as a toddler, he carried himself like a prince—dramatic sighs, picky eating, and a general air of someone who believed he was destined for greater things. While the others ran around causing chaos, he sat elegantly on the couch, watching it all unfold with a quiet, unimpressed expression, as if he were above such childish antics. When you handed him a cup of juice, he barely spared it a glance before sniffing, “This is… unacceptable.” You blinked at him. Sir, it’s literally apple juice. His standards extended to food as well; anything remotely “green” was immediately pushed aside with a solemn shake of his head. “I don’t like green things,” he declared, as though it were a deep-rooted personal tragedy. Getting him to play was its own battle. He didn’t do “messy” things, and the second his hands got even slightly dirty, he held them out to you with a look of pure distress. “Fix this,” he demanded, eyes pleading yet expectant, as if you were his personal attendant. But despite all his prim and proper habits, he wasn’t entirely immune to affection. When you ruffled his soft hair, he let out a quiet huff, scowling at you—but his ears turned the slightest shade of red, betraying the fact that, maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to.

You deserved an award for surviving a day with these five chaotic toddlers. Between Zayne’s nap-time stubbornness, Caleb’s endless curiosity, Xavier’s clinginess, Sylus’s mischief, and Rafayel’s royal demands, you were EXHAUSTED.

…But when they all eventually fell asleep, curled up in little blankets, you had to admit—maybe they weren’t that bad. (Even if you weren’t signing up for babysitting duty again anytime soon.)

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and you aren't around so they're in charge of their children.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, wriothesley x fem! reader

cw: original characters, domesticity, fluff. characters may look a bit ooc or not.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

ALHAITHAM

Hakim stirred restlessly beneath the blankets, his small face flushed with fever as his jade-green eyes slowly blinked open. A soft whimper escaped his lips, catching your attention, seated at the edge of his bed, pressing a damp cloth against his forehead.

“How are you feeling, my love?” you asked gently, brushing aside strands of his silver hair.

Hakim mumbled, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the covers. “It hurts, mummy... 'm hot…”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and your husband stepped inside, his usual impassive expression in place, though his gaze softened slightly at the sight of his son.

“I'll stay with him today,” Alhaitham said simply, crossing his arms.

You blinked. “Are you sure? Won't they miss you at work or—”

“It doesn’t matter,” his voice left no room for debate. “Hakim needs someone here, and you have an important meeting to attend.”

You hesitated but then sighed, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, dear.” You pressed a kiss to Hakim's temple before standing up. “I'll leave some potions and instructions in the kitchen. Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids.”

Alhaitham gave a small nod, already rolling up his sleeves. “Go. He's in good hands.”

“I know he is,” you smiled softly and left, casting one last glance at your son before slipping out the door.

The morning that followed was mostly spent with Alhaitham staying by Hakim’s side, ensuring his comfort. Carefully, he fed the boy warm herbal soup, patiently insisting that he take slow sips, even when Hakim scrunched up his face at the taste.

“It's bitter…” Hakim murmured, wrinkling his nose.

“It's medicine, not dessert,” Alhaitham replied flatly. “You need to take it to get better.”

With a small sigh, Hakim relented, leaning tiredly against his father as he took another reluctant sip.

When the fever made Hakim restless, Alhaitham prepared a lukewarm bath, carefully lowering his son into the water. His touch was firm but gentle as he washed away the sticky sweat clinging to the boy’s skin. Hakim whimpered when the cooler water trickled over his forehead, but Alhaitham ran a calming hand through his damp hair, murmuring, “I know, Kim. Just a little longer.” 

When Hakim was finally cleaned and dressed with a new and fresh pair of pajamas, the scribe carried him back to bed, tucking him snugly beneath the covers. The soft hum of the ceiling fan and the steady presence of his father seemed to soothe the little boy, allowing him to finally rest.

It didn't take too long for Alhaitham also notice Hakim’s fever began to subside as his breathing grew more even. Seizing the opportunity, Alhaitham went about tidying the house—washing the dishes, straightening the furniture, and even preparing a simple but nutritious meal for later.

Once everything was in order, he headed to Hakim’s bedroom again and checked his asleep form from the doorframe, humming in satisfaction at the relaxed sight in the boy's features. With everything running as good as it could possibly be, Alhaitham finally settled onto the couch back in the living room, a book in hand, savoring the rare silence.

But it didn’t last long.

A small, sleepy voice called across the hall. “Baba?”

Alhaitham closed his book, immediately standing and making his way to Hakim’s room. The boy was sitting up, his eyes drowsy but alert. Without a word, Alhaitham effortlessly scooped him up, carrying him back to the couch.

“I'm here,” he murmured as he sat down, cradling Hakim against his chest. The boy clung to him sleepily, nuzzling into his father’s warmth.

Alhaitham picked up his book again and opened it. “Want me to read to you?”

Hakim gave a small nod, and without changing his calm tone, Alhaitham began reading his current text—an academic study on the evolution of Teyvat language.

The words were dense and complex, but the steady rhythm of his father’s voice lulled Hakim into a peaceful state, his blinks growing slower and slower.

By the time Alhaitham reached the end of the chapter, Hakim was already fast asleep.

A rare, faint smile touched Alhaitham’s lips as he adjusted a blanket around his son, pressing a silent kiss to his silver hair.

The house remained quiet, but this time, it was a comforting kind of silence.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

The Kaedehara estate was unusually quiet that first night without you. 

Kazuha sat on the floor with Haruki nestled against his chest, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of his father’s haori. The little one had been fussier than usual, missing the warmth of his mother’s presence. Kazumi and Kiyomi sat on either side of him, their faces a mix of uncertainty and longing.

“Mama will be back soon, I promise,” Kazuha murmured, gently rubbing Haruki’s back. “But in the meantime, we must carry on and make the most of our days.”

Kiyomi leaned her head against Kazuha’s shoulder, letting out a little sigh. “I miss her…”

Kazumi, trying to be strong for his younger siblings, nodded but kept quiet. He wouldn’t admit how much he missed you too. Instead, he intertwined his fingers with Kiyomi’s, squeezing her hand.

That night, Kazuha tucked them all into bed with extra care. Haruki, after much rocking, finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. Kiyomi clutched one of your scarves as she dozed off, and Kazumi, despite his usual independence, asked if Kazuha would stay until he fell asleep. Kazuha did, running his fingers gently through his firstborn’s hair until his breathing evened out.

By the third day of your absence, though, the household had found a rhythm. Kazuha had planned small adventures to keep the children engaged. 

In the morning he’d reserve his time to help the older kids with their homework, his calm voice guiding them through difficult subjects. However, as soon as they got restless, he’d take all of them outside to the garden, where they played or trained together—Kiyomi, full of energy, attempting to mimic her father’s fluid sword techniques, and Kazumi practicing precise movements with quiet focus. Haruki, too small to participate, sat comfortably in his playpen, giggling at his siblings’ enthusiasm and having fun with his own toys as well.

Afternoons were filled with quieter moments, though.

Kazuha would prepare a meal, tying an apron around his waist as he balanced Haruki on his hip. Kiyomi eagerly assisted, though her true goal seemed to be sneaking tastes of the ingredients, while Kazumi helped set the table. After meals, Kazuha would help them to bathe and after everything was done, he'd gather everyone in the living room to read fairytale books to them—the soothing melody of his voice lulling Haruki into peaceful naps. Kiyomi would often lean against him, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth coming from her father's body, while Kazumi listened intently, his expression relaxed.

As the last afternoon before your return arrived, Kazuha gathered the children. “What’d you guys like to do today?”

“Street market!” Kiyomi and Kazumi chorused in excitement and Haruki clapped, almost like in agreement.

And so, the four of them ventured into town.

The marketplace was bustling with life—vendors calling out their wares, the scent of freshly grilled skewers wafting through the air, and colorful lanterns swaying overhead. Kazuha carried Haruki in one arm while holding Kiyomi’s hand in the other, with Kazumi walking confidently beside him.

“Ooh! Dango! Can we have one, please, 'tōchan?” Kiyomi blinked cutely.

Kazuha chuckled but agreed, purchasing a few sticks, ensuring Haruki had a small, soft piece to nibble on as well. 

They then stopped by a goldfish-scooping stall, where Kiyomi leaned forward with intense focus, trying to catch a golden fish.

“Careful now, Kiki,” Kazumi teased. “You don’t want to break the paper too fast.”

“I know what I’m doing!” the little girl huffed, her tongue sticking out slightly in determination. With careful precision, she managed to scoop up a small, wriggling fish, beaming proudly.

Kazumi gave it a try too, and while he had an air of confidence, his first scoop tore almost instantly. “Eh?” He blinked in surprise before laughing. Kazuha smiled beside him. 

“Even the steady hand of a swordsman can falter.”

With the sun beginning to set, they picked up some sweet pastries to bring home, a treat to celebrate the end of their eventful week.

Back to the estate, as the children helped set the table for dinner, Kazumi and Kiyomi whispered excitedly about their surprise at your return. Kiyomi arranged a bouquet of wildflowers they had gathered earlier, while Kazumi wrote a small welcome-home poem on a slip of parchment.

“I’ll make it extra pretty so mama loves it!” she declared proudly.

Haruki, too young to contribute much, remained in Kazuha’s arms, drowsily sucking on his pacifier. Kazuha smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to each of his children's heads. “I think she’ll be very happy to see all of you.”

And as the evening settled, Kazuha couldn’t help but feel a deep warmth in his heart. Even in your absence, your family had flourished, finding joy in each other’s company. Soon, you’d return, and your home would feel complete once more. But for now, he cherished the quiet laughter of his children, the scent of fresh flowers, and the anticipation of a joyful reunion.

KAVEH

Kaveh heaved a deep sigh as he stepped into his home, rolling his sore shoulders and rubbing his temple. The day had been grueling—endless site inspections, client complaints, and the ever-looming threat of deadlines.

The first thing that welcomed him was the scent of roses and something faintly herbal drifted through the air, drawing his attention toward the living room. And just in there you stood—giving the makeup a last touch-up with your hair pinned up with golden accessories, and a white qipao embracing your curves.

He nearly forgot his exhaustion.

“You look stunning, azizam,” he murmured, lips curving into a tired but genuine smile.

You turned at his voice, brows immediately furrowing in concern. “And you look exhausted, Kaveh. My goodness! It is starting to make me reconsider if I should go. I can stay—”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Kaveh waved a hand, marching forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “You deserve this night out. I can handle Zahra.”

“She can be a handful.”

“She is my handful, and I adore it,” he said, puffing his chest despite the clear fatigue in his voice. “Besides, I have a foolproof plan: playtime, dinner, bath, story time, sleep. Easy.”

You hummed, unconvinced, but he gave you an exaggerated grin and a thumbs-up. “Go, enjoy yourself. The girls are waiting, and if I recall, you’ve said something about have being challenged at dice again.”

That earned a chuckle from you, who finally relented. “Alright. But if you need me, don’t hesitate to come at me. I’m dead serious.”

Kaveh saluted you dramatically. “Yes, ma’am!”

With one last glance—one that lingered, as if memorizing him just in case—you left. The moment the door shut, Kaveh slumped against its wood with a deep sigh. Still, he didn't stay there for too long and soon crossed around the house's corridors looking for his daughter.

Zahra was in the middle of a grand pillow fortress when he found her, golden eyes bright with mischief. “Hi Daddy! Look! I made a castle!”

Kaveh grinned, kneeling beside her. “It's magnificent, my little architect. But I think it needs a tower here… and maybe a secret passage here?”

She gasped, completely entranced as the two of them got to work. What was meant to be a quick addition turned into an hour-long session of castle enhancements, dragon-slaying, and a daring escape from an imaginary evil mage.

Dinner followed, a messy affair of Zahra insisting she could eat with her hands and Kaveh attempting (and failing) to get her to use a spoon. “Zahra, my love, pasta is not finger food—oh, Archons, now it's in your hair!”

After a particularly splashy bath—where more water seemed to end up on Kaveh than in the tub—he wrestled a giggling Zahra into her pajamas. “You, little miss, are far too energetic tonight. Let’s get you into bed before I turn into a prune.”

Tucking Zahra into bed was the easiest part. Reading to her, however, was where the real challenge began.

“Tonight’s story is…” Kaveh yawned, flipping open a book, “The Adventure of the Clever Fox.”

He cleared his throat, sitting up straight. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly.

“Once upon a time in a vast forest—” a second yawn broke through “—lived a cunning fox who outwitted everyone he met.”

Zahra giggled as Kaveh attempted voices: a sly, slinking tone for the fox, a gruff, burly one for the bear, and a high-pitched squeak for the rabbit. But his words grew slower, syllables melting together.

“And then the fox said… said… uh…”

Zahra peeked up from under her blanket. “What did the fox say, daddy?”

Kaveh blinked rapidly, shaking himself awake. “Ah, yes! The fox said… Oh! Right. He said—” Another yawn. Another pause. “He said…”

Silence.

Zahra sat up. “Daddy?”

He was slumped against the headboard, mouth slightly open, the book resting on his chest nearly falling on the ground.

Asleep.

Zahra giggled and poked her father's cheek, testing how deep he fell asleep. Kaveh, in response, remained out like a light, completely oblivious to his surroundings. She took the book from his chest, flipping to a random page. “And then the fox said—” she mimicked, turning the book upside down and reading in an exaggerated voice, though the words were nowhere near what was actually written.

When you returned home a couple of hours later, you were greeted by an unexpected sight: Zahra, wide awake, cross-legged on the bed, reading (or attempting to) while Kaveh snored beside her.

You bit back a laugh, stepping forward. “What’s going on here?”

Zahra beamed. “Daddy slept before telling me what the fox said, so I read it for him!”

You leaned down, brushing back Kaveh’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He barely stirred.

“You did a great job, sweetheart," you whispered, picking Zahra up. “But it's past your bedtime. How about you sleep with mommy tonight? Let's let daddy get some rest here tonight.”

The little girl eagerly agreed, and you led her back to your own bedroom, quickly stripping off your robes and accessories and getting your nighttime routine going so that Zahra wouldn't be kept awake waiting for you for too long.

As you settled beside your daughter under the blankets, Zahra’s sleepy voice murmured, “Daddy tried his best…”

You chuckled, putting a stroke of her blonde hair behind her ear. “He really did, didn't he?”

And as Zahra drifted off to sleep in the warmth of your embrace, across the hall, Kaveh let out a soft snore, his hand twitching slightly, as if still lost in dreams of clever foxes and bedtime stories.

LYNEY

The morning light gently streamed through the curtains of the twins' bedroom, casting a delicate golden glow over the cozy space. 

Lyney leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a soft smile on his lips as he observed the scene before him—two little lumps hidden beneath a sea of blankets, completely indifferent to the sunrise light.

“Time to wake up, little ones,” he called playfully, taking a few steps into the room. No response. He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “What a tragedy! It seems my dear children have been turned into statues overnight! What should I do?” Still nothing. He could hear their soft breathing, confirming they weren’t so asleep as before.

Smiling, he tried a different approach. “Oh my... I guess I’ll have to eat all the pancakes by myself.”

Quentin’s reaction was immediate. The little boy threw the blankets aside, revealing a mess of tousled hair. “Pancakes?” He said almost in disbelief, his purple eyes still half-closed from sleep, but already moving by instinct. He jumped out of bed in a hurry, only pausing to give his father a good morning kiss on the cheek before dashing to the bathroom.

Lyney laughed, rubbing the spot where his son had kissed him. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

He turned his attention to Corinne, who was still curled up under the covers, unmoving. Lyney crouched beside the bed and gently pulled the blankets down just enough to reveal his daughter’s sleepy and serene little face. “Cori, sweetheart, time to wake up,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

A small whimper escaped her lips as she snuggled deeper into the warmth of her bed. “’m still sleepy, papa…”

Lyney’s heart melted. “I know baby girl, but it's time to get up…” he murmured, sliding his arms under her small body. Corinne let out a soft sigh as he effortlessly lifted her, her sleepy little head resting against his shoulder. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple before carrying her to the twins’ shared bathroom, where Quentin was already washing his face.

With one hand, Lyney dampened a cloth and gently wiped Corinne’s face. She mumbled softly but didn’t resist. “There, all fresh and beautiful,” Lyney sang, helping her brush her teeth and comb her hair.

“Papa!” Corinne murmured when he picked up the brush to separate her silky strands for a braid. “Not too tight.”

Lyney immediately loosened his touch. “Oh! Sorry,” he quickly apologized, loosening the braid a bit more. She let out a small sound of approval, allowing him to continue. Once he was done, he tied it with a lilac ribbon. “Voilà! Ready for breakfast.”

With both children's morning routine done and they dressed properly, the trio finally made their way to the kitchen, where a stack of fluffy pancakes awaited them. The twins eagerly dug in, Quentin pouring syrup over his pancakes while Corinne savored each bite slowly. Lyney couldn’t help but smile as he sipped his morning tea, watching his little ones enjoy their meal.

The rest of the morning was filled with activities. First, he helped them with their homework—simple number and letter exercises—then came cleaning time, which quickly turned into playful chaos.

Quentin and Corinne tried to help with dusting and sweeping, but their tiny hands only made more of a mess. At one point, Quentin tripped over the broom, sending dust flying everywhere, making his twin sister burst into laughter. Lyney sighed, knowing he would’ve to redo everything later, but their joyful laughter made it all worth it.

By noon, it was time for lunch. “Let’s make something special,” Lyney suggested, flipping through your recipe book.

“Ooh! Moon pie, moon pie!” Corinne pointed excitedly at a page.

Lyney raised an eyebrow. “Ah, ambitious! But why not? Let’s do it.”

Quentin tugged at his father’s sleeve. “Please, no onions, papa.”

The magician chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. “No onions, got it.”

Cooking with the twins turned the kitchen into absolute chaos. Flour covered their faces and hair, bits of dough stuck to their fingers, and eggshells ended up in the most unexpected places. Quentin was in charge of mixing the filling, while Corinne carefully arranged the crust. At one point, Lyney noticed Corinne placing tiny decorative stars on top of the pie with an expression of absolute concentration.

“It looks wonderful, Cori,” Lyney praised, kissing her forehead.

With the pie in the oven, they moved on to making cookies, shaping them into hearts, moons, and even little cat faces. Quentin insisted on adding extra chocolate chips, saying it was “the secret to making them magical.”

By the time the food was ready, the kitchen was a disaster, but the pie smelled divine. They sat down to eat together, and even Lyney had to admit—it was delicious.

After lunch, the twin began yawning, their morning energy finally running out. Kitchen could be cleaned later. At this very moment, Lyney just wanted to enjoy his children a little bit more. 

The magician guided them to the couch, covering them with a soft blanket there. “Why don’t you take a little nap while the cookies are still baking? By the time you wake up they‘ll be ready to be eaten,” he whispered, gently stroking their hair.

Corinne nodded and snuggled against him, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. “I love you, papa,” she murmured sleepily.

Quentin, already half-asleep, echoed, “Love you, papa…”

Lyney’s heart swelled as he pressed a soft kiss to each of their heads. “Je vous aime aussi, mes amours.”

As their breathing slowed, Lyney remained there, holding them close, listening to the soft hum of the oven and the gentle patter of rain against the window. A moment of peace, perfect—a memory he'd cherish forever.

WRIOTHESLEY

The morning air of the Fortress of Meropide carried the scent of sea salt and diesel oil from the working machines, mingling with the distant murmur of underground streams.

Back in his family private quarters, though, Wriothesley sat at the dining table, sipping his black tea calmly as he thumbed through the latest news from The Steambird. Across from him, you hurriedly nibbled on a slice of toast, your mind clearly elsewhere.

“I wish you’d eat more before leaving,” Wriothesley murmured, watching as you stood up and brushed the crumbs off your hands.

“Yeah, I know. But I woke up at the last minute today. I’ll make sure to grab something later, though. Don’t worry,” you assured him, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Cameron is your responsibility today. Behave, love.”

His lips curved into a playful smirk. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”

You only smirked before heading toward the door. “Bye, sweetheart! Have fun with your dad today!” you called over your shoulder.

From the hallway, a soft voice replied, “Bye, mommy.”

Wriothesley turned just in time to see his son, still in pajamas, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he entered the dining room.

“Good morning, champ,” Wriothesley greeted warmly. “Hungry?”

Cameron nodded but didn’t ask for help. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, carefully pushing a stool to the counter so he could reach the bread and jam. Wriothesley watched in an amused delight, resting his chin on his hand, as his six-year-old meticulously prepared his own breakfast. His heart swelled with pride—Cameron was growing up so fast.

“You know... I could've made something else for you,” Wriothesley suggested, taking another sip of tea.

“That's okay, daddy. I can do it myself,” the little boy replied, spreading the jam on his toast with determined focus.

A small chuckle escaped Wriothesley. Not long ago, he carried this boy everywhere, and now Cameron was set on doing things on his own.

After finishing his meal, Cameron cleaned up his own messy by putting them into the dishwasher, heading to the bathroom where he brush his teeth, and a couple of minutes later, he returned to his father already dressed. Wriothesley looked at him approvingly, though he couldn’t help the bittersweet pang in his chest.

“Alright, let’s head to my office,” Wriothesley said, ruffling Cameron’s hair. The boy pouted but didn’t protest much.

Once inside the office, Cameron settled on the floor with his building blocks while Wriothesley started his reports. The steady sound of wood tapping against wood filled the room as Cameron focused on his creation, occasionally pausing to inspect it with critical eyes.

“Need help with that?” Wriothesley asked, noticing that Cameron was struggling to balance a particularly tall structure.

“No, I can do it.”

“Alright, alright.” Wriothesley chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair—but his eyes never went too far from his son's little form.

A few moments later, Cameron found himself tired of playing so he decided to jump to another activity. He picked up a homework book from his school bag he had brought earlier and started scribbling some numbers and letters. It wasn’t long before his pencil stopped, and he frowned at the page.

“Stuck on something?” Wriothesley asked.

Cameron hesitated, gripping his pencil tighter, but he said nothing. He could handle the problem by himself easily. Well… that’s what he wanted to believe, at least.

Wriothesley smiled knowingly but let him try. Only after five more minutes did Cameron finally give in, standing up and walking shyly over to his father’s desk.

“Uh…Daddy,” he murmured, almost in a whisper. “Can you help me with this?”

Wriothesley’s heart melted at the timid request. He patted his lap, and when Cameron hesitated, he gently pulled him up to sit there, just like he used to when he was smaller. “Of course, Cam. Let’s take a look.”

Together, they worked through the problem, Wriothesley’s voice soft and patient. Cameron, despite all his independence, nestled into his father’s warmth, his small fingers gripping Wriothesley’s sleeve.

Maybe he was growing up, but he’d always be Wriothesley’s little boy.

And that was more than enough.

[reidrum]

i can do a lot with fifteen minutes

note: short n sweet deluxe dropped halfway through writing this and basically she wrote fifteen minutes for this fic specifically. user reidrum is feeling festive so we are pink today, happy valentine's day friends <3

summary: in which you and spencer don't make it out the door on date night

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, p in v sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), mirror usage, switch!spencer (shocking for me too), reader wears a dress and lingerie, fluff, hot losers in love, this is pure filth actually

wc: 3.8k

The green satin dress held against you in front of the mirror is beautiful, flattering. The modest length with light ruching accentuates your figure like an ethereal being. Fairy like, angel like as Spencer loves to liken you to. 

The red silk dress is dangerous. With a slit leaving little to imagination, the deep hue reflects off your skin like a siren waiting to trick the sorry sailor into submitting. It’s a weapon almost, and you’re not sure if you’re willing to wield it tonight on a small dinner date.

The question was whether you wanted to look dangerously alluring or divinely beautiful. Your head turns at the sound of footsteps and your breath hitches as you catch a glimpse of Spencer walking past the door dressed in dark slacks and a dark maroon button up, tie undone around his neck. Mismatched socks, of course. 

You go with the red one.

You remove it from the hanger and gently slip it over your body, sliding the straps over your shoulders and reaching back to pull the zipper up. Realizing the zipper is too high for you to do it on your own, you call in reinforcements.

“Spencer!” you call out, “Can you come help me zip up please?”

“Sure baby, give me one second!” he calls back from down the hall.

You cross an arm over your chest to hold the dress in place while you grab the necklace Spencer had gifted you earlier that day, twisting awkwardly to put it on but eventually successful. You bend back down to look for the matching earrings, digging through your drawers and jewelry dishes. Your fingers rummage through the mess and you finally find them, grinning at your small win before gasping in surprise at the hands that encircle your waist.

“Shit, Spence. You scared me.” you chuckle, straightening up to press against his chest with your back.

His hands roam around your lower waist while pressing and gripping in the places he knows so intimately, a chaste kiss to your shoulder, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You want me to zip it up now?”

You gently part from his arms and walk over to the mirror again, “Let me just adjust it first and then you can.” He nods and follows you, standing a few steps behind you as he watches you fix the straps and lay of the dress. Spencer can never get used to this part, he might never for as long as you allow him the grace of being in your life. You meet his eyes again in the mirror and smile softly, “Okay, can you?”

He returns your smile with pure affection and steps to be only an inch behind you, his proximity giving leeway to invasion by your perfume. The sweet smell surrounds every fiber of him and threatens to render him useless, but he perseveres and clears his throat in hopes of him tethering himself back down. He raises his fingers to your shoulders and ghosts along the curve until he reaches the nape of your neck. Your shiver doesn’t go unnoticed when Spencer tenderly brushes your hair to the side giving him clear access to the zipper.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror, one of his hands on your waist while the other is brushing your hair to one side. Your heart is beating rapidly, sensing the intense intimacy and energy radiating from the moment. With a shaky exhale you reply, “Yeah just, felt a breeze.”

He hums in acknowledgment and the corners of his lips twitch up in a knowing manner from behind you, completely aware you’re not able to see it. He moves his hand from his waist to hover at the base of the zipper near your lower back, his breath hitching as he spots your lace panties peeking out of the opening. His finger grazes the fabric unintentionally as he grips the zipper and begins to slowly pull it up. The small jump you give makes his hand return to your waist, holding you harder so you don’t move around.

The sound of the zipper winding up fills the silence in the room, the accidental brushes of his fingers against your bare skin sending electric shocks throughout your body. By the time he reaches the top his shaky breaths are hitting warm on your nape, making no move to back away. 

You smile, “Thank you.”

His hands don’t leave you, they return back to their rightful place encircled around you. “Is this a new dress?” he murmurs.

You wrap your own arms on top of his and lean back into him, a small smirk gracing your face as you sense the intention of your dress choice starting to settle. “Yeah, just got it on a whim. You like it?”

Spencer swallows, “I love it, I’ll buy you one of these in every color. It can be the only thing you ever wear.”

A giggle escapes you, and Spencer smiles widely. He looks at you again through the mirror and takes in your whole appearance. You’ve always had a natural beauty to you that Spencer admired and marveled at constantly, but when you got all dressed up? For him? There aren’t enough neurons in his brain that will ever make him understand how the Aphrodite reincarnate is in love with him. He thanks any and every god watching for blessing him in this way.

“You smell so good,” he groans, “You wash your hair? It’s so soft, I could nap in it. The necklace looks pretty on you, ‘m glad you like it. God, I love you so much.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head back into his neck and pressing a kiss to his lower jaw, “I love you too.” He returns a kiss to your cheek and lets his lips travel about your body like a map.

His lips trail the open skin of your shoulders, “You look,” kiss, “so beautiful,” kiss, “This color,” kiss, kiss, “Didn’t think I’d like red this much.” Kiss. Hold. Release.

“You should see what I have underneath.” your voice holds a teasing lilt.

Spencer freezes behind you, his resolve breaking and crumbling by the second. “Sweetheart, don’t tease me. We won’t make it out the door if you do.”

A few moments pause, then you speak barely above a whisper, “And what if I want that?”

He locks eyes with you again through the mirror, the silent communication between you both confirming you’re on the same page. The mischief floods his eyes. “Then you’ll get it.”

It was an unconscious decision to place the mirror in front of the bed—the only place where it fit logistically. But Spencer likes to think it was a subconscious decision in that you hoped one day it would serve its purpose in the way you wanted.

Which secretly may have been the way he wanted, but it’s a mutualistic win either way.

He releases you from his arm and walks back to sit on the edge of the bed. Before you can mourn the loss of his warmth he speaks with a low rasp, “Come here.”

You stare at him doe eyed, stunned into paralysis somehow. His smirk only grows wider when he realizes he’s slowly rendering you defenseless. He holds a hand out for you, “Just come here, baby. Want to show you something.”

The autopilot finally kicks in and you take a few steps closer to stand in front of him. Once you’re within reach he slides his hands up the sides of your waist, gently nudging you, “Turn around.”

Satisfied when you listen, his hands pull your hips down to perch you in his lap facing the mirror. He secures your waist with an arm and rubs the other over the expanse of your bare thighs. Your eyes flutter shut with the warm contact flushing through your skin, head falling to rest atop his given your slight height advantage whilst sat on his lap. The position gives him perfect access to the crevice of your neck allowing him to lean up and attach to the sensitive skin there, delicately suckling before moving up to the crest of your ear.

“You know, studies have shown that watching yourself be pleasured through a mirror has proven to be a more intense experience than normal.” 

He hooks his legs around your ankles and parts them open. You gasp at the sudden rush of cold air between your thighs, finding yourself unable to close them even if you tried. He gently grips your jaw and slowly turns your face to meet the mirror again.

“Look how pretty you are sitting on my lap, baby.” he coos, “All pliant and perfect. I could do whatever I want with you,” a soft whine leaves you, he chuckles, “Would you like that? Watch me let me have my way with you?”

“Spence,” you whisper, “I…”

His lips ghost your ear, “What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

You whimper as his fingers start to trace tantalizing circles up your legs into your upper thigh. 

“Can’t do anything if you don’t tell me. Be a good girl and use your words.”

You curse softly, “Fuck, W—Want you…to touch me…please.”

Spencer wickedly grins, “Such good manners,” His hand delves between your thighs and lightly traces the outline of your panties, “Want you to watch yourself while I touch you, okay?”

You nod, he stops. You panic, “Y—Yes, okay.”

He finally applies pressure to your core and you let out a shuddered breath, his finger dragging up and down and circling at the top creating a beautifully addicting friction. You moan softly and tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder and he tuts, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”

You’re about to protest when his finger hooks onto the side of your panties and settles between your folds, dipping down to swipe at your entrance and spreading the wetness all over you. A languish moan breaks from your throat as your eyes are fixated on the mirror, watching his hand work in between your legs. Spencer hasn’t taken his eyes off you either, though does he ever, equally entranced at the way you react to his ministrations.

He prods at your hole as you attempt to buck your hips up, his arm clamping you down and closer to him, “It’s okay, shh I got you. Always got you, yeah?” His finger finally slides inside you and you let out a deep groan feeling the motion of him slipping in and out of you so easily, “So wet, baby. Doesn’t take too much to get you like this, huh?”

“Spence…” you whine, “More,,,please.”

“I know, patience, pretty girl.” slyly slipping in a second finger, “Doing so good f’me, look how beautiful you are.”

You force your eyes back to the mirror and a fresh wave of intoxication invades you as you clock the heavy rise and fall of your chest, the lewd sound of his fingers working you to your peak. He was right, you looked hot. It’s like you’ve unlocked a new level of sensuality that you didn’t even know existed and seeing yourself in this way only adds to the building tension.

He speeds up ever so slightly and feels you clench irregularly around his fingers, he lets his thumb drag up to your clit and rub lazy circles around it. The moans fall out of you with no control anymore as you feel your peak approaching fast. Spencer whispers praises, coaxing you closer to the edge, “Look at yourself when you come.”

The dam breaks and gratification floods throughout your body, you watch yourself as you see it take a hold of you so carnally. His fingers don’t stop inside you, slowly working you through your orgasm watching alongside you in the mirror with awe. Eventually he removes himself from your core not breaking eye contact with you as he raises his fingers to your mouth, you opening up without hesitation and swirling your tongue around them. His breath stutters, he’s so in love with you it hurts.

You’re still deep in the haze of coming down from your high, waiting for your senses to calibrate and remember where you even are when the sound of a zipper pulls you back down instead.

“Spence?” you ask breathlessly.

He hums, “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Said I should see what you have underneath, just taking up your offer baby. That okay?” The zipper hits the base of your dress just at the crest of your panties, the rush of air invading your back.

It’s like a click goes off in your head as soon as you’ve fully calmed down and you remember what your initial plan for the night was. A slow grin crawls onto your face.

“More than okay, in fact let me show you.” You stand up slowly making a point to jut your hips back to him as you make a show of sliding the dress down your body.

Now, Spencer is very much used to feeling breathless around you. It’s basically a default setting for him at this point. But as you turn around to face him with the smugly innocent smile on your face and slowly sink to your knees before him clad in the lace set he so bravely thought he could handle with conviction, his heart makes a mockery of him by stopping in protest of the nerve he had.

The clinking of his belt draws his focus back to the moment as he watches you undo it with the button and zipper, nudging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down. He listens blindly like he’s trapped under a spell. The siren effect, the zealous sailor who believes himself to be strong enough to brave the seas for so long only to succumb to the temptations of the siren song.

He never stood a chance.

Your hand comes up to palm him through his boxers, licking your lips with a smirk as you trace over the wet patch. The alternating pressure causes Spencer’s breath to huff deeper, impatiently. He has to suppress a whine when your fingers finally reach his waistband and painstakingly peel it back to take him out.

It’s your turn to tut at him, “You were so talkative just now, don’t stop on my account.” Your thumb and pointer form a ring around him and you slowly drag it up and down his length, tightening around him at different points.

“Baby, don’t tease me please.” he begs.

“What, like you did? I’d never be so cruel, my love.” you say innocently. You lean down and lick a stripe on him from base to tip, letting your tongue swirl around the head. Choked gasps and curses fall from his lips as you sink your mouth down on him, taking him as far back as you can. He tries to feel a little bad as his hand flies to your hair, your beautifully done hair, but he can’t bring himself to care when he hits the back of your throat and you gag a little before pulling back slightly. His hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail and watches with bated breath as you bob your head up and down on him. His eyes wander up behind you, remembering the mirror and the sight staring back at him is so pornographically obscene the loud whimper leaves him without warning.

Much to his soft protests you remove your mouth from and continue to lazily stroke him. He pouts down at you, “Wh–Why’d you stop?”

With another kiss to his tip you rise to your full height and push him back to lie flat on the bed, his legs bent at the edge with the backs of his calves flush with the bed. “Because I want you to come inside me, is that okay?” you say with such blunt honesty it goes straight to his groin.

He swallows hard, “God, yeah sweet girl that’s okay. Come here.”

You move your hands to your back to remove your bra before Spencer protests again, “Wait, keep it on.” 

You raise your eyebrows before grinning widely, “Any other requests?”

“Kiss?”

Your eyes soften, climbing atop him to straddle him on each side of his hips. You cup his jaw gently and lean down pressing your lips gingerly to his, whispering a low “Love you” before pulling back all the way. Spencer gazes up at you like you hold the answers to everything in the universe, like you are the answer to everything in the universe. He would gladly spend the rest of his life searching for the unknown if it meant reaching you at the end of it all.

“Love you too.”

You hook a finger over your panties and drag it to the side and position yourself over him, teasing yourself with his tip before slowly starting to sink down on him. The joint whine from you both rings about the room as you bottom out above him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place. He breathes out heavily, trying to think about literally anything else besides how tight you feel wrapped around him, how hard he’s refraining from bucking his hips up into you, how the blissed out look on your face is enough to make him come on sight and he hasn’t even moved at all.

“Feel so full, Spence,” you raise your hips tentatively, “Need to move, please,”

Like he’d ever say no to you. “Okay baby, I got you,”

You start to move with fervor, Spencer’s hand glued to your waist guiding you as you set the pace. You place your hands on his chest to give yourself leverage as you bounce on his cock, lewd moans and curses mixing with the sounds of your bodies meeting and him moving in and out of you.

Spencer feels delirious, meeting your hips as they clamp down on him with his own thrusts. You attempt to quicken your pace, but your wobbly legs cause your hips to stutter irregularly. He senses your struggle and plants his feet on the bed and tugs you to lay on his chest.

“Hold on, okay?”

You hazily nod and let Spencer take over as he ruts up into you at a pace you can barely comprehend. His hands are pressed into your hips so hard you know it’s going to leave beautiful imprints. He groans when you clench around him tightly again, and it’s then you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching fast, “Spence… ‘m close.”

“It’s okay baby, I got you. You can let go.” he whispers.

The second wave of your climax hits you hard, effectively sending your mind in reeling circles before you land back down in his arms. He continues to chase his own high and spills into you a few seconds later, lazily thrusting you both as you ascend back down to this realm.

You lay limp over his body making no intention to move and Spencer going soft inside you. He smooths your hair back while pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“You look like an angel,” he murmurs with a soft kiss to your nose, “You are an angel.”

A soft smile spreads on your face pressing into his neck with a laugh, “You always say that after.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You lift your head up a little to look into his hazel brown eyes and pepper kisses all over his face before landing soundly on his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel.”

“I don’t think we’re going to make our reservation anymore.” you sigh out and wrap your arms around his body, making yourself comfortable atop Spencer. He breathes out, “I already canceled it, don’t worry.”

“What? When did you do that?”

“When I realized you were wearing this dress I called them before I came in to help you.” he admits sheepishly.

You chuckle, “Lost before we even started, think that’s a new record for me.”

He flips you over with a yelp, “Think I need to redeem myself, don’t you think?”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“I have a couple ideas.”