#but i’m not comfortable with EVERYTHING being on me

[yougavememyopia]

Crybaby yandere, whose teardrops you could collect in a big jar. He wasn't good at many things — styling his messy tangled hair, fixing his wrinkled and untidy clothes — he sucked at taking care of himself. Bawling his eyes out after failing to do a simple task.

He knew he was pathetic. A whiny useless mess. He was miserable enough, and then he had to fall in love with you. His attempts at wooing you always ended up a huge failure. Even before speaking about his feelings, he'd taste the salty droplets pouring down.

So he resorted to stalking you. His glistening eyes watching you throughout the day. He wasn't very subtle. You could hear his footsteps, his sniffling — he wasn't very good at being sneaky. It was obvious that he was following you around like a lost child.

He was quick to sob no matter what kind of reaction you showed him. A smile, a frown, a glare. No matter what you did, he'd still cried a river. You were confused. Confused what he was always blubbering about. Not understanding his incoherent sentences.

"I-I just... hic… y-you're all I have… hic… I-I c-can’t—hic… I’m so s-stupid!"

You'd tell him to slow down and breathe. Rubbing his back or petting his head. You had to hug him tightly, feeling his tears soaking your clothes as his shoulders slowly stopped shaking.

You wondered how a person like him could exist — so melancholic, in need of tender loving care. (And more importantly, if he was dehydrated or not. You were really concerned.)

You had to admit; you loved seeing his face after his crying died down. Puffy eyes. Quivering pout. Red nose. You had no idea what he was even crying about, but it felt nice to see his slight smile after when you hand him a chocolate bar.

He managed to eventually speak with you normally thanks to your kindness. He wanted to do better for you. He wanted to be better for you.

That didn't stop his creepy side from taking over. He'd steal your things. Anything that had a scent of you on them soothed him. A t-shirt of yours that he could wear to bed. A pillow with the smell of you lingering in it.

He was a weirdo. He knew that, and he felt so guilty for all he did. All those items he took without permission. Just to have small pieces of you with him that he took comfort in.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He couldn't drink. He felt sick. Lovesick. He longed for your touch; your gentle arms wrapping around him and telling him everything was going to be okay.

He didn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Blinking them to clear his sight; your house coming into view. He longed to see you. Craved to be with you. Not caring about how late it was.

He broke into your room. Legs wobbling and head spinning. Seeking the right room. You jolted awake, screaming at the touch of the unknown shadow looming over you.

“I d-didn’t mean to s-scare you… hic… I just wanted to s-see you. Please-please don't look at me like I'm a m-monster..”

You sighed in relief when you heard the familiar sob. His shaking body immediately falling onto yours. Arms snaked around your midriff, face buried deep in your neck. He panted hot breaths, your body shivering in response. His hands clutching your shirt with panic.

You shushed him, breathing in the shampoo from his hair. Slightly groggy after being awakened from a deep slumber, you managed to open your mouth to speak. "Don't cry... Mmh... Wait, how'd you know where I lived?"

"I can't- can't take it a-anymore! Hic… I need you to t-take, hic, care of me. I neeeed you to! I can't.. I can't live without you. Hic!"

He shifted to the other side of the bed. Wasting no time to bury his face in your chest instead. It belonged there. Right where he could hear your heartbeat. You felt him nuzzle into you — his cheek rubbing your side and his fingers grazing right under your ribs. He was whining and moaning about how useless and terrible he was.

"Please, t-take me. Love... hic, love me! I want to be yours! Please? Hic. I dunno know if- If I can do anything without you."

He was starting to be less hysteric — when enveloped by your warmth and scent, he felt safe. The last tears dripped down his chin into the fabric of your shirt. Your entangled fingers in his hair enough to make him go quiet.

Your hummed filled the silence. "I don't know what to say, this is all so sudden. I mean, there's so many things wrong with this situation."

"But-but... You let me latch onto you." He groaned as he looked up at you. "I wanna be next to you through whatever you do. Wanna be yours. Please? I'll try not to become a b-burden if that's what you're worried about."

You closed your eyes. His mind was set on convincing you that the two of you should be together already. He whimpered at the loss of your hand in his hair. "Are-are you mad at me? Do you hate... me?"

You could feel a new storm coming, so you quickly shushed him. "No, no. It's just really late." You used your free hand to cover your yawn. "Let's just sleep, yeah? Too sleepy to think."

"Oh. Mmhm, yeah." His chest warmed up at your suggestion. You turned to your side to hug him properly. A leg pressed on his hip and an arm around his upper torso. "G'night."

He stiffened at first but then relaxed as the realization sank in. You were holding him like a body pillow. He never felt more loved. Whispering "I love you" and "I'm yours" until he fell asleep with you.

[you-know-honey]

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

[munson-blurbs]

Hi bug! I’m asking in anon bc it’s a bit of a sensitive subject for me to discuss but could you possibly write something about Eddie and reader being close(hopefully turning into lovers) and he sees her self harm scars for the first time and she is really embarrassed and tries to just stop speaking to him but he finally catches her alone and it turns into soft smut? I feel like your writing would do a story like this justice, but if it’s a heavy subject and you don’t want to write about it I understand ❤️

Hi! I kept the premise but changed a few details. I hope that's okay.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering, unprotected p in v, mentions of self-harm (cutting) but no descriptions of blood or the act itself, parental conflict, Reader celebrates Christmas, angst to fluffy smut WC: 2.5k A/N: This fic is not meant to romanticize or promote self-harm of any kind. This is a comfort fic where the reader-insert character has a history of self-harm. That being said, if this subject matter is triggering for you, please keep scrolling. Sending all of you love, always.

Divider credit to @strangergraphics

“Okay, first we need two and a half cups of flour.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose when you handed him the measuring cup and a butter knife. 

“So you can scrape off the excess,” you explained. 

Your boyfriend scoffed and plunked the knife onto the countertop. “Have you ever heard of guesstimating, Sweetheart?”

“There’s no guesstimating in baking, Eds.” You dragged the bag of all-purpose flour away from him before he could ruin the recipe. “Everything has to be precise.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear,” he grumbled. But there was no missing the smile playing on his lips. 

Spending time with Eddie wasn’t new; you’d known each other since he’d moved to Hawkins as a kid. The friendship had survived the ups and downs of junior high and high school, not to mention the years you were away at college. 

What was new was the romantic relationship that had only developed six months ago. Now, Eddie was your boyfriend. Your regular movie nights ended in heated make-out sessions rather than nervous hugs goodbye. Eddie held your hand while you walked rather than playing air guitar. And your sleepovers often involve much less clothing than before. 

It was different, but it was nice. 

“Can you hand me the cream of tartar?” You asked him, holding out your palm. 

“The what?” Eddie’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the stuff you dip fish sticks in?”

You snorted. “No, that’s tartar sauce. Cream of tartar is a spice that will give the snickerdoodles a little tang.”

Strong, tattooed arms wrapped around you and pulled you toward him, his lips finding the crook of your neck in an instant, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“How about I give you a little tang?” Eddie’s words vibrated against your skin. 

It took all of your willpower to focus on the task at hand and not give in. “I’m about to ban you from my kitchen.” You pinched some flour between your fingers and flicked it at him. It dusted his chin and the U-neck collar of his Metallica t-shirt. 

Eddie gasped in mock-offense, reaching over and taking a handful of flour. Before you could protest, he opened his fist just above your head. The powder plopped onto your scalp and cascaded down your cheeks. 

“Gotta go!” He bolted from the kitchen, nearly flinging himself up and over the counter. 

You were fast on his trail, knocking over the yellow-and-white box of granulated sugar. It toppled off of the counter and landed on its side with a thud, leaving a crystalline trail in its wake. 

“Dammit.” With an exasperated sigh, you rolled up your sleeves and cupped your hand, brushing the spilled sugar into your other palm. 

It was suddenly too quiet—and not the kind of quiet that preceded a prank. The only sound came from the thunk of the trash can lid as you dumped the wasted sugar into the bag.

Eddie froze, his widening eyes the sole movement across his lithe body. 

“Sweetheart…are those…?” 

You follow his gaze to the thin lines along your wrist. Most had faded over time and were ones he had seen before, but there were a few new scars that you’d forgotten about.

“You’re…you’re still doing…that?” Eddie’s voice was laced with palpable nervousness, but there wasn’t an ounce of disgust. It might have been easier if there was; you were disgusted that you’d relapsed into self-harm, even if it was just once. 

No, this was genuine concern and love. 

“I…” You struggled to find the words, feeling like the teenager you were when you’d first cut yourself. Now you’re an adult–an adult who’s supposed to have better, healthier coping mechanisms–yet after a conversation with your mother led to an argument, you’d turned back to old habits.

Eddie took your hands in his. The slight tremble broke your heart into a million pieces and filled each crack with shame.

His thumb grazed over the new marks, careful not to reopen the wound. “When did you do this? W-Why did you…?”

“I don’t know.” 

A flicker of frustration sparked in his deep brown eyes at your lie, a silent plea for your honesty.

And so you shoved that shame aside, your body caving into his as you told him everything, starting with the phone call from your mother. 

You’d tried to explain that you were splitting Christmas between their place and Wayne’s, and since Eddie’s uncle worked the night shift, you’d go over to his trailer in the morning and your parents’ house in the evening. 

A solid compromise as you navigated the balance of your relationship with Eddie. 

Or so you thought. 

Because the moment you laid out your plans, Mom was blubbering about the family tradition of opening presents on Christmas morning and how it won’t be the same and why is Wayne working on Christmas, anyway?

You didn’t have the energy to break down the older man’s finances—not that it was her business—but it didn’t matter. Mom already began tossing around terms like ungrateful and disrespectful. 

Suddenly, you were no longer an adult in an apartment of your own. You were a teenager trapped under your parents’ roof with nowhere to go, no way to escape the chaos. 

You couldn’t stop apologizing—to your mom then, and to Eddie now. Tears streamed down your cheeks, drawing hot rivulets over your skin. 

But with Eddie, there was no disgruntled huff and abrupt end to the conversation. He grabbed a tissue, wiping at your eyes and beneath your nose.

“You could’ve called me,” he said. “I would’ve been over in a heartbeat. You didn’t need to do this.”

You shook your head. This was beyond him, and he knew it, too. 

You didn’t realize that your eyes had glazed over, that your rumination had taken hold and kept you locked inside your brain, until Eddie spoke again. 

“Look at me.” 

You blinked, allowing yourself to re-enter the space. When the haze of anxiety began to clear, you felt his touch before you saw his face. His hand was noticeably warm and sweat-slicked, forefinger tucked up under your chin as he lifted it. Whatever stray tears remained on your face trickled down, sneaking into the crevices of his rings.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip. With utmost tenderness, he leaned his forehead against yours. His exhale tickled your own nose. “Please just tell me when you’re sad or mad or…or anything.”

And then you were fourteen once again, confessing to Eddie the real reason why you only wore long-sleeved shirts while he stood there helplessly, nearly dropping the can of Chef Boyardee in the middle of Wayne’s kitchen. Though you were a decade older now, Eddie’s face fell the same way it had in 1980. Confusion and defeat warred for prominence, his brows knit together and his shoulders slumped. 

“You can’t fix me,” you said finally. 

“I know. Because you’re not broken.” Eddie’s hands fell to your wrists, gingerly clutching them. “A little battered, but not broken.”

He meant it, though you didn’t know how. Besides the physical scars on your wrists, you carried a world of pain on your shoulders. You were buried in the weight of inferiority and the inability to measure up to expectations. 

Eddie sensed your hesitation to believe him. “I love you,” he said softly. “I loved you when we were seven and you gave me a Band-Aid after I fell off of my bike. I loved you when we were thirteen and you used the peanut butter from your sandwich to get Tommy Hagan’s gum out of my hair. 

“I loved you when we were eighteen and you went off to college, but you still called me every Thursday night. I loved you when we were twenty-four and I finally asked you out, and you kissed me before I could finish my sentence.” He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling through his t-shirt. “And I’ll never stop loving you. So, please…please don’t hurt yourself again.”

You nodded, hoping it was a promise you could keep. Hoping that this was just a slip-up and not the beginning of a full-blown relapse. 

Exhaustion fell over you as your tears slowed. “I should probably clean myself off.” You shook your head for emphasis, some of the remaining flour clouding as it fell. 

“Let me help.”

Eddie followed behind you, just watching as you picked out the residue over the bathroom sink. The yellow-tinged vanity lighting emphasized the worry that he wore like a mask. 

You turned to him. “I’m okay,” you said with a timid smile. “It was just a one-time thing. I swear.”

His tone was firm when he spoke. “But if it isn’t—if you want to do it again or think about doing it again—you need to tell me.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I won’t run away. I’m right here.”

You melted into him, flour-coated scalp be damned, and wrapped your arms around him. “I promise.”

“Good.” A small relief, but relief nonetheless. 

Your fingers tangled in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “It’s like my brain gets too loud, and I can’t shut it off sometimes.” You swallowed, not able to look at him yet. “But sometimes it helps when I…when I think about you. About how safe I feel with you.”

He brushed flour from your shirt collar. You could tell that he wanted to say something despite the ensuing quiet. Yet he just shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back out to the kitchen wordlessly. 

It wasn’t until that evening, laying in bed with one tattooed arm wrapped around your waist, that Eddie posed the question that had been sitting on his lips since the afternoon. 

“You feel safe with me?”

You rolled over to face him. “Of course. You’re, like, my safe place.”

Eddie held you tighter. “You’re my safe place, too.” He pressed a soft kiss to your nose. “And maybe I’m a little selfish because of it, but I really need you around. Okay?”

Even in the darkness, you could see his eyes shining with worry and fear. That he would wake up without you. That you’d be gone when he least expected it. 

“I never meant to scare you,” you promised, your voice a whisper even though it was only the two of you. “I wasn’t…”

I wasn’t thinking about you, you almost said. Not that you didn’t care about him—your mind was too occupied with Mom’s stinging words to think of anything else. Of anyone else—including Eddie. 

His reassurance came swiftly. “I know,” he said. “And I want you to know that you deserve to be happy. You deserve not to worry about anyone else’s bullshit. Even your mom’s.”

Eddie took your hand, lifted one scarred wrist to his lips, and kissed it. There was a slight sting from the newer cut, but it disappeared as quickly as it presented. 

“You deserve to be happy,” he continued, kissing another scar. “You deserve to live a life where you know that no one is worth hurting yourself over.”

You brought your arm back to your side and shifted even closer to him. Your nose bumped his when you leaned in to kiss him, eliciting a giggle from both you and Eddie. 

“Sorry—” You started to apologize, but his hands flew to your cheeks as he kissed you harder. His tongue flicked over the seam of your lips, asking for entry that you granted without a second thought. 

“God, I fuckin’ love your laugh.” Eddie shook a rogue curl from his eyes. Instinctively, his leg slotted between yours. It was only when you ground your core against his flannel-clad thigh that he realized what he’d done. 

He moved back an inch, though that one leg stayed in place. “Baby, we don’t—I know today’s been a lot. I’m fine kissing you, y’know?”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m a big boy; I can jerk off in the bathroom if you’re not in the mood—”

You were tired, but an invisible thread inside you had been tugged, awakening an ache that only Eddie could quell. 

“I know,” you repeated. “I want this, too. I…I need it, Eddie.”

His teeth grazed your neck. “What do you need?” He growled, a primal edge in his tone. 

“I need you to show me I’m safe.” 

With those words, you let go of the control you clutched like a precious stone. The relief would be temporary—everything in this world was—but you felt the burden ease with each article of your clothing that Eddie removed. You could have floated, your body weightless, when he kissed each millimeter of your skin. Even the parts you preferred to keep hidden. 

His middle finger was what anchored you to reality. It found your clit, rubbing circles on it while his other hand gripped your hip. 

Slowly, torturously, his finger inched inside you, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. 

“S’good?” He looked down at you, waiting for confirmation. “Do you need more?”

More. More sounded perfect, and you told him so. 

There’s no teasing tonight. Eddie didn’t make you beg before he slipped his ring finger inside you, curling both fingers to stroke that sweet spot. 

Your back arched, taking him in deeper. He obliged, murmuring your name and sweet praises as he touched you. 

“There you go.”

“So good for me.”

“That’s it.”

“You’re gorgeous like this.”

Wetness slickened his fingers and dripped down onto the bedsheet. He let go of your hip for a second to palm himself over his pajama pants, stopping only when you reach for him. 

“Eds.” You tried not to pout when he paused his ministrations. “Y-You can…”

With a quick nod, Eddie shucked off his clothes and tossed them to the carpeted floor. They landed with a plop, a noise drowned out by his moan when he pressed his erection against you. 

Safe. With Eddie, you were safe. 

Your breath hitched as he entered you; it was a fullness that felt so natural yet like each time was the first. 

Eddie groaned as your fingers dug into his back, reveling in the mutual desire. He braced his forearms on either side of you, caging in your head.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered. “There’s nothing else. Just us, okay?”

“‘Kay.” There was no time to say anything else; he leaned down and kissed you, moaning into it with unbridled need. 

If the alarm clock on your nightstand wasn’t counting the minutes, you would have sworn that time was suspended. Each thrust, each kiss, each murmur of your name was a second and a day. 

Eddie’s lips brushed your ear. He whispered, “you’re so beautiful,” sending an arrow of need straight to your core. “My sweet, beautiful girl.”

“Yours,” you agreed in a whimper. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in further, as pleasure washed over you. It claimed him a moment later, his face buried in your neck. 

When the sun rises, your scars will once again be visible. And the lingering sadness and frustration won’t have completely dissipated. 

But you’ll handle it. With Eddie by your side, you’ll power through until getting through each day is no longer a chore. 

You’re safe. 

--

[luvleyshif4]

rafe x reader.... she's touchstarved. Maybe size/height difference. Just the wonderful feeling of him being the protector (and 'provider'). They've only been dating for a little while but he figures out that her love language is physical touch. And she's so surprised bc she isn't used to receiving love. Prob a bad family setting... thanks, love <33

JUST HOLD ME

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mention of family issues, emotional vulnerability, emotional repression, medium angst turned into fluff, reader is touch starved, implied toxic family dynamics, reader might have body dysmorphia (N/A).

Word count: 1.22k words

Authors note: heyy bb!! Tysmmm for requesting this!!! I already had something like that sitting in my drafts so I thought I’d just add some changes to suit your idea🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽honestly your idea made it sooo soo much better!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT CAUSE I KNOW I DO💗💗 (also I didn’t proof read this so let me know if there’s any grammar mistakes😝😝)

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy yet comforting. Rafe’s truck hummed softly beneath you, the glow of the dashboard lights casting faint shadows across his face.

He had picked you up an hour ago, like he always did when your texts grew short and vague, as though he could sense the things you didn’t say. The roads were empty, a blur of dim streetlights and the occasional flicker of passing headlights.

You sat in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward the door, your oversized hoodie swallowing you whole. Rafe’s hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm as the faint hum of music played in the background.

He wasn’t saying much tonight, giving you space like he always did, but you could feel his eyes flick toward you now and then, studying you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked, his voice breaking the silence but staying soft.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers playing with the strings of your hoodie. The truth was, you didn’t know how to talk about it—the way your chest felt tight every time you thought about home, the way your family’s sharp words had a way of cutting deeper than they should. It wasn’t new, but it felt heavier lately, like you were dragging something you couldn’t shake off.

“I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and hollow.

Rafe glanced at you again, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t press, though. He never did. Instead, his hand shifted, brushing lightly against your knee before returning to the gear shift. It was such a small gesture, but it made your throat tighten. You turned your head, staring out the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your hands were trembling slightly.

The silence stretched on, comfortable for him, suffocating for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Rafe—you did, more than you’d ever thought possible for someone you’d only been with for a few months. It was just that you didn’t know how to let someone in like this. You didn’t know how to let yourself be seen, not when you’d spent so long trying to shrink yourself down, to take up less space.

Rafe, of course, noticed everything.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt the shift when he slowed the truck down, pulling over to the side of the road. The engine idled softly as he put the truck in park, turning to face you fully. His brows were drawn together, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Your chest tightened again, and you shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze. “Just a long day.”

Rafe let out a soft, disbelieving huff, leaning back slightly. He didn’t look frustrated, just… concerned. And that concern was somehow worse, more overwhelming than if he’d been annoyed.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lighter but still holding that edge of care. “You don’t get this quiet unless something’s really messing with you. I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well tell me.”

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected. You glanced at him, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. Rafe’s gaze softened even further, and without thinking, he reached over, his hand hesitating for a moment before he grazed the back of his fingers against your cheek. The touch was featherlight, and yet it sent a shiver through you. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into it, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the warmth.

Rafe stilled, watching you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His hand lingered there, his knuckles brushing over your skin softly, reverently. “You’re allowed to let me in,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched at his words, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you let yourself lean into his hand fully, your head tilting slightly as though you didn’t want him to stop. His thumb shifted, lightly grazing your chin, and your eyes opened just in time to catch the way his gaze flicked down to your lips.

It wasn’t rushed or sudden. His movements were deliberate, careful, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and slow, like a promise. He kissed you with a tenderness that made your chest ache, his hand still cradling your face as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

Your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself. The kiss deepened slightly, but it stayed unhurried, every movement of his lips against yours making you feel like you were coming undone in the best possible way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing gently over your chin. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt down to your core.

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I need you to know that you’re not alone. Not with me.”

Your chest ached at his words, and you opened your eyes, meeting his. There was no judgment there, no expectation. Just him, just Rafe, offering you something you didn’t know how to accept but desperately wanted to.

Your lips parted like you might say something, but no words came. Instead, you let out a shaky breath and leaned into him again, resting your head on his shoulder this time. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, holding you tightly, protectively, as though shielding you from all the things you couldn’t put into words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself be held. Safe, warm, and, for once, not alone.

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Merry Sinsmas

Alastor x Reader

Just a little thought I'd like to share with you because I’m in the Christmas mood.

I hope you enjoy reading it and if you celebrate Christmas: I wish you a Merry Christmas. And if you don't: I hope you have a great few days anyway. :)

And to all of you: Merry Sinsmas. :D

Warning: I hope you don't mind that this short story briefly mentions that you are from Germany. If you can't identify with this, just see this sentence as a joke to wriggle out of a situation.

—————————————————————————

You're standing in the hotel lobby with a clipboard in your hand, working through a to-do list. You are in the middle of your Christmas preparations. Charlie and Vaggie are busy decorating the big tree in the centre of the lobby next to the stairs, Niffty is cleaning and judging by her crazy laugh, she's in a very Christmassy mood.

Lucifer is tending to the fairy lights, Husk is making punch for everyone and Angel and Cherri Bomb are getting the sound system ready.

As you stare at your clipboard, thinking about what you could do next, you notice out of the corner of your eye a shadow rise from the floor and stand next to you.

You don't even have to lift your eyes to realise that it's Alastor, standing so close to you that his large body is pressed against you.

You hear a snap of fingers, but you skilfully ignore it.

You're too busy dealing with the fact that the radio demon is invading your comfort zone - as he so often does.

It doesn't take long before he clears his throat meaningfully, inviting you to give him your attention.

So you raise your eyes and suppress your annoyed expression as best you can.

You look at him expectantly. What does he want?

He looks down at you with a mischievous smile. Then he takes a quick look at the ceiling before his eyes wander back to you.

You look up and see a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, obviously conjured up by him.

You sigh slightly.

So he wants to be kissed.

Alastor is really trying everything he can to get to you. You realise that he's been trying to make advances to you for months and win your heart with small - and also very large - gestures.

What you keep to yourself the whole time: He won your heart a long time ago. But you don't want to admit it.

Yes, you fancy Alastor - oh, you're so in love with him!

But your fear of commitment and the fact that he's one of the most dangerous demons here in hell stop you from getting involved with him.

Much to the displeasure of your friends, because the tension between Alastor and you has left its mark on them too and now they really want to see you two as a couple.

"Hahaaaa, there's a little green branch hanging right above us. What funny coincidences there are, aren't there, my dear?" he says euphorically in his radio filter voice.

"Real coincidences, yes," you reply sarcastically and leave it at that. At least that's what you try to do, but there's no way Alastor will let you get away with it.

He steps closer to you - it's hard to believe that's still possible - leans forward slightly and says: "You know I'm a man of tradition. In my day, we followed every custom without even batting an eyelid. It would be a shame for me and my inner well-being if you didn't appreciate my traditions, sweetheart."

You give him a wry, cheeky grin. Then you turn away from him and say: "Well, it's just a shame that I'm from Germany and this mistletoe tradition isn't practised there."

You move away from him and leave him standing there in his indignant static noise.

"OH NO, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Angel suddenly shouts across the lobby. He jumps up from his chair and stomps angrily towards you, grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around and pushes you back on your heels under the mistletoe, where he sets you down right in front of the radio demon.

He grumbles: "We're not in fucking Germany here, we're in hell! And here ya don't just kiss under the mistletoe, here ya even fuck when ye're standin' under it! So do yerself and us a favour and respect our traditions! Ya kiss that creepy man now, understand?"

[lechrts]

Stay Unspoken. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Bestfriend!reader

Summary: A confession that was too late.

Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer/s: Angst……

Vera’s Voice! okay so basically i…. Ueah i got nothing. Jusr. Just read and I hope u enjoy ^_^_^

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of voices filtering through the walls. You stood by the tall windows, the train of your dress fanned out behind you, catching the soft afternoon light.

Lando’s eyes were drawn to you, as they always were, as they always had been.

"You’re late," You said without turning, your voice light, teasing, familiar in a way that made his chest ache.

"Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t," He replied, his tone forced casual as he stepped inside.

You turned then, a small smile tugging at your lips, but he didn’t miss the nerves dancing in your eyes. It hit him all at once—the vision of you in white, the way your veil framed your face, just the sheer weight of the day.

“Just couldn’t find my way through all the wedding madness,” He continued, forcing a chuckle, but it came out flat, unconvincing.

Your lips twitched into a small smile. “I thought you’d be used to the venue by now.”

He shrugged, stepping further into the room. “Ehh.. ish.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a familiarity that had always been both comforting and disarming. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… big day, right?”

“For both of us,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “I mean, you’re practically family. And you’ve been with me through everything, Lando.” Your voice dipped slightly, more serious now. “I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

He felt his chest constrict at your words, but he forced a smile anyway. “Guess that’s what best friends are for.”

You hesitated, catching the shift in his tone. Your eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion, but with that quiet concern he’d come to both love and fear. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Lando…” Your voice was softer now, more coaxing. You reached out, your fingers brushing his arm. “Talk to me.”

He swallowed hard, the familiar weight of your touch making it harder to keep everything bottled up.

“It’s nothing,” He said again, but the crack in his voice betrayed him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… It’s a lot, you know? Seeing you like this.”

You frowned, stepping closer again. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, trying to laugh it off, but it came out hollow. “You look beautiful. Like, stupidly beautiful. It’s just… weird.”

“Weird how?” You pressed, your brows knitting together. “Do I look bad??”

“Oh, no!! No, no, no.” He shook his head quickly. “You look amazing.” He hesitated, weighing the words in his mouth, the ones that wanted so desperately to come out. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not today.

“It’s just..” A breath came out shakily.

“You’re marrying him,” He said finally, his voice quieter now, like he was saying it more to himself than to you.

“It’s… a lot to take in.”

Your breath caught, confusion flickering across your face. “Huh?”

He continued, his voice steady but filled with an unmistakable ache. “For years, I convinced myself that being your friend was enough. That it was better than losing you. And maybe I was okay with that—until today.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, a sense of panic creeping in. “Lando…” You started slowly, and fearfully. “You’ve known about this for months. You’ve been nothing but supportive. What’s changed?”

He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders tense. “Nothing’s changed,” He said, his voice sharper than he intended.

Then, softer, almost trembling:

“Yet, everything’s changed.”

You stepped back, your arms crossing as if to shield yourself from whatever was about to come next.

“What are you trying to say?”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours, as if hoping you’d already know so he wouldn’t have to say it. But the words came anyway, slow and deliberate, like they’d been clawing their way out of him for years.

“I…” He paused, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Your breath hitched, and the room suddenly felt unbearably small.

“Wha—“ You whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I tried to ignore it,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. “But seeing you like this, knowing what’s about to happen—it’s killing me.”

Your frown deepened, confusion mixing with disbelief. “And you decided to tell me now? Today? Do you have any idea how unfair that is?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said quickly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I didn’t plan this. But seeing you like this, knowing that everything changes after today.. it’s too much.”

You shook your head, taking another step back, your hands trembling. “Lando, you had years to say something. Years! And you wait until now, on the day I’m supposed to marry someone else, to tell me this? Do you realize how selfish that is?!”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it’s selfish. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. Not today.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Do you think this changes anything?”

“No,” He said quickly. “I know it doesn’t. I know you love him. I know you’re marrying him. But I couldn’t stand here, watching you take this step, and not tell you the truth. You deserve to know.”

You let out a shaky laugh, but it was bitter, filled with frustration. “The truth? What am I supposed to do with this truth, Lando? You think it’s going to make me feel better? Make you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I just… I needed you to know. That’s it. I’m not asking for anything.”

You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the windowsill as you tried to steady yourself. The silence between you stretched on, suffocating.

“Leave,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his feet rooted to the spot. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words hollow, meaningless.

“Just… go,” You said again, your voice cracking.

He lingered for a moment longer, his heart breaking as he watched you turn away, shoulders trembling.

But he knew there was nothing left to say, nothing he could do to fix the damage he’d just caused.

Without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. And as he stepped into the chaos of the wedding preparations outside, he realized that some truths weren’t meant to set you free.

Some were meant to shatter everything you thought you could hold onto.

Lando Norris was your best friend. And maybe, in another life, he could have been more.

But in this one, he would be the boy who should’ve stayed unspoken.

Well.

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated!!! ^_^ follow me for more & ask if you’d like to be apart of my tag list!!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

[revelboo]

GODDDDD MEGATRON AND HIS "the sex cant be THAT good" IS SO... HJHJRHJEKMSGDS-- something something rumble being the walking proof that the sex, can in fact, be That Good. i got the mental image of him dunking reader in disinfectant after they get handed over to him or instead of popping them on his thigh again just... sitting them on the arm of the throne. hes not gonna be as handsy now that he knows where those hands have been.

He’s just deeply offended by all of it

Everything Is Alright Pt 93

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “No, I’m not,” Megatron says, hand lingering on the door frame. “But you’re especially vulnerable by your own mistakes, aren’t you?” By bonding to such a weak, helpless mate. Optics narrowing as the Seeker makes to lunge at him, the little human crying out, he lifts his cannon at the same time Soundwave pointedly places a ped on one of Starscream’s wings forcing his frame to tilt that way as he hisses in pain. His old friend still playing peacekeeper then, making him want to ask why he’d bind himself to a human. Wanting to understand. Not with the Seeker staring at him with those hateful optics, though. “I won’t be allotting you or any of the others extra energon rations just so you can frag the wildlife,” he says. “And don’t leave your door open, I don’t need your depravity spreading any more than it already has.”

• Door closing behind Megatron, Soundwave moves his ped as Starscream swears at him. Kneeling as the Seeker slides free of you and rights his panels, Soundwave reaches to stroke his servos against your cheek. “You heard him threaten me. Threaten us,” Starscream growls, rising to his feet and pacing. Us? Knows the Seeker doesn’t care for him, especially now, but threatened, he’s asking for help in his own way. Including him in their little group instead of treating him like a danger to you. Gathering you to him, Soundwave watches the Seeker. Knows he’s angry at Megatron, but you’re shaken by the encounter and need to be comforted. And Starscream is too wrapped up in himself to notice.

• Trembling, you lean into Soundwave as he wraps his arms around you, making a low, rumbling crooning noise, his chin resting on top of your head. Hurting slightly as you watch Starscream pace. Because as soon as he’d been provoked, you’re pretty sure he’d forgotten all about you, so furious that his anger has become everything. And he’s still furious, wings raised as he gestures, snarling in a broken mix of English and Cybertronian. Not resisting when Soundwave gently tips your face toward him and away from Star. “You’re safe, little one. Loved,” he says, the words so soft they’re only for you. And they’re all you’d really wanted. The words you’re too scared to say to them, but need to hear. Especially after the disgust in Megatron’s voice, that revulsion making you wonder if he’s right. That this between you three is wrong.

• That hitching sound you make breaks through his fury and he turns as you curl an arm around Soundwave’s neck. Crying again. Snarling as he reaches for you and Soundwave grabs his wrist with his free hand. “I love you both so much.” And the anger just drains away, leaving him oddly empty. Venting tiredly, he drops to sit beside Soundwave when the communications officer releases him. Because you’ve never said that to him before and he’s never said it to you. Tried to show you, but saying it? It felt too vulnerable. Too real.

• “We’re all awful at this, aren’t we?” Starscream asks as Soundwave runs his servos up your spine, hearing you sniffle. Waiting for Starscream to make this right as you look at the Seeker and he stares at the ceiling, jaw working. “You know I care for you,” he mutters, raspy voice gruff. Swallowing a growl, he glares at him over the top of your head. Venting when you reach for Starscream. Wings flicking, he shifts closer and grabs your hand, the gesture more possessive than gentle, but he’s been around the Seeker enough to understand that it’s because he’s there. If you two were alone, Star would be more open with his affection rather than guarded. Because he’s right, you are all awful at this. Because he can’t trust Starscream and Starscream doesn’t trust him. One of them is going to have to change and he’s not sure the Seeker can.

Previous

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[afterglowkatie]

more than christmas | a.k.

alanna kennedy x reader | 1.4k | ‘I love how you look at me like I’m the only person in the world,’

❆♡────୨ holiday season blurb event ৎ────♡❆

You felt a little tingle in the back of your throat a few days before you were set to fly out. A slight ache in your head and the rest of your body the next day that followed. But you tried to ignore it, hoping that you weren’t really about to get sick right before Christmas.

You and Alanna had planned to spend Christmas with her family this year in Australia. You always looked forward to having a summer Christmas, even if it still felt weird to you to celebrate Christmas in anything other than winter and snow. 

A slight tingle and a dull ache was easy enough to hide from Alanna, knowing if she knew you weren’t feeling the best, you’d be seeing an overprotective girlfriend that wouldn’t stop asking if you were sure you were alright a million times before your trip. Not that you hated it, but you didn’t want to ruin your Christmas and holiday plans, you knew how much Alanna had been looking forward to going home and seeing her family. It was something you knew she really needed lately.

‘What do you mean you’re not packed yet?’ You stifled a small cough, noticing how dry and sore your throat was.

‘Babe, chill, there’s still plenty of time,’ Alanna wrapped her arms around you from behind, pulling you into her, mostly trying to stop you from pacing around the house stressing. You melted in her embrace, the comfort of her arms doing a lot to ease the ache that kept spreading over your tired body, ‘Plus we won’t need much anyway,’ Alanna whispered against your neck, pressing a kiss against it. 

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Alanna’s arms away from you despite your body protesting, ‘Yeah we all know the real reason you invite me to spend summer in Australia,’ 

Alanna held her hands up in defence, ‘What can I say? I’m a simple woman,’ She smirked, leaning back against the doorframe, arms crossed against her chest while she looked at you. Imagining how you’d look in a few days time, tanning on the beach.

The day of your flight to Australia, you’d barely slept, being kept away with the ache that had tripled in intensity in the last day. You couldn’t find a way to get comfy, tossing and turning until your alarm went off and you realised you hadn’t actually slept at all. 

You laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling, wishing there was a way to not feel so much pain, a way for your throat to not feel like it’s closing up. When Alanna woke up, she thought you’d turned the heating up too much with how much warmth was radiating. Though she properly woke up when she turned over, lazily laying an arm over your stomach, realising the heat she was feeling was radiating off of your skin.

‘Baby?’ Alanna leaned up on her elbow to look at you, her voice soft and still laced with sleep. You had your eyes closed, your head hurt too much to keep them open, ‘Are you feeling okay?’ She could tell you weren’t really asleep.

Internally you groaned, opening your eyes looking at Alanna. You did your best to smile, though it did nothing to alleviate your girlfriend’s concerns. Your eyes didn’t have the same sparkle they normally did, your smile was barely one if you could even count it as a smile and the biggest giveaway was that you weren’t already out the door talking her ear off about everything you were going to do when you landed on the other side of the world.

Everyone who knows you, knows how much you love your trips to Australia. So much you’d even considered moving over there one day. Retirement in Australia definitely, with Alanna, definitely sounded like a nice idea. So the minute you weren’t yapping about the trip and already halfway out the door before Alanna had the chance to wake up, she knew you weren’t feeling well. Getting you to admit to not feeling good is always a whole other story.

‘Yeah, I’m fine Lani,’ You inwardly cursed your voice for sounding so broken and small, the opposite to how you normally would sound, ‘Come on, there’s a plane waiting to take me to a place I can devour my weight in chilli eggs and soak up three times the sun we’d ever get to see here,’ You tried to laugh but stopped when you realised it’d send you into a coughing fit, not something you needed when you were trying to convince Alanna you were fine.

Trying to convince her was short lived when you willed your body to move, despite it protesting any movement, you sat up seemingly too fast. Your head span, ears rang and your legs and arms were shaking. Alanna was quick to sit up and get to you so you didn’t fall on the ground. Wrapping her arm around you, moving to sit more behind you.

Alanna had a permanent frown etched on her face, only growing in her concern for you. You held your head in your hands, keeping your eyes covered, avoiding any light. Alanna had slowly but successfully moved you back to laying down, making sure to avoid layering you in the blankets since you were still radiating enough heat to heat up your bedroom.

Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing your back gently, watching you relax into her touch before tensing as a new wave of pain surged through your body. Her eyes flickering between you and your suitcases that were in the corner of your room, packed and waiting for your flight, ‘I’ll be back in a minute my love,’ You let out a little hum to acknowledge the defender.

Alanna did what any good girlfriend would’ve done, even if she knew you would hate it not liking when your plans don't happen because of you. But if she’d let you decide then despite feeling like you’d been hit by a truck, you’d both still be on your way to the airport right now. She cancelled your flights, called her family and promised to find another time to visit. Ultimately understanding the last thing anyone wanted you to do was sit through like 30+ hours of travelling.

‘I’m sorry for ruining your Christmas,’ You were slightly more alive than before, laying against Alanna’s chest, her arms wrapped around you were better than any kind of blanket you could’ve been wrapped up in.

‘You didn’t ruin anything,’ Alanna looked down at you, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. When you looked like you were going to protest and disagree with her words she continued, ‘Being with you, making sure you’re okay, matters more to me than any Christmas plans we had,’ You didn’t have the energy to fight Alanna, instead letting her words drape over you like a comforting blanket. You hated when things didn’t go right, but you hated the thought of disappointing Alanna more.

You were still looking in the way of the tv, the quiet sounds of the movie filling the silence of your apartment. Alanna was still looking at you, a small smile on her lips, a softness in her eyes that she only held whenever she looked at you. Her hand found her way to your head, gently playing with your hair, knowing these little things did more to comfort you than anything else. She couldn’t help herself but hold you a little bit tighter against her and press more kisses to the top of your head, letting her lips linger.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, not from your slight fever, but knowing your girlfriend’s eyes were still on you. Even years later you still felt the swarm of butterflies in your stomach whenever Alanna’s gaze was purely on you. You both still felt the same way you did when you’d first met each other when Alanna moved to City.

You looked up at your girlfriend, your smile was bashful when you locked eyes with her, ‘I love how you look at me like I’m the only person in the world,’ Even more years could pass by and you know Alanna would still look at you like that, the thought that made you even more flustered under her gaze.

Alanna’s hands still gently comforting your aching body, she brushed a few strands of hair that had stuck to the light sweat that covered your skin from your small fever, her eyes never leaving yours, ‘Well, you are my world and the most important person to me, my love,’

[zvdvdlvr]

Take Care of You + Silco

Synopsis. After an argument with Jinx, you comfort Silco as best as he’ll let you.

A/n. I want to start a series of Silco x jinx’s eldest sister!reader. Let me know what you think :p

You’d heard through the grapevine that Jinx had gotten into an argument with Silco. Now, doing odd jobs all around the Undercity (sometimes being recruited in the bright, shining streets of Piltover), you couldn’t do anything to calm your youngest sister’s mind when you were miles away. 

When you did get home though, you immediately greeted the bouncers of The Last Drop with an exhausted smile and asked how bad he was doing.

The guy on the right- Cassin, if you remembered correctly- sighed. “It’s a relief to see you,” is all he said. You grimaced, knowing it had to be bad. “Jinx left about five hours ago and it’s been getting worse and worse. For everyone’s sake…”

Verin- the man on the left- finished, “Go talk to him.”

You nodded. “Have a good night, boys,” you told them as they pulled open the door. They replied with their usual ‘you too, ma’am’.

It was late enough. You signaled the bartender and told him to shut the bar down and start helping people out.

“Good evening,” you say in greeting after stepping into Silco’s office.

Silco doesn’t reply. He simply lights his cigar and daces the window, letting his other arm fall limply to the side. He reaches a hand up to brush back his hair.

You drop your bag of coins on the couch as you make your way over to him. Silco, to put it lightly, was out of touch with his emotions. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to communicate with Powder- Jinx, as she had called herself after the night everything fell apart.

You were Powder and Violet’s older sister- the eldest daughter of Felicia and Connol. The enforcer, the empath, the scapegoat, and the vessel of unconditional love: all in one body. After the explosion that blew up the building, you remember pulling your crushed leg from underneath the rubble. Hobbling down to see Powder weeping over Vander’s body. Violet was nowhere in sight.

“Powder!” You called, limping toward her.

The little blue-haired girl tackled you in a leap and brought you to your ass. You stifled a painful, gutteral scream as your bad leg twisted even further. Powder latched onto you, staining your shirt with her tears. You leaned your head back on the cold, cold pavement and let yourself cry.

The building was still crackling with fire. You didn’t even hear them until you opened your eyes and saw him. Him.

You unsheathed the blade from your belt and pulled yourself as far from him as you could with a lame leg and with Powder mourning in your arms. “Stay away.”

Silco raised his arms to show he was weaponless. “Let me help you, y/n.”

You glared at him sharply. “What do you know about us?” When Silco took a step forward, you waved your knife in the air. He swallowed, but stayed back.

“I know you’ve been taking the blame for your sisters’ actions for your entire life. I know that you are an astounding individual with the capacity to hold your ground,” Silco gestured towards a sniffling Powder. “As well as the the smarts to recognize when you are in a situation where you cannot protect yourself or… her.”

You sneer at him. “You talk pretty, but I’m careless enough to give myself up to give her a chance.”

Silco just tilted his head. “But we know you won’t do that,” he said. “You’ve already imagine the outcome.”

You drop your arm. And when the blade clatters to the ground, so does your facade. The man approaches you, slowly- like he knows you want him to. “Let me help you, y/n.”

His eyes gleam in the light. Like two bright neon signs. Like the ones that light up Vander’s bar. You are caught in his gaze like his prey: right where he wants you. Something stirs in your belly- something unfamiliar and dangerous and… yearning.

Vander scooped you up like Silco did once. Only Violet and Powder had the luxury of being carried around. Vander loved you- that much was true, but you craved the same treatment as your sister instead of being the rational, eldest daughter everyone expected.

But as Silco slid his arms under you and carried you against his chest, you felt the feeling in your gut grow. Powder had fallen asleep against your breasts and you grit your teeth to prevent you from crying out from the pain in your leg. As the lean, muscled man led you further into the night, you looked up to see his bright eyes flicker from your bruised body to the night ahead of you as though he’d been caught.

“What can I do?” You ask him, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting your cheek press to the fabric of his clothes. He relaxes into you slightly, wearily snuffing out his cigar.

He stares out of the window for another long moment. The green illuminated the room, giving him the dramatic flair he loves so much. “I do not know what to say to her.” He turns into you, eyebrows knitted. “I… I feel like the only ome she listens to is you. She- I don’t know how to talk to her. I don’t lnow what to say. She argues so much when all I want,” he looks off, eyes clouding as he thinks of what to say. Your hands cup his face tenderly. “All I want is you. Both of you.”

His guilty whispered admission makes your heart swell. Silco has fumbled over actions and doesn’t quite know what to say to young Jinx, but he means well. “I know, Sil. She’s just… growing up. My baby sister just wants you to trust her. She’ll come back when she’s ready and- and we can all talk, yeah? Powder just needs time to cool down.”

Silco’s eyes search your pink ones. “Your rationale is incredible.”

You smile. “I’m a woman, Silco. I’ve been in her position before.”

“That too,” Silco relents with a tight smile. “How is your leg?”

You shrug. “Not like I can feel it.”

A few weeks after Silco had taken you in, your leg had gotten infected. Desperate to save you, you were taken to Singed. The muscle had a festering infection bad enough to required amputation. Eventually, the blood loss was bad enough that Shimmer was required to stabilize you. All in all, the operation was taxing on all parties involved and had put a damper on Powder’s relationship with Silco because she thought he was the one that infected her. 

Silco thought he may have cried with relief when you finally opened your eyes and soothed him with the knowledge that you were okay.

Another week later and you were getting the best prosthetics money could buy, thanks to Silco. Powder had insisted she be by your side every metaphorical and literal step of the way. 

These days, your leg ached because of the work you kept yourself busy with. Against Silco’s wishes, of course. You knew he didn’t like when you left. Everyone knew Silco didn’t like when you were just two rooms away from him. He was protective, possessive… He felt love. Stupid, passionate, unexpected love. You knew he loved you and you loved him too.

And with you constantly on your feet doing work you didn’t need to do, Silco worried. Or maybe that was just because he wanted an excuse to see you every moment of every day.

“Hey, let me take care of you for once,” you told him when he arched an eyebrow at you. A laugh spilled from your lips when Silco- as he routinely does- pulls your baggy pants up to your thigh and detaches the prosthetic limb just above your knee. Then, he pulls you into his arms, your familiar weight grounding him and reminding him of why he does what he does: for you and your sister.

Silco scoffs. “You take care of me by simply being around me. Besides, I am quite fond of carrying you to bed.” His tone lightens at the end of his innuendo and his bright eyes flicker to you. “But… if you wanted to repay my overwhelming affection and respect-“

When Silco lies you down on the bed, you waste no time in pulling him harshly onto you by the collar. “-then you know how to be good for me, don’t you, y/n?” Silco purrs out the end of his sentence. He slots his thigh between your legs and dominates your kisses.

[nativegirltapes]

. . . drew’s new found fame was something you knew would come, he was too good of an actor to not get his big break. you just didn’t realize how much you and your relationship would suffer from it ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings / angel being an insecure bihhh (kind of), drew comforting her, happy ending bc life is sad enough to make a sad ending <3

you stood in the kitchen, stirring the homemade pasta you'd been working on for the past few hours mindlessly staring at the pot, but that's the last place your mind was.

you heard the door open and close, meaning drew was finally home. you fixed your posture and mentally prepped yourself. you felt so guilty, making drew's publicity basically all about you, but you literally couldn't help it.

"hey," drew came up behind you, embracing you in his bigs arms, leaving kisses on your ear. "how's my baby?"

"hi." you continued to stir the pasta, making every attempt to distract yourself from the tears that were threatening to spill. “how was your day?”

"it was fine," drew rubbed your back, he wanted to be close to you, to feel your touch. he hated being away from you, even if it were for just a few hours. "boring day. what did you do?" drew asked, desperate to hear more from you. usually the minute he walked through the door you were talking his ear off.

"not much." you replied.

"can you look at me?" drew's tone was firm, maybe even a hint of hurt. why weren't you talking to him? “what’s wrong?” drew asked the minute he seen that glossy layer in your eyes.

“it’s nothing,” you lied. “really.” you wiped your eyes, embarrassed that you were crying over something that was supposed to be a good thing.

if you didn’t want to talk about it, drew wasn’t going to force you, he wasn’t like that, but boy did he hate seeing you sad. “are you sure?” he hugged you, you buried your face in his chest, which for some reason made you want to cry even more.

“i just love you,” you mumbled in his shirt, you weren’t sure if he could ever hear you. “and i don’t want to lose you.” drew pulled away, looking down at you with furrowed brows and a confused look. “lose me? i’m right here.”

your sad doe eyes looking up at him all puffy and red did something to him; seeing you sad made him sad. “well i don’t know,” you looked down, but drew quickly grabbed you by your chin and made you look up at him again. “what if you find better than me?”

“better than you?” drew chuckled. “i don’t think that’s possible.” he wrapped his arms around you again, giving you a peck on the head. although you knew drew didn’t lie to you, you still couldn’t help but feel like he was just saying that. “i’m serious.” he assured you, like he could see right through you and everything you were thinking. “i only want you.”

unable to form a coherent response; you embraced him in a hug. he never made you feel like you were too much, in fact he loved you because you were ‘too much.’

“how bout this pasta?”

[0omillo0]

Felix angst/comfort (you can use this for the clingy series) where Felix feels the constant need to spend time with Y/N ( also rip this hits home for me) and Y/N is, for the first time in their life, not clingy. Like Felix perceives their actions as clingy but in their mind they feels free and as least clingy as they’ve ever been. And then Felix does the whole calls them clingy. And they have to take a moment because they, for once, felt so confident in themselves that they weren’t being clingy, and now they are second guessing themselves. (This is weirdly personal, I’ve been here before, please give mega angst but even more comfort)

Calling you clingy

Felix x Reader ; angst -> comfort

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! merry christmas loves

Felix had always been a gentle, steady presence in your life—a warmth you could lean into when the world felt cold. His kindness had a way of pulling you out of your head, grounding you when your insecurities threatened to take over. You loved him for it.

But lately, his warmth felt different. He’d been clinging to you in ways you didn’t recognize, filling the spaces between your conversations with a soft desperation. He was more insistent on spending time together—seeking you out even when you felt perfectly fine sitting in your solitude.

At first, it was easy to brush off. Felix was affectionate by nature, and you’d always loved that about him. But when his gentle invitations turned into subtle comments—“Oh, you’re busy again?”—and his eyes lingered on you just a beat too long, you felt a weight you couldn’t explain.

It hurt, because for the first time in your life, you weren’t chasing validation. You weren’t battling the constant fear of being too much. Instead, you’d been reclaiming a sense of independence—spending time with yourself and learning to love the quiet.

You had felt proud. Free. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to text Felix every hour or overthink every interaction. And it had been working. The days felt lighter, and you believed you were finding a balance between nurturing your relationship with him and nurturing yourself.

And yet, tonight unraveled everything.

“Hey,” Felix called softly, pulling your attention away from the pile of papers on your desk.

The sound of his voice was cautious, hesitant, and you immediately turned to face him. “Yeah?” you asked, a small smile on your face. “What’s up?”

Felix shifted in place, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. He looked like a boy on the verge of confessing something he thought would ruin everything. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course.” You set down your pen, turning your full attention to him.

His gaze dropped, and you noticed the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Do you think… maybe you’ve been a little clingy lately?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

Clingy?

Your heart sank, the air leaving your lungs in an instant. The weight of his question crashed into you, heavy and suffocating, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around you. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice small and disbelieving.

He nodded, wincing slightly as if bracing for backlash. “I mean… you’re always around. You always want to hang out, and I love being with you—I do. But sometimes I feel like…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to soften the blow.

“Like I’m suffocating you,” you finished for him, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“No!” Felix said quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need a little space sometimes. And I don’t want you to take that the wrong way.”

But how else could you take it? You stared at him, your stomach twisting violently. His words felt like a knife turning in an old wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

Clingy.

That label had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It was the word that stuck to you like a shadow, the fear that kept you second-guessing every relationship, every friendship. But you had worked so hard to overcome it. You’d been careful—so careful—to give Felix the space he deserved while finally giving yourself the freedom to breathe.

And now, the one person who made you feel safe had torn that progress apart.

“Felix…” you started, your voice trembling. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be clingy. Like… so hard.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been holding back,” you said, the words tumbling out in a bitter rush. “I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t been texting you constantly, or asking to hang out every second, or freaking out if I don’t hear from you for a while. I thought I was finally getting it right.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, trying to rein in the tears that threatened to spill.

Felix’s expression shifted, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. “Y/N…”

“But I guess even when I think I’m doing better, it’s still not enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Felix said, stepping forward. His face crumpled with regret as he reached for you. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, stepping back out of his reach. Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to steady your breath. “I get it. You need space. I’ll give you your space.”

“No, Y/N, don’t do that,” Felix said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t—”

“I just need a minute, okay?” you said quickly, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix standing there with his heart in his throat.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence of your room felt deafening. You sank onto your bed, your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t answer.

Had you been too much? Had you failed to notice something you should have?

You replayed every interaction in your head, dissecting your choices and second-guessing the progress you’d been so proud of.

Meanwhile, Felix sat outside your door, his knees pulled to his chest. His head was heavy in his hands, guilt eating away at him with every passing second. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say those words—words that clearly cut you so deeply.

Finally, he knocked softly, his voice trembling. “Y/N?”

There was no response.

“Please,” he tried again, his throat tight. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me in.”

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing your tear-streaked face. Felix’s heart broke all over again. Without a second thought, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how hard you’d been trying… and I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”

You stiffened slightly in his arms. “Scared?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me as much anymore. And I know that’s selfish, but it made me panic. I thought maybe you were pulling away because you didn’t want to be around me.”

His words sank in slowly, and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Felix… I wasn’t pulling away. I was trying to find a balance. For me. For us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I ruined it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re not clingy. You’re amazing, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

His sincerity broke through your walls, and you leaned into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort you. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you murmured.

“You won’t,” Felix promised, holding you tighter. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen better. And I’ll never call you clingy again. I swear.”

You stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, the steady beat of his heart grounding you as the ache in your chest slowly began to ease. Felix didn’t let go, his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his breath warm against your hair. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I messed up. I didn’t realize how much you’d been trying, and instead of supporting you, I let my own fears get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening with every word. “You really thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

He nodded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was filled with regret, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I got scared. You seemed so confident, so… happy on your own. And I thought maybe I was the only one who still needed us as much as I do.”

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “Felix, I need us. I always have. I just…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I needed to know I could stand on my own too. Not because I don’t love you, but because I wanted to be better for you. For both of us.”

His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “You are better, Y/N. You’re amazing. And I should have told you that instead of making you feel like… like this.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Felix was quick to catch it, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t think you realize how much I look up to you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so strong, and I’m… I’m so proud of you. I hate that I made you second-guess yourself.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you leaned into his hand, letting yourself feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. “You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Every word,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve been so brave, Y/N. I see it. And I’ll spend every day reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes to make up for tonight.”

For the first time that night, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. The sting of his earlier words lingered, but his apology—his love—was genuine.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Felix. Just… promise me we’ll talk next time, okay? No more letting things fester.”

He nodded quickly, his lips twitching into a faint, relieved smile. “I promise. I’ll do better. No more keeping things to myself. And no more calling you clingy. Ever.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Good. Because that word is banned forever.”

“Forever,” Felix agreed, a playful light returning to his eyes. He shifted, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’re not clingy, Y/N. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. For the first time in hours, you felt truly at ease.

Later that night, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the tension of the evening a distant memory. Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as the quiet hum of a movie played in the background.

“Y/N?” he murmured after a while, his voice soft and contemplative.

“Yeah?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink as the words left his mouth.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Felix.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said gently, resting your hand over his. “We’ll figure it all out. Together.”

Felix’s arms tightened around you, his lips curving into a soft smile against your skin. “Together,” he echoed, and in that moment, you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t doubting your place in his life or worrying about being too much. Felix’s love wrapped around you like a promise—a reassurance that you didn’t have to change to be enough.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[konigofmyheart]

warming könig up

“lemme come warm you up, you been out in the snow/ baby my tongue goes numb, sounds like ho,ho,ho”

<MDNI>

(smut, blowjob, gn!reader, no actual mentions of christmas!)

° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★ ° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★ ° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★

you and könig rent a cabin in the woods for the holidays, taking advantage of his many accumulated vacation days (imagine the look of surprise on his superiors’ face when they saw his week-long time off request! they actually did a double take as könig had only ever taken an average of two days off each year- never around the holiday season- before he started dating you).

a couple days in, after amusing yourselves hiking through the woods to take in the scenery (thoroughly bundled up to stave off the chill of the snow), soaking in the giant hot tub in the bathroom (he can finally stretch out in a tub for once!), and having lengthy movie nights, könig ventures out to chop more firewood for the rustic fireplace in the den. the house is warm enough, but the moment you remarked how you loved the fireplace and how it makes the cabin feel amazingly cozy, könig made a vow to always keep it lit for you. you’d assured him it was fine, that you didn’t need it permanently lit, but he wouldn’t hear it. why shouldn’t his liebling get every single heart’s desire?

when he comes back in, shaking snow from his heavy winter gear as he hauls in bundles of wood, you apologize for the umpteenth time. “nonsense, schatzi, you have nothing to apologize for. i love doing things for you, being useful to you” he hushes as he sheds his layers and boots, walking over to where you sit on the couch armrest. he leans down, gently pulling you in for a kiss. you shiver, gasping softly at how cold his lips feel. “come here, kö. you’re freezing!” you fuss, leading him over to the couch and pushing on his chest to get him to sit. you place your blanket around his back like a cape before taking his hands in yours, rubbing warmth back into them. he brushes off your fussing, acting like he doesn’t live for your loving and doting.

your chest tightens with affection as you think of what a wonderful time you’ve had at this cabin thus far, all thanks to könig’s planning and effort. you settle on the floor before him, the plush rug cushioning your knees comfortably. “what are you doing, schatzën- ah” he ends with a hushed groan as you lean forward, nuzzling at his cock through his pants. “just thanking you for the perfect vacation, mein könig”, you flutter your lashes at him, your voice velvety soft.

his eyes darken like turbulent oceans at the sight of you looking up at him like that. it’d make anyone weak in the knees. your teasing nuzzling has his cock hardening, filling out to its full length, and the moment a barely-there whine slips from deep inside him, you move to undo his pants and free his cock. normally you’d tease him for longer, see how long he lasts before he gets truly needy, but this is supposed to be for his benefit, a thank you for everything he’s done to make this the best vacation ever. you gently brush your fingers against the tip of his cock before wrapping your hand around it, stroking him at a slow, steady pace.

“thank you for having this idea, first of all. then thank you for picking the prettiest cabin ever. thank you for letting me sleep the whole drive up here, although on the way back i’m definitely staying up to keep you company on the drive , and you’re going to wake me if i start nodding off, okay?” you pause for a moment, looking up at him expectantly

“okay, but you really don’t have to-” his breath catches, muscular thighs tensing as you keep up your steady pace on his cock, his precum dribbling down the side to help your efforts.

“thank you for cooking every meal, especially because you’ve made just my favorites- don’t think i didn’t notice. tomorrow i’m making your favorite, and i’m not hearing otherwise. understood?” you scold, rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock. he nods quickly, a breathy “yes, schatzi, whatever you say,” slipping from his lips.

“…and, obviously, thank you for the fireplace. you always do everything to make sure i’m happy, and for that i can’t thank you enough, but i can try to do the same for you, hm? what do you think?” you’re leaning forward a bit now, your warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his cock. forgive him for his incoherent, stuttered response, he doesn’t really understand words at the moment, even less so when you place a teasing kiss on his tip.

you can’t help but laugh softly as you seal your lips around him, sucking gently, earning a strained groan from your man. he’s practically gone entirely pliant, the sight of such a strong, man falling apart because of you going to your head a little. your contented little hum sends torturously delicious vibrations down his cock, making him twitch inside your mouth. now, you know you could make him cum in seconds if you wished, but you really want to treat him, reward him for being so good. you maintain a steady, slow pace, easing more of him into your mouth with each bob of your head as you stroke the base with your hand.

you make sure to do everything you know he likes, maintaining eye contact as you sink your mouth lower, hollowing out your cheeks, swirling your tongue around his length as much as you can (it’s a bit difficult with how big he is; there isn’t much room left in your mouth). he’s practically floating in the clouds at this point, the way you’re sucking him off drives him crazy. time slows, suspending the two of you in this moment where you are all that exists for him, and he’s all you know. he’s looking down at you with such an affectionate warmth in his eyes, as if you hung the very stars in the sky. you’re sure your expression is no different, dutifully working your way down until the tip of his cock is brushing against the back of your throat. it took you a while to be able to take this much, and from the feel of what you’re still stroking, you still have a ways to go before you can take him all the way.

there’s time for that another day, though, and even könig seems to agree, his hands gripping the couch cushions as a way to stop himself from pushing you further than you wish to go. he’s always like that, putting you before him, isn’t he? you pull off his length, voice a little breathy as you praise him for keeping his hands to himself. that praise earns you a pathetic little whine, a sound that’d make him blush if he weren’t so close to cumming. you stroke his length with both hands as you catch your breath, cooing sweet words at him that he answers with groans and whines, his cock twitching in your hold.

“you wanna cum in my mouth? you know how much i like it, kö,” you tease, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him through your lashes. you kinda have to do this to get him to cum in your mouth, otherwise he’s insisting on just cumming all over your hands, not wanting to pressure you into swallowing it if you don’t want to, but now that you’re asking him for it… well, he did agree to “whatever you say”. he nods, a hushed “ja, schatzi, bitte” dropping from his now bitten lips. you smile, leaning forward to take his throbbing cock back into your mouth, warming it once more.

you look up at him with a special glint in your eyes, knowing all it’ll take is one more push. that push comes in the way of your free hand cupping his heavy balls, teasingly toying with them as you intensify your efforts, relishing in the way he trembles. he moans your name as he cums, the sound like music to your ears, spilling into your mouth with each twitch of his length. your muffled whine around his cock only adds to his pleasure, especially with how that makes your throat squeeze around his sensitive tip. careful not to overdo it, you maintain the pace of your hand and mouth, steadily working him through his high. you take his seed as it comes, swallowing every drop like you were made for it.

once he’s spent you pull off, panting softly as you lick your lips clean. “and now thank you for cumming for me like that, baby,” you tease, smiling as he pulls you up onto his lap, his hands soothing stroking your sides. he buries his face in your neck, little tremors still running through his body as he comes down. “i’d do anything for you, liebling. anything.” he whispers quietly, his breath tickling your neck before he pulls back, kissing you passionately. you melt against his body, answering his loving licks with your own, getting lost in the feeling of completeness. you’re more than surprised when he pulls away from the kiss, pushing you onto your back on the couch. he grins deviously as he settles between your spread legs, his big hands squeezing your thighs. “kö, what are you-”

“now it’s my turn to thank you for that, schatzi”

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

a/n: here is the third and perhaps final part? of Emergency Contact. I am open to the idea of writing more for this if you guys have some ideas you want to share with me! Otherwise, thank you so much for enjoying this mini series! I loved writing it and I can't wait to write more for Rafe <3 (Also, please lmk if tags aren't working!)

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: language, angst, drug use (cocaine), alcohol, mention of rehab

wc: 4k+

The days that followed were a blur of beer, late-night adventures, and laughter with the Pogues. You told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need Rafe’s attitude bringing you down. JJ had become a constant in your life, his arm draped over your shoulder more often than not. However, you still felt an empty hole in your chest.

You supposed you and JJ were a thing now, though you hadn’t put a label on it. He liked showing you off, and you didn’t mind the attention—especially when his lips trailed down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You let him explore your body, but you always stopped things before they went too far.

JJ didn’t say much about it, but you could tell he was frustrated. Still, he didn’t push you, which you appreciated.

A few nights later, you were sprawled across the couch with the Pogues, laughing as Sarah flailed her arms during a particularly dramatic game of charades. Her phone buzzed rapidly on the table beside you, but she didn’t notice.

“Sarah!” you called, grabbing her phone. “Your dad is blowing up your phone!”

The carefree energy in the room shifted as Sarah snatched her phone from your hands. Her brows furrowed as she read through the missed calls and texts. “Shit…” she muttered, worry creeping into her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Kiara asked, the concern spreading to everyone else.

“My dad can’t get in touch with Rafe,” Sarah said, her tone uneasy. “He’s out of town and freaking out.”

“Is Rafe okay?” you asked, your stomach twisting with sudden anxiety.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Sarah said quickly, but her eyes darted to the screen again. You could tell she wasn’t being entirely honest. “I just need to check on him. I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

You sat there, staring at the spot where Sarah had been. Pulling out your phone, you opened your text thread with Rafe. It had been five days since you’d last heard from him.

Are you okay? you typed, hesitating for only a second before hitting send.

The screen remained blank, no reply. With a heavy sigh, you tucked your phone back into your pocket and turned back to the group.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” JJ said softly, brushing your hair aside to kiss your cheek. He pulled you closer, offering comfort, but it didn’t reach the pit of unease growing in your chest.

“Yeah…” you mumbled, trying to believe him. But your mind was elsewhere.

All you could think about was Rafe.

-

“Rafe?” Sarah’s voice echoed through the house as she stepped inside. The space was dark and suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint thrum of music coming from down the hall. She reached for the light switch, illuminating the chaos around her—Rafe’s belongings strewn across the house like an abandoned battleground.

As she moved into the kitchen, her stomach twisted. Empty liquor bottles were tipped over on the island, surrounded by half-smoked joints and cigarette butts. She frowned, fighting the wave of dread rising in her chest.

“Rafe?” she called out again, louder this time, as she ventured deeper into the house. Her sandals crunched against the sticky floor. The music grew louder as she approached the master bedroom, the sound of heavy metal shaking the walls. It was a genre so foreign to Rafe that it made her pause.

Reaching for the handle, Sarah opened the door slowly, peeking inside. The sight before her made her heart drop.

Rafe sat slumped over his dresser, shirtless, his jeans undone and his hair disheveled. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels stood beside him, its sticky contents dripping down the side. He sniffed at the surface of the dresser, the residue of white powder glaring under the dim light.

“Rafe…” Sarah whispered, stepping in to lower the volume on the stereo. The silence that followed was heavy. “I thought you quit,” she said, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. Seeing him like this—broken, lost, a shadow of the brother she thought she’d gotten back—was almost unbearable.

Rafe didn’t look at her. Instead, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. “Why’d you do it, Sarah?” he asked, his voice hoarse and low.

“D-Do what?” she stammered, blinking back tears.

He didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on organizing another line of cocaine with unsteady hands.

“Dad’s worried,” she said, trying to keep her composure. “He told me to check on you. Rafe, what’s wrong? Why are you doing this? Y/N said you’d been acting weird, but I—”

“Y/N…” he interrupted bitterly, spitting out your name like it burned his tongue. “That’s the problem, Sarah.”

Sarah froze, her stomach tightening as Rafe finally turned to look at her. His bloodshot eyes were sunken, the pain etched deep into his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Why’d you hook Y/n up with JJ?” He asked, his voice breaking. “You knew—” He inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself. “You knew I fucking liked her, Sarah! You knew I…”

He trailed off, choking on his words.

Sarah’s lip quivered as she stared at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“You know I love her,” Rafe admitted, his voice barely audible as he crumbled to the floor. His back hit the edge of the bed, and he buried his face in his hands. The weight of those words hung heavy in the air. For so long, he’d buried the truth, but now it was out, raw and unfiltered.

Sarah knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms. “Rafe…” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. You never told me…”

Rafe shook his head, his body trembling as he sobbed. “It doesn’t matter. She’s with him now,” he said, his voice cracking. “I ruined everything. I treated her like shit, Sarah. She’s never going to forgive me. Never.”

Sarah held him tighter, her heart breaking for him. She didn’t know what to say, so she just let him cry. His sobs eventually softened, the exhaustion of the past few days finally catching up to him.

She helped him into bed, pulling the covers over him as he drifted into a deep, uneasy sleep. His breathing evened out, the rise and fall of his chest steadying. Sarah lingered for a moment, watching her brother in the dim light. He looked so fragile, so unlike the Rafe she grew up with.

Once she was certain he was asleep, she quietly left the room, leaving the door cracked open behind her. She pulled out her phone and dialed Ward, holding it to her ear as she began to clean up the kitchen.

“Yeah, he’s okay now,” she said, responding to Ward’s worried question. “I’m letting him sleep it off. I’ll get rid of the drugs and clean up the place, but… he’s not okay, Dad. He’s really not.” Her voice broke, but she steadied herself, wiping away a tear.

Ward’s response was short but decisive. “I’ll be on the next flight out.”

Hanging up, Sarah continued to clean, throwing away bottles and sweeping up the debris of her brother’s downward spiral. She was scrubbing the counter when her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with your photo, your name glowing brightly.

Sarah hesitated, her hand hovering over the phone. She sighed deeply before answering. “Hey…” she said softly, already knowing this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

You glanced at JJ, passed out on the couch across the room. His frustration earlier had been palpable—trying and failing to get you to sleep with him yet again. But how could you? Your mind was elsewhere, consumed with worry for Rafe. JJ had finally given up and flopped down, his snores starting almost instantly.

You scoffed, clutching your phone tighter in your hand. If JJ truly cared about you, he wouldn’t be pressuring you when you were clearly preoccupied. He wouldn’t be making this about himself. The analog clock on the wall read 2:13 a.m., and each unanswered ring on the phone made your anxiety climb higher.

Finally, Sarah’s soft voice came through. “Hey…”

“Sarah!” you exclaimed, standing up abruptly. “What’s going on? Is Rafe okay?”

There was a long pause, and her hesitation made your stomach drop. “Uhm…” Her voice cracked, and you knew.

“Sarah, what is it?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Yes and no,” she finally said. “He… he relapsed.”

The weight of those words hit you like a freight train. You sank back down into the chair as tears blurred your vision. “Fuck…” you whispered, your voice breaking. You wiped at your face, but the tears kept coming. “I knew something was wrong. I tried, Sarah. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he just—”

“Y/N,” Sarah interrupted, her voice urgent but soft. “Can you just come over? I think he needs you right now.”

Her words stopped you in your tracks. “Me? Why would he need me?”

“Please,” she pleaded, ignoring your question.

You didn’t need to hear more. “I’m on my way,” you said, grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

When you arrived at Rafe’s house, the dim light spilling out from the kitchen was the only sign of life. You stumbled inside to find Sarah sweeping up broken glass, the remnants of Rafe’s spiral.

“Where is he?” you asked, your voice breathless.

“He’s sleeping,” Sarah replied, her tone weary. She leaned against the counter and set the broom aside. “My dad’s flying back in the morning.”

You hesitated, watching her carefully. “Do you know what happened? Why does he… why does he need me?”

Sarah sighed deeply, dropping onto one of the barstools at the island. “I think I might’ve messed up,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. “Rafe… he…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words.

“He what, Sarah?” you snapped, your patience wearing thin. “Just say it!”

Sarah’s gaze shot up to meet yours, her voice breaking as she blurted out, “He loves you, okay?!”

Your heart stopped. The air left the room. “What?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Sarah softened, guilt etched across her face. “He loves you, Y/N. And I didn’t know… I didn’t know how much. I thought it was just some crush. He never made a move, so I figured he didn’t care. I thought setting you up with JJ would be fun, but I-” She sighed, her words tumbling over each other.

“Sarah, stop,” you said, cutting her off. She was spiraling, and you could barely keep up with her frantic explanations. “It’s not your fault.”

The room fell silent, and her words hung heavy in the air. Rafe loved you. He always had. And you—stupid, oblivious you—had missed it.

Sarah studied you for a moment, her tear-filled eyes softening. “Do you love him?” she asked quietly.

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Her lips curved into a brief, sad smile as she wiped at her own tears. “Go to him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when my dad gets back. He’ll probably send him off to rehab again, but… he needs you right now.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, your heart hammering in your chest as you stood. Sarah returned to her cleaning, giving you the space you needed.

Rafe’s bedroom door creaked softly as you pushed it open, slipping inside. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Your gaze landed on him, sprawled across the bed. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the confident and composed Rafe you’d always known. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips slightly parted. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, and his hair was a disheveled mess.

Your heart ached as you stepped closer. You could see the toll the past few days had taken on him—the flushed cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint tremor in his hand even as he slept.

Carefully, you slid into bed beside him, your weight barely shifting the mattress. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. His grip tightened instinctively, and you smiled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I love you, Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You didn’t know if he could hear you, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, you let yourself say the words out loud.

And for the first time in days, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Your eyes fluttered open to the early morning sun peeking through the blinds. The air was heavy, a mix of stale whiskey and regret clinging to the room. You turned your head slightly, finding Rafe curled into you. For someone usually so imposing, he looked impossibly small, trembling as the aftershocks of withdrawal rippled through his body.

“Rafe?” you whispered, brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. His cheek was flushed under your palm, warm and slick with sweat.

“It’s freezing…” he mumbled, though his skin burned with fever.

You frowned, heart aching at the sight of him. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower,” you murmured gently.

Helping him out of bed proved to be a challenge. He groaned as you maneuvered him upright, his body heavy and uncoordinated, but you were determined. Once you were in the bathroom you carefully peeled his jeans off, leaving him in his boxers, before guiding him toward the shower.

The sound of the water rushing into the tub filled the space. You adjusted the temperature until it was lukewarm—cool enough to help his fever but not cold enough to make him shiver. As soon as Rafe stepped under the spray, he slumped to the floor of the tub with a heavy groan, his knees drawn up, arms resting limply on them.

You perched on the closed toilet lid, keeping an eye on him. He looked utterly spent, the water coursing over his fevered skin, plastering his messy hair to his forehead. You pulled out your phone to find a text from Sarah.

Dad’s flight is delayed. Won’t make it until tonight.

You exhaled in quiet relief. At least you had more time to be here with Rafe before Ward arrived and took over.

Can you bring me a liquid IV? I’ve got him in the shower, you texted back.

Minutes later, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. You opened it just enough to see Sarah holding a glass. She handed it to you, her brows furrowed with worry. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s coming down,” you said, taking the glass from her. “He’s got a bit of a fever, but I think he’ll be okay.”

Sarah bit her lip but nodded. “Okay… I’ll make some breakfast,” she said quietly.

“Thanks, Sarah. We’ll be out soon,” you assured her, closing the door again.

You turned back to Rafe, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the shower floor. His shoulders were hunched, the water cascading down his back. Slowly, you crouched by the tub and opened the shower door.

“Rafey,” you coaxed gently, holding the glass out. “I need you to drink this. It’ll help, okay?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, glassy and tired, but he obediently took the glass with trembling hands. You guided it to his lips, helping him sip slowly. It took a few minutes, but he managed to finish it, and you set the empty glass aside with a soft smile.

“Good job,” you said softly, brushing your fingers against his damp hair.

Rafe’s voice broke through the quiet. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he rasped.

You shook your head, crouching closer. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I fucked up,” he sighed, his head dipping forward.

“No, Rafe, I did.” You bit your lip, your voice trembling as you confessed. “I should’ve told you a long time ago… that I love you.”

His head snapped up, his bloodshot blue eyes locking onto yours. “You what?” His voice cracked, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears threatening to spill. “I love you, Rafe. And I’m so sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve been there for you…”

Rafe stared at you, his body frozen as your words sank in. Every chaotic thought in his mind came to a halt, silenced by the sheer weight of your confession. Before either of you could second-guess the moment, he reached out, his strong hand pulling you into the shower with him.

“Rafe—!” you gasped as the water soaked through your clothes, but your protest died on your lips as his mouth found yours.

The kiss was soft yet desperate, his lips trembling against yours, the weight of unspoken years pouring into the moment. It took you a second to process what was happening, but then you melted into him, snaking an arm around his neck and tangling your fingers in his damp hair.

Every problem, every heartache, every unanswered question disappeared as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you to him. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself forget the world outside.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless. His blue eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. Your mascara ran in streaks down your cheeks, and strands of wet hair clung to your face, but none of it mattered.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but steady.

You smiled through your tears, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “I love you too, Rafe.”

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not Ward, not Sarah, not the mistakes or the pain. Just you and Rafe, tangled together, the water washing away everything but the promise of a new beginning.

You and Sarah spent the day nursing Rafe back to health. Between making sure he ate and keeping him hydrated, most of your time was spent curled up with him on the couch. He gravitated toward your warmth, his head resting on your shoulder as Adventure Time played softly on the TV. His apologies spilled out at regular intervals, at least once every thirty minutes, as though they were on a timer.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice barely above a whisper.

You ran your fingers gently through his hair, offering a soft smile. “Rafey, it’s okay. We’ve already forgiven you.”

Sarah chimed in from the kitchen, “She’s right. We just want you to focus on getting better.”

But no matter how much reassurance you both gave him, Rafe couldn’t seem to forgive himself. His relapse haunted him—forcing his dad to cut a business trip short, the anger he’d unleashed on you, the guilt over falling back into old habits. He swore up and down he’d never touch cocaine again, especially now that he had you, but addiction wasn’t that simple. You knew the moment Ward arrived, he would take charge of the situation.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room as you snuggled deeper into Rafe’s arms. Between soft kisses and whispered promises of a future together, you tried to savor the quiet moments. In the kitchen, Sarah hummed softly as she worked on dinner, the smell of roasted potatoes and chicken wafting through the house.

Then, the front door slammed open. The calm shattered as Ward’s heavy footsteps echoed through the house.

“Where is he?” Ward’s voice boomed, sharp with frustration and worry.

Sarah stepped into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “On the couch with Y/N,” she said quietly, her eyes darting to you and Rafe.

Rafe tensed beside you. You placed a comforting hand on his chest, but he was already pushing the blanket off and rising to his feet.

“Hey, Dad,” he said softly, his voice thick with shame.

Ward’s expression was a mixture of relief and disappointment as his eyes scanned his son. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled Rafe into a firm embrace. Rafe stiffened at first but then melted into it, his head dropping to Ward’s shoulder.

“Let’s go talk,” Ward said gruffly, his hand gripping Rafe’s shoulder as he guided him toward the master bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you and Sarah in heavy silence. You sat down at the kitchen island, pulling Rafe’s blanket around your shoulders, the lingering warmth proving to be a poor substitute for him.

“Ward’s going to send him away, isn’t he?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah sighed as she plated some food and slid it in front of you. “Probably,” she admitted, sitting across from you with her own plate. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

You frowned. “Why are you apologizing?” you asked, absentmindedly poking at a roasted potato.

Sarah hesitated before speaking. “I should’ve known you two were in love. How could I have been so blind? If I hadn’t pushed JJ on you, maybe none of this would’ve happened. This is all my fault.”

You shook your head and reached across the table to take her hands. “Sarah, this isn’t your fault. It’s not your job to play matchmaker. Maybe Rafe and I just ignored what was right in front of us for too long.”

She gave you a small, sheepish smile. “So… you don’t really like JJ?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “JJ’s fine. Kind of a dick though. There’s no connection there. Not like what I feel for Rafe.”

Sarah grinned, her eyes brightening a little. “Maybe one day we’ll be sisters,” she teased.

You chuckled. “Let’s get through tonight first.”

The bedroom door creaked open, and both of you turned as Ward made his way into the kitchen. His expression was firm but calm. “I’m taking him to treatment first thing in the morning,” he announced.

Your heart clenched, but you nodded, understanding. This was what Rafe needed, even if it hurt to let him go.

Ward glanced between you and Sarah before his features softened slightly. “Sarah, why don’t you and I spend the night at Tanneyhill? Give Rafe and Y/N some time alone.”

Sarah smiled and hugged you tightly before gathering her things. “Thank you, Mr. C,” you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

He gave you a small nod. “Call if you need anything,” he said before ushering Sarah out the door.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what would likely be one of the hardest nights of your life. With the house quiet again, you made your way down the hall to Rafe’s bedroom.

You knocked softly before opening the door. Rafe was already in bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, but when he saw you, a small smile tugged at his lips. He patted the space beside him, inviting you to lay with him.

Climbing into bed, you turned to face him, resting your head on his chest. “How are you feeling?” you asked gently.

“Better. A lot better,” he said, wrapping an arm around you. His smile faltered, replaced by a frown. “But my dad’s not going to let me off easy.”

“It’s okay, Rafey,” you reassured him, lacing your fingers with his. “Take the time you need to get better. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He turned his head to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt. “You promise?”

You smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Cross my heart.”

A genuine smile broke across his face, something that was rare to find in Rafe Cameron. Holding him close, you let the rhythm of his breathing lull you into a sense of calm. Whatever came next, you’d face it together.

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[ripdragonbeans]

Winter Activities // modern!Aegon x Reader

Summary: You and Aegon try to come up with ideas to do that are Winter themed but then something else comes to your mind instead.

Warnings: little head injury, smut

“Aegon, you asshole!” You screamed. 

A snowball hit you square in the face and Aegon was by himself with laughter. The snow was high enough that it covered your ankles. Walking and running in the snow proved to be a challenge in itself. Awkwardly moving in the snow, you did your best to get away from Aegon, only to face plant in the snow.

Aegon resumed his laughter. “You okay?” He asked when he caught his breath.

Instead of saying anything you held a thumbs up. You were still face first in the snow and mumbled something about being comfortable in the freezing weather.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Aegon said as he made his way to you.

Finally, you rolled over so you were on your back, still refusing to get up. As you sank into the snow you said, “Excuse you, I’m perfectly fine laying in the freezing snow after being hit in the face with a snowball, thank you very much.”

“If I join you will that make everything better?”

You pouted as you nodded your head. Aegon fell back unceremoniously onto the snowy ground and stared up at the sky.

“This better?” He asked.

You rolled over to envelop him in a hug on the ground. “Better.”

It was a sweet moment, the two of you holding each other in the snow. That is until Aegon snuck his hand around you with the excuse of wanting to hold you closer. He gathered a fist full of snow in his hand and smacked the back of your head before getting up and running away. 

“Aegon, you asshole!” You called after him. You struggled to get up, slipping on the snow and not finding very good footing. Once you gained your balance you sprinted after your chaotic boyfriend.

“Not my fault you're not good at snowball fights, bunny,” Aegon said as he made you two hot chocolate.

You were nursing a bump on your head. It appeared a bit after you came inside. You figured it was from the snowball fight and immediately accused Aegon. 

“That doesn't mean I should get a fucking concussion,” you countered.

“It's not a concussion, it's just a little bump.” Aegon plopped himself next to you on the couch. “Now, drink your hot chocolate before I drink it up.”

“Heathen.”

“Yes, but I'm your heathen.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Taking a sip of your hot drink, you relaxed a bit. You weren't mad at Aegon, you were just giving him a hard time because you knew he'd push back. It was your thing. You'd push each other's buttons and then make up. It was part of the fun of your relationship.

“What should we do next?” You asked as you put down your mug.

Aegon shrugged. “I don't know? There's a cookie set in the cabinet that we haven't used yet.”

That got you excited. Your eyes lit up as you smiled. “I forgot about those! Yes, let's decorate cookies!” You rushed to get up and almost knocked your hot chocolate over but Aegon was there to save it.

“Careful, bunny,” he laughed. He pulled you into his lap by your waist once he moved the mug out of the way. “You're very adorable when you get excited, you know that?” He nuzzled into your neck.

You giggled. “Maybe.” Pressing a soft kiss against his forehead you slowly started moving your hips.

Aegon groaned. “What happened to the cookies?”

“Well, since you put me on your lap I thought of a different idea.” 

You could feel him getting hard through his pants. Aegon’s hands went from your waist to your ass. After giving you a quick squeeze, he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

It wasn't a soft kiss, it was a kiss full of passion and impatience. You began to grind against him even more as you ran a hand up under his shirt. You needed the skin to skin feeling. 

Aegon pulled at your lip gently. “Do you want something?” He teased.

“I want your clothes off,” you murmured against him.

“And I want yours off, too.” Aegon slipped his hand underneath your shirt and cupped your breasts.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“What?” Aegon ran a thumb over your nipple. He reached around and unclasped your bra and let it fall. “Oops.”

Pulling Aegon back into a searing kiss, you tore his shirt over his head and soon did the same to yours. You pressed your bodies against each other, basking in the warmth.

Aegon slipped his hands beneath the waistband of your pants and tugged them down. Smiling, you got off his lap and finished the job. Clad in only your panties, you turned around to give him a whole view of yourself. Aegon quickly followed and discarded his pants and underwear, leaving him completely bare. You couldn't help but stare at his hard member.

“See something you like?” He taunted.

You gently pushed him back into the couch and kneeled before him. “You know what I like.”

Aegon gripped your chin in his hands. “Then take it.”

So you did.

Spitting in your hand, you gripped Aegon's cock and began to work it up and down. His eyes never left you but you could tell he was getting worked up. Leaning forward, you darted your tongue out to lick just the tip. Aegon couldn't help the groan that came out of his mouth or the pump of his hips into the air.

Smiling deviously, you slowly took as much of him in your mouth as you could. You still had to use a hand to work all of him. You looked up and gave him a wink before bobbing your head up and down. With each thrust you'd take more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat. Aegon’s hands went to your hair and he held you down. You bobbed your head just a little more and then hummed around his cock.

“Fuck!” Aegon released your head but soon began meeting you with his thrusts.

You were sure he was going to finish in your mouth but he pulled you off of him and into another searing kiss.

“When I come, it's going to be in that tight pussy, bunny, not in your mouth,” he said against you. “But first.”

Aegon kissed his way down your body, making sure to stop at your tits and to suck on a nipple before switching to the other one. He knew you loved nipple play and it never failed to make you wet. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet the longer he played with you. While his mouth would work on, his hand would go to the other to pinch and play.

You tried sitting in his lap again but Aegon pushed you out to the couch and spread your legs. You were bare for him. 

“Fuck, you're wet,” he said as he stared at you. 

Tentatively, he prodded one finger at your folds. You mewled and lifted your hips up for more. You thought he would push you down but he did just the opposite. He pulled you closer to him and descended on your pussy. 

His mouth was magic. He ate you out like a man starved. You couldn't help your moans of pleasure as he devoured you. When he focused on your clit he stuck two fingers in, making you scream in surprise and pleasure. He made sure his pumping matched his licks and it had you seeing stars. He latched into your clit and hummed, sending vibrations all throughout your body.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” You called out as you began nearing your peak.

“That's right, bunny,” Aegon praised you. “Come for me.”

Those words sent you into straight bliss. Pleasure darkened your vision until you could focus on nothing but the feeling Aegon was causing you.

Slowly, Aegon came to a stop and pulled his fingers out of your entrance but carefully placed them in your mouth. 

“Suck.” He ordered.

Looking at him with big eyes, you did as he commanded and tasted yourself on his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he cooed as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his own lips. 

Again, you tasted yourself on him and you loved it.

“We're going to do something special, bunny. Trust me and get on all fours.”

You nodded your head and did as he said, still in bliss from your orgasm. Aegon slapped your ass as soon as it was in the air but quickly soothed it with a kiss. He spread your cheeks open and groaned. 

“Gods, you're gorgeous like this,” he said before he licked your puckered hole.

You whimpered as his tongue ran over it.

“I won't use this hole. At least not yet, bunny,” he told you. “What I will use, though, is this wet pussy.”

Aegon took the base of his cock to guide it over your folds. You shivered at the feeling. He was teasing you. He would circle your entrance and almost enter you but would let his cock slide up and over.

It wasn't until you complained and shook your ass that he grabbed his cock and thrust into you.

It wasn't sweet, it wasn't gentle, it was hard and fast; just how you like it.

Being fucked from behind had him going deeper than ever before and you loved it. Aegon was hitting all these spots you never knew existed and you were obsessed. 

His hand came around your chest to play with your tits, which wound you up even more. Pleasure built within you as you met each thrust.

“Aegon, please,” you whined.

“Please, what, bunny?”

“Please let me come.”

Aegon thrust harder and harder, making you scream out. Your legs were going weak, the pleasure was becoming too much. Aegon grabbed your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against him.

“Come for me.”

With a cry of pleasure you let yourself go. Aegon continued to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own. He pushed you back down on all fours as he grabbed your hips and rutted into you.

“Fuck, bunny, I'm gonna -”

Aegon spilled his seed inside you, filling you up. Even as he finished up, he slowly kept thrusting into you, making you mewl.

After a while, he finally stilled and collapsed on top of you. Breathing hard, you moved your hand so you could run it through his hair, even at an awkward angle.

“Gods, that was -”

“- Holy fuck, bunny.”

You laughed. “Yeah.”

“Ugh, I don't want to move.”

“As much as I love having you on top of me, you're beginning to crush my lungs.”

Aegon groaned as he rolled over next to you. He pulled you in and held you tight. “Okay, time to sleep, bunny,” he yawned.

“You're not… you're not going to clean me up? Or move us to the bedroom?”

“Fuck, we're still on the couch.”

“And we have chocolate that's probably cold.”

“FUCK!”

And with that, Aegon jumped off of you to grab the hot chocolate mugs and rush them to the microwave, naked and all.

[ghostgirl-22]

feminization art this… feminization art that… feminization with patrick. i need him in pink lingerie IMMEDIATELY i need to see his full balls being hardly contained by the cutesy lacy pink panties!!!! i NEED ITITITIT and how would art react.

Hi anon! So I wrote this then saw you said pink. Sorry he’s in white lace. I hope that’s okay <3 also if you’re curious I added the reference here.

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Feminization kink

—-

Art grew up with only sisters, spent summers with his Grandma who also happens to be his favorite person. Oddly enough outside of Patrick, he’s always more naturally gravitated towards women. He felt pretty comfortable when chatting with women and they generally felt comfortable around him. Though it often meant that he saw too much or heard too much, and occasionally girls he met would think he was the “gay” friend and they’d undress in front of him or walk around in just a bra and underwear.

Sometimes even after he’d clarify many times that he was very much into women, some of his friends would do it anyway. It could get a bit confusing if he’s honest.

Patrick would tease him with that reductive take, “men and women can’t be friends.” And Art would disagree and then two weeks later one of his “friends” would tell him she was crushing on him. And as sensitive as Art could be, he’s still a red blooded male and he’d end up proving Patrick right.

He’s sitting in the dorm with one of his close friends Kelsey and a few other girls. One who happens to be Patrick’s ex girlfriend Ashley who Art doesnt know that well outside of the fact that she’s not that great of a tennis player. For whatever reason they’re talking about the silliest thing you’ve ever done for a boy. Ashley brings up the time she made her boyfriend try on lingerie at Victoria’s Secret.

Kelsey’s giggling. “You can’t mean Patrick Zweig.”

“Oh I definitely mean Patrick Zweig. And when I tell you it was so hot. Like his cock barely fit in those lacy white panties and he was just so…hard…” she giggles. “I think he liked it. Like a lot. We ended up fucking in the changing room.”

“Oh my god!” Kelsey says and she glances at Art, mouthing sorry. As she often did when girl talk got to be a little too much. Art forces himself to smile hoping he looks nonchalant but his palms are suddenly sweaty and his heart rate has picked up for some reason.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Ashley continues. “I had to fucking buy it all. It was so embarrassing. I just pulled off the tags and brought them to the register so they could ring everything up but it was so obvious to the sales lady what we did.” She says, grinning. “He didn’t care of course. I spent like two hundred bucks gave the whole set to him for his birthday and then he fucking cheated on me with Cali.”

A few minutes later Kelsey points out that Patrick is his roommate and best friend and Ashley giggles awkwardly and starts fidgeting with her curls. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that about your roommate.”

Art mumbles that it’s no big deal and that he knows Patrick can be an asshole so he doesn’t take offense.

But hours later he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like his mind is stuck. He can’t move on from that story. Patrick tells him just about everything but he’s never told him that. Art is certain he would have remembered lacy white panties.

He’s not sure what’s happening to him but when he gets back to his room he’s relieved to see it’s empty. It’s twelve in the afternoon and he’s touching himself. His head all wrapped up in that story. He tells himself it’s not about Patrick. And so what if his slightly addled brain is imagining Patrick’s tall, lanky form in barely there lace panties. His too big cock just overwhelming the fabric, jet black pubic hair everywhere. Imagines him fucking into Ashley’s pussy while she calls him a good girl. It’s not about Patrick, it’s the lingerie. Art moans as he spills all over his mattress. He collapses on the bed and sighs, “Such a good girl.”

He hears laughter and he freezes immediately, heat flooding his skin. Patrick must’ve snuck in sometime before he finished. Art hadn’t heard the door but to be fair he wasn’t gonna hear much of anything once he’d reached that state. He sits up in bed, most likely red as a tomato as he pulls his shorts up over his thighs.

”Who’s the good girl?” Patrick snorts, dropping his book bag by the door and settling across from Art on his own bed. “And I’ll take a wild guess, you were hanging out in Kelsey’s room. I told you man. Boys and girls can’t be friends.”

“It’s not— it’s nothing, um— how was tutoring?”

”Oh come on, don’t do that. Tell me.” Patrick says grinning.

Art can barely look at him. His imagination had just been so vivid. He’s so fucking grateful Patrick can’t read minds but of course it’s not gonna stop him from trying.

“Wow look at you, she must be really hot. Come on, sunshine… spill.” Patrick demands. When Art doesn’t offer anything Patrick starts guessing names. Following him around the room while he cleans up after his… activities. Art lets him talk himself silly until he gets distracted by something else. He is determined to never, ever, mention it to Patrick ever. But his brain doesn’t let go of the image. In fact, night after night the fantasy just expands.

Patrick on his knees. Lacy white bra on now and he’s playing with his nipples. And now instead of Ashley it’s Art with him at Victorias Secret. And he’s rubbing Patrick through the panties with his socked foot and calling him good girl. “Good girl. Pretty girl. You were so nice all day. I’m gonna fuck you in the dressing room. Don’t take the panties off.”

Art wakes up all sticky nearly every night and has to sneak out of bed to change his boxers. No excuse now for how or why he’s taken Ashley’s place. No excuse for why he’s horny all the time, touching himself every minute he has alone. Touching himself till he’s dizzy. He’s driving himself crazy. It’s not Patrick, it’s probably his brain being weird because they spend so much time together. He’s not gay. He definitely likes women. He just really, really needs to see what this lingerie looks like. Maybe that will calm him down.

He waits for Patrick to leave for practice, making an excuse about his shoulder even though he’s been fine for over a month since he pulled that muscle. And when he’s sure Patrick’s gone he goes digging through his things. He’s so disorganized compared to Art, he doesn’t have an assigned drawer for anything so it takes some time. He doesn’t even find it in the drawer actually. He ends up looking in his closet and there’s a little pink bag tucked in the top in the corner. He’d almost given up. Art pulls it down and something lacy and white falls out.

Art kinda regrets his decision. It’s this little baby doll lace slip and tight little see through panties. Art is even more obsessed now. The image in his head screaming loud and clear. Patrick’s big thighs in this. He can’t help himself. He crawls on the bed and starts touching himself. “Such a pretty girl. Such a good girl. Want me to play with you. Make you feel so good.” He’s whining. His head all wrapped up in fantasy. Imagining the soft sound of Patrick’s voice, (Mm yeah, yes. You can do whatever you want, sunshine).

He hears the door this time. It’s entirely too late to hide the evidence but he’s still trying. Patrick’s got his tennis bag and he’s all flushed from practice. “Um…” he says stopping in his tracks as he reaches the bed and notices the lingerie.

Art doesn’t think he can possibly be anymore embarrassed and then Patrick starts grinning. “Oh fuck. Did Ashley tell you?”

Art nods because his voice isn’t really working.

“Fuck,” Patrick looks over Art and Art secures the blanket over himself trying to hide it. “You can try it on if you want, I washed em,” Patrick says, lightly.

Art bites his lip and then clears his throat. “I was thinking maybe you… you could?” In his fantasies he always sounds more assertive.

Patrick looks at him amused. “Oh Donaldson, am I the good girl?”

Art feels himself flushing so much he ponders going into the bathroom and hiding in there until they finish their senior year and he can disappear to Stanford and never see or hear from Patrick again.

“Fuck… okay…” Patrick says, chuckling all soft as he gazes at Art. “I can be your good girl.” He picks up the lingerie.

Art almost starts touching himself again, right then and there for the way Patrick says it.

“You want to watch me put it on? Or you want me to just come out ready for you?” Patrick asks, like this is just the most normal thing in the world.

Art clears his throat again. “R-ready?”

Patrick grins. “Okay stay there. Don’t touch.”

It’s a good thing he said that because it’s all Art wants to fucking do. He ponders lying on his side and just humping the mattress as a workaround. He hears the shower run but Patrick doesn’t take too long. Doesn’t take long at all. Whatever Art imagined, whatever his brain managed to conjure up the real thing is just… infinitely better.

“Fuck, I forgot how horny this shit made me,” Patrick sighs. He’s so tall, his legs long, unshaven. Knees, knobby and pink from being out in the cool air and then the hot shower. The top is lacy, thin straps, a smattering of freckles on the backs of his arms. The sheer fabric opens in the front over his flat abdomen. He’s got a four pack at the moment. A few freckles dot his stomach and theres a dark treasure trail leading down.

Patrick’s dick is… It’s absurd the way Patrick’s not being held in by the panties at all. Big heavy balls slipping from the bottom, cock shaft and head pressing out of the waistband, precum leaking out of him already. Art can’t help himself… he’s rubbing himself right away.

Hes not sure what he’s doing when he starts licking Patrick through the lace of the panties. “Just wanna taste your pussy.” He whispers, his voice foreign to his ears.

“Fuck, yeah taste it sweetie. It’s all yours.” Patrick breathes.

Art’s licking stripe after stripe along the sheer fabric and then he can’t wait any longer. He’s easing it out and taking as much as he can into his mouth.

“Mm fuck…” Patrick breathes sharply. “You like the taste, don’t you? Fucking delicious pussy.”

“Mmhm,” Art says, he’s helpless. Smelling him, licking him, tasting him. He’s losing his mind. His cock is throbbing mercilessly between his legs as he keeps going and going. Patricks just standing there so solid in front of him. So fucking full. So much. Too much. He’s taking it as Patrick slowly starts to thrust his hips. Deliciously desperate moans escaping his lips.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Patrick gasps. “I’ll be the best fucking girl for you.”

”Mm,” Art groans.

“I’ll ride you if you want. Squirt all over you. Get you wet… So wet.”

Art’s got his hand working between his thighs, he’s gonna fucking cum.

“Fuck baby… I’m gonna fill your mouth with so much, and you can fucking kiss me when I’m done and tell me I’m your good…nnngh—-”

Art can feel the heated liquid in his mouth everywhere all at once. Feels it, coating his tongue and the roof of his mouth, sliding down his throat with his spit.

He doesn’t want to but he pulls it out, wet and obscene like he’s just been sucking on a lollipop. All of the excess dripping from his mouth onto the floor while he finishes jerking himself off.

He collapses onto his back on the bed, chest heaving and breathless when he’s done. “Fuck,” he gasps.

Patrick chuckles softly and crawls on top of him. “Good?” He asks.

Art pulls at the sheer fabric and Patrick comes closer so Art can kiss him. “You were right.” Art says softly against his lips.

“Mm was I?”

“Mmhm,” Art says, grinning. “Men and women can’t be friends, sweetheart.”

Patrick smiles back, “Fucking insane.”

[nxsturn]

les ( m.s )

warnings: heavy angst, unhealthy relationship (if you squint).

the apartment feels small tonight, despite the city lights flooding through the windows. the hum of the world outside is constant, but inside, everything feels muted.

he’s been pacing back and forth in the kitchen for what feels like hours, his hand running through his hair every few minutes. his phone constantly in his hand, but tonight, it’s like it’s burning him. he keeps looking at it, putting it down, then picking it back up again, like he’s waiting for something to change.

you sit on the couch, trying not to let the silence between you grow. you’ve gotten used to this—his restless energy, the way the fame creeps into every part of his life, even when he doesn’t want it to. you know him better than anyone else does, but lately, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to fall.

finally, he stops pacing and looks at you. “i don’t know what’s happening anymore,” he says, his voice tight, but there’s no anger in it. it’s just exhaustion. “i don’t know who i am when i’m not in front of a camera, and when i am, it’s like.. i don’t know if i’m even me anymore,”

you watch him for a second, trying to figure out the right words. you’ve always been the one who holds things together, the one who listens and supports and reminds him of who he is when the world starts spinning too fast. but right now, even you feel a little lost.

“matt,” you say softly, your voice barely a whisper. “you’re still you. you’re just.. not the version of you the world wants to see,”

he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “but that’s the thing, isn’t it? i’m not just some guy anymore. i’m not even just your guy. i’m everyone’s. and i don’t know how to stop being that,”

you feel the weight of his words, and you wish you had an answer. something to make it all better, to fix the cracks that have started to show in both of your lives. but you don’t know how to fix this. it’s not something you can just patch up with kind words and comforting gestures. you both know it.

“i never wanted this for us,” he continues, his voice breaking a little. “i didn’t want to drag you into all this. i didn’t want you to feel like you’re just watching me disappear,”

you stand up then, crossing the room to him, and without a word, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. his body stiffens for a moment, like he’s not sure how to react. but then, slowly, he exhales, the tension in him starting to melt. you can feel the weight of it — the strain of trying to hold it all together, the pressure that’s been building inside of him.

you hold him tighter, pressing your cheek against his chest. “you haven’t disappeared,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’ve just gotten lost in everything that comes with it. but i’m here. i’ll always be here,”

he looks down at you, his face softening, but his eyes are still clouded with doubt. “i don’t know if i can keep doing this,” he admits. “i don’t know how much longer i can pretend like everything’s fine,”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you say. “not with me,”

he pulls you into an even tighter embrace, his face buried in your hair. “i’m sorry,” he whispers. “i don’t know how to keep it all together. and i don’t want to lose you in the process,”

you hold him closer, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat steadying, the warmth of him slowly pushing away the cold that’s settled between you both. “you won’t lose me. i’m not going anywhere,”

it’s strange, how much of the weight of his world you carry, how much of it you try to absorb so he doesn’t have to. you know it’s not healthy, but you can’t help it. because even when he’s lost in the spotlight, even when it feels like the world is taking him away from you, you’ll be here. you’ll always be here.

he pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “do you think we can fix this?” he asks, almost too quietly, like he’s afraid of the answer.

you take a deep breath, then smile gently. “we will. we just need to take a step back and remember what we’re fighting for,”

he nods, and for a moment, the room is quiet. no distractions, no cameras, no expectations. just the two of you.

©nxsturn

based of the song by Childish Gambino!